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Marina Pyfrom's Song

Posted by Marina Pyfrom in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​fiesta de rock! 
De dónde vengo yo
Vamos 
2X

Its a fun song. I want the refrain to be easy and simple so my audience can sing too. My chorus will set the stage for the verses. 
Yes because it is catchy which means audience can quickly catch on and sing. 
Maybe add another line into. I haven't decided yet because I kind of like it the way it already is. 
Just trying to make the lines catchy especially in spanish and just making it flow throughout the song. 

Yo escucha sirenas de la policía.
sueños ser una bailarina.
Vivo con Mi mamá .
no drama
Ella es importante y muy elegante.
Mi casa es en Filadelphia

My first verse tells a little about where I'm from but goes in more about my mother. 
I like the first too lines because the rhyme scheme and also the message. 
I wanna take more about my mom and our relationship. So there will be more lines added. 
The most difficult part is answering the question in an intelligent Spanish 3 student way. Being that our vocabulary is limited we can not say what we want to make the song great. So we have to do the best we can and hope for the best.

Yo vengo de una familia.
Me gusta que mi familia es pequeña.
Tenemos una relacion buena.
Una vez al año hay reunión
Por que tradición.

My second first talks about my family and its characteristics.
I love my second verse because the message is perfect for the essential question and its rhymes successfully. 
I think I want to make this my first verse just because It answers the question more and just simply amazing.
I had no difficulty this verse because I let my mind wonder and did not pressure myself with the rhyming. It just came to my brain and I loved it so I used it.  

Cecelia's (:

Posted by Cecelia Baez in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
    • What is your refrán supposed to communicate? 
      - I was in a VERY lovey mood (: Communicating my lovey doveiness at a random moment.  I feel as if loving things is just my background. In my mind it's where I am from. 
    • What are you especially happy about with your first draft?
      - Not at all!!! lol i can only make songs like that when I am lovey. But when I am not I cannot continue the song. I was going to get into my family and love with them. BUT change of plans (:
    • What would you like to improve about your refrán first draft?
      - I would like to try and change the topic to something I can always write about rather than be a moment thing. 
    • What was difficult about writing your refrán? 
      - Just a tad. it's REALLY hard to remember how to conjugate everything and simple words. but None the less I will change my song topic to something a LOT more interesting... (:

      Me gusta que mama, 

      Usted el siente el mismo?

      Te amo papa, 

      Usted el siente el mismo?

      Tú  es el solo uno que puede me hacen sonreír.

      Yo no quiero…. perderte usted. 

      perderte usted. (:


Becca Fenton's refrain

Posted by Rebecca Fenton in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​EL REFRÁN (escribe el refrán aquí):
Amor y familia es todos lo que nietecito
Nietecito yo nosotros muy malo
Yo amor nosotros
Yo lo hacer simepre


  • Share the first version of your refrán.
    • What is your refrán supposed to communicate? 
      How the most important things are to love your family and to have love in your life.
    • What are you especially happy about with your first draft?
      I am happy that the refrain isn't too long but it's long enough and  I feel like it shows the true purpose of our song.
    • What would you like to improve about your refrán first draft?
      I would like to maybe go over all the spelling and tenses because I feel like we may have had some errors.
    • What was difficult about writing your refrán? 
      It was difficult because I have never written a song in spanish before and it was a new challenge. 

Leonardo-Alejandro ... Santiago (J. Pullins): El Refrn

Posted by Justin Pullins in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​El refrán para la cancion:

Infinito,
¿Dónde comienza?,
Infinito,
¿Por dónde empezar?



*What is your refrán supposed to communicate?

The refrán is supposed to state where I am now and how I got there with who and where I'm from.

*What are you especially happy about your first draft?

Nothing yet; I wrote this first draft with the full intention of eventually changing it completely.

*What would you like to improve about your refrán first draft?
I'd like to include more metaphors and symbolism; I think the songwriting won't be very good without it.


*What was difficult about writing your refrán?
I think the difficult part of writing the refrán was trying to write something that sounds very cool, catchy, and original.


First version

Posted by Imani Johnson in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​Yo vivo en el silencio
Pero hablan
La cuidad hablan
Yo vengo de felicidad y sonrisas.
Muchos extraños personas creas mi vida
¡Mi vida es maravillosa!
Vivo en el ciudad del amor fraternal.
Vivo en el ciudad de la calma, los jovenes, los viejos, el ciudad
De Filadefia.


