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It was the end of middle school. We had about three days left before graduation. Nikki and I had been officially dating for about two months now. Charlie, Nikki’s ex and my friend,  had begrudgingly accepted defeat. As for the rumors he spread, the ones about me being the Antichrist, had done whatever damage they could.  I was in math and Brian, a Caucasian, lackadaisical, stoner type, was doing that thing again. He stares at me from across the room. When I turn my head, we made eye contact. He doesn’t break it. His eyes are a turquoise green color. I usually break and try to focus on anything else, but comforted by the knowledge that I would never see him again, I decided to maintain eye contact. He leaned in, resting his head on one hand. I felt hot in the face. I was actively fighting the urge to look away. In waves I started to see him in a new light. His facial structure became striking. The unknowing dullness in his eyes looked happy and bashful. The urge to look away ceased. For the first time he broke eye contact. I should’ve felt good, successful, but I didn’t. I felt cheated. I should’ve felt victorious, but instead I was left with this feeling I can only describe as taboo.

The summer commenced, and I started my quasi experimentation. Later that year my grandfather passed. He had been suffering from Parkinson's disorder. His wife, my grandmother, had died from leukemia  two years earlier.

My grandmother never knew about my sexuality. This is partially because I didn’t know until two years after her death. I suspect that she wouldn’t have accepted it if she had known and I wouldn’t blame her. She grew up in the backwoods of Mississippi. Her parents were devout catholic farmers. Even though she worked to leave her old ways behind her, some things just stuck. She wasn’t necessarily homophobic but rather a homoskeptic.

When I was a child, my grandmother would take me to church. It was one of those big TV churches with the celebrity preachers. The preacher was a handsome man with California tan skin and shiny black hair.  There is one sermon that remains vivid in my memory.  Obviously the topic was marriage and homosexuality. My grandmother was apathetic  during his sermon. I thought back to her wedding and what that must of been like.

There’s a picture of my grandmother hanging above the staircase. In the picture she’s wearing her wedding dress, a white flowing gown with an equally white veil. The veil I s made of lace and forms flowers around the crown of her head.She stands before a decaying chicken wire fence covered in vines. A tall tree stands in the foreground, casting a magnificent shadow that gives the picture depth. Freshly cut grass covers her feet so her shoes aren’t visible. But based on her height I can Behind the chicken wire a glimpse of a sunny field can be found. The picture is originally black and white, but was eventually color tinted. Her lips are colored a baby pink, her skin a coffee creamer brown. Her smile seems painted on too. Her back is artificially arched. Her hands seemed calculated. they lie at her sides and meet between her hips where a banquet of white and pink roses is being tightly gripped. Her elbows seem dainty compared to her shoulder, broad from years of farm work . Even though her legs are covered you can tell her knees are buckled by the way she stands. The picture was taken by her young nephew, Tony.

My mother speculates that he too is gay. The rest of the family suspects the same, but chose to say nothing. They call Tony the lonely bachelor. He lives far away from the entire family, nuclear or otherwise. I’ve been told That his house is heavily populated with cats, but nothing else, no roommates or pictures even though he’s a natural photographer. Although I’ve never met the man and he doesn’t know I exist, I have some theories about him. I think he’s still in denial about his sexuality or maybe he doesn’t understand it. Growing up in Mississippi in the 60’s he was probably surrounded by homophobic and homoskeptic influences. That mixed with devout  catholic   influences could only result in self hatred and shame. He spent much of his time attempting to “pass”.  When he met his limit he ran away.

Although I live a very different life than him, I sympathize with him. If I wasn’t taught to be proud or strong, could I be reliving his life. Yes, I could have been just like him. Skepticism can be just as harmful as hatred.  

It was a lengthy sweltering summer, prolonged by the delayed school year. We were members at a new pool in Flourtown, it was okay, there were two pools on the property and they were never cold, the back pool was filled with salt water which really exfoliated your skin. The main pool had two slides and a diving board. All in all, the pool was a nice retreat from the scorching sun. There was only one problem-the pool was half an hour away from our house and we didn't know anyone there. I was a fidgety 9 year old and my brother was a busy 6 year old,  but very shy, once we got bored playing with each other we’d just sit on the deck. My mom got tired of entertaining us, so we visited a pool that my best friend was a member of. It was a temperate day in August and I was so ready to spend the day with my best friend, my whole family was ready to have a nice relaxing day at the pool. Wherever the pool was it was at least an hour away, but I knew it would be worth it. We finally arrived and walked through the threshold, immediately my eyes started to wonder. As I carefully examined the pool I was confused.

