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            It was a cool summer day in Louisiana and I was enjoying the breeze with close family and friends. The stinging feeling of soda going down my throat and mosquitoes landing on my leg were a part of everyday life there. We laughed and shared many stories that some of us were happy to forget. I of course talked like there was no tomorrow and went on and on about how things aren’t as loud as Philadelphia .

“You guys just don’t know how easy you all have it down here.“

After that we would all laugh and joke but then even in all of this, the question still was asked.

“Hey man where are you from again?“

Just like that I was thrown into a mind of confusion and I didn’t know how exactly to answer the question but with a snappy comeback.

            “Well where do you think man?”

 “I don’t know, but somewhere white.”

Right in that instance everyone would laugh and I would to but after the joke I would get kind of serious. When I told them I was born in Louisiana but live in Philadelphia the silence would shift from questioning to understanding.

The question would shock me, but still I understood what they meant. In Louisiana they had a special way of saying things. For example instead of saying soda they would say cold drank or instead of saying snapping turtle they would say lodge head. It was a common for me to get mad at the question but even though you shouldn’t let some things get to you, they have a habit of doing that exact thing. This was of course not the first time I was asked this. When I was very young I remember going over to a relatives house with my dad in Louisiana. The house was located in a very rural part of the state that I never been to. There were trees everywhere, bugs of all shapes and sizes, and the houses weren’t close together but miles apart. When we came to the house I was nervous because I felt like a fish on land Now one would expect family to know about each other but this relative had never met me. When I first saw her I said hello just like any other kid would. At first I got a look that meant “what is this boy talking about and who is he” but then she looked at my dad and said

“ Who’s this boy related to because he talks proper?”

My dad told her I was his son and that I live in Philadelphia. Just like my friends her face shifted from confusion to understanding and she embraced me with an apology and hug.

The question never really troubled me until later when I started questioning myself. I asked myself who was I really and where was I truly from. Was it because I didn’t speak like them, I wasn’t related to them or was it because I pronounced my R’s? There was even a point when I tried to talk like everybody down there but that only made me look stupid and it didn’t feel right. So during the times I was in Louisiana I was given a stereotype that I was really smart because of the way I talked. I was always asked to help my little cousins with homework and always asked how much change should I get back when I went to the store with people. That didn’t bother me a lot but people didn’t get to know me but they got to know what people thought of me. That’s when I learned that people would always judge other people for what they do and say but I also learned that people judge their own people when that person is different in some way. This also means that people will not always judge you in a bad light but will sometimes judge you for being good. Judgment is not only from other people but you can also give out judgment without knowing. So be careful of this I would hate for anyone to feel the way I felt those times. 

Wondering what the next move was I stuttered when I told them to move, because we were leaving. As I pushed my way past them, one calls out “Do you know who your messing with?” I turned “No but it doesn’t matter, your in my past now.” As I stare at him wondering why his hand is deep inside his coat, he embraces a disgusted look on his face, as if he thinks I know something. Without hesitation, he shows it. A gun pointed, 4 feet from my face, terrified.

I have always been the type of person to think that anyone who talks to me wont hurt me. Random strangers on the street could ask me something and I would answer in a polite manner because I believed they were part of my neighborhood and I could trust them. From the day I could talk, I would be the first to meet my neighbors and introduce myself to everyone. A problem never occurred for me to be afraid of anyone, so why be afraid.

I remember my mom always repeating “In a situation where it may be life or death, there are no games to be played, no chances to take. You do what your told and give them everything.” Let me tell you something, when you are in a life or death situation do what your mom says. Me on the other hand, I did the exact opposite and turned them down flat. “Run you pockets” they repeated. Standing there watching them look unsatisfied I smiled and turned around on my again. Sensing something was wrong, I look behind me to see one kid pulling my pants down, searching my pockets for himself whispering “Ill find what your hiding”

Hardworking and dedicated to not one but three jobs at the time, I consisted of having around $60 with me at all times. I knew I had a good amount of cash on me, I just didn’t know how much. I watch as his face smirks when he feels the money, and rips it out of my pocket “look at what we have here.” Glaring at the money thinking damn, I worked for that money and now I’m going to let some fool take it off me. I see a chance and I take it. I snatched the money back out of his hand and laugh as though I had won the war. When they ask for their ‘share’ I think in my head and give them each $5 knowing they would leave with $5 rather than $0. To my credit, I was right, they left hollering things such as “Don’t tell your parents, don’t tell the police, we know where you live and who you are so don’t make any mistakes.”