1. My refrán is supposed to communicate the basics of where my group and I came from.

2. The fact that with all of our individual refráns we create a story of our backgrounds.

3. It would probably be better if each sentence could flow together and there weren't long sentences.

4. It was hard to really figure out where I'm from since I've lived in so many places, so it was really tough to put where I'm from down in a few sentences when I'm still trying to figure that out for myself.

maddie walls refrn

Posted by Madeline Walls in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​Soy de Filadelfia,
casa de mi familia.
Me encanta esta ciudad,
im am del amor

no importa si me voy
i siempre será de Filadelfia.
se aparte de mí.


1. that im from philadelphia and i love it

2. that i finished it and its in spanish and goes together.

3. i would like to have it maybe sound better out loud

4. everything i didn't know what so write i dont like writing songs especially in spanish. 

Basilio (N. Manton): EL Refrn

Posted by Nicholas Manton in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​Yo vivo en el silencio
Pero hablan
La cuidad hablan
Yo vengo de felicidad y sonrisas.
Muchos extraños personas creas mi vida
¡Mi vida es maravillosa!
Vivo en el ciudad del amor fraternal.
Vivo en el ciudad de la calma, los jovenes, los viejos, el ciudad
De Filadefia.

1. My refrain is supposed to show the many different things in which we live in.

2. I am happy with how diverse our refrains were, but they still had a little flow to them.

3. I would like to make it flow together better.

4. It was difficult to write where I'm from without being boring.

Anita Patterson - Refran

Posted by Allison Patterson in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
Refran: Vengo de Venezuela y yo vengo de Pensilvana ahora estamos junta cantando de Roxborough en donde vivimos. De día y de noche celebramos y cantamos se vaya. Ya..ya lo sabes todo en Roxborough todos son locos. Pero ahí tiempos que todos se cambian..silenció..oscuro..las calles vacías. Pero esto es Roxborough en donde vivimos.

  • Share the first version of your refrán.
    • What is your refrán supposed to communicate?
  • The refran shows what we do in Roxobrough.
    • What are you especially happy about with your first draft?
  • I like the flow.
    • What would you like to improve about your refrán first draft?
  • I would like to shorten it.
    • What was difficult about writing your refrán?
  • Keeping in tempo.

Refrn

Posted by Kimberly Parker in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
​Amor y familia es todos lo que nietecito
Nietecito yo nosotros muy malo
Yo amor nosotros
Yo lo hacer simepre

  • What is your refrán supposed to communicate? 
    The refrán is supposed to say ho much I love my family and how much I need them. 
  • What are you especially happy about with your first draft?
    I'm happy that it makes sense and fits together. 
  • What would you like to improve about your refrán first draft?
    I would like to check to see if every word is in the correct spot and spelled right. 
  • What was difficult about writing your refrán? 
    Forming sentences is really really hard for me. 

Refran

Posted by Terrance Oliveri-Wiliams in Spanish 3 - Gierke on
Estamos de dos uno cinco

Y mucho dinero

que vivimos, la respiración, y comer philly

porque esta es nuestra ciudad


Our chorus should communicate where we are from and what our city means to us. I am really happy that we actually came up with the chorus', so just in case we don't feel one of them, we can always us the other one, as long as it is approved by Srta. G. I would like to improve on the flow and rhythm to our chorus, the syllables make it hard to stay constant and keep the same tempo. The hardest part about writing the chorus was trying to make it rhyme, we didnt quite get there, but we are working on it. 

Value Family

Posted by Jermel Langley in English 2 - Block on
​“Value family because they are not always going to be there forever.” Summer time, beginning of august, playing call of duty on the new zombie map, shangri la in my living room with the lights off so I can focus on the game while on the phone with my girlfriend. My dad walks in from work hard day at work and turns on the lights, “Hey dad how was your day at work” I said. He came home very happy for some reason, with his usual three laptop bag but I didn't bother to ask, I just sank back into my game. “ Busy as always son but i only have a couple more days until till my break,”

After an hour or so of playing my video games and speaking on the phone with my girlfriend I started to feel tired and that’s when I noticed something. There they were in the kitchen my mom, sisters and my dad were playing around very loudly with a Spanish accent. I felt a little left out and couldn't really hear them that well, But I wanted to be funny, so i said something to him “Dad why you acting so hype and loud,” my dad replied “What What ! I can acted how i feel because i do what i feel you know”  right after his reply I knew he was playing because he was still speaking in the accent, I told him, “ha ha i understand but you acting real weird” then he changed his accent to imitate Scarface and replied, “look listen to me, ever day until Friday when my vacation start I'm going to come with a different accent “I thought about what he said and the only thing i kept thinking was it’s Tuesday and I’m going to have to listen to his ridiculous act for another three day’s. but then i said my thoughts out loud “This is going to be funny” he heard me say that with no problems “What’s so funny about the way I act jermel” he said this with a female voice it was by far the funniest voice i ever heard. I just had nothing to say to that so i told him “ you know what you got it.” then he started to laugh and was like okay “I'm done that was to funny” Then he yelled “Who you talking to on the phone, Tiye”  everyone always knew i was talking to tiye on the phone because i was always on the phone with her. “ Yea” then he asked this question he always asked “ how do y’all talk on the phone so much and never get bored or anything.” i just replied the same way i do any other time. “ We just talk i don’t know” but then he changed the subject and told me to tell tiye something “Yo for real tell tiye she crazy” Then i pauses the game and asked him to repeat what he said. “She crazy if she messing with you” i laughed, unpaused the game and told tiye “ My dad said your crazy because your going out with me” she replied as she laughed, but she felt awkward and said “ Ummm okay” she said this fairly slow like she didn't know what to say. “ Dad she said okay” I'm guessing he didn’t hear me because he stayed talking to my sister. I just continued to play my game and talk to tiye.