“Where are all the white people?” I asked aloud

“There aren’t any” Olivia, my best friend responded. We shuffled over to our spot on the lawn.

“Well what do you mean?”

“This is a black pool” I didn’t understand, but I decided to leave it alone, my parents were looking at me like I was crazy, and I could tell that no one else seemed to have a problem with it. Olivia dragged me to the diving board so we could wait in line for our turn, I was less than excited to jump when I saw dirt at the bottom of the pool. As I continued to analyze the rest of the pool I noticed that it was basically falling apart. The tiles were covered in scum and falling into the pool. The floor was rusted and some spots had caked on algae. I couldn’t help but attribute that to the only difference that I’d noticed between my pool and that one, the black people. I know how harsh that must sound, but let me give you some background.

The elementary school I went to separated each grade into two sections: Enhanced and Immersion, kids who would be taught in Spanish. The students in the enhanced program were predominantly black, while the kids in the immersion program were predominantly white, I ended up in the immersion program with the white kids. I don’t know why my parents put me in the program, they just did, and I was happy there. Olivia was in the same class as me and I was making lots of friends, white ones.

It didn’t matter to me what race my friends were because my school always advocated for diversity. I was used to being around a rainbow of people, white, asian, black, hispanic, it didn’t matter to me. Until I got to middle school and realized how different I was from the other black kids. Fifth grade is when we started mixing the classes, I wasn’t excited. The reputation the enhanced kids had wasn’t good, they were always getting in trouble, the teachers never stopped yelling at them, kids were always getting kicked out of class, and the majority of the class basically lived in the dean's office. I knew they were troublemakers and I didn’t really want them disrupting my learning.

Once the merger happened everyone was less than enthused, enhanced kids thought we were know it alls and we thought they were awful. Although somehow we ended up getting along, no one switched friend groups perse but we could now talk to each other without judgement. The more I got to know everyone, the more I wanted to befriend everyone, I mean those kids looked like me and grew up with similar experiences. The more we interacted the more I realized that I should want to expand my friend group. I was always taught to have a diverse group of friends but somehow I had ended up with mostly white girls, which was great but there were some things that they didn’t understand about me or vice versa. Like, why did I wear my hair a certain way? Why didn't I get sunburned? Why couldn’t I blush? So I decided to start trying to hang out with a new group of people, people similar to me, I wanted to be apart of their rainbow of mochas, cocos, milk, and white chocolates.

Quickly I realize that I hadn’t made the best decision, yeah it was true that these people looked like me but they weren't like me. The friendship that I tried to develop with them didn’t fulfill me anymore than my other white friends. They were just as intrigued with my blackness as I was with theirs, so I no  longer forced myself to hangout with them and turn into their version of blackness.

Being black is more than just following the status quo, wherever I go and try to fit in I just don’t and that’s okay. My “black experience” has been shaped by so many people and places, I guess that makes me a melting pot. But I realize that it doesn’t matter if I go to an HBCU like Hampton or if I move to a black neighborhood, I may never be accepted into the conventional stereotypical world of blackness that I was conditioned into thinking was better. After a long and traveled road I am finally okay with the black woman that I am. Okay with the black and not so black features that I have, I’m okay melanin, okay with the nose, okay with the lack of rhythm, and okay with the global community of black people that I help represent.

Have you ever felt like you have left reality. Like reality has completely lifted off from your body, your mind wandering to a dark place all because you hear a siren. I’m frozen in place, my heart accelerated, my mind blanked, and as the seconds slowly ticked by the door opens. I utter the words, “Hey Grandma” and she replies with her tears. Ideas flooded my mind of what was to come, but I wouldn’t have expected to hear “Fox was gone.” I had no idea how to react to the news. I didn’t know what to do or even what to say. The rage slowly consumed what was once “Kareem’s body”, the air seemed to flow around what emotions seeped out of my draining self control. The world became quiet as I stood there pondering if that was the truth, wondering how could he just leave like that. It was close to my mom’s birthday and we went out to get this new necklace, a diamond heart with a gold strip around it, and now he’s gone. I leave from my grandma's house with an emotionless face. As I start to walk home, a single tear glides down from my eye, trying to hug my cheek but only taken away by my humanity, and then I hear the words, “It’ll be okay.” It was like a surprise presents that you never want, but the twist was that this had no return policy.

