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Here we go again.

Yet another day of scorching sun rays beaming down off my chipped paint.  Burning whoever gets stuck with me in the middle of the day. Glitter faded, spokes rolling along the beaten and bruised boardwalk. But I am beaten and bruised. No one cares, no one sees what I go through.

Do you know how many times I have had ice cream drip, drip, drip and DRIP onto me.  It is unimaginable the amount of times the shop owner, Greg, had to scrap off the funnel cake powder stuck to my handlebars.

An endless cycle of being dragged out of the shop day in and day out. Wiped clean of the dust and grime left over from yesterday’s customers. No amount of polish or wax can shine over my dents and scratches; battle scars still indented in my spokes and frame, seat torn from endless butts chafing against the pleather exterior of my seat.

They just ride, and ride, and ride, until there is nothing left. Only then do people care, when you are wearing down; when you can’t do what they expected of you or wanted you to do.

It was not always so bad. I was once shiny, new, inviting. I was always the first one picked, and I would have so many customers each day. Some would ask to buy me; some would keep me from sun up to sun down. I was the most rented in the county for two years running, even though that does not really matter anymore.  

I remember the day it all went wrong.

It was a perfect day on August 31, 2012. I had not been rented in awhile so Greg took me out of the shack extra early to give me a bright polish; I was feeling damn good. But I just sat out in the sun all day, waiting and waiting (beat) and waiting!

It was close to sunset when a seemingly nice teenage kid rented me. I was all ready to go. He was not peddling too hard, or screeching the breaks, or spilling drinks all over me. But, then he took a sharp left turn, and before I realized what was happening we were in a back alley with kids spraying graffiti and smoking pot. It’s not like I could scream out for help; I am a bike for God’s sake.

Next thing I know we are at a convenience store, and the kid basically throws me to the ground and jumps off in one quick motion, then him and his friends go in. There is shouting and cussing.

The kids all come running out, masks over their heads with money and food in their hands. The kid who rented me tripped over my front tire, his head hitting the pavement with a crack, and he just layed there. His friends kept running.

The police officers revved in a few moments later, with an ambulance right behind him. The store owner, despite getting robbed, helped my renter and tried to stop the blood. And since I was evidence, I got stuck sitting in an old musty police garage for two weeks, before Greg came and picked me up.

I got pretty bruised from those kids riding me, and the officers weren’t exactly gentle. Greg still got me none the less; took me back to the shack and tried to do his best to fix me up enough to be displayed. Everyone still knew that I was “that bike.” It was not my fault though; I got roughed up that day, too. But no cared. No one cried for me.

Now everyday it’s the same story. There is some overweight dad or super hyper-active soccer mom peddling me extremely hard up and down the boardwalk for hours. Screeching my brakes. . .repeatedly! So many years of these dreaded days filled salt water breezes and the endless splats of seagull shit.

That’s always people’s problems. They use each other without realizing the damage they do each and every time. Just chipping, chipping and chipping pieces of me until I am rubbed raw to the frame, to the core of the metal rods that hold me together somehow.

But I am just a boardwalk bike, what do I know?

Monologue

Dear Pennsylvania Governor or to whomever puts this is the paper shredder:

One, two, three, four? FOUR textbooks for a class of 32 students.

That’s what I’ve been handed to teach my students.

I’ve been working as a teacher since I got out of graduate school 6 years ago. It’s my passion.  I love learning from my students and challenging our thinking.   My  job  requires many hours of unpaid overtime but it is what is required to be an effective and caring teacher.   I’m not asking for a raise; rather I am  advocating for my students.   I teach five  classes of 33 students and am responsible for 33 additional students in my advisory.  My budget for my 198 students is as empty of nutrients as a Mcdonald’s ice cream machine.  I buy what I can - pencils to tissues to copy paper.  Most of my students’ families can not afford basic school supplies.  Other students work to support their families.  Each day is a balancing act; I question how much longer I can compromise.  We only have 20 mixed matched desks and six extra chairs; some of my kids have to stand up. Have you ever made a seating chart with no seats?

I continue teaching and learning with these wonderful kids who deserve much better because they remind me of the power of community.  They are generous and concerned young people full of potential.  While some people may believe investing in more affluent and powerful students is a better deal, investing in my students will have more impact.  Students from more affluent and well connected families are more likely to make it.  They have been given opportunities from birth.   Meanwhile, my students are treated as second class citizens in old, dilapidated facilities without the basics.  The 100 year old floor creaks;  the 1950s clock stopped ticking thirty years ago.   It is as if my students’ lunch line is serving leftovers and crumbs.  My student ask for more but  I can’t answer or provide everything for them. I’m one man.