My dad was talking about how he is so happy that his vacation is coming and i was happy too because really i don't get to see him that much because he work all the time. We was supposed to have a great vacation.But not everything goes as planned.

It’s been two day’s and with one blow everything changed. Again I’m on the phone with tiye playing around with her. “ I gotchu don’t speak no words to me good bye.” I hanged up the phone to mess with her but as soon as i hanged up the phone my mom call me in the kitchen. “ Jermel come here i need to talk to you” I’m nervous because when she say that i know it’s ether I'm in trouble or somethings wrong , but as soon as i walked i realized something was terribly wrong, my mom face had tears running down them and her face was down. She started to look up at me and i said “Mom What’s wrong?” with tears poring she said “ Uncle Rif passed away”  the feeling of a very strong punch to the heart but i didn’t cry. it was weird, i said to her “ Mom what happen” she just said real fast “He stop breathing” I just  hold her until she let go and she went in her room and i went to my room. When i went to my bed I Called her to talk to her. I really didn’t have anyone to talk to because everyone always tell me i have to be strong for other people even if I’m hurt, but she didn’t answer my call so i texted her and explained that i need to talk to her I wasn’t playing around. After i sent the texted her, I call again and she answered and i told her what happen.

Later on that day i was just in my room relaxing playing my PlayStation 3 and my cousin Aquil walk in With a 76ers Jersey on and basketball short. Aquil is my uncle rif  “Yo Mel-Mel wassup” He looked like he was 6’5 “Nothin playing call of duty as always man, but how you been, you good” “Yea I’m good chillin over grammy house, you should come over sometimes.” when he said that all i thought was ever time i go to grammy house i get in soo much trouble because i act so retarded over there. I Just replied “ I Will but you know my parent be drawlin all the time” I Guessed he believed me because he looked at me as if he understand exactly what I’m talking about then he just said “ True Cuz they do be drawlin all the time ha-ha but what’s up with you and all the Lady’s” I laughed in my head because he always trying to make a joke. “Man I Have a serious relationship right now don’t laugh at me ha” then he replied ”Man I'm not going to laugh I'm in one to and I’m enjoy it.” Then he look at the game and said “Come on cuz let me trash you in this real quick” He seemed okay but i knew he was feeling hurt and sad because his father just passed and i know if my father passed i would be hurt. At this time i had so much respect for him and i kinda looked up to him. One thing that always hurt me is to have to watch my family cry and be hurt, and for my cousin to a have to watch his 5 year old brother talk about “Daddy, Daddy, where is Daddy” And His little Sister that is 14 cry her heart out because her father will not be coming home anymore. I really don’t know how he Did it but he showed me a different part of him and i will never look at him the same.

By the Night i went to talk to my dad because he always told me how close uncle rif was to him. all i asked him “Are you he okay” and he just replied “yea man” but i really didn’t  have anything to say about it to him. i really was worried for him. but i didn’t know what to do.

After the funerals Day’s later. I Reflected on everything. Everyone knows that Men always have to be strong for the Woman, but I've learned that it’s not something you learn, it’s something that comes naturally. No Matter how hurt we are as men, we will always try to keep our feeling to our self.  I can say with being a male our job is to make sure everyone Else is okay and stay strong for females in our life. It comes natural like a habit but it is something we have to do and will always do.

Love Them While You Can!

Posted by Lexus Forman in English 2 - Block on
​Just coming home from school, with the heaviest weight that has been placed on my heart in my life. Traveling with a whole marching band of my family with me, I didn’t understand why this was happening to me. My grandmother was my best friend and she was gone. It was no going back now.

I stepped in my house very eager because I couldn’t wait to go upstairs in my room and rest my brain. Instead I was greeted by all of my family members. I guess they expected me to be an emotional wreck. However, it was the complete opposite. I was expecting myself to flood Philadelphia with my tears, but my eyes were as dry as the Sahara desert. This was not healthy for me. I needed to let it out. I felt since everyone around me needed somebody to lean on, I had to be the strongest thirteen-year-old there was.