It can’t be escaped. Time moves on whether you like it or not. Life has ups and downs for you to juggle with. A constant tug-and-pull, a test of your strength to see if you can keep fighting on. It’s  never easy. Those may put on a mask to show what they want to, but on the inside it gets to them too. Whether or not you’re capable of taking the lost, eventually it’ll hit you that it’s the reality. It’s sad but apart of it all.

A little comfort can’t hurt for the short term, but in the long run it hits you hard. Knowing those you love, those who may have shaped your life will just be gone one day. You can’t stop the future from coming, but as they go, may others take their place to fill that void. Holding on to the past will only slow down the time it takes for you to move forward. Just know you’ll see them again. One day you will, but until then, just silence.

It happens to us all. Whether it’s us personally or it’s someone close to us. I remember this one day it was me and one of friends. One day after school we decided to just walk around center city. Everything was calm, we were at peace, the world just seemed to move around us, but then she get a phone call. I didn’t have to hear anything. The only thing I needed was her clenching my hand and it was clear. She had told me that she knew that their time was coming to an end. Her mother, just barely holding a graps to reality, has seen the light. I never asked for the details but I knew she was sick. For the past few weeks she had been getting worst, and now it’s official. She had lost someone close to her as I had lost someone merely 1 month ago. I knew I couldn’t have the sympathy of losing my mother, but I still had it at the level of losing my uncle.

You never know what will happen in this reality called life. It’s full of surprises, full of twists, fulls of unforeseen events that come together to create your life. There is no real way to have full control of it all, but what you can do is just live your life the best that you can. Living in the past will not prepare you for the future, but understanding that those who once was has never left. Though you do not see them doesn’t mean that they aren’t still there. You don’t see them, but they still are real, they still live in your memories. That’s the best thing that we as humans can have. Our memories keep dreams, hopes, and our lives forever alive. Those who have an impact never leave if they will just stay there until you are freed. Until you see the world that’s unseen to the eye. The world where your life comes together and you can look back and hopefully accept your fate.

Throughout my life I had learned to accept the twist to my reality. You have to or else you can never live your life. LIfe is unpredictable, it has something for all of us, and we just have to live each day the best that we can. I wish that I didn’t have to lose that I loved, those you were taken from me, and even those that decided themselves. I just know that I will see them again one day so I just keep on living. My only regret is that I wish I could say, “...see you later.”

Dank Friendship

My goals with this paper were to explore friendship for myself, and how I feel during this complicated time in my life. I was trying to figure out my priorities, and by just writing and writing and kept thinking, and so I was able to figure some things out. I think that I did a good job in reflecting on the paper, as well as the topic, and that my descriptive scenes were very well written. I would like to improve my description outside of the scenes, and how I interact with an audience that isn’t myself.

There’s something about being with friends that makes every scene bearable. It doesn’t matter if it’s a sweaty, hot afternoon, with tiny gnats pecking at my eyes, or if it’s a restaurant with awful fries. When you are with friends everything seems one step up. If you’re watching a subpar movie, you can heckle it to no end and poke holes in it until it looks like a piece of swiss cheese. If you’re playing a terrible game you can laugh at it instead of getting frustrated and feeling the need to shatter your screen.

As I sit among friends in a restaurant with dank fries and a slight breeze rustling the trees outside, I take it, not for granted, but as a gift. I remember a time when I wouldn’t spend my afternoons in town laughing for two hours straight, but instead wasting away the waning light inside, rewatching stale episodes of old shows by myself. There’s something about wasting time with friends that makes it feel way more productive, and maybe even healthy.

I can definitely feel long times away from a social life taking their toll on me. If I spend too much time by myself or with family, I feel cramped and much worse about myself. When I spend time with friends, even if it’s a couple of minutes talking about nothing important, I can feel the stress washing off of me. Most of the time it’s a physical feeling; I laugh and feel the tension releasing from my muscles, like some kind of emotional stretch. I can feel relaxed after a day with friends, even if I have something pressing as hell coming up tomorrow, and I know that everything is ok in this way I can never feel in another situation, like a zen or a bliss is coming over me.

