When I was ten, I went to Arcadia’s Holly Avenue Elementary for Chinese school. As much as I detested the strict teachers, I have to address the restrooms. All the Arcadia kids kept complaining about a cockroach they saw in a stall, but these restrooms were stunning. Stalls that actually locked? Automatic sinks that didn’t require me to tap the faucet every five seconds to get a little stream of water? This is probably when I developed high standards.
As I sat on a high-quality seat liner that topped the, you guessed it—automatic toilet, I wondered why I attended Temple City schools instead of Arcadia ones when I was an Arcadian based on my house address.
Whenever my mom picked me up, I dreamt of life as someone who went to Arcadia Unified. Fancy homes, fancy homeowners to befriend and fancy uniforms as dress code would all be mine. Then, I returned to reality: I basically lived in Temple City, and all I got with my designated Arcadia address was the nearby 99 Ranch Market.
However, I’ve grown to address and proudly accept the truth: while my house is in Arcadia, my life is in Temple City. Our park is where I danced with the Rampage family; our McDonald’s parking lot is where I eat fries with my friend in her car and talk about our problems; our band rehearsing is what I hear before bed; and our upstairs girls’ restroom is where I learned I could just hold the stall door with my foot. These experiences spell home, comfort and simplicity, and I wouldn’t trade them for any Arcadia school restroom.