I sat down at my dining room table, frustrated with life. My sister approached me with her big brown eyes filled with water. I didn’t need that right then. I needed a break from everyone’s tears and heartbreak. Anybody could tell that I was tight-lipped because I needed to find out how to deal with my pain. However, I sucked it up and told my sister “What did grand mom always tell us to do when we felt like there was nothing left?” She was so hysterical she could barley answer, so she shrugged. My grandmother always told us to pray. I grabbed my sister’s hand very gently, and brought her over to the piece of art work (The Lord’s Supper). She looked at me and grinned.


My mother handled this situation better than I thought she would. I didn’t see her shed a tear. I did something I was very wary about because I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. I asked my mother why didn’t she cry when her mother died. She looked at me and said, “I had nothing to cry about.” She did everything right by her mother she stated. She felt that her brother and sisters were so emotional because when their mother was alive, they didn’t do everything for her that they were capable of doing. As a result of that, they felt guilty. I started to think how my aunts and uncle felt at this moment. I asked myself “If my mom died today, would I be pleased with how I treated her?” I couldn’t help but cry myself a river. In my eyes I treated my mother so poorly.


Waking up on Sunday mornings are complicated. I am always plotting a plan so it can keep me from going to church. Every Saturday night my mother tells me, “Get your clothes out Lex and be ready for church”. Then I say in my head, “Yea yea, I’m not going to be anywhere but my comfy bed”. Usually my excuses like “My tummy hurt mommy”, or “I’m so tired”, works on my mom. This Sunday morning, my mom was on something totally different.


I heard the creeks of my floor on this beautiful Sunday morning, and automatically thought “Get your game face on Lex”. I turned around peacefully and opened my eyes to my mother’s big round head and Chuckie look alike glasses from the Rugrats. She startled me, but I had to get back in character. I turned around and mumbled “Mom, my stomach hurts so I can’t go to church”. My mom said, “The heck you aren’t, I’m tired of your B.S Lex!” This came as a shock to me because I was use to the answer yes, not the two letter word that begins with the letter “N”.

My mom thought she had won but there is always a plan B in Lexus’s book. I figured maybe if I took forever, by the time my mom was ready to go, I wouldn’t be dressed and she would just leave me. I had another thing coming! My mom said, “Come on Lex!” I barely had any clothes on, so I yelled, “Mom are you kidding me… I barely have one leg in my pants”. She said, “Oh well whose fault is that, now come on”. I was almost devastated about this. I didn’t want people to see me at my worst in church. I know church is not supposed to be about showing off, it’s supposed to be about your worship time with the higher source. However, in my head first it’s about worshipping and second it’s a fashion show.


Getting in the car with my hair all over my head, no make-up, and no phone just seemed unreal to me. I was so appalled with the whole situation. I was furious with my mom. I dared my mom to ask me a question because she was definitely getting the silent treatment on this morning. I couldn’t let my mom tell that this was getting to me though because then she was going to feel that she won this war. I held my tears in that felt like they were trying to push out like a fifty-pound weights all the way to the church. Once we got to the church I finally snapped on my mother. I told her that she was a mean and horrible mother. I finally realized what I said and how much I hurt my mother’s feelings. My mom does everything in her power to take care of me and I don’t know what I would without her.


I don’t want to end up like my aunts and uncles. If my mom was to die today I would like to know that I did everything in my power to make her feel like she is the best mom in the world only because she is. I would be up to me head in guilt if she had died and I knew that I didn’t treat my mom with respect and expressed to her that I appreciated her.











Families Are Like Rollercoasters

Posted by Dakota Foster in English 2 - Block on
​ We were never the ‘socially accepted’ family. My parents were never married they only lived together long enough for it to be considered a common-law marriage. They met at a young age, my mom being 13 and my dad being 17. It wasn’t love at first sight it was hatred at first sight. Eventually, they grew to love each other, love each other enough to move into together. Loving each other enough to have a kid together, and  this is where I came in.
        My parents split up when I was 7 years old. I wasn’t very aware of the fact that they were arguing and upset with each other most of the time. I didn’t know that they couldn’t even talk to each other sometimes I felt so clueless. I was pretty certain that I knew everything that my parents did, but I obviously didn’t.
The day was like any other day it was just another day of second grade. A regular morning, everything was going great but there was a different feeling in the house. The house felt emptier. I walked into the kitchen and my mom is just standing there. My dad’s things packed in his bags. Finally, the tension broke; my mom and dad were splitting up.

“Dad and I need to talk to you about something,’ my mom said in a stern voice.