Continuing on my journey, I begin dreading my next moves. The streets were empty, the night was cold. What to do next. We decide that it was best to just let it go because no one was hurt and that’s how we wanted to keep it. By the time we go to the end of the street and look back, they were gone, nowhere to be found. Police cars zoomed around the corner with only their lights on. Staring us down, looking to identify us, like something had been told. As we arrive at 7-11 and sit down on the wall, we see the teens our age being stopped and questioned. Above we hear the blades of a police chopper smacking against the wind with a hot spotlight beaming to the ground searching vigorously.

Later on we found out that the police were alerted by other teens our age that were also held up right before we were. It wasn’t until 2 days later, Sunday morning, which I had told my parents the story and the police were notified that we were also held up. 

I had just woken up and my alarm clock had been going off for the past 2 hours. I heard wailing coming from the bathroom. As I walked in I felt a rush of cold air and the room was silent. I looked at mom and seen her sitting there crying, her skin was cold and pale. Her wailing sounded like a baby when it’s born. I ran up to her and asked her what was the reason that she was crying. She wouldn’t tell me what had occurred and just continued crying. I went to my dad who was sitting on the bed thinking. I asked him “What’s wrong with mom? “ He told me my mom’s father had died that morning at 4 am on Christmas.

It was the beginning of November and my grandfather had begged my mom to buy plane tickets to go see him in Dominican Republic. My mom had economic problems at the moment and my grandfather was offering to buy the tickets for her. Even with offering to buy her the tickets she resisted to not waste money and that she would see him soon after she got money. 1 month after they talked my grandfather fell off his bed and lost his memory. My mom quickly began looking for plane tickets to see him. 2 weeks after my grandfather fell and lost his memory he died in the hospital. After he died things weren’t the same, it changed everyone’s life. Especially my mom, she regretted not have gone to see him and wished she did.

Ever since my grandfathers death my mom reminds me to be good to my dad and to appreciate that he’s still alive. The death has caused my mom to stop celebrating Christmas for about 4 years and start wearing darker colors. She stopped going to family parties and began getting depressed. I noticed my grandfather’s death made an enormous impact in my mom’s life but didn’t realize it would make a big impact through time in my life also. I would argue with my dad on daily basis but never realized that at any given moment he could be gone, as could my mom. Every time I got a year older maturity would grow more within me.  

After 4 years of my grandfather’s death I started learning more and more from my moms mistakes. Each one of those mistakes helps me prevent it from happening to me. Every time she would notice that she did something wrong with her dad or something she should have done I take advantage of that and make the best for my dad and I. I use to not be able to remember when was the last time I gave my father a hug, now the last time I gave my dad a hug was 2 days ago. I begin to cherish him more since I know he won’t be here forever. It could be the fact that I am now 15 going on 16 and I’m getting wiser, my mind is expanding and I’m really thinking about things now.

Now that I’m starting to really appreciate the things my dad does for me I begin to feel bad for our past history. I would always argue with him and never realize the things he did for me. I would say things I didn’t mean and then afterwards feel bad about it. He cares for me so much and I always cared for him but its time that I begin to show it. Never again will I tell my dad I hate him for a dumb reason, or for any reason at all. If I could I would give my mom the ability to be with my grandfather once again so she could make everything right, like I am now. 

9/15/11

“And now I will show you something un-bee-livable!” 

Really? Un-bee-livable? It’s four AM and you want to show me something un-bee-livable? Might as well climb, it’s not like I had a choice. 

We got out of the bus and the mountain loomed high, higher than I expected. Steeper, too. “This’ll be fun,” I muttered to myself. 

“Let us go!” I had to envy him for being so excited so early in the morning, and his accent made the trip that much more enjoyable. Maybe the climb wont be so hard! An hour and a half later and I knew that wasn’t the case.

My family was in Israel. We saw all kinds of things. We saw ruins, cities, beaches, more ruins, we saw a lot.  We had a tour guide, Mordi, and he loved what he did and made that clear in the way he did it. After a long bus ride, he would say over the bus’ speaker “wakey wakey!” At most places, he would say something along the lines of “I will show you something un-bee-livable!” He was always excited to show us something new, and since it was my first time in Israel, everything was new to me. 

One night (early morning, rather,) our plan was to drive to Mount Masada, a tall mountain, and climb it in time to see the sun rise. I liked this idea, but I failed to take into account the fact that the sun rises at about six AM, and climbing the mountain takes an hour or more.

At around two or three AM, we got into the bus and I fell asleep nearly instantly, the soft seats all too inviting. It felt like mere seconds, although I know it was at least an hour, when I was woken to the now typical “wakey wakey!” Now that we’re up, let’s start the climb. It looked tall. Tall and steep. There were steps at certain parts, but a lot of the climb was made up of slight inclines, which seemed easy. In a way, I was right. How hard is it to walk slightly uphill? Not very. On the other hand, how hard is it to walk slightly uphill then go up steps, then go slightly uphill, then up steps for two hours until you reach the top of a mountain. As somebody who had never experienced such a climb, I had no idea. By the end, I knew the answer. It’s hard. Very hard.

