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DescriptiveEssay: To the Unaccepted,

Posted by Alex Woodburn in English 2 - Block on

​*Quick note, When I say "Her" or "She" in my essay, im talking about my girlfriend specifically, not a generic pronoun*

There I was, in what should have been one of the happiest moments of my entire life. I sat there on the floor of the ballroom, just up against the wall, my right hand caressed around her back, my left pushing her hair out of her face. I held her as she lay in my lap, trying to make sure she was as comfortable and happy as I was. Then we looked at each other. My eyes found hers and i was trapped, treading in the silver-blue crystal sea that was her deadly, beautiful eyes. She gave me that look, the look that always told me that she was thinking the same thing I was, and that she too, was locked in my stare. She lifted her head, and I lowered mine. And our lips met.
I might have gotten a split second of that feeling I loved; that high where you feel like you’ve gotten everything you wanted, and even if just in that moment, all was right in the world. There was no war, no hunger, no global warming, at least not while I was with her. However, as fast as it came, my high went away.
I started to hear random gasps from the crowd of students nearby, a crowd made mostly up of freshmen. Some of the girls from the group started to woot and ooh, as if we were on some distasteful talk show, in front of a live studio audience. I was almost waiting to hear someone start shouting “STEVE, STEVE, STEVE!”  or for someone to ask for their Jerry Beads. As the kiss broke away i looked up at two particular girls where the two loudest voices were coming from. They had been staring right at us, giggling when they were not carrying on and hollering. They both looked away emediately, still giggling in both humor and disgust. They were belittling us, and just being so disrespectful right to our faces.
I hated that with every fiber of my being. That sick feeling when everyone looks down at you, like some pile of crap that should not belong near the rest of the community. I guess they think that I’m different than most people because I’m a lesbian. I used to think being gay was different, back when I had not known that I was. I thought it was the same kind of different as people who wear glasses versus those that do not, or people who wear braces and people that do not need them. I used to wonder if people like that thought differently, if they acted differently, if those people would be the same if they did not have braces or glasses. But now, I have braces, and I know that people with things like that are still regular people who do regular things, they just have different assets  than a lot of people.
Being gay is like that, too. Most girls either have boy friends or husbands, or will have one later. Most guys have either girl friends or wives, or again, will get one. I just have something different. I have a girlfriend. It makes me feel a little bad now, when I think about it, because I did used to think that way. I did think that gays were somehow unexplainably different then straight people, or as I thought of it, regular people. In middle school I had a friend who was funny, bright, cool, artistic, and as I had found out, bisexual. When I found that out it never really left my mind. I could speak with her, work with her, play with her, or whatever, but I never actually forgot that she was bi when I was with her. I wondered how often she thouht about it, how often she just thought, ‘huh, im different.’ But, I know now that, when you’re gay or bi or whatever, you dont really think about it at all until someone mentions it. And even then, you dont really think about it unless you’re being made fun of or degraded for it.
I think, though, even when people say they totally accept it, there is no real way to know who fully and honestly  accepts it until homosexuality hits home. My mother used to tell me that it was perfectly okay, whatever I turned out to be. She said that it ran in my family, that two of my cousins were gay and she still loves them very much. She said that all the time, and I used to deny it. “I'm not a lesbian, mom, God!” She’d annoy me so much because she’d say it every day. It was almost as if she’d thought I was a lesbian, or if not, like she wanted me to be. I was afraid of what she’d say to me when I told her, and I had reason to be.
I came home one day from school, and I knew that I had to tell her soon. It was may 16th, and I had only figured out that I was in love with Her the day before. I didnt want to wait; if I got too far into a relationship without telling her I was aware that she would be angrier than if she just found out later. I came home as she was getting ready to go to the gym, and told her.
“Mom,” I asked. “How would you feel if... if a boy asked me out?”
Mom immediately got that wary face, as if asking herself whether or not she was about to scream at me, depending on my explanation. “Why, did someone ask you out?”
I really didn’t want to tell her straight out, I was so scared, I just couldn’t do it... “Just hypothetically. What would you say?”
“Well,” She began. “I’d want to meet him first, and he’d better not have any kind of intentions.”
I couldn’t handle it, I had to go into detail. I closed my eyes and blurted out, “What if it wasn’t a guy? What if I wanted to go out with a girl?”
“What,” She got a scary face that I couldn’t really describe. It was as if I was a small child and said an array of curse words in front of her. “Did She ask you out?”
“Well, not really,” I tried to be quick to respond so that she couldn’t cut me off and jump to any kind of conclusion like she always did. “We just kinda both felt that way, and, I wanted to tell you bef-”
“No.” She interrupted. “Absolutely not.”
When I tried to tell her that she was just saying no because she was another girl, she decided to use the excuse that I was ‘too young to be in love,’ so I was defeated. I couldn’t argue with her unless I wanted to get angry enough to start packing. I was already in tears, so I decided to drop it. But as much as mom continues to insist that its not because I’m attracted to a girl but because I’m not sixteen yet.
So, having experienced what I have, I really think that acceptance is never really honest until it is put to the test. People can always just say that they accept gays as equals, and even if they think they mean it, as soon as they see it in front of them, they end up showing how they really feel about it. Some prove that they really do think its totally okay, but others end up enshrouding a false sense of acceptance to reveal a layer of ignorance and disrespect unknown even to themselves. The difference is shown, simply put, by the choice of the ‘aww!’ or the ‘ooh!’