“Is it bad? Cause you seem sad.”

“You won’t be happy about it.”

“What is going on,” I ask cautiously.

“Your dad and I, we need to talk to you about something important.” My mom states firmly.

“What is it?’

“Your mom and I have been having some problems. Problems that aren’t getting ironed out,’ my dad says

        “What kind of problems,” I ask franticly.
        “Your dad and I aren’t getting along as well, as we use to.”

“WHAT? What does that even mean? You guys love each other and you are supposed to get along, perfectly.”

“Your dad and I are separating. He has to move out.”

“SEP-ER-ATING? What does that mean,” I state more confused than before.
        “Dakota, your mom and I aren’t getting along. We argue a lot more than is normal.”

“I’ve never seen you guys argue.”

Well, we have been so we decided to separate. This is for your own good; we want you to grow up happy in a healthy home,” my dad says.

“Okay, I guess,” I say in an unsatisfied voice.

I didn’t know what else to say, I didn’t know what to do. How was I supposed to go to school with this feeling in my stomach? I cried for as long as tears were still coming out of my eyes.

After my parents split, I use to lie to my friends or to anybody new I met. I didn’t want people to think I was in a broken home. I didn’t want people to think I was the reason why my parents split up. I never talked about my parents, never said anything about where I lived, or whom I lived with. For about 3 to 4 years, I never said anything about my parents or my home life.

I didn’t see my dad for a while, but when I did see him everything was different. My parents tried to work on getting along more just for me. They were getting good but I was still worried. The next thing I know we are going on vacation together. I never understood how a split up family could go on vacation. I swore my parents hated each other, I swore they never wanted to see each other again. I know they still loved me, but they didn’t love each other. How could they be together, at the shore for a week? I was scared for my dear life; I didn’t want to witness my parents getting into an argument. The drive to the shore was slow and full of anticipation I was just so excited to go to the shore, but in the back of my mind, my parents were always there. As the week went on, there weren’t any arguments; there weren’t any viscous looks at each other, just love. Everything was fine and dandy.

As I got older, life got better. My dad and my mom were getting along better. We went out to dinner together, to the movies together, and different places. We went to Longhorns together and everything was amazing. We were able to laugh and eat in peace. We tried each other’s food. Things became clear. My parents became closer because of me. If I did something amazing, like getting great grades, they were happy. If I did something horribly wrong, they both showed the same amount of disappoint in me.

On my 8th grade graduation, I went out to dinner with them. We ate with the whole family. Everybody was laughing, and getting along. Nobody argued all day, it was just like the vacation to the shore. I wished for more days like this, when we looked like a normal family. The conversation was loving and not disrespectful.

“Dakota, what are you going to do now? HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT,’ my dad yells in the middle of the restaurant.

“Hahahahahaha, Troy. Don’t pressure the girl, she is fresh outta middle school,’ my mom giggles.

“You guys are so weird,” I say in a loving voice.

“We are so proud of you, Dakota,” they state in the most loving voice.

I made it all the way to high school, with the grades. I knew everything that I needed to know. I graduated 8th grade on June 13th, I never failed any classes or was left back.  Just like any other married couple with a family, I had higher grades then some of than those kids. When I walked onto that stage, my parents gazed up at me, and then looked at each other. Right then, they knew and I knew. There wasn’t anything to every be ashamed of. They knew splitting up was better than me seeing people fight everyday or them holding it off. They knew that they raised me well. They were so proud of me and I was so proud of them. I rather am in a home with one parent, then being in a home with both parents who argue all the time.
        We are a normal family, no ifs ands or butts. My parents love me; they care for me it was always like this. I was just too young to understand. I thought a family had to be together, in the same house but I was wrong. We were able to have family events, see movies together, and go to dinner together. What was there to be ashamed of? My family was like any other family. I had nothing to hide; I didn’t realize that when I was younger. I thought your parents had to be together, but they don’t. I met more and more kids my age that had divorced parents I realized that things happen. Things change and sometimes the best thing to do is to split up.

Now, I am older and the problems aren’t arguments between them, but arguments with me. I wouldn’t want to talk to them because I felt like they wouldn’t listen to me. I felt like a kid and they were ganging up on me. Now, it was 2 against 1. Some days I didn’t want to talk to my dad or on other days I didn’t want to talk to my mom. It was just like if we all lived in the same house. I would see my dad every other weekend or during the week. I live with my mom and we got into arguments. We were still a family, just in different houses.

I never should’ve hid anything; I am proud of where I come from. People still give me dirty looks when they find out about my parents. Why? Because they are just jealous. Jealous of the fact that my family had a rollercoaster of a life, and it isn’t even over yet. Jealous that the rollercoaster isn’t even done yet, the hills will get higher and then downfall will get longer. Only my parents can keep me anchored to the rollercoaster seat.

