Advanced Essay #1: Free Spirit

​Introduction:
This piece is a glimpse into my past and how I've come to be as expressive and free as I am today. There are many factors from my childhood that changed the extremity of my expressiveness from being so caged and restricted when I was growing up.  I have changed a lot over the years and have finally come to accept and embrace my free spirit.

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Free Spirit

For as long as I can remember, I've always been a free spirit. I was someone who, when comfortable, could express my opinions and thoughts without caring what other people think. I was raised to make my own choices, and those lessons I learned stuck with me, even when I felt like I was being caged in. I always remembered that no matter what, no matter who you were, nobody, not even myself, could cage my free spirit.

From the time I was born, my family was always open, there were no such thing as secrets. We were raised to be the same way. If we ever had a question, my parents would always provide an answer as best they could; like the time when I was at my uncle’s house for Christmas. The house was beautifully and intricately decorated. There were strings upon strings of both colored and white bulbs lining the railings and walls along with long strings of shiny green, red, and white garland. The whole house shone and sparkled as bright as the pretty star on top of his six foot tree.

“Mommy, why is Uncle Billy holding hands with that other man?”

    “Well sweetie, that’s his boyfriend. That's the way Uncle Billy always been. He loves boys, and always will, and that's okay.”

“Oh, okay, Mommy! Do you think they will get married?”

We were always taught to be ourselves; dance like nobody's watching, sing like nobody's listening, dress for your own fashion show, walk to the beat of our own drum. It's just how my life was, and I loved being able to be myself and make my own choices. I loved feeling so free as a child.

However, things started to change when I started elementary school.

All throughout elementary and middle school I was forced to conform, and shamed for being different. It didn’t matter how small the issue was, I was punished for breaking rules and being a “distraction.”

The dress code for my old school was ridiculous. Every shirt you wore had to have the school logo on them, all bottoms must be khaki or blue for gym days, and every shoe had to be brown for regular days and all white for gym days. All shirts had to be tucked in, no exceptions. Boys were not, under any circumstance, to be without a belt, or have their hair lay past their collar. Girls were not, under any circumstance, allowed to wear pants or shorts, have crazy hairstyles or colors, or have a skirt that was too short. That is just the short of it.

I used to get dress coded and punished often, even if the issue was minor. There was the time when I was in sixth grade. It was lunchtime and I had gotten out of my seat in the middle of the room to go buy a snack from the display of starches and sweets they had at the back wall of the cafeteria. The lady running the table gave me a bright smile and let me select and pay for my snack with ease. As I was turning around to return to my seat, I was met with the dark blue fabric of a sweatshirt, and stumbled back in surprise. I looked up to meet the cold sneer of the cafeteria security guard, Mr. Moon.

“H-hi, Mr. Moon…” I said softly.

He continued to stare blankly at me

“Your shirt,” he deadpanned.

My eyes moved nervously side to side in their sockets.

“What about it?”

“It’s untucked. Why?”

Oh crap.

“Oh uh...it felt too tight and I got uncomfortable, so I untucked it.”

“It’s still against the rules, go to the bathroom and fix it, or it’s a demerit.”

I gulped and accepted my defeat, retreating into the bathroom.

I felt caged my entire elementary and middle school career, and I knew I didn't like it. So when I got into eighth grade, I finally took charge. I started leaving my shirt out more often, and after multiple warnings, the teachers eventually gave up. I started listening to my music louder; the sound of long guitar riffs and heavy drums physically making my peers flinch in fear. I stopped letting people treat me as if I was below them, I started to stand up for myself and argue back. I remember the feeling I got when I would beat kids in an argument and see them slink away in shame and embarrassment.

Things got better when I graduated. I felt free from the chains that middle school put on me. At my new high school, I was able to express myself how I wanted. I took my new found freedom and flew with it. I cut my hair and dyed my hair crazy colors, I bought more clothes that were my style, and I stopped keeping secrets and came out to my immediate family and friends. I wanted to go to my new school as the real me, not the me that my middle school tried to make me.