Imagine going to a school where you are told to meet high stakes standards but have few tools to begin building.  I bring in paper and pencils but then am told to have everyone do a science fair project.  They  can’t all submit moldy bread science fair projects!  My fellow co-workers and I try to say something positive but the illusion has worn off.   We turn to parent volunteers parents who have time to come to school and can scrape together the bus fare.  We also volunteer by sponsoring clubs and tutoring for free.  It is not enough.  In a world demanding innovation and creativity, we are stifling the future leaders by underfunding their education and underappreciating their potential.

I know I live in a state where the elderly are better cared for than children.  It apparently is acceptable to have high rates of childhood poverty.  Yes, my students do not vote so you may not consider them your constituents.  They can not fund your campaigns nor make you more powerful.  When politician say “I will fix the system and bring equality and justice to the people,” we want to believe you.  But,  the justice and equality never happens.  Do you want to know why?  Because, the politician do not amend the system; the system amends the politicians. The politician must remember their power lies with all the people; otherwise, I no longer live in a democracy.  Too often, when someone is in a position to change the world, they stab the world in the back. Words mean nothing if they are not backed up by action;  I am waiting for the action.

The passion for education is dying because we have been set up to fail. While I tell myself, “we must do more,”  we can not do it alone.  Our students deserve more; they are counting on you.   We live in a country where we are told  we are equal under the law.  How is inequitable and unjust funding of public schools equality under the law?   If we  properly support our public schools,  the lives of our students will improve which will improve the quality of life for everyone in our country.  Mr. Governor, please open your heart and mind to my students.  Work to provide fair and equitable funding for public schools.  Let my students know they have a chance to reach their full potential.  

Sincerely, Mr. Queen

Why did you make the slide look the way it does?

I made the slide look the way it does because when we were going over the “ Presentation Zen “ and a website I found called "Fast Code Design" link he said make the colors pop, make your words big and have your images bleed out. I was taking the advice from the articles and the video we had watched.

What influenced your decision making?

You had given instructions to take the advice that the guy had given us, so I took that advice and turned it into something I liked which is how I came up with this slide.

Sources : http://www.fastcodesign.com/1670019/10-steps-to-designing-an-amazing-infographic

Jaszmine Randle

November 25,2014

Behind A Slide

The significance behind my slide is to prove against judgemental view points. Before children even can decide what they want to be in life they get categorized as the kid with the big head or the ugly child because of their appearances. You cant make a stereotype about a child that is unknown. You should not do that to a child since they are not known in the world yet. For example people judge ¨Blue Ivy¨ & ¨North West¨ because of their parents backgrounds & their appearances. No one even knows what they're going to be in life.

The way I designed my slide was using ¨MAKE TYPE BIG¨ I made sure that my text was big on my slide. I ¨MADE IT VISUAL¨ because I made sure that my quote was visual and I got my point across with a few words¨. Creating this slide helped me learn the different ways to create a billboard. A billboard can be as detailed as you want  or described in 3 words. Presentation is the key to a good billboard because however you look at the billboard unless its well designed you can't’ get your point across.

I made my slide this way to show that right away you’ll see the three general things that are really important in my life. I didn't want my slide to have so many words or pictures because it’ll make the slide look too messy. My slide has a pretty colorful background with shoes bleeding off the screen so it looks bigger. I chose this background because it shows others how much I love shoes and gives a very strong image of colors to catch the reader’s eyes. I named my slide Justin’s World because there are the three main things that goes on in my life which is basketball, video games, and social media. I made the font big and the color bright so that it would catch the person’s eye. I put a picture of my basketball team and the organization I play for because it shows how dedicated I am to the organization. I made the social media and video game picture transparent because I am not getting as interested into those two things as much anymore. I think that my slide was a good start.