I remember one day I was working with some expensive equipment; a camera worth more than me and a glossy lens that I’m sure was fresh out of the box, taken from a pristine white factory with models for workers. I was trying to charge the batteries, but all of a sudden it wouldn’t turn on. I frantically tried flipping the dial from On to Off, trying to get a pulse from this dead machine. It even seemed to have lost its crisp click as I tried to switch it back and forth. I could hear the noise of a flatlined heartbeat in the background as I pounded away at it, trying to get it to breathe. I was fearing for my life. How could I afford to repair this equipment without chopping off my arm and selling it to the highest bidder? Freaking out, I called my friends trying to see if they knew how to fix it. They obviously did not, but just hearing them speak with me seemed to make it more manageable. Having someone to share the burden with made it all ok. Although it got fixed before anyone got in trouble, it was still a taught situation that seemed to be eased by the company of others. I would not have handled it with such finesse had I not had the help of my friends.

Recently I was trying to fix a serious issue. In one of my projects I had lost all of the audio, which was the essential element. I was wondering what to do, drawing a blank when I tried to problem solve. As I keyed my friends into this fact, they immediately hopped to, troubleshooting and brainstorming. I could see lightning above their heads. We managed to salvage the wreckage of the project and get a few chuckles from the audience, but if it wasn’t for my friends I would have crumpled into a ball and cried until it came time to get graded. There’s no one better than a friend to have your best interests at heart.

I don't think I had anything particular in mind with what to accomplish with this paper, but I had a decent story and I could be really blunt about the overall message without it sounding weird (hopefully). I think I did the story pretty well, as well as explaining the overall issue, though the transition between the two was awkward. 

To be perfectly honest, most of the time I’m doing anything, I just want to enjoy myself and chill out. There are very few things that make me want to be excited when I’m doing them, but the ultimate goal is always enjoyment or at least to be really chilled out. For me it’s escapism, which is either fine or bad depending on your philosophical or moral bend. To me, you’re coming into this world with nothing and leaving with nothing, so what else matters really but how much enjoyment I can get out of life?

So generally all I really do with my life is escape. I mean I have no moral qualms with it, and it is when I enjoy life the most, so escapism is a pretty go-to thing for me. There are some obvious drawbacks, which are lack of motivation sometimes, snapping out of it can even be difficult, though normally not a problem. So this story is just going to be one of those moments where I didn’t want to snap out of it, and one of the best times in my life that I can remember (a lot of that is due to escapism, so it may seem irrelevant to this but believe me, it isn’t.)

So over last summer my family and I finally got a chance where we were financially stable enough to go on a vacation to a place of our choosing, and since we had some inheritance leftover from my grandmother passing, we had some substantial wiggle room with the destination. This is one of the moments where escapism is rather important, seeing as my dead grandmother was the main reason we were going. To be honest she hated the idea of people grieving over her after she was gone, so do I, so I decided to simply not.

We finally decided to go to the florida keys, as it was as cheap as going to Wildwood, NJ (crazy thought but completely true). My dad was only present for the first half of the trip, but I can’t be honest and also say this was to our displeasure, as he was the main reason we were in the aforementioned financial problem. Again, escapism. I feel like the image that people get when they think of it is either being totally ignorant (ignorance is bliss), or being in a state with no worry. While neither are entirely wrong, they aren’t right either, it can be a much more subtle thing than that. For example, hear yelling, put on headphones and throw on music. It can really be as simple as that. But anyway, I’d say a part of the vacation where I saw this all a little more clearly was when I went snorkeling.

We had about 2 days left and I really didn’t want to go back to Philly. It was so laid back down there, people were either living penny to penny or off of retirement. Always so casual, no drama, people were just plain happy. So we decided to do something that we hadn’t really tried before which was snorkeling. I always imagined myself having that, “NOPE, NOPE, NOPE,” attitude about snorkeling but I decided to actually try it.

The ride over was as beautiful as the rest of the Florida keys, with pretty wildlife and scenic ocean views. We were going to a protected coral reef, so god only knows what I thought I was going to see before getting there. But when I got there I was honestly surprised. The water was more clear than it had been the entire ride over. I stopped looking at anything but the brightly tropical colored fish I could see 30 feet down. Once we got the signal to drop I didn’t even hesitate, despite seeing barracuda and sharks in the water.