With that attitude in mind, I’ve managed to make it to my junior year of high school confident and happy. I haven’t let anyone hold me back from expressing myself how I wanted to, whether it be how loudly I spoke in a class discussion or how I wore my hair. I love the freedom that being at SLA gives me, it feels good not to be in a cage anymore. I want everyone to feel the same way I do. I want everyone who is too scared to be themselves, to know that it’s okay to be you. It’s not easy being comfortable with yourself, but with a little practice, and the freedom to be as expressive as you want, I know that everyone can fly just as high as I can.


Advanced Essay #1: From the Fiery Depths of Impatience

Introduction

To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing when I started this. After so much thinking, I decided I would compare the bond between patience and impatience to fire and marshmallows. I think I worked pretty well. This essay is one of the most descriptive one I wrote, and I'm proud of that. However, I feel weird that I almost hit 1000 words. For the future, I'm going to try to be as descriptive as possible and not go overboard.

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From the Fiery Depths of Impatience

As a kid in elementary school, dismissal time was always something to look forward. I could never wait to go home, make a snack, and play on my phone or sleep before doing my homework. Well, maybe not the homework, but everything else was enough to keep me anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 4. However, there was always one thing I had to go through before I could enjoy my afternoon.

My friends and I would always stand outside the door to the school as we waited for our rides to come pick us up. Until then, we’d always talk about simple things, Pokemon, games, how mean our teachers were, whatever what was on our minds. One by one my friends waved their goodbyes as they got into their parents’ cars and drove off. I’d always have to wait a little longer to get picked up. My dad was always either upstairs talking with teachers or on his way here. He was usually upstairs. He collected my two brothers and I and we walked out to Cubit (One of the cars we had was a Nissan Cube).

 The car ride ride home was always something I truly dreaded. It was the time where my dad took the opportunity to ask me about my day. He always wanted to know everything about everything! “How was your day?” “Did you say hi to John?” “Did you see Mr. Sheehan today?” “Do you do your homework?” “Did you turn it in?” “When?” “Did you eat your lunch?” “What was it?” “Did you like it?” It drove me crazy. My impatience kicked in immediately.

I wanted to get these questions over with as soon as possible; the car ride home was valuable sleeping time. Quickly, I answered yes or no to every question my dad bombarded me with. “Yes. No. No. Yes. Yes. Yes.” The fire of impatience was burning inside me. Rage was building and I tried my best to hide it, only hinting at it through my tone. I wanted desperately to get the questions over with. When my dad was finally done, I was too annoyed to hide it. “Stop asking me questions,” I said, and turned over in my seat. My impatience always go the best of me.  

I see patience as a fluffy little marshmallow. Sweet and innocent, not trying to hurt anyone. However, right below it is a huge fire. A big, roaring flame. This flame gets stronger whenever my impatience begins to grow. Soon, it gets stronger and begins to singe and burn the cute little marshmallow on top. And when that marshmallow finally melts, I lose it, as I did on the drive home.

That fire is impatience.

On one hand, my impatience has a negative effect on me, but on the other hand, it can be slightly helpful. Ever since I was a kid, I always felt the need to complete things quickly. As one of my favorite video game characters put it, you always “gotta go fast.” So an upside to being impatient as that it helps you do things quicker, which in a way benefits me. It really makes you think about the final product. It’s kinda like a “I gotta hurry up and finish this so the final part looks nice” situation. Though “fast” and “neat” don’t always go hand in hand.

“Marshmallows!” my little brother cried, smiling with glee. My dad grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the kitchen pantry. My brothers and I look on with glee and excitement as he walked back to the stone fireplace where we sat. He removed the metal grid from in front of the fireplace. “Light the wood.” He handed his match to me. I slowly moved my trembling hand into the gap where the old but only slightly charred wood lay. I remember it taking many attempts for me to successfully scratch the wood.

I pulled back as a roaring orange flame rose from the wood, almost burning my hand. Heat and the smell of smoke filled the area. I shrieked a little at the sight, but my father reassured me, congratulating me for lighting the fire. He then motioned my brother to open up the bag of marshmallows. Being the young hungry kids we were, we immediately grabbed a few and quickly ate them up. “Stop! I told you not to eat them!” Dad snatched the bag away. “Y’all some hungry kids. You can wait until we cook the marshmallows.”