Changed, But The Same

Posted by James Prell in English 2 - Block on

     By the time I get home I’m exhausted, my feet just barely leaving the ground with each step. The bus ride took an hour longer because of the rain we’ve had for the past month. As I walk up the muddy path to my house, I wince after each foot forward squelches into the dark muck and turns the white rims of my new shoes brown. I feel a vibration in my pocket and exhaling exasperatedly; I take the call from my mom “ James, are you almost home”. She tells me that the basement has finally started to flood after holding out for this long, and it’s flooded badly. Half a foot of murky water dripped through the walls as my family and I went about our days. I work my way up the rest of the way to the house, hurrying this time, and start to help cleaning. As my brother, sister, and father trudge up the path each in turn we start to work. Barefoot, I fill bucket after bucket full of hurricane Irene and the tropical storms and dump them in the driveway, adding to the soaked earth and make a stream down the hill. We work out a system, I lift the heavy buckets of brown water out of the basement, and my sister dumps it into the driveway to roll down the hill. Meanwhile, my mom and dad vacuum up the many inches of water and put them into buckets to be handed to me. But after a few minutes of this, I feel as though there’s something off. Then I realize, we are going about this inefficiently, and I knew the perfect way to fix the problem and speed the work. I propose the idea to my dad, and am surprised and hurt when my idea isn’t even considered “No, this way is better” he says, and I feel crushed. I stormed away blinded by what I saw as a betrayal, in that moment the world was blurred. Morphed to only see an attack on my obvious genius.
     I know I sound pathetic, but that’s how my brain work. To be honest, I hate physical labor, especially what we did that day with buckets, repetitively lifting and dumping for hours. It’s not always a bad thing though, I worked to make it easier for all of us. But my dad, as the person who came up with the original idea didn’t want to change. He felt in that moment the same way I did, we both had the better idea, but those ideas clashed.
     As I sat inside, I heard my brother talking animatedly to my sister, to him this is a fun family-bonding treat. He smiles as he runs back and forth, helping the rest of us in the small ways he can “This is just like a movie” he says laughing “I want to do this more often”. His laughter had a calming effect on me, my anger was washed away, like our gravel driveway in the storm. When I went back outside, my dad was calmed down too, and considered my idea more seriously, because we are both fundamentally the same, and we both can’t hold a grudge. We finally finish after hours of work in the storm soaked basement, tired, but smiling.
    My father and I are very similar, in our shortcomings and our best features, although there is one issue in which we are completely at odds, religion. Some of my classmates might be offended, but trust me, I didn’t become an atheist because of you. I was raised Christian, so I’m very proud of the fact that I could root through the fairy tales at a young age, and realize I needed to categorize them as just that. Where others turn to miracles, I recognize new discoveries in the field of physics and scientific fact.
    When my parents caught on, from my subtle refusal to pray at meals unless we thanked the people who actually did something to give us our food, and silent protest in church by not paying attention, they didn’t say anything.
    I was surprised, and a bit scared at that age. From what I had heard from the Internet, this was the part where they disowned you, calling you a worshiper of Satan, and never speaking to you again. But this dark image of the people I looked up to was a huge discredit to them. My mom and dad are clearer headed then most people I’ve met in my life, religious or not. Because of this acceptance, I’ve learned to give them more respect, and I’ve grown into an even more open minded and critically thinking person. I’m no longer scared and ashamed of who I am, I can’t hide myself in the dark, because understanding who I am is important.
           Many times in my life, I feel like my grandparents have sensed, if not fully realized the extent of my heathenness. Many visits to them involve sudden transitions from conversations about the movie we just saw to “ God is so good in the world” or, even more ridiculous, “I can’t believe intelligent people believe in global warming”. Of all these visits, one in particular, to a lake house with some relatives stands out.
           I was ten years old, I’m not sure if I knew what an atheist was yet at that age, but I was quite the expert on evolution, fresh out of school for the summer where I had proudly sucked in all the information there was on the subject. I played in the water all day, poking at the hairy spiders under the mossy soaked dock by the house, holding thrilling breath-holding contests with my sister, and learning how to dive by watching in amazement as my mom and an aunt sliced through the surface of the water with barely a splash. In the evening, I sat on a rotten log around the fire that my grandfather built, sleepily eating marshmallows. A step uncle of mine, wanting to know more about me since he lived in Florida, asked me how I liked school, “What are you learning about?” I can imagine the inner groan my dad made when he overheard, of coarse he knew I would talk about evolution, it was all I ever talked about in those days when asked about school. But he also knew how my uncle Spunk would respond. “ If people evolved from apes, how come I don’t see a monkey walking out of the trees over there right now?” I can tell you Spunk you’ve stumped me. In the entire world you are the man to disprove all those heathen scientist how don’t think your wife used to be a rib. You alone thought up the argument that can stump a ten year old.
           I was stumped, not by the man’s incredible skills of pure logic, but by his stupidity. My father and I sat there on our stump wide eyed, we couldn’t figure out how someone could actually be so disrespectful of the reasoning skills that are easy for any human to develop.
           It needs to be said, that when people take an idea to seriously, they start to shape their world around it and not take others seriously. I’m proud to say that I’m like my father, I try to take in every position laid out in front of my and think it through. I’ve become open-minded and I try to be gracious to everyone who offers the same sort of serious and thought out arguments that I do in a debate. I think in the same ways as my father, and although we don’t always come to the same conclusion, I’ve learned through experience to think before I speak. This last lesson came to me courtesy of my step uncle, who’s vast ignorance on certain  proven subjects is something I’ll always avoid.

Descriptive: Sports Make the Man

Posted by Jeffery Schwartz in English 2 - Block on

    “Strike Three, yourrrrrrrr out,” “GOOOALLLLL,” “AI-YAH,” If you’re a sports aficionado you should now what these are. The sting of a third strike in an important game, the glory of the game-winning goal, the smash of a perfectly executed round house kick. To do any of these means hard work, dedication, discipline and sportsmanship. When I started sports I’ve tried to carve these principals into my day-to-day life.  

When I was about six I started playing baseball, for Mt. Airy in Philadelphia. Obviously it didn’t matter if you were skilled or not it was solely to have fun and make new friends. It was easy to. No one cared if you could throw the ball from second to first. Or stop a slow grounder. If you had peanut butter and jelly for lunch you had friends.

I remember my first baseball game; it was my birthday and didn’t really feel like being there. Armed with a stiff plastic glove, and narrow a blue Warrior metal bat I started to feel a little more at home. 9th to bat, after the all the kids who could make a pop fly catch, I grasped the thin electric taped handle of my bat, and walked into the batters box. We had gone over what side you go to at practice a few times, but I didn’t remember the first time. I tapped the bat to the plate, aimed at the ball sitting atop the tee and swung. I was never sure if I actually made contact with the ball or the hard pedestal. But I saw the ball on the ground and I ran. I was going to make it to first base. I tripped and my arms fell forward. I wrapped my arms gingerly around the bag. “SAFE,” yelled the umpire. Maybe with some hard work and sticking to it I could make it to second base next time. Either way, I was hooked. I knew, from then on baseball was a part of me, an idea that has the ability to make anyone feel safe and befriended. I was now part of the gigantic body of fans that are will forever be my semi-close family.

 

 

“Ai-yah.” Most people would think is just a random yelp or something you’d hear down in the subway howled by the local crazy person. But I will explain how it is more then that.

The word “Ai-yah,” or Kia comes from all types of karate, martial arts, and self-defense. It is used in attempt to scare the opponent when yelled in part with an attack. Some teachers enforce this tradition ritualistically, occasionally punishing the student for failing to yell louder. These simple words can easily affect the outcome of ones life.