I chose to create  my slide like this because, it represents me through, my colors and pictures that I’ve used. All of the pictures I used are important to me and make up my life memories. My pictures and colors also represent and show my personality. I have also chosen to design my slide look like this because, all of the things I used in my slide are important to me and all have significance to my life and help add to my slide in their own way. It also reflects on what I learned from the  helpful websites on how to make your slide(s) look unique and eye-catching. I also made sure that my slide had visual effect. A lot of things have influenced the design of my slide. One of the things that have influenced my design of my slide is, my liking for all of the things that I have on my slide. For example, I love pink so pink is one of my main colors in my slide and helps  add to the design of it. I also made my slide like this because, I feel that all of the words I’ve added to my slide are things that make people happy and can make the world a better place. Memories, are what makes up life whether good or bad and I think we should all have the chance to make them everyday.

You breathe in.

You breathe out.

You stare at your computer screen for a few seconds. Stunningly, a finished monologue fails to appear. 

You feel apprehensive. You know you have to finish something by tonight. You’ve told your parents time and time again that those projects were already finished; you didn’t have to do anything.

None of it was true. It never is.

The jig is already up. The only thing you’re working for now is to not punt two entire projects in a cloud of early-quarter ennui.

You breathe out.

You breathe in.

(beat)

You’re desperate. You try not to show your panic, but you can feel the goosebumps running down your spine, the familiar chill that overtakes you every time you try to write about yourself.

They said you didn’t have to write about yourself, but you knew better. “All of the best fiction has elements of its writer,” you had thought to yourself. “And besides, my life has so much to write about, and I do so many interesting things. I probably shouldn’t even need to brainstorm!”

You fall into this trap every time. And every time, you are dry of ideas.

And every time, you sit there and think.

And you breathe in.

And you breathe out.

(beat)

Maybe you could write about depression? 

(sigh) You don’t know, the entire topic is so trite and stereotypical; you want your monologue to stand out. You just know they get hundreds of angst-filled rants like that every year; it must sometimes seem as if that’s all that teens can write about.

The voice in the back of your mind speaks. It is the voice that says “This is due in eight hours. You need to do this. You need to get this done.”

It says, “Why not be aware, then?”

You breathe out.

You breathe in.

(beat)

You smile. It’s the smile of a person who knows that they have just narrowly averted a disaster. 

You glance down at the keyboard. For the first time since you started this project, you think you know what you’re doing. Your hands fly over the keyboard as words slowly begin to fill up the page. You don’t need to write a monologue that’s original and self-aware.

(beat)

After all, you’ve already written one.

The class starts and I’m standing here next to the teacher anxiously, waiting to be introduced to the class. I am amazed to see such diversity of students in the classroom, but I see none from where I'm from. Why are they whispering and pointing? As I am standing there feeling more and more like an outcast. ¨I would like to welcome our new student Mona Elsyed who’s come all the way from Egypt....¨ As she’s introducing me, I already feel as if I did not belong. I noticed the pointing fingers turn to my head. One girl had a  confused look on her face as  her eyes were directed towards my Hijab. I felt that she was clueless of what it was and I wasn't able to tell her the way I wanted to because of the language barrier, so I still remained silent. If I knew the correct words I would tell her, that my hijab means much, it is for only those who are family to see what is hidden and where I am from it is written that my hair is a treasure only for my husband to adore. I then was given my seat and I sat down. The teacher then began to teach of things that I did not know or understand and the students began writing while I sat there in worry and confusion. I’m afraid of failing and being made fun of so I just raise my hand ask her what does it mean? she answered me more clear “huh?” but I still couldn’t understand, so she came over to me and showed how to write the assignment. “Ooohh!”, I said loudly and I heard the students around laugh at me but now, I understood. I then began writing my name and I forgot how to write the date in English so I just wrote it in egyptian. I had to write about what I did this past summer,so I wrote at my best ability and I made a paragraph. I then called the teacher over again to check my work and she told me I did a great job and asked if I could read mine out loud to the class. I felt unsure but still said yes. I stood up and the students clapped and as I read slowly, everyone was silent and staring at me so my hands began to shake but I continued reading. I knew I sounded like a broken machine but at least I had the courage to speak and when I was finished I felt better. Everyone then clapped again and I sat down.

(Sits at a table) I sit here again, like every night, pondering at this cold plate of food I could never eat. I wonder why I can never eat once I get home. I’m excited as its being made then when  its in front of me, its complete poison. I always thought it was her cooking, so I begin to make my own meals, and again, I just sit here, pondering at it as it gets cold, watching it as a crystal ball as I review my day. (Slides plate away)

I greet each person I see at school in the morning and always get a smile or  greeted back. I bring fellow students laughs and they are always excited to have me with them. In class I always understand the criteria and help other classmates that need assistance. At lunch I always have my favorite, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I can eat it everyday and so I do. At the end of the day if I had a club I would go. Greeting everyone as I walk in. I contribute to whatever activities we are doing that day and always receive an applause for a job well done. When its time for me to go, I would receive goodbyes as I leave waving good bye to everyone.

