Getting a makeover while listening to my friend Facetime a junior from Massachusetts, eating a gooey skillet blondie straight from the pan, experiencing the wrath of a Muni driver as I (unsuccessfully) run for the bus—these have all happened in the hours between school and Cineclub.

Cineclub, which everyone in CW is required to attend at least once per marking period, is a program through SF Art and Film that shows films especially for teens. Though not our main focus, film is integral to the Creative Writing department. We sometimes end up analyzing movies just as avidly as we might dissect poetry—last year, we had an in-depth debate about My Neighbor Totoro. So, every few weeks, my friends and I congregate at the Randall Museum on a Friday evening to watch films ranging The Godfather to Wes Anderson’s Grand Budapest Hotel.

At Cineclub, I find myself in different groups than I’d usually spend time with. As someone who is not exactly the most comfortable around other people, this compulsory, shared experience is freeing. It’s Friday, so we unwind a little, relax, while still taking the films seriously. We arrive early for free cookies and sparkling water, and wander around the Randall until the movie starts, when we make our way to the cozy theater with its child-sized seats and fuzzy projector. Afterwards, we might raise our hands to participate in the discussion, or maybe just whisper amongst ourselves while frantically jotting down notes. (Mine usually turn into sloppy all-capitals, chaotic arrows, and too many exclamation points.) Soon it’s time to leave and we’re wandering around the Randall again, movie scenes flashing behind our eyes, waiting to turn into a dozen inside jokes, a dew-laden spiderweb of connections waiting to be realized come Monday.