I still remember getting my black belt and always try to cherish that moment. I was 13 and had been studying karate for 5 years. My teacher Sensei Mike had been gruelingly training me for a while and it was finally the black belt extravaganza. This event is where, after the initial test where you perform techniques and katas is preformed, you receive your black belt.

We were all lined up, my brother and I, also a few of or friends. At the front line of the karate mat, we were waiting for our belts. The instructor announces our name and we freeze. This moment would change our lives forever. A heavy man, Sensei Mike dented the mat with every step towards me. Carrying our black belts sewed with golden lettering, inside a thin plastic bag. He told us to take off our old belts, and lay them on the floor. I was reluctant to do so, after being told the years before to never let my belt touch the ground. He gently smacked the belt into my hand. The feeling of biting your tongue or human nails gouging a black board ran up my back. I undressed the belt from the plastic covering and began to tie it. My hands shaking, my heart pumping, the crowd watching. Green and blue eyes in the background, the shiny yellow letters in the foreground mixed with my hands. It took me a little long to finish the knot but I defiantly didn’t care. I had gotten my black belt. For me it meant authority, he power to tell people right from wrong leading in the right direction towards success and responsibility. It meant more then just a differently colored belt. It shows who I am and what I had to work for to achieve this title.

Discipline shaped me. I work well when told what to do. I try my best to fulfill the requirements set on me. I if I put my mind to it I can always overcome the obstacle. I know what is good for me. I know that work comes before play, Brains beats brawn. But I would rather have both. Training myself to achieve maximum excellence. Discipline makes sports discipline makes me.

Soccer has been around for a long time and through the ages, the people who play it are almost always attached for life. Maybe it’s the fun or the friendship but for me it will always be the glory.

I love that feeling of a great kick. Perfectly connecting with the bounciest part of the soccer ball. The crowd, or the few parents, hushes as the ball sails across the field into the net. The goalie gets up dusts themselves off and, in defeat, walks back to the sidelines. I strive for this feeling, an injection of pure success and glory.

I started playing soccer when I was about seven, my mom asked me if I wanted to be on my best friends team, the Revolution. Of course I said yes, this was going to be so fun. My friend’s dad was the coach, and he started me at defense. Trying hard to not let the other team get past usually went in vain. I really needed to learn how to play better. I bet a few years would help. 

Now I was ten and joined my school team. Again I started for defense but this time I knew what I was doing. Almost every time an offender came down the field I stole the ball and passed it back up the sideline.The few times they dribbled past me usually resulted in a goal. Gulled, by the skill of the kids I watched them yell and scream. Some times they even came over to me. Juiced with selfishness and ignorance they called me names and pushed me around. It probably wasn't the best idea to retaliate. But I really had to hold myself.

After the game my coach had a team small meeting. He really expressed how important it was to reamin calm and uphold the golden rule of sportsmanship. I was stunned, people cared about this so much, and I should too. Sportsmanship was so important, and now I knew. I would uphold this for the rest of my life. I love to make new friends, achieve the glory of a goal and express my self through sports.

Now I am 15 I bat fourth in my baseball lineup, start forward for soccer, and I am going for my 1st degree black belt in October. I have gone a long way since I began doing sports. After all the years I have been changed physically and my outlook on the world. Hard work, Dedication, Discipline, and Sportsmanship. These make the person and the sports, if I try my best to follow these principals, hopefully I can achieve my goals. I could like feel everything is reachable with only a solid good effort, an effort that shows what I am capable of and what really makes me, me.

love story

Posted by Franklin Mancebo in English 2 - Block on

​  The date is October 6Th to be exact .I had just got out off the Franklin institute and I was on the way home with a friend that I have a lot of feelings for but I don’t know how to tell her. But today I decided that I would do something about to change it. It is now around 4:45 in the afternoon and are on the eastbound Market Frank-ford train. The train says that the next stop is York-Dauphin so I think to myself if I’m going to do something I would have to do it before Allegheny. Now we are at Berks so I think that now is the write time to do so and tell her how I was feeling. I froze at about what I was going to say. Now I’m at York and dauphin. So I start to tell her the things that I like about her. I tell her, wow I love the way you and I are always chilling. It makes me muy feliz to talk to you. She blushes and covers her face. I knew I was in the clear when she did that because that was a sign of he liking something. So I begin to hug her. I think to myself its now or never. So I tell her, mi amor what do you think if we, and like a fortune teller she finishes my thought. She says, whatever your question is the answer is yes. So I now I'm at my stop, I give he a kiss on the cheek and she grabs my face and kisses me and I say hey hit me up when you get home and I walk off on the platform on Allegheny and go home.

    So as the love story begins to unravel I sit there as I slowly become the envy of all of our friends. We went to every one our classes together because I had purposely took a placement test so I can be in side all our classes together .The first couple of weeks were cool, we were always together and would eat, study, chill, do work, and everything together. I was told that her and I would be together for all of high school or at least a very long time together because we were really in love. I knew everything about her and she knew everything about me. I loved the fact that I was so open with her like for example when I had a problem in any class or in life in general she was always their to talk to, those are the things that I will never forget and will always hold dear to my heart.

The only problem that i had when I was going with her was the weather and the way it affected my asthma. So to give you a big picture to explain my condition; when it got cold and I inhaled the brisk October/November it made ma air ways tighten and get smaller not letting me breath. 400 grams , 600 grams , and still counting grams of Steroids,Albuterol,Ranitine, and many more medicine that I received where the only thing keeping me able to breath but it was also only available at the hospital. When i needed medicine it was either to late or not strong enough for my asthma so their fore I had to go to the hospital. While admitted she would come to my beside and tell me how school was and also bring me food and tell me a random story on how she fell out of no where or how she was going to run a billion miles in a circle(its realy more of an Oval). Track and Cross-Country where her favorite things to do but i was never able to be their because it was in the hospital and that wasn’t fair for her.