When I get home, I would turn up my music and do my homework, soon my mom is home. She would ask me about my day. I always say fine. Then we have dinner. She would become impatient and head upstairs leaving me to my untouched plate. Then we are where we are now. (picks up a fork full of food, looks at it, drop it back on the plate)

So why am I so depressed? Why does my day always end like this? A complete change of mood. Why do I feel so lonely? (Lays head on desk, after 30 secs and lifts head up)

I sit here again like every night pondering at this cold plate of food I could never eat. I wonder why I can never eat once I get home. I just sit there pondering at it as it gets cold, watching it as a crystal ball as I review my day.

I greet each person I see at school without ever getting a response back or even notice of my existence. I make jokes in class but are never heard because I speak it softly and the person next to me then repeats the jokes louder and receives full credit for the laughs it brings. In class I can never understand the criteria and when I ask for help from other classmates, they act as though I do not exist. At lunch I always eat the same damn thing, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. At the end of the day if I had a club I would go. Greeting everyone as I walk in and have no looks down my way. I contribute to whatever activities we are doing that day with no applause. When its time for me to go, I leave waving good bye to everyone with no one paying attention that there is now an empty seat or if it was or was not empty in the first place.

When I get home, I would turn up my music and just sit on my bed, by then my mom is home. We would talk about our days, I would tell her the same line and nothing else, “It was fine.”. Then we would have dinner. She then would become impatient and head upstairs leaving me to my untouched plate. Then we are where we are now. (Watch beeps) 7:30… (Pulls out a baggie with 3 pills) Take with food….. (Pops one pill)

My life isn't as perfect as I thought it was. Its not all daisies and sunshine. Just here, as a normal unseen kid. I’m alone. I’m on my own. Except- I’m not.

I sit here again like every night pondering at this cold plate of food I could never eat. I wonder why I can never eat once I get home. I just sit there pondering at it as it gets cold, watching it as a crystal ball as I review my day.

I greet each person I see at school without ever getting a response back or even notice of my existence. Except my two friends, they greet me and hug me. We talk about our previous night and the day to come. (Picks up a fork full of food and begins to eat) I make jokes in class but are never heard because I speak it softly and the person next to me then repeats the jokes louder and receives full credit for the laughs it brings. Yet I still manage to pass along inside joke to my two friends. (Eats more food) We laugh and keep the day going. In class I can never understand the criteria and when I ask for help from other classmates, they act as though I do not exist. So I move my stuff next to my friends and ask them and they can always find a way to explain the subject giving me an easier way to figure it out. (Keeps eating) At lunch I always eat the same damn thing, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, its the only way to get my special brown candies in, crushed in my peanut butter because they are too big to swallow. I keep a stash of candy in my bag, my mom puts it in my bag every morning and sets my watch for me before I leave. She mixes the special white ones she wants me to take with colorful ones that are ok to share. I hate them, the tastes like the doctor’s office but she says it's important to swallow them everyday at specific times. I share the unprescribed ones with my friends. At the end of the day if I had a club I would go. Greeting everyone as I walk in and have no looks down my way. I contribute to whatever activities we are doing that day with no applause. When its time for me to go, I leave waving good bye to everyone with no one paying attention that there is now an empty seat or if it was or was not empty in the first place, because of that I usually skip the clubs, and instead hangout with my friends. (Eats faster) The city becomes ours as we roam the streets, making jokes and laugh anxiously. Buying candy and sharing with each other. We share secrets and help each other with problems. When its time to go home, we move the party to the bus. We take control of the back of the bus and play games and make jokes always trying to keep smiles on our faces, though we in stuck in in this miserable life. We try to stay positive and keep ourselves in the light so we can't see the shadowy engulfing dark side. (Pops second pill)

(Stands up) My friends have been there for me through thick and thin! They were my umbrella when I walk into the rain! They have been there for my roughest hours and have been my rock! I should not be sad to have such a blessing! I should be thankful to have them in my life!

(Looks at the plate) So why am I so depressed? (Pops third pill) Why does my day always end like this? A complete change of mood. Why do I feel so lonely? (Lays head on desk)