Descriptive Essay: Trust In Family

Posted by Roger Bracy in English 2 - Block on
“Wake up wake up” The eagerness inside me filled as the smell of pine needles and a shinning sun rushed into my room. It was Christmas, I rushed down the stares eye wide as bus and in surprise to find out which of the big red shining boxes were mine. Almost slipping on the bottom step, my little body flung to the gift of my parents. Ripping into the boxes, not caring where the pieces would land, although opening the first present wasn’t my greatest joy. A Mature and well living elder woman, crept down our stairs, to see her grand children, and watched me open her gifts. One of the only times I see her is during the Christmas. She greeted me with a “good morning” and with the biggest smile glued to here face. Not very often did I get to see my grandmother, as she lives in South Carolina. I always cherished these moments with her, watching and learning from her. Slippers robe and a bright face, she rubbed me on the back and observed the trash my sister and I had made.
Times like these make me realize one thing I’m lucky. I’m lucky too have people who love me, people who care and cherish the times they have with me. Holidays bring us together too catch up on the events that we’ve been through.  Grandmother although wise and mature always finds ways to make me feel bight inside when I’m with her.
Drawn to the smell of the soul food I arrived with my family into my grandmother’s house. Headed strait toward the kitchen, we passed the living room, with a set of couches and a lone piano. Passing by the well lit dinning room, my mouth watered and eye peeked to see what types food my aunts and grandmother had made. Arriving in the kitchen we all greeted each other as if we hadn’t seen each other in years. Long kisses on the forehead and hugs from my aunts, along with the strong grip hand shake from my uncles. Since everyone had now arrived my family decided once again it was time to give thanks on this special day. Once in the dinning room the crowded room got quite as one started to give thanks. As my Aunt Kimmy spoke her words, they were true as she told us that my cousin Vernon, who was placed in Afghanistan, was alive and well. As she finished one tear rolled down her cheek I knew she missed him. As if a spotlight fell on me it arrived at my turn, I looked around at my relatives smiling and waiting for me to go. My mind was blank as a paper with no ink, I peered out once again at my family but this time looking at my grandmother, she nodded. Then spoke “ Go a head, speak your mind so it will be from the heart.” I did just that thanking my mother and father for there guidance through out my life. I was thankful for the meal and ride that I got to the school bus everyday from my grandparents. As my turn ended, I thought to myself what my grandmother had told me had in fact worked, and what I was thankful for was true to the heart, and they accepted it. Knowing that if I had said something completely different they would’ve acknowledged my voice anyway. You can always rely on family to have your back.
                      Some may think twice about seeing family on a holiday because they might not be on good terms with one or two members of their family. As far as my family goes, I believe we are healthy family because we can have good times and bad times but still leave each other happy. Having this strong bond between a group people is fantastic, having someone to lean on when times are hard. I have been given a gift and sometimes I may abuse it.
                    Red lights beaming out the back window, we stop in front of the school. Glimpsing through the window, almost fogging up from the heat of the air conditioner, I rubbed the glass with my sleeve. Then I look up to an “Alright Buddy” from my grandfather signifying we had arrived at the school. Struggling to make it out the back seat, I hulled my blue backpack out the car. Closing the door my grandmother spoke those same words, “Do you want me to walk you inside?” Quickly as possible I replied with a shaking of my head, “No.” But she insisted to proceed out the car to fix my jacket and hat. Straitening my clothes, I disrespectfully told her, “I have it, stop” brushing her elderly hands off of my jacket. She then asked, “Do you know how to get to your classroom? Maybe I should walk you there.” This being my third year at GFS, a private school with a huge campus, I could understand why she would think I would get lost. I was scared that if she guided me to the classroom I would look a certain way to my peers. What would they think of me having a 75-year-old woman walk me to class? Maybe that I lived with her and not my parents, or they might have thought I was scared to walk on my own. In my head at the time this was a risk wasn’t ready to take, so insisted to keep her here in the parking lot where no one could judge me. Cold and mean spirited I told her once again, “I could walk by my self, and you can go home now.” She gave me an agitated face and waved “Alright I see you back here after school.” Blowing kiss as they drove she made me reach my highest point of humiliation. Why was I so embarrassed of my grandmother who cares what others think. This was not the real me, I love my family why was I so disrespectful?
        Wishing that those days of school went away, I regretted what I did to my grandmother. I was embarrassed by my own family. She was just looking out for my well being, and I shunned her away like she didn’t belong. I was making assumptions on how people would react to her, when she really had good intentions for me. Embarrassment should not lead you to disrespect your family.  Your family’s intentions are always good and sometimes you should just let the embarrassments go and allow them to take care of you.