          When I think back to that day all I can do is cry. I cry not because I am sad but I because I am not able to handle all the feelings I have. I guess you can say that its my fault because that’s what would be a good idea so I wouldn’t have to see the one I love go through a bunch of conflicts and hard ships because I’m not their to help her with her problems and console her. But at the same time what can I do the last time I was in school I left in an ambulance to Hanamin hospital because I couldn’t breath. To make this tense scenario I guess I couldn’t breath because being with her was breath taking. So the date is December 26,2010 and its about 4:45 in the afternoon and I get on the phone and call her and tell her that I don't want her to go through all this and I make the decision to break up with her . It was not easy to tell the one you love the most that you and her can no longer be because of the fact that your asthma is acting up and leaving you in the hospital. So she takes the break up pretty hard from what I heard but by the time school had started again after the winter break she was over it and also me. Even though it hurt a lot I think that it wasn’t a bad decision because I still care about the one I love but, also I think it was dumb for the reason that I gave her up. One day I hope to rekindle the spark that we once had…

Just me

Posted by Ethan Reese in English 2 - Block on

​Ethan Reese Copper

Just me

My life has always been interesting but one of the most interesting was a breezy autumn day filled with the smell and feel of fall, which made me excited for the upcoming holiday Halloween. But nothing was more exciting than what happened next. I approached my house climbing the concrete steps holding on to the cast iron railing, I brushed the bush and felt the dew of the freshly fallen rain that gave me goosebumps and made my arm smell like the car fresheners that are shaped like pine trees. I continued up the steps to hear the screams of my mom and sister. I ran up the rest of the steps to get to my door. I scrambled to get my key out to see what was happening.


I heard the squawking of a bird which made me stop to see where it was coming from i looked to the garden in front of my house the forest to the left to the skies to the bushes filled with berries.  But I didn’t see the bird so I unlocked the door and heard the key move the locking mechanism out of the way I swung the door open. To see the house torn apart with my mom running with a broom my sister with a towel that looked like their was blood stains on it. My cat was puffed up with his claws out crying and baring his teeth at a seagull trapped in the corner. Like the last kid in a game of tag.


I ran to get something to help but I didn't know what I scrambled into my room to see the TV smashed into thousands of pieces of metal and glass and plastic all over the place with drops of blood leading out of my room. The window was wide open with a cool breeze blowing in with the smells of fallen leaves and dying plants. My eyes dart quicker than a cheetah looking for something to trap the seagull with, I see my laundry basket tuned over on the floor. I tip-toed across the floor filled with blood and broken glass and grabbed the basket.


I ran back to the living room to see they still hadn't caught the source of the destruction and mayhem, so I charged at the winged beast and missed and ended up hitting the cat stand.


Finally my sister caught the bird and I got a close look at it and realized that it was as scared and confused as we were it hurt itself because i left the window open i could see the blood coming out of the bird and made me think if it would even survive i begged my mom to help it but she said their was nothing that we could do to help it. I met eye to eye with the foe that taunted me for so long and looked inside of it and saw not a creature bent on a structure but a scared child that just wanted to cry and scream but just couldn't.

I thought i saw a tear leave its eye but i couldn't tell for sure my sister threw it outside like trash i watched it squirm on the ground trying to get up and than i saw that little kid that just wanted to scream and cry but couldn't. I couldn't help but think if I would have done what I was told than the horrible tragedy that happened could have been avoided.


Soon after this my vacation started and the thought of that poor bird being thrust into the situation that i caused was still in my head it would be nice to go somewhere to try to forget about the whole thing. We arrived at DC and the first thing I wanted to see was the Lincoln memorial because to me the mans idea out grew the man and i don't think the memorial is to remember Abraham Lincoln I think its to his idea of equality and fairness in a world that didn't accept you because of the littlest things. He is truly one of the greatest men in history who’s ideas and name will live forever, he shaped the way i want to live my life and how i live my life. I never once discriminated against someone because of something they couldn't control, and to this day i really wish that everyone could do what Abraham Lincoln did one-hundred years before anyone would have even thought of having the same rights as a white man.


I think this is something that we as Americans really take for granted and we don't respect what the man stood for and who he really was. When i told this to my mom she thought i was just saying stuff so we would go their first but she didn't understand that my words were spoken from the heart not the mouth.


So we went to her places first, the first place we visited was the Washington DC zoo, where we wasted our time in our nations capital i could see lions tigers and bears at any zoo but their was only one Lincoln memorial i kept trying to explain this but i was shutdown over and over again.


Than we went to lunch where i found myself eating something called a gooey duck which had the flavors of a rotten fish and oranges.


But finally the memorial was on our agenda i walked up the cool shining steps leading to the man who influenced my life and philosophy. I stood at his gigantic feet if his body was any representation of his ideas than my respect and admiration of the man and his ideas were well earned. I stood their and just appreciated the man who started it all the father of freedom, and made me resolve my problems with what happened with bird if it was alive and healthy it was free and if it was dead than it was free from all mortal boundaries.             

Shanayia Roland-Rainy days

Posted by Shanayia Roland in English 2 - Block on

Shanayia Roland                                 September 19,2011
Copper Stream                                Final Paper

        

I went in to my hot pink room that looked as if we took a bottle of pepto bizmol an threw it on the wall. I said to my older sister “Whats the plans for the day?” the room fell silent you could almost hear a pen drop even though we had carpet. Her eyes began to water a little and she chuckled and said “we’re moving” with a half smiling half crying face as if she had just saw the funniest thing in the world.  I began to historically laugh and i said “ha ha Happy New year to you to, Now we both know we're not moving anywhere why would you joke like that.” After living in South Philadelphia for three years we were pretty content and i was pretty sure that moving was out of the question for at least another year or two. Her face fell serious  and she hesitantly said “ I’m not joking now get dressed and help us move dad’s stuff out.” My heart dropped and felt as if it had fallen on the floor and broken. My eyes began to tear or more like waterfall.

Later on that day after I had gotten dressed I went down stairs into my living room squeezed pass the bags  and i looked at there picture Hanging on the wall beside the staircase, taking up the width of three panels, the light brown frame surrounding the black inside of the frame. Their picture perfect smiles shining brightly like joy was in the air. Sunlight beaming through the tree’s that filled the plain behind them. His brown skin looked smooth with his black hair. Her white dress brought out the lighter color in her skin, and the darker color in his. Her skin glowed and made her pearl white dress create the Cinderella and Prince Charming beginning to their marriage.


This picture stuck in my mind from the day we moved him out until the third week, and fifth day after when moved him back in. I guess that picture remained there through it all to show that no matter what they’ll both still be there for each other. Whenever their having trouble I think about the picture, or even back to the day that it was taken.

“Wake up girl its your big day” My aunt says to my mom on this bright but rainy day in July. My mother woke up and climb out of bed with a bonnet on her head making her look as if she was a cone head. Her hair was freshly done, nicely rapped into a bun she had just gone to the hair dressers the night before. She went down the stairs to see all of her flower girls, bridesmaids,maid of honors, and matron of honors waiting to welcome her to the breakfast table with big beautiful smiles. We sat from oldest to youngest at the table starting with the oldest on her side. Her seat at the table was decorated with congratulations ribbons and white rose petals to make her day turn out beautiful.  My aunt opened the window shutters to the big front window to let the little bit of light in form the rainy day. We ate a little bit just enough to hold us over because we were tight with time. Eleven girls needed to be dressed and ready to go within the next couple of hours.