Note: This essay was written to explain why achieving perfection may not always be beneficial. It shows that my love of cars was used as a means to push for success, but, interestingly, was detrimental to my academic career. I believe that it proves the point quite well, although slight refinement may help it a little.

Perfection

The smell of fresh carpet, and the lemony chemicals of cleanliness were especially noticeable that summer afternoon of 2009. As we walked to the end of the wide hallway double file, and began the stairs, our teacher told us we were free. Benjamin, Ali and I ran down the stairs and made our way to the Book Fair. As soon as we had made it inside, there were rows, and rows of books, pens, pencils and everything else ‘academic’ you could think of. As we turned to face the stacks of Guinness Book of World Records 2010, our eyes turned to the corner of the cover. Price.

Immediately, I put my hand in my pocket, and pulled out a couple of neatly folded bank notes. Two 10’s - $20 in total. ‘That should be enough’ I thought to myself, as I walked down the aisle. I made it to the ‘Alex Rider’ series, and picked up the first book ‘Stormbreaker’. It was about 10 bucks, so I had half left. I turned the corner, and saw posters - maybe a yard long and two feet wide. I perused the selection, and found one that caught my eye.

The blue and black outline of the car was artfully crafted. This wasn’t some ordinary car; it was shaped like a rocket. The whole 180 inches of the Ferrari’s width were crafted with gentle swoops of intakes, curvatures, and beautiful design. It’s sharp, triangular headlights, when matched with its ultra-low profile gave it a true Batmobile style look. Its overall sleek profile can only be really described one way… Imagine a triangular prism that slowly widens up into a flat, then curves back into a flat end. You then take this triangular prism, and slowly carve the edges away, till the sides are curved down. Using a saw, you cut vents into the corners, and add lights. The front grill is cut into the bottom of the triangular prism, and the whole design is removed of edges. The doors are added, and intakes are cut into the sides. When you are done this, take it to a master engineer at Ferrari, and they’ll finish it for you. What are you left with? An astonishing exotic called the Ferrari 612 GTO.

The second I picked up this poster, I walked up to the cashier, heart pounding with excitement. I stopped for a minute, and picked up an eraser, a few pencils, and a notebook. After buying everything, I knew exactly what I was going to do when I went home - draw.

Ferrari. Bugatti. Lamborghini. Those three brands were my subjects. Exotics. Similar to the academic subjects of Linear Algebra, Chemistry, and Philosophy, these were the most sophisticated of their individual topics. I studied, and prepared for my subjects to a master’s degree. Every single chapter of Ferrari, Lamborghini, and Bugatti were practiced until I got the A. With a pencil in hand, I used some pictures on the net as a reference. I used to first copy each individual line, in essence tracing the pics. After the overall shape was done, I used to repeatedly ‘learn’ the curves until I got it perfect. I used this method to put in the light reflections, and interior details of the cars. I studied the specific model of my manufacturer (eg. Ferrari F40) before I moved on to another model. This led me to perfect certain models to a 1:1 reproduction drawing; if angles, curves, and designs were considered questions on a test, I’d study till I passed with flying colors.

This love of faultlessness, and achieving the best, was a double edged sword. Although it pushed me to do the best I could do, it wasn’t possible with all the classes I had. It was truly difficult to achieve perfection when you had multiple assignments for 5-6 classes, all due at the same time. Also, I had been trying to balance drawing cars with perfectly completing assignments, and I noticed that I was slightly falling behind in class. More nights were spent awake, and I began getting late to school, because I simply could not wake up on time. I used to be an ‘A’ student, but now, this was dropping. Oddly, I remember the fragrant aroma of the classroom, and school, as a memory of my seeming failure. Although I had been emotionally, and mentally there 100% of the time, my body couldn’t keep up with this strenuous cycle of perfection.

Although some might argue that, in order to succeed, you must work as hard as you possibly can, I disagree. In order to achieve success, you must work smartly. Which assignments are due first? Which assignments demand more effort? I realized I had to work in a time-based schedule, where as though assignments were completed in order of their due dates. After doing this for a while, I was beginning to catch up with my peers, and establish my former rank.  I realized that the ‘top students’ were a group of teacher’s pets, and decided to fight the animals. In this strife, I worked to complete the assignment to the best of my ability, but in a time, and energy constraint. I worked in this manner until a month before school was out. My final report card was quite good, and higher then what I expected.