We started the ascent, and I was soon fatigued. I knew I had to keep climbing, no matter how badly I wanted to just stop and rest for a bit. After a while, having eaten a lot of food the previous night and slept very little, I began feeling sick. Occasionally I would have to stop for a minute or two, if only to catch my breath and make sure I didn’t empty my stomach too much, perhaps regretting that I’d eaten so much the night before. The climb never ceased for too long, though, and I kept on looking up and seeing such a far way to go, the side of the mountain appearing orange in the moonlight. It was a beautiful night, I just found it difficult to appreciate it at the time. It was a bit demoralizing, looking up and seeing how much we still had to climb. After a while, I just stopped looking up and looked only forward or at the ground. The climb continued like this for what felt like hours.

I still felt sick, and I had no idea how much further we had to go. I didn’t even want to know, I just wanted to get there. My legs ached as if I had just sprinted from Philadelphia to Harrisburg, but I knew I had to keep climbing. That was a constant, I always knew the climb had to continue, and I had come too far to simply give up and miss the sunrise. Suddenly I saw no way to go higher, I looked around, confused. Then I realized: there was no higher to go, we were at the top! I collapsed into a sitting position; I couldn’t bear to stand any longer. Mordi said something, but I was too focused on having finally reached the top to hear it. He pulled out a small device that looked like a radio and played a song. I didn’t hear all the words, but as the sun rose I heard the chorus: “Witness the rising sun from Masada.” 

I hadn’t seen the sun rise many times in my life, but what I saw that day was enhanced by the challenge of the climb. I was thinking, then, would it have been as amazing if there had just been an elevator to take me up? The vivid colors across the sky, the shining globe that is the sun slowly coming up from behind the horizon, but part of what made it so amazing was the journey, the effort. After working hard, exhausted but proud of the climb, that sunrise was the greatest thing I had ever seen. I had been showed something, something truly un-bee-livable.

Gold Stream

I was in the den talking to my mom about how school was going for my first couple of months in high school. “How do you like school so far? Is it hard? Do you like it?” as she asked me a million questions at once.

“I like the school a lot, everything’s going well except I just hate math.” I complained to my mom

She laughed and asked me, “Why can’t you be like your sister Shawna, and love math?”

“Well sorry I just hate it. I always will. Were two different people we like different things!” I confessed just as Shawna comes in the room. My little sister stomps out with tears in her eyes, while my mom glares at me.

I go up stairs to find her in her room playing. She sees me and tells me, “I don’t like math either now.”

Shawna looks up to me as her big sister. Everything I do is what she does. The decisions I make are always right. Whatever I say she says. Being the older sister makes things a lot more difficult. I need to watch myself with everything I do and say when I’m with her. Even when I’m not with her, I still try and set the best example for her that I can. Shawna loves to try hard in school. It makes her so happy when she finds out she got all of her spelling words right. She does really well in all of her second grade subjects. Which makes me want to try really hard in school and everything else I do.

 “Shawna you know that doesn’t match at all…” When she gets dressed for the day I’d tell her and laugh.

“I don’t care, I like it.” She would say proudly.  Even though she’s only eight years old she still has enough self-confidence for eight, eight year olds.

She inspires me to relax sometimes. Be carefree once in a while and just be a kid. Shawna will do whatever she wants to do without a care in the world. Other people’s opinions don’t bother her. As long as she knows what she’s doing and she’s happy, that’s all that matters. I’m so happy that she’s like that because she is such an energetic person that loves to try new things.

BANG BOOM “AHHHH!” Just as I heard this I jumped up from the porch and looked over the fence in an instant. Seani fell off her bike and cut open her leg. Blood was oozing from every gaping cut. I run down the steps with Band-Aids and cleaning wipes to the sidewalk where she was. Before I could get to her Shawna was already there. She helped her friend up and sat with her on the side of the steps as I cleaned and covered up her cuts. She was crying as loud as an ambulance passing by. “You’ll be okay, don’t worry” Shawna said with comforting words while rubbing her back gently.

  My motherly instincts towards her rubbed off. When she’s with her friends that are younger or babies she’s carful enough to be gentle and caring. While she was and still is growing up I’m always there for her. When we were Even though I’m not always physically there with her I still check on her. I call her on the phone and ask her how’s school and her new friends. We rely in a way where we help each other for things.