She began to get dressed but with 10 other women running around the house like wild chickens with there heads off, there was no chance of us being on time. She looked out the  huge bedroom window that had white shutters covering them to see where the tiny gray Toyota was parked so that she could go get her nails and toes done. Just then she realized that it was no where in sight after talking to my day in a  tone of panic she found out that he had taken the car. She slipped on the cream wedding dress that was laced with beads. My aunt went to zip up the back of the dress and there was a ripping noise, and weird feeling in the room that made us know that something happened. My aunts face feel blank and with the zipper in her hand began to apologize like there was a death in the room. From that point on the day was filled with horror around every Conner. This became a nightmare wedding, it had no effect on there marriage or the way that our  family looked at them as husband and wife.

It takes rainy days and obstacles in order for people to be come stronger and more prepared. It took my parents a horrible wedding day and many fights and arguments to just except the fact that there will be tests in life to show you how strong you are, and how strong you become.So when there’s a rainy day be happy be because that means some strengths and things to learn from coming with them.

Imani Blog

Posted by Imani Rothwell in English 2 - Block on

​I have a Pink leg.

It all started when my sister decides to make herself some hot chocolate. It was a hersey brown, and by the looks of it you can tell it had the perfect amount of sugar. On top of the hot coco was small marshmallow the ones that come with the pack of hot chocolate. On top of the smaller marshmallows were two bigger marshmallows. That was the icing on the cake that made me drooling over the hot chocolate. My sister asks me “ Do you want some.” Me in a shock moment I respond and say “huh” Then very annoyed she says “ I see you staring at my cup of hot chocolate now do you want me to make you some or not.” I ignored the fact that she totally disrespected me and just nodded my head yes. We headed to the kitchen where our walls is painted grey with a white trim on the top and bottom. Near the stove we have tile by it so the heat want make our kitchen wall looks greasy and nasty. Then over by our dear park water dispenser is a radiator and the big white refrigerator. I head over to get me a tea cup by our mahogany colored counter where a white dish drying rack had sat on top. When I looked to see if there was any tea cups I realized I had to wash my out one in the silver colored sink with a hose on the side. While I was doing that my sister was getting the ingredients ready to make me the best hot coco a kid at the age of 9 had tasted. After the ingredients were out and my cup was cleaned, we went over to full the white and pink tea cup up with hot water. I remember the day before my mom told my sister and I that if we have the bottom of the water dispenser filled with water again that was our behinds. So I told my sister “ When your pouring the water go slow because I do not feel like hearing Mommy's mouth on the bottom of the dispenser full with water let alone hot water.” My sister sucked her teeth and responded, “ I know I’m not no little kid.” By the time my cup was half way filled I hear the phone ring. Our phone had the annoying answer machine where it calls out the number and name slow as to say your slow or something. I heard the numbers 215 742 and quickly assumed it was my grandmother calling about picking me up for the weekend. As I turned my head towards the phone to hear the remaining 4 digits I realize I had to keep an eye on the hot water from the cup. As turned my head back towards I seen my sister wasn’t paying attension either which cased the bottom of the dispensier to have little water in it. In my head just from the few drops of water I could picture my mom yelling and screaming about her having to clean up the water. So I quickly shoved the cup into the dispenser  as if I was some superhero stopping a car, to keep any more water from go to the bottom. After that moment everything moved so fast. It was like i was in a move but in fast forward mode. The cup of hot water fell on my left leg leaving a big pink scar. I was screaming so hard I though my lungs would come out of my mouth. I started Running all around the house. I even dropped stopped and roll, because the heat from the water felt as if my leg was on fire. moments later my mom came down and from the look in her eye i can tell that she was just as scared as I was. On my leg was a bright highlighter pink scar and you can see as the water dripped my skin slowly started to peal also. So she frantically said  “ Alisha grab you and Imani a coat and get her some shoes to wear.” Then my mom scooped me up and ran to her car, right behind her was sister crying. The ride to children hospitals was 7 Min's top, and normally that ride is roughly 10-15 Min's. My mom was driving like there was no other cars on the rode.  During the whole car ride I prayed. I was calling to God Jesus, and even my grandma to not let me die from this tragic accident. When we arrived at the hospital they immedietly took me to a room and started operating on my leg. The room had a blue curtain to cover me from seeing the ill patient on the right of me. The Bed had an annoying plastic on it that I ripped after the scrworming around I did. Above my head was some sort of annoying machaine that kept on beeping, which in my mind was a good thing and bad thing. The good thing was I was still alive. The bad thing was I was alive to feel this escroning pain. Out of my right eye while lying down  I can see my mom walk away crying. In my right ear I can hear my sister sobbing and crying praying she was making me even more scared. After about 10 Min's I seen my uncle come in and I can hear my mom tell my aunt who lived in Maryland to stay home that we have everything under control. I felt so much love but even that wasn’t enough to keep my mind from focusing on the pain in my leg. When the doctor came in he told me some devastating news, I had to stay over night and only my mom can stay. That could not happen. My mom sister and I are a trinagle. A perfect polygon and with out one side we become a non-polygon. Therefore we always stay together no matter what. So at the moment I started praying. For the whole 45 Min's I was in there. I was praying so much I could hear the nurses talking about going to church the following sunday. Through the whole experience I must say that my pray was answered, because with a second degree burn I was out the hospital in 45 Min's. I went home in my mom queen size bed with her big green soft cloud like comforter laid down in the middle with my mom and sister arm wrapped around me. After a few minutes of closing my eyes I was relieved that all of out heartbeats was beating in the same place and that was at home.

+ Kitchen
+ the emotionally behavior
+

? Describe Hospital
?
?

Hot chocolate- coca- More interesting

Tea cup- More interesting

Before incident more desritvie

Marshmallows

Placement+

Work on beginning.