Descriptive Essay:The Last two goals....

Posted by Dejah Harley in English 2 - Block on

Joy was seen in my smile, but nervousness was shown in my eyes. I was happy that it was a new school year. It was my sophomore year. I have three goals and one of them is to get rid of my clumsiness habit. I trip and stumble all the time. I have tried to be more conscious of my surroundings but it doesn’t seem to help. I feel like I am cursed. Whenever I injure myself it is always on a day where something bad is going to happen or already did. I know that from then on, I am just going to have bad luck that day. Can I break free from this curse? Can I?

I hear my grandmother calling my name, DEJAH DEJAH! I overlook it. Its 6:00 in the morning and I can’t get out of bed. She comes back half an hour later and shakes me saying, “WAKE UP”! I can barely see her face and I attempt to open my eyes. My eyelids felt heavy and dropped back down. Tiredness got the best of me. I was finally able to overcome it. After I did, I was able to get dressed, brush my teeth, do my hair, and eat breakfast in 30 minutes.  Mental stability was key in this process. My day began to pick up and I THOUGHT it was going well. I was wrong.

As my grandmother was leaving our driveway, I asked her if I could go to Dunkin Donuts to get a hot chocolate. After getting back inside the car I let the hot chocolate cool in one of the cup holders. My grandmother went to start the car and nothing happened. The engine light was flashing. We were stranded for 20 minutes until we found a cab to take us back to the house to get my mothers car. It was a good thing that she was out of town. I prayed and hoped that today wouldn’t be a bad day.

There was so much traffic. It made the car ride to school tedious. I tripped twice while in school. In each class I received homework to put in my day planner. Joy was visible by the smile on my face when I found out that school ended early.  I took the bus home.

I have been stumbling through my life. Literally. My friends and family call me clumsy or accident-prone all the time. When I was younger I never felt like a sturdy walker or the most athletic person. Almost every sport that I have tried to do I have injured myself in some way, shape, or form. The only two sports that I succeeded in were tennis and volleyball. That is only because my father is a tennis instructor and my mother used to play volleyball. They both helped me. However, there are still so many injuries that happen on a daily basis.

When I got home, I went into my kitchen to make myself a quick snack. When I was cooking grease popped onto my face. I was startled. My arm flinched and I hit the handle of the pan. It went onto the island of the kitchen. I went into my dinning room to get some paper towels. Ironically, I slipped on some water. While I was falling I tried to catch myself by grabbing the dinning room table. However, I ended up actually knocking over a candle with a glass case onto the floor. I picked up all the glass pieces and try to get more paper towels to wipe up the mess that I made in the kitchen.

I was on my way back into the kitchen when a piece of glass went through my sock and into the ball of my foot. I limped into the kitchen to sit on a stool to try to get the large piece of glass out. I slowly tried to pull it out flinching from the pain. Then, the glass shattered and the tip was still in my foot.  It was a stinging sensation. Every time I would step, it felt like I was getting a needle in my foot.

The next day, the glass was still in my foot. However, I would walk and I could fill the glass going into my foot deeper and deeper. My brother had to tear into my skin and finally get a piece of glass out smaller than a pea. I am not really sure if all the glass is gone or if some is still in there because the sharp pain in my foot is still there. However, it might just be the pain from all the skin that had to be taken off my foot.

Having glass in my foot was less pain than when I spilled hot chocolate on myself. I opened the bag of coco powder packet and ripped the top flap off. I was so excited to make my hot chocolate that I sloppily poured the coco mix into the cup. I missed and 1/8 of the powder ended up next to the cup. I mixed the water and powder together to create a brown hot liquid. There was so much steam coming from it. I grabbed a paper towel and sat down. I wiped up the powder that I had spilled. However, I wiped too much and knocked the cup onto my left leg where my left hand also was. I was screaming at the top of my lungs “AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH”. Thankfully I had on a large sweat suit that absorbed most of the hot chocolate. However, the chocolate seeped though it enough to give me a second degree burn.

The people around me flinch whenever I fall. My friends sometimes giggle and I do the same. What am I supposed to do? All I can do is get up and walk it out. My family just ignores it. They know that I injure myself all the time. My brother just tells me to man up and my parents just let it go. I feel accident-prone. I can never change that because I can’t change me. I won’t change me. Therefore, maybe I should only have two goals this year; to get straight A’s and scholarship money.  

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!’