We ran and got got the wooden skewers from the back; the fire was slowly dying. I quickly grabbed a skewer and shoved two marshmallows onto it, then put it over the fire. “Let it sit above the fire and turn it. Wait until it’s brown,” my dad guided me. I waited five seconds. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then thirty. Nothing happened. I was getting very impatient, the fire inside me only getting stronger. My marshmallows fell victim to it, both literally and figuratively.

So I was stuck with two burnt marshmallows, looking in sadness as my brothers happily enjoyed their semi-cooked treats. I need to try again, I thought, this isn’t fair. I crawled over to the marshmallow bag only to find that it was completely empty. Looks like my brothers and I ate more than we thought. I had no other choice. I moved the charred marshmallows closer to my mouth and slowly took a bite. Aside from burning my mouth, the melted marshmallows tasted weird to me. This taste was completely new to me.

So even impatience has its upsides, as I found out that day. Like fear freezes you, impatience burns you. I guess I’ll be stuck with it forever, not that I really regret it. This emotion can be good; it helps me to act fast and work faster. Sometimes the worst misfortunes in our lives can lead to our rise in the world.


Advanced Essay #1: Ordinary?

Boubou Magassa Intro

My name is Boubou Magassa. I wanted to make people understand the importance of ordinary things. Because things like sand, wood, and water many people are under appreciated. Simple objects like these can be changed into glass, houses, and tables. I want to prove that nothing in this world is simple. 
 
Ordinary?

In this world, there are a lot of machines that are considered “ORDINARY,” but are they really? Because of these incredible machines, we as humans are able to live life to the fullest and they make it easier. There are a lot of people that use vehicles and other forms of transportation. The machines that most people consider ordinary are actually complex. The simple components of these machines are what make them complex because they can be able to have multiple purposes. 
As I opened my front door, I heard banging and drilling. I thought the day would be just the same as any other day! Me sitting alone and doing homework. I then swung the door open and locked it behind. As I walk in, I see many men covered in dust as if they used sawdust instead of confetti. They continued their work as I walked to the kitchen. I saw my countertop gone. It had been removed. I place where I used to fall, stub my toes, and cut myself. When I turned to the man who looked like he was in charge. “What are you doing,” I said. He looked at me confused and said. “We are remodeling your kitchen.” I had then remembered my mom telling me about that. “Okay, so that is today.” The men then brought a beautiful granite countertop that just shined in the light. From that day on I used my countertop for everything from cooking to cleaning.
My countertop is something very ordinary because every house has one. To me, my countertop is a work of art. My countertop is used for everything. I appreciate it because it has its purposes but, it is also a beautiful work of art. It's pleasing to the eyes and makes you want to view nature. Rock has a very long and structured history in our world. Rock was used for weapons, crafting, and hunting. For millions of years, rocks were needed to maintain life on earth. 
Another memory about an ordinary object I appreciated was a bike. It was a boring summer day of my middle school career. I and my brothers were watching a cheesy horror movie called Mega Piranha on Syfy but then my brother got a call. It was from my Mom. “Baba, bring a hammer to the salon,” she said. “Okay.” My brother had then gone to go get his things ready. Then I and my other brothers asked: “Can we go to?”. My brother had then replied with a “Fine but, hurry up.” As we heard those words leave his mouth. We charged upstairs on the hunt for some clothes. After 10 minutes of our successful hunt we were ready. We had gotten our bikes and were ready to set off on our journey. We started to ride to South Philly. The ride wasn't too long maybe 45 minutes to 1 hour. When we finally got there. “Oh, there you are. Thank you.” said my Mom We were exhausted and also happy to see our mother happy. My Dad had then came out of the shop. “ WOW, you guys rode your bikes all the way here,” My Dad said. 
“Thank you very much for helping us.” My Dad said. “No problem at all.” Me and my brothers replied. Soon after, we had rode our bikes home to go find another cheesy movie to watch.
A bike is a great simple machine. When a person needs to get around they are able to use these simple machines to travel easy. If there is traffic a bike could have easily gotten past it . The bike also slows down the processes of global warming. All of these amazing things done by one simple and ordinary machine. This ordinary machine like a bike also saves people lots and lots of money. On average a person with a car uses 558 gallons of gasoline which adds up to a total of $2,120.40. And a whooping $545.70 go straight the government. These ordinary machines saves us 2,000+ dollars a year. Bikes are no way in hell ordinary.
What is “ordinary”? I hope after reading this that you have come to a conclusion that there is no thing called ordinary because all ordinary thing as actually really complex. Here is a quote that I was told before “There is no thing as nothing because if you are doing nothing then you are still doing something because, that something is nothing.” Things are not as they seem when you look at them in a different light. Something like a table. Which is considered ordinary took years and years to be perfected into what it is today. There and coffee tables, desks, and many more types of tables. Then why is it considered ordinary because it is commonly seen everywhere. Then if that were true wouldn’t that mean that humans are ordinary. Then why do we say we are a special and unique. That is because “ordinary is “special and unique”.