Transtiion

Have you ever cried tears that felt like atomic bombs hitting your checks causing your skin to become weak. That's what I did repeatedly as I tried to cope with the situation I was in.
It all started the night before. My mom was in her bed room where the old wall paper pealed of like an onion be striped from its skin. Her queen size bed set in front of roughly a 35 inch Panasonic colored television. On the side of her laid a cluttered end table full with papers pens half full soda bottles and other junk. My sister and I ran into the room playing around just to have fun before it was time for bed. I sworn in and quickly said “Mommmmmmy” in a voice a 12 year old to immate the annoying voice of a little kid. My mom looked at me in disbelief that i was acting childish and quickly responded “ Girl get out my face I’m about to get on the phone, how about you and your sister get up out my room.” When our mom say the lines “GET OUT MY ROOM” to my sister and I that's an invitation to the play the “How long can you annoy your mom game.” So my sister and I jumped on the bed and quickly started laughing while cracking jokes on my mom. Just as we were getting started her phone rung. It was my God mother Jackie calling to talk to my mom because a few days ago she had recently had a baby girl. As soon as we heard that it was our god mother on the phone we got super happy. Then my sister and I began acting like 3 year old by jumping on the bed and messing with our mother. Of course the game had to end because not only did we have to head to bed for school, but my mom was about to go in one of her talk for hours deep conversations. Just to get one more laugh in we begged out mom to let us say goodbye to our god mom before bed. My mom insisted it was our bed time and told us, “ You will talk to her another time now go to bed.”
Next day my mom calls me on my cell phone saying “take you and your sister to uncle mopey’s I’ll pick y’all up from there.” I thought to ask more questions because my mom toned sounded as if she was in some serious trouble that she felt obligated to discuss when she picks us up. So I left it at that and told my sisters the news. My sister and I waited for my mom at our uncles. His house is extremely big. It was an old pretzel factory that he decide was best to fix up and turn into a house. Even thou the green paint is chipping and the grass was as high as a cornfield, the inside of his house was beautiful. He has these glass mirrors that have glass within the glass that makes up an unique pattered Steps with columns to follow up them and two big columns that is at the end. His couch is a nice big golden couch that it looks as if he robbed it from queen Elizabeth himself. In his dinning area is a long supper table with different cakes and cookies for people to come in and snack on, and right behind that lies an old piano me and my sister joke saying that its so old that bavtoven played on it. As you walk down the long table it leads you to two glass doors. On the doors says Ralph Lauren, behind the door lays a small kitchen area where pots dangling over top of the counter and chips and food feast on the counters. After spending a few hours in my uncle home my mom finally arrived. She showed up in my god mom small green car. She came in the house got my sister and I and then talked to my uncle for a few minuets. When my mom came in the car that’s when she was attacked with 21 questions. We started asking why she had god mom jackie car, where was god mom jacke, did she see the baby with out us, and by the look in my mom eye I can tell she had enough. She told us to sit back and shut up. The short 5 minuet car ride became a long 5 hour car ride because questions wasn’t being answered.
When we arrvived at the house my mother quickly told my sister and I to have a seat. I can hear it in her voice the news was bad so I stood up just so I can prepare for the worst. Thats when the words started fighting with her closed lips to give us the news that our god mom Jackie had passed. Thoese words came shooting at me and pierced me right through the heart. My eyelids was fighting back the tears. My brain couldn't tell what was real and was fake. Next thing I know our dinner room have became flooded with water from the tears that our body couldn't stop producing. I was so angry so upset that the wall has became an innocent victim of crossfire as my fist blistered into the white wall knocking it sheet rocks into pieces.
The death of my God mom lead me to think different. One I never said my last goodbye to my loved one leaving me never take another person life for granted. Two I have so many questions on why god chosen to take a prize possen out of my life.

I learned that I am a Strong writer but I can work on being on one topic at one time. Also I can work on my transition and expanding my vocabulary. Through My whole experience of writing these scenes I realized that there is a writing side of me. That I decide that I may want to try and practice more so i can write a book. As I was writing these scenes I notice my Strong points was getting descriptive and understanding where I can fit

Have you ever cried tears that felt like atomic bombs hitting your checks causing your skin to become weak. That's what I did repeatedly as I tried to cope with the situation I was in.
It all started the night before. My mom was in her bed room where the old wall paper pealed of like an onion being striped from its skin. Her queen size bed set in front of roughly a 35 inch Panasonic colored television. On the side of her laid a cluttered end table full with papers, pens, half full soda bottles, and other junk. My sister and I ran into the room playing around just to have fun before it was time for bed. I sworn in and quickly and screamed, “Mommmmmmy” in an annoying voice of a little kid. My mom looked at me in disbelief that i was acting childish and quickly responded “ Girl get out my face I’m about to get on the phone, how about you and your sister get up out my room.” When our mom say the lines “GET OUT OF MY ROOM” to my sister and I that's an invitation to the play the “How long can you annoy your mom game.” So my sister and I jumped on the bed and quickly started laughing while cracking jokes on my mom. Just as we were getting started her phone rung. It was my God mother Jackie calling to talk to my mom because a few days ago she had recently had a baby girl. As soon as we heard that it was our god mother on the phone we got super happy. Then my sister and I began acting like 3 year old by jumping on the bed and messing with our mother. Of course the game had to end because not only did we have to head to bed for school, but my mom was about to go in one of her talk for hours deep conversations. Just to get one more laugh in we begged out mom to let us say goodbye to our god mom before bed. My mom insisted it was our bed time and told us, “ You will talk to her another time now go to bed.”
People can’t predict the future but rather make assumptions, and sometime those assumptions we will regret.

On the way home from school my mother m calls me on my cell phone saying “take you and your sister to uncle Mopey’s I’ll pick y’all up from there.” I thought to ask more questions because my mom toned sounded as if she was in some serious trouble that she felt obligated to discuss when she picks us up. So I left it at that and told my sisters the news. My sister and I waited for my mom at our uncles.

When you go to my uncle house it gives off a 80’s soulful look. He lives in an old pretzel factory, that he decide was best to fix up and turn into a house. Even thou the green paint is chipping and the grass was as high as a cornfield, the inside of his house was beautiful. He has these glass mirrors that have glass within the glass that makes up an unique pattered Steps with columns to follow up them and two big columns that is at the end. His couch is a nice big golden couch that it looks as if he robbed it from queen Elizabeth herself. In his dinning area is a long supper table with different cakes and cookies for people to come in and snack on, and right behind that lies an old piano me and my sister joke saying that its so old that Beethoven played on it. As you walk down the long table it leads you to two glass doors. On the doors says Ralph Lauren, behind the door lays a small kitchen area where pots dangling over top of the counter and chips and food feast on the counters.

While waiting my sister and I was jamming to some old school music. I started dancing doing the tootsie roll and cabbage patch. Then she tried to top me by doing the running man and robot. When the radio started playing Pattie Labelle, Gerald Lervert, and Luther Vandross, that's When we really started jamming by lip singing to their songs.   