My goals with this paper were to get across a point that we shouldn't worry so much, and we should

enjoy life for what we have. I feel like I did well with good description of the scenic set around me.

I'd like to improve the sense people are getting of my larger idea.

I found myself waking up around 7 AM, and I had no ability to fall back asleep. I’m not sure which it was, it either could have been the strong sunlight beating through the tent walls, or it could have been the early morning chills in the Fall. I absolutely have no business being up this early. I was still lying down with my eyes open waiting for my cousin to finally get up. I grew bored of just waiting for something to happen. I unzipped the tent slowly, quiet as possible to make sure I didn’t wake anyone. That sunlight became even more intense without the tent walls to protect my eyes anymore. I rubbed my eyes and threw over the hood on my jacket. I made sure to zip the tent wall back together. Directly outside my cousins tent, was his camper where everyone else was sleeping. I doubted any of them were up. I needed to do something, so I grabbed my bike on the side of the camper and went out for a ride.

I kicked off the side of the road and my journey to nowhere began. It was clear I was still exhausted. My legs could barely push the pedals around. There was no way in hell that this was going to stop my ride. I was still unclear of the geography of my cousins campground. That just added onto the fun of the ride. In a matter of seconds, or so I thought, I was heading over this tiny bridge across a pond. It was beautiful. The countryside of upstate New York was peaceful. I could finally get away from the honking horns, the SEPTA trolleys in the mornings. I could replace the grey pavement with green grass any day. Birds were chirping to one another, and not to sound too poetic or anything, I absolutely could tell that they were talking to each other. Possibly even bragging to each other about that they could fly and I couldn’t. That's just the dream, to actually fly.

I  was still riding around the campground with no sense of time. It must have been at least 30 minutes since I left the tent. No one even knew I left. They could have either been worried, or still asleep. I was really hoping for the second option. If it was the first option (worried), my crazy aunt would have freaked out and yelled at me when I got back. There was no way I would stand up in front of her and take that vocal beating from her. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death, but she can be a very tough cookie in a flip of a switch. Like I said, I didn’t know my way around the campground at all. I found myself on a bike trail at a turn I had never seen before. I knew I wasn’t lost. All I had to do was turn around and bike back.

There were red & yellow leaves on the ground that would crinkle under my tires zooming right over them. I was under the trees, protected by the shade as I enjoyed this harmony. As I kept biking, I remembered how I got there instantly. I was beginning my ride back, and it was a quick one. More people were awake and spending their time outside. Since other were people awaking, I knew my family back at their camper was as well. I started riding as fast as I could, as I thought of excuses why I was missing in the morning. I’m probably just going to say I went to the public bathrooms so I didn’t wake anyone by going into the camper to use the one in there. I really didn’t think it would matter that I decided to go out for a bike ride. I can just tell them that. It’s honest, and endearing.

Agent Of Change

• The purpose for my Agent of Change is that I want to get other people’s perspective about what’s happening today. With people’s thoughts combined, I can be able to do more that would help and understand and focus on the main concept to prevent violence and brutality.

• I have permission to go around Philadelphia and getting people to understand the concept of what really happening in our society right now, considering the things that has already happened such as the I can’t Breathe Eric Garner case.

• I have emailed my parents about this and they believe that there can be a chance for me to take advantage of it, to do everything you can to change and prevent as much as I can. I have also emailed my neighbors, friends, classmates, as well as my family members.

• I am also working on a website so everyone can see  and hear my opinion about Domestic Violence and brutality with different topics upon what we can do, how can we prevent Domestic Violence and get opinions out there on social media so everyone will be able to see.

Hyperlinks: Blog Post 1, Blog Post 2

Things that have been done is sharing my blog out there, being able for people to see what they believe in and what they have to say about it is really important for the matter at hand. I’ve gotten so many feedback from people who inspired me to do more than this, that they acknowledge me to put my opinion out there, to put everything I know so far on a working piece that people can see and reply on. That is the reason why I created a website.

Link: Nate's Website

My opinion in the way these changes is talking about more and being able to do something, go on strike, talk about it to other people, do as much as you can to get the word out there, this isn’t a fight for ourselves, this is a fight to prevent violence to every black lives out there.