Descriptive essay Homage to family

Posted by Teige Dougherty on
Teige Dougherty

Descriptive Essay

9/16/11



Homage to Family - 

Color flying, sun shining bright, leaves falling. I didn’t have a care in the word, except the next paint ball that might hit me. I was running left, then right, trying to dodge all the paint. I can still feel the gun in my hand. The push from the CO2 pushing the ball out of the chamber towards its target. Paint rushing by my head, I duck behind a bunker. I was pinned down, so I shouted to my friend “I'm pinned! Help me out”. So he proudly stood up and fired off seven bullets. In those six seconds I had enough cover to stand up and sprint across the field firing blindly with my left hand (probably not hitting anything but scaring the opponents). I looked over and I was reminded of a picture that my sister once painted. It was a picture of an elephant standing on top of a ball, with colors shooting out of it. I felt kind of like that elephant, precariously perched with colors flying at me from all directions.

Soon after my daring escape we fired our last bullets and just like that, the game was over. We all got up from our hiding spots and went and shook hands. The animosity that was there only seconds ago was now completely gone and replaced with grins and smirks. No care over who won or lost, just a care over how much fun we had.

We looked around to see how many times we had been hit. I saw two blotches of red and orange on my pants and one other pink shot on my shoe. Then I saw it, the blotch of reds, pinks, and oranges that used to be my friend. He was covered from head to toe in color. He looked like a clown that was caught in the rain. We all laughed for a while and refilled our ammo and started again. The animosity soon returning.


When I think about these moments in my life, I think about my sister, and my family. I have a big family and my family is very important to me. I think about her because she is the one who painted the picture. When I think about her I feel pride. Pride in what she has done, and how she has handled everything.  My sister now lives in Germany with her boyfriend. When she moved she was just 25. She moved over there with my oldest brother who was just 22 when he left to travel the world. Now he is 31 and she is 29. They are both very successful by themselves. One time we went to visit them, and I felt like a fish out of water. It was very difficult to fit in. Not many people knew English, to this day I have no idea how my sister and my brother lived through it. 

One time my brother and I went to the bakery to get pastries for the family and we had to order in German. We sat there thinking about what to say to the person. Using our collective knowledge of the German language we said “fear chocolate pastries”. The women behind the counter winced at our butchering of her language, then she laughed. She said in the most southern accent that I could have imagined “Do y’all want 4 chocolate pastries?” My brother and I said yes ma’am and paid for the pastries and left. That whole time I was thinking, that this would only happen if I was with my family. If I had been with my friends, everything would have gone off without a hitch. 

I believe that through everything, your family is the most important thing in the whole world. This is because if you don’t have family then you will be lost. Its what keeps you on track and keeps you out of danger. Even through the craziness and yelling at each other, I love my family till the bitter end, and I would do anything for them.


Later that night, after shooting almost 4000 paint balls we collapsed in front of the camp fire. Something about watching a camp fire is hypnotizing. The way it sways and moves like nothing else on earth. It’s motions are so fluid that it is almost like a liquid. It just makes you want to stop everything that you are doing and look at it. Even though we were tired, and ache from a day packed with crazy amounts of paintball we still needed light to fight off the quickly darkening hill that we were on. This meant that someone needed to accomplish the incredible daunting task of getting firewood. If you have never done this in the dark, it is very problematic. This is because we had no other form of light that we could take with us, so that we could go and get the wood for the fire. So we did what every young teenager has wanted to do, we made a torch. 

First we got a paint roller and stuck it on top of large stick. Then we wrapped the paint roller in string so that it would burn. After that it was the moment of truth. Would it light and stay on fire, or would it crash and burn? Miraculously, when we lit it, it stayed on fire. 

Then we left the already dwindling camp fire, with the torch in hand. If you ever thought that a torch would be a good idea, it is not. As soon as we got out of sight of the fire, the torch melted something started dripping onto our hands. Then of course they all went out. With light the forest can be gorgeous, but when the lights go out you see the underbelly of the forest. You see how malicious and scary it can be. We couldn't see a single thing. It was as if someone had blind folded us and left us there. It is a freaky feeling not being able to see what is around you. The only way we were able to get back to the camp fire was by using our phones as flashlights

When we got back to the camp fire, our parents inquired to where we had been gone for so long. We answered truthfully, we said that we had no clue. Then we told them all about how the torch that we had made had gone out and that we had been stranded. Our parents reply to this was, “Where is the fire wood?” 

We just laughed and went to pitch the tent for us to sleep in. We spent a good 2 hours trying to get the tent to stand on its own, but to no avail. So we did the next logical thing, we slept in the car. This works sometimes during the summer and when the weather is nice. Unfortunately for us with was 30 degrees, needless to say we didn’t get much sleep. 

That night I realized that my friends and family are crucial to my life and that if I didn’t have them I would have nothing. I believe this because your rely on them through the bad, and you help them up when they are down. To this day, I still believe that if you have no money, no home, if you have you friends and family, you can get through it.

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.