After spending a few hours in my uncle home jamming to old school music,my mom finally arrived. She showed up in my god mom small green car. She came in the house got my sister and I and then talked to my uncle for a few minuets. When my mom came in the car that’s when she was attacked with 21 questions. We started asking why she had god mom Jackie car, where was god mom Jackie, did she see the baby with out us, and by the look in my mom eye I can tell she had enough. She told us to sit back and shut up. The short 5 minuet car ride became a long 5 hour car ride because questions wasn’t being answered.

When we arrived at the house my mother quickly told my sister and I to have a seat. I can hear it in her voice the news was bad so I stood up just so I can prepare for the worst. That's when the words started fighting with her closed lips to give us the news that our god mom Jackie had passed. Those words came shooting at me and pierced me right through the heart. My eyelids was fighting back the tears. My brain couldn't tell what was real and was fake. Next thing I know our dinner room have became flooded with water from the tears that our body couldn't stop producing. I was so angry so upset that the wall has became an innocent victim of crossfire as my fist blistered into the white wall knocking it sheet rocks into pieces.
The death of my God mom lead me to think different. One I never said my last goodbye to my loved one leaving me never take another person life for granted. Two I have so many questions on why god chosen to take a prize possession out of my life.
Through this experience I realized that what we think will be here forever can be taking from us in a blink of an eye. We should never ever take anything for granted especially our loved ones. Also god will have you go through the storm just to get you to the rainbow even if that means taking away a loved one. So never question it just accept it because what don’t kill you makes you ten times stronger.

After School I’m going straight home and I will have my mom, sister and aunt read it over. Then I will edit through it to make sure its an A project, also to make sure i have learned something about descriptive language. Reread rubric

Descriptive Essay-Say what?!

Posted by Ayoola Hooks-Gibbs in English 2 - Block on

​          Say what?!  

   There I was standing on the second floor hallway looking at something ugly, black and sooty. Something horribly ugly!  Disgusting, it made me want to puke I wanted to cry!
 Wednesday afternoon. At school and I get a phone call from my mom saying that I needed to go over my friends house and spend the night. I wasn’t worried...I was clueless. I was around 10 or 11 years of age.
 I get home the following day, not sensing that anything has happened. I run up the wooden stair case to my bedroom and before I could go to my bedroom I turn around and I see that the wall going up to the third floor was black and there was a hole in the wall. I could see my parents bedroom... There I was, standing on the second floor hallway looking at something ugly, black and sooty. Something horrible ugly!  Disgusting, it made me want to puke I wanted to cry!
My house was filled with the aroma of burning sticks and paper in a campfire, but worse we had a fire.
 I still wonder from time to time, why on earth was I laughing when I found out that my older brothers room on the third floor or should I say his “little apartment” that he just finished fixing up and putting surround sound system in just a couple days before, got the most damage, which meant for 6 months he had to sleep in my non damaged room...
   I wasn’t laughing then...
   “Have a great time , enjoy your self and work hard!”  , “I’m so proud of you!”  “I’m going to miss you so much!” That isn’t even half of the good-bye’s and the good-lucks or even the “I’m proud of you”  ,  that my brother got before he left for College.
I remember saying good-bye to my  brother before he left for College like it was yesterday. For the first 2 months , I had to get used to not having my brother around to mess with or prank. The detachment took about to 2 months for me to get used to , because my brother and I were pretty close..  After a while it was like a vacation , I got spoiled once he left , it was the life! Before I knew it , one day the door opens  and my brother is standing in the door way , I was pretty happy to see him , because I haven’t seen him for some time , then my brother tells me that he is going to take a break from college , and my smile turns into a solid face , I wanted to scream!  Why me?!

 I have been waiting for this day...forever!
  For the past 6 months, my family and I have been trying to get our house back to normal and in better shape after the fire. We’ve been ordering mattresses, getting bed frames, picking out colors, getting contractors, and getting our floors re-done. So much! Oh, and I’m even getting my room remodeled!
I’ve been waiting for this day...forever! Here I am, in my new looking house and my new looking room, waiting for people to bring in my mattress, and then my room will be complete! They come through the door, up the staircase, up to the 2nd floor and to my room, and put my mattress in my new bed frame. My room is a granny smith apple green, with a white bed frame, and white desk, a wooden bookcase, white doors with black knobs.
  That night I slept great...matter of fact it was the best sleep I’ve ever had, no more stinky brother in my room with his nasty socks, and now I don’t have to find socks and lotion missing! I finally have my space, my privacy back….my independence back! I take in a deep breath, smelling the new fresh paint, the new mattress. As I lay in my bed … I think to myself … now this is more like it.... this is home
When the fire happened, it made everything for 6 months an inconvenience, because my brother had to sleep in my room and we had to go and my family and I even had to stay at a hotel, and everything just wasn’t right. Everything wasn’t the same. I had no privacy , no one did! My else was limited because half of the rooms in my house was off limits because of the fire.Also because of the fire my brother and I became closer. Having a fire is somewhat disturbing, for me it was. You think everything is fine that day and you come home to find out that you had a fire, and now you’re back to square one. It’s like you just moved in to a new house and once you buy it, you have to fix it up, pick paint, get carpet, and get the essentials for a room, which is like a 6 month process.
         For some reason when I had a fire, it didn’t hit me until the next day. I bursted in to tears, I wondered why. I asked myself why am  I crying? I didn’t feel the tears coming, it didn’t feel like I had a lump in my throat like it usually feels when I’m about to cry, it just…came out.
Could we have stopped the fire early enough, if someone was home? Then again if someone was in the house they could of got injured. A bunch of questions come to my mind when I think about the fire, and they’re all unanswered.

English essay : Unforgettable memories

Posted by Maria-Carolina Latorre-Socas in English 2 - Block on

​Unforgettable memories

By: Maria Latorre

 

There we were standing ready to lift off the airport. I looked back one more time to say bye to the state I was born in, “bye Venezuela.” We lifted off, the flight was long and it was so high to a person that was three feet.  It was also very fun after four hours. We had landed on a strange land that I had never seen before. There where so many people all of them were bigger then me but then I saw him I was very happy. My dad was waiting for us to get here. I was so happy but I was really tired that the moment I got in the car after walking from the ice-cold airport, I fell asleep faster than you can say I love you.

It was winter for me. Where I had come from I never felt this cold because it was nice, worm, or very hot. At the same time it was almost my birthday by the time I got to America. I got a lot of presents. One of the present was a stuffed animal named storm. She was a black stuffed dog with brown eyes. I always love animals so I was very happy to have gotten this one. A month later it was really winter and little ice-cold things stared falling from the sky, Americans call it snow. I knew that part but I never saw it fall on the main lands, I only would see it on mountains. Then Christmas came and I got more presents. I loved it.  I got so many things that I can’t name them all.