In a way Shawna and I are each other’s role models. I set good examples for her and she looks up to me with everything I say and do. Then while I do that, it’s like she makes me want to be the best I can be for her and myself. There is also many times when she picks up from things that I do that are really good for her.  Most of the time they are. I’m getting better at it. Now I know that she’s always watching me even when I don’t think she’s paying attention to me. I will always be there for her to come to. To make your way in this society you need to have people to show you what’s right and wrong. Someone you can rely on when you need them. We are here for each other

                                      Personal Final Draft                                    Katherine Hunt

                                                                                                   Gold Stream

                                                                                          Due- September 23,2011

My eyebrows furrowed, my eyes watered and a headache developed from thinking really hard. It all made the situation worse. After 15 minutes the task seemed impossible. Sitting in my living room at the glass table I turned to look at my wall clock.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. The wall clock from my house seemed to tick and tock as the time passed by but yet my paper had nothing.

“What’s wrong Katherine?” asked my sister in a concerned voice.

“Nothing…”, I said in an anxious voice as I scratched my head.

“You sure? I can help you if you need assistance.”

“Yeah, I’m fine just thinking, and I don’t need help. I would have asked by now if I did.”

It was just hard to understand. In my frustration, punching walls and break pencils is an action I began to take on. As I watched the wooden parts break off onto the floor, the small wooden parts of the pencil jammed into my skin giving me a splinter and this didn’t seem so productive either.

“Failure, Failure, Failure. That’s the definition of who I am, nothing more but everything less.“

Screams of “failure” had traveled up to my mother’s room where she was sleeping on her queen size bed. She came out of her room down to the living room where I was now standing and gave me a look of concern.

“What’s wrong Katherine?”

“Nothing…Everything.”

“Make up your mind Katherine, people don’t scream for no reason.”

My sister (Jennifer) walked from upstairs down to the living room. She looked at both of us in an interested look, but mainly in disbelief. Jennifer was confused as to the way my emotions were taking over. My hands were over my head and slowly the words came out:

“ Okay, well I’ve been trying to do math for 3 hours now. Math is the worse thing that has ever happened to me. I…. hay…. haaay… HATE it. It makes no sense and it’s a bunch of useless bullshit!”

“ Katherine let your sister help you.”

“ I DON’T WANT TO, IT’S A WASTE OF LIFE!”

Pushing the chair in front of me out my way and proceeded up the steps. Once I reached the door to my room I stayed in there and cried for hours. Later on in the day my sister taught me what errors were being made on my part. In those moments it came to me that pride should never get in the way of asking for help. In the beginning, I was arrogant and brought my frustration with me, later learning that all along I could have left it behind, by just asking for help.

Sitting in the corner of my junky room, when my mom asks me what’s wrong.

“Nothing” I replied

My mom walks out of my room, I remain in the corner feeling hopeless but, some people may say, “It isn’t that big of a deal”.

She walks back into room and says “Did you finish your homework sweetie?”

I screamed “NO!”

She sits on my bed and asks about my feelings.

I then reply by moving out of the corner, leaving my room and slamming the door behind me.

I was about 12 at the time, waiting impatiently at school for my bus to come. Sitting at the lunch table with my friends, laughing, joking, and having a good time. 30 minutes pass by, all my friends have left, and my bus was the last to come. Walking through the grassy pathway, and onto the “cheese bus” as us school kids had called it, and said hello to my bus driver and sat quietly next to the foggy window. Arriving at my stop, I hoped off the bus, walked to my doorstep, reached for my keys out my blazer, and opened the door. Slowly I walk into the house as if I was a dead zombie, lugging my bag over my shoulder, as I reached the dining table I poured out everything that was in it on the floor. I sat next to the pile of books, papers, folders pens and pencils and repeatedly shouted, ”IT’S HARD, IT’S SO HARD”. No one was home then, and it was almost time to walk down the street and get my little brother from school. I immediately ripped up every single paper I had poured onto the floor, walked outside making sure I had my keys and threw all my papers in the trash. I then walked to my younger brother’s school, called him over, signed him out, waved hello to my old teachers, and walked back home. Knowing that no one knew I’d just “spazzed” made me feel as if I was crazy.

That was the first episode I can remember having, I know it doesn’t seem like much but as I got older the episodes got more raging and intense.

Life wasn’t always as hard for me as it is now. Some say I “use to be the nicest person ever and I’ve changed a lot since my younger days”. To me this change is a good thing but my parents see it as bad and out of control. My emotions get the best of me sometimes and expressing my feelings is just the outcome. Being rude and stubborn has become a natural reaction and people don’t seem to understand why. People shouldn’t even try to understand the reason because it’s just none of their business. I’m just something we define as being human.

Gold Stream

Personal Experience 

It was a Saturday afternoon. I had been at the swimming pool all day. I was there with my mom, my stepsister, my aunt, and my cousin.  I rode home from the pool with my aunt and cousin. My mom and stepsister had left earlier. As we arrived at my house, I saw two cop cars. I could tell something strange was happening.