I have recently taken several surveys from different websites, as well as wearing a pin on my bookbag that says I can’t breathe on it representing Eric Garner. I have been apart in a donation for blacks lives matter, me and my mom who donated $20 together.

Doing this project was a dream come true for me, I feel like I have gained experienced a lot from this knowing the right path to take for human rights, as well as knowing my rights as a citizen and not abusing them, but knowing how to respect one another, but if we see others who are not respected or giving a good influence on others Don’t think were just going to stand by and watch, were going to do something about it, Doing this project was stressful but overcoming, I did it for a worthy cause and something I can see myself leading an example. A remembrance for the rest of my life. As i said, I learned how to be a better advocate and a lead of confidence towards others. What I learn from others is to do, then to think, because doing will get you somewhere in life more than thinking. What I think I could have done better is the deadline, I’ve noticed that I am really late and a little slacked off at the very end, but I am able to try my best finishing strong at the end. I think there is nothing left to do but to keep on fighting, we still need creative ideas, victory for us citizens isn’t done, what we need to do is Think before we do, we do take action before we think but if we want to surpass this, we must think of a way.

Annotated Bibliography

Editor, Author, or Compiler Name (last name, first name). “Name of Page (in quotes).” Name of Institution/Organization Affiliated with the Site (sponsor or publisher), date of resource creation/last update (if available). Medium of publication. You date of access. Website URL.

This year in History has been an eye opener for me. This class has help me to see the world in a totally different light. Before this year I felt like I had vague understanding of the world in some aspects. I knew the surface of some topics, I never took the time or energy to actually dig deeper. I want to thank Mr.Block for aiding my classmates and I on this wonderful adventure. From pollution to colonization, our learning has been broad.  I’m able to teach others what I know and ideas that I have explored. Mr. Block helped us to see both sides of global issues. It’s always easy to see the obvious side of things but it’s harder to play devil’s advocate and try to understand the not too obvious side of the story.  I enjoyed learning how to do this, because if you know both sides your arguments are stronger. The courses I enjoyed the most this year were the Modern Revolution course and the Sweatshops trial.  

As mentioned in the previous paragraph the first course that was meaningful for me was the  Modern Revolution course. With that course we studied many old and modern day revolutions. We explored the Arab Springs Revolution along with the Yemen Revolution and we researched information about the Haitian and French Revolution. After exploring all of the Revolutions we were asked to create a digital story that answered an arguable question about Revolutions. My question was “ What does success mean in a revolution ?”.  I was very proud of my Digital story, because I feel like people define success differently. At the end of Digital story I wanted people to know that  “just because the initial is not reached in a revolution doesn't mean the revolution was unsuccessful.” Researching different revolutions also help to see that the use of non violence is always better than the use of violence. Non violence sets you apart from your opposer when they are using violence against you. It helps you to still have respect for yourself and your people. It tells the opposer that they can take everything away from you except your pride. I think that’s an amazing idea and concept to understand. While exploring the Arab Springs Revolution I came across a quote that really touched me and will always stick with me. Political Professor Gene Sharp said ”Once the regime was no longer able to frighten people and people then act wisely and keep non violent discipline, which is extremely important, then that regime is in big trouble”. This quote said to me that once you no longer fear your opposer, your opposer is in big trouble because basically now you’re unstoppable. It’s very true, because when you’re no longer scared you have nothing to lose and people who have nothing to lose are the scariest. The Modern Revolution course will always be one of my favorites.

The second course I mentioned was the Sweatshops trial. Trials always helped me acquire understanding skills. Knowing all sides to a story always make your individual argument stronger. Although the verdict for the trial charged my group the Elites with the most guilt points I still believe capitalism was the most responsible for the treatment of the workers. After the trial I realize everyone played in a part in the treatment of the workers even the workers themselves. It wasn’t just one person's fault. That helped me to see something with the bigger problems we have in today’s world. We do things but don’t take in consideration the effects it has on other people all around the world. It’s an unending cycle that I don’t think will ever stop.

Throughout the year I found answers to a great deal of questions I had. I feel like I changed as a person. My inquiry and research skills have really improved. History has really changed my thinking so much that I’m actually thinking about looking into teaching history for my major. I want to open the eyes of people and fill minds with knowledge just how Mr. Block did for my classmates and I.