Advanced Essay #1: Lucien Hearn

Introduction:

For this paper​ I wanted to work on making a piece of writing that was cohesive, with good transitions. I think I didn't do as well with this towards the end, but I enjoy the beginning. I think I also did well with my intro in setting up a mood. I feel that I did fine with reflection, but I could add a lot more to my scenes to make them more prominent. 



Advanced Essay:


In 2005 my mother and I moved from our spacious apartment in the thick of olde city, right under my grandmother, to a compact half-house in Woodlynne, a town bordering the well-known area of Collingswood. My house had a yard surrounding it on all sides, and dividing us from the neighbors was a wall, just thin enough for us to hear the conversations had just next door. I never listened, but the option was enough to make me feel like a spy.


I didn’t speak with anyone in my new neighborhood for the entire summer leading up to kindergarten. I did everything that I did then in a usual summer - go to the beach with my dad, visit my grandfather with my mom, etc. The entire time, I was anticipating what my school would be like. I lived a block away from it, and it was only kindergarten, but a change that big is enough to worry anyone. This was a new grade, how much different would it be? Would I be as smart as the other kids? Would I start getting challenging homework? My mind raced with questions, anxiety fuelling them the whole way.


This feeling was not one I expected to encounter multiple times throughout my life. My family- immediate and extended - is one that is constantly moving around, migrating from one place to another every year or two, waiting to settle down until further into their lives. My brother had changed schools every year in elementary and middle school, my mother moved around on a boat from continent to continent, sailing the seven seas, and my brother’s mom takes vacations a couple times a month to various places. It wasn’t until later that I realized this, for the time being I had thought that I moved around the same amount everyone else did. Granted, I didn’t move the extremity that my family did, but it was still enough to have an impact on me.


When I was younger, on days where my friends were busy I would watch TV shows, mostly sitcoms. It was something to pass the time, passively listening to the theme whenever a new episode started. Being young, I had few cares about how my life would be later down the line, never stopping to appreciate what I had, a very solid friend group who I envisioned myself with always.


Over the years, I had switched schools multiple times, and moved on from elementary into high school. I had long since moved away from my tight-knit group of friends from Woodlynne, and had been longing for another. Of course, there were many people in my schools that I had considered friends, and a few that had earned the title of “best friend”, but I had yet to discover another group like previous, mirroring the casts as seen on TV from my childhood. At first, I thought that acting like one of the characters would naturally lead me to this elusive group of friends - that didn’t work. Then I tried to talk to people I’d never spoken to or hung out with before - it seems there was a reason we didn’t talk much in the first place. And after trying and failing multiple times with other methods, I began to wonder if I’d ever truly fit in. I enjoyed the people around me - don’t get me wrong - but I never felt a strong connection to anyone, and I was just wandering through life, it felt like. I always envisioned people in high school to have cliques and groups that they slowly settled into, but it seemed that it wouldn’t be that simple.


