“Let’s Wright”

My Campaign to Replace English Class with Public Speaking

One of my all-time favorite San Francisco events was attending Mortified. It’s a live show where regular people get on stage and share their most embarrassing childhood artifacts—journals, letters, poems, lyrics, plays, home movies, art—all in service of revealing stories from their awkward, glorious youth.

Grown adults confronting their past with tales of first kisses, bad perms, camp crushes, botched hand jobs, and reasons they were destined to marry Jon Bon Jovi is exactly what you’d expect: hilarious.

Since its early days in the Mission back in 2002, Mortified has grown into a podcast, a docuseries, a card game, and a cultural movement dedicated to preserving our most cringeworthy truths.

It is in that same spirit that I launch a new section of my Substack:

Unearthed artifacts from my awkward era.

One silver lining to having a mother who is physically and emotionally incapable of throwing anything away is that she saved my journals. And now that I’ve flipped through them, I owe her a thank-you.

Thanks, Mom! I love you.

Like I did with Not by the Fuzz of My Jowls that Quiver, I’ll share the unedited journal entry, followed by a close read to fully appreciate the emotional landmines, unchecked ego, and literary delusions of teenage me.

As always, your thoughts and prayers are welcome.

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February 23rd, 1993

“LET’S WRIGHT”

That’s all I ever hear. I know we need to have good writing skills but I also think communication skills are important.

I say that every other day we write. The days between could be “LET’S TALK.”

We could have a topic and whether it be a “LET’S WRIGHT” day or a “LET’S TALK” day we could express our opinions.

Mr. Sears told us to write about the wind but there’s nothing really interesting that it does but blow!

Actually I should be able to think of something because from what Chad Ruggles says — I talk too much! He actually told Jason Kahrs that I talk too much! Gosh — How rude!

Note: It’s funny to look around the classroom while we are writing. Everyone looks like they’re in their own world.

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Close Read

I was a budding educational reformer and a misunderstood orator. I’m loving my wild confidence and conviction in believing I could overhaul the English curriculum because I thought talking was just as important as writing. Which, let’s be honest—it is.

Let’s break down this entry together.

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“LET’S WRIGHT”

Obviously the all-caps title can only mean one thing: I’m starting a movement.

The spelling is clearly a bold stylistic choice meant to rattle the establishment. A protest, not a mistake. I use “wright” with such precision, it had to be intentional.

That’s all I ever hear. I know we need to have good writing skills but I also think communication skills are important.

Here I am, age 15, already diagnosing systemic flaws in the American education system.

I acknowledge the party line (“writing skills are important”) before pivoting to the deeper truth: communication is everything.

I could feel it in my bones.

And guess what? I wasn’t wrong. Crack open the latest Harvard Business Review and you’ll find a feature on how communication skills are essential to leading a global multibillion-dollar company.

I was just trying to save us all some time.

I say that every other day we write. The days between could be “LET’S TALK.”

Do you hear that? That’s the sound of me inventing an entirely new seminar format—as a high school sophomore.

And let’s talk about the branding!

“Let’s Talk” as a sister program to “Let’s Wright” is clean, catchy, and emotionally intelligent. Honestly, this might’ve been the original seed of TED Talks.

Someone else just trademarked it first.

We could have a topic and whether it be a “LET’S WRIGHT” day or a “LET’S TALK” day we could express our opinions.

Express our opinions.

Just an early iteration of the future slogan “Ideas Change Everything.”

We were sitting on a goldmine.

If only the school board had recognized my vision, my genius, we could’ve been billionaires by now.

Mr. Sears told us to write about the wind but there’s nothing really interesting that it does but blow!

I mean… where’s the lie? I don’t see it.

Also, you can feel the betrayal in this sentence.

Like, here I am with important thoughts about educational reform, and Mr. Sears wants me to write about wind?

Justice for Linzi!

Actually I should be able to think of something because from what Chad Ruggles says — I talk too much! He actually told Jason Kahrs that I talk too much! Gosh — How rude!

Now we get to the emotional core of the entry. The wound.

The sting of being called out for the very thing I was championing—talking. Sharing. Expressing opinions.

And the double burn of receiving this critique secondhand via Jason Kahrs is too much. Classic small-town game of telephone. This would all be resolved with a “Let’s Talk” series.

Also, let’s not miss the irony here: Chad Ruggles proved my point. Ideas do change everything.

Like my opinion of Chad.

Note: It’s funny to look around the classroom while we are writing. Everyone looks like they’re in their own world.

And we land on a moment of quiet reflection. A tiny observational gem.

Everyone’s in their own world—including me, in mine, trying to talk my way into being heard.

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Final Note

This journal entry is such a time capsule of high school politics, identity formation, and early signs of my future career in communication.

Also, it proves that even at 15, I was trying to turn shame into strategy.

Chad said I talked too much?

Fine!

Let’s talk more, then.

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