The seasons flew and it was summer. No more Ice, no more deadly cold weather, and no more heavy clothing. Now there’s nice hot air I can go swimming, but this summer was different. I played tennis that’s where I met a good and dear friend. It was really funny how we met because when we were playing she hit the ball too hard and it smacked me on the middle of my face. She ran to me and asked me if I was ok and that is how we started talking.

Now it’s time for school. I didn’t want to go I was too scared. I would ask myself, “What if the others think I’m weird because I don’t know English?” What if they hate me? I don’t want to go I want to be with my family. The moment my dad took me to school and we entered the big halls that had not a single sound and it was very dark too, I started to cry, “Papi yo no quiero estar aquí no mi dejes.”  I would say that every day until I had gotten use to school in America. I also met Mrs. Rosemary she was very nice and she would take care of me from the beginning of the day to the end of the day. My homeroom teacher was also nice to me and she would talk really slow so I could understand what she was talking about. I got used to coming to school that I forgot about the time and as a blink of and eye the school year was over.

The next school year they made me repeat because I was too young to go to first grade. The good thing about that was I meet her again, the girl that hit the ball so hard that it went flying into my face. We were always together, we became more than friends we were family. However sometime she would be hard to deal with. We would get into fights a lot. Being friends with her was like an emotional rollercoaster ride. I would always take in every single emotion she had so that she wouldn’t burst out on anyone. She would get mad a lot but I was the one that would cure her anger and I was ok with it. Another thing I would do for her is make her happy and take care of her when she’s sad. She would always come crying to me. I had become her mother, but I wasn’t only her mother I’m a mother for all of my friends too. I would act like their mother because I care for them a lot.

I’m in the second grade and we are all happy together have more fun then before. It was gym when I got into a school run. It was really fun we had to run and win the race in the end we won. That was so cool for me because I was there and helped my team to win.

Many years had past and its finally my 8th grade year. It was our last year together and we were all sad but we had a lot of fun. This year was different I was able to tell my sister (better known as my first friend) that she was hurting me a lot. Mainly emotionally because I was tired of taking her anger, which was always full force. She then said that she was very sorry and that she would try to change. After that we played a lot, went to the mall, the parks, on trips, and many other place. We are about to go to high school, graduation is tomorrow. As I was sleeping I had a dream that we would never leave but then I woke up and reality hits me in the face like an ice cold water fell from the sky.

Now I graduated from my middle school and we all want our different ways. The begging of a new school year started and I had made new friends. SLA was like another home to me it was very fun. I would always smile with my new friends. Even when we would get into a lot of fights, but the fight always ended with both side smiling happily at each other. I still had my other friend in my heart. We would meet time to time. Just so our friendship stayed together. The school year past very fast too, so soon that the next school year had already started.

I’m a sophomore its fun so far and I’m trying new things. Having friend and meeting new people is the best time for me. This school year will be very fun I just know it. All of my experiences are like a bumpy car ride but here I am, still going and really for any big bumps my car will have to go though. That makes these unforgettable memories.

Who Am I?

Posted by Nicholas Murray in English 2 - Block on

​

“Why do I have to do this?” It was all I could think about while I continued my 7th grade project. It touched on all the things that I had always tried to avoid. I had to describe myself. When asked to describe myself as a simple beginning of the year question I have always kept my answers short, simple, uncreative and each time the answer was generally identical. It was the thing I hated most in the world. Why? Maybe I didn’t understand myself. But to be given a whole project on that subject alone, it felt like my stomach had just done a somersault. So I just sat there, thinking, who am I?
        So many years have past but this lingering question has still followed me. Even after finishing the project I was still uncertain of whom I was, and made it a basic project. My life has always been filled with so much uncertainness. As a result I have always been indecisive in all my decisions, even the simplest decisions.  Who do I want be? What will I become? I wonder why it was so hard for me. Was I afraid?
        Was I fearful? The more I thought about it, the more it kind of made sense. When spending time with a group of my friends I am usually loud and extroverted. Playing video games on our laptops like Call of Duty 4, Spore and mine craft. We are hyper, running around messing with each other and joking around. Sometimes sit around talking and chill, awaiting the next class. In class it is always a different story. It is like a switch was flipped on me. Shy, hesitant; peers would hardly know I was there. I was always terrified to share my thoughts, so I nearly always kept my hands down. And when I actually did put my hand up every once in a blue moon, there was a huge round of applause from everyone in the class like it was the most amazing thing they have seen. Embarrassment was definitely a factor.
So was it my lack of detail in explaining myself. Like when I did the descriptive writing essay. As I was staring at that 6x4 photo in my brightly lit, slightly messy room, trying to figure it out, it seemed impossible. First of all, I have never been good at descriptive writing for the last 15 years of my life.  For my assignment I was told to write a thorough description of a piece of art important to you, so I chose a photo that I treasured. Even though I treasured it, I realized that I never really looked at it, I didn’t even remember the reason I treasured it. I looked at it sideways, backwards and even measured it, but still, nothing. So I finally looked at, looking for anything and everything. As I stared at the photo intensely, like it was the most interesting thing in the world, all I could see were the obvious points. In the photo were both my grand mother and my little brother Nathaniel when he was around 4 or 5 years old. So I looked at closer, staring at my brother’s old braided hair, looking at the old him, it was like staring into the past. He was older now, with shaved hair; I had forgotten what he used to look like. So I continued to stare at it, remembering lost memories, trying to recall anything and everything.
        But no matter how many questions these answered my main one was yet to be answered, who am I? So I just sat there and thought. I thought about everything that had happened to me up to now. I tried and tried and tried. I wanted to remember something to answer my question.

        I found it, the answer.  It was in piece of me writing that I had forgotten. Something I shared out despite the fear and embarrassment.

They say I’m not American
I say
I am Jamerican

They say that I’m no good
I say
I know how to rise above stereotypes and be good
So
Don’t judge me by the fact I came from the hood
They say my people are all a shame
I say
I am not the same

They say I’m not anything I’m hopeless
I say
Stop the dumbness
Instead
I’m gonna stay out the darkness
To rise to greatness

This poem reminds me of who I am, I am different, think different, and do things different. It might take me a while to completely understand myself, but that is ok. As I head out on my own path, I know it’ll all be fine. I am undefined and I am fine with that. I doubt anyone else understands themselves either, so why should I sweat it.

ENG2-008

Term
2011-12

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