In sophomore year, I joined the Cross Country team for no apparent reason other than to look better on college applications. I was speaking with the people on the team when we started talking about what we did in our free time


“I usually just listen to podcasts like Sleepycabin”


Something in my brain clicked when I heard those words, and I became ecstatic. It was like seeing an old friend and reconnecting. Though he likely forgot within the week, it was special to me.


“You like them too? No way!”


It’s something insignificant, no one aside from me would have noticed or cared, but I had never found another person who had liked or even known about something like that, and to me, this was very special. After having a long talk about all the ins and outs of the show, we started talking more, eventually leading to hanging out. To most people, finding someone else who shares an interest would be a nice surprise, but to me it felt like finding an old friend to talk to.


Having a group of people you consider close friends is a very special thing, and something to be cherished. You may not be able to hold the same group of friends throughout your whole life, but it’s important to hold onto that for as long as possible, appreciating the consistency of friends, enjoying the same old things you did last week.


Advance Essay #1: Shifting Friendships

​Introduction: In writing this essay my goal was to talk about a memory from my childhood and relate it to common emotions felt while you are young and how that changes as you grow up. I am proud of how it turned out but for the future I could get help a bit sooner and make sure it flows better. Overall I am proud of my piece as well as completing the first writing assignment in my junior year.
​Advanced Essay #1:

Every time I see him I am reminded. She is no longer close. When I look out my back window I am reminded of fun times and no cares in the world.  Each time he walks by a different memory flashes before my eyes but I find one coming back the most, each time more and more vivid. I don't remember how either of them came into my life but I remember them being there. I don't remember all the details of our times together but I remember the important things. The three of us would do everything we could together. Three kids, one back alley, lots of memories.

The one memory that is most vivid was playing in the rain. She and I completed each other’s outfits. I had the pants and no top and she had the top with no pants. He was running around shirtless. We splashed in puddles for hours then went into the alley behind our houses and ran until we could no more. After we were finished running we were hosed down by our parents in the back yard. We were then wrapped in big towels and carried inside the warmth of my house. That is about where my memory of that adventure ends, and I have snippets of many other times together.

Now she is off in the suburbs at a fancy school and he is back and forth between divorced parents’ houses. A friendship we swore would last forever is no more. We thought things would always be the same and never imagined how we would end up going off in different directions.

As children we see the world differently. We often see the world as sparkles and rainbows not realizing the truth of what is happening in front of us. Things that make us happy as children may not make us happy now or we may see a different side to them that we did not before. Your perspective changes as you grow older and learn more things about yourself and the world around you.

Excitement comes in many different ways. New clothes, fun trip, first bicycle, or many other things. Kids are easily excited often by the simplest things.

I remember after she moved away feeling the excitement of going to see her or spending the night over her house. I remember being excited every single time I saw him, my little heart pounding out of my chest. The excitement grew as we grew older and the visits to see her decreased and elementary school started and I would only see him after school.

Each time I saw her we made more memories and had great times leaving me more and more excited to see her again. When she moved the three of us were no more. I still saw them both but they didn't see each other, just the occasional hello when she happened to come to my house instead of me going to hers.

The excitement started to fade as we got older. She stayed where she was but made new friends, her bond growing stronger with them with each growing year as our bond weakened. He moved on from me as we grew older and became more involved with his school and new friends. And now he spends half his time with his father who moved away.  When he is here we still exchange a few words when we cross paths and he isn't sucked into his various activities or groups of friends.

Excitement is always there but fades over time as that thing you onced loved no longer brings that spark of joy to your heart it once did. Excitement will come and go as your interests and friends change. Your interests may change in different directions from others, and if you don't experience a feeling from a certain thing over time the excitement fades until it is stored in the back of your mind as a memory.

When you’re a child you think everything will last forever and things won't change. However, the reality is that most things do and will change over time. What at the time seems like a loss is now a lesson in accepting change as new friendships form and new memories are made. The friendships you create and memories you make will always have a special place in your heart no matter how far apart you and your friends drift or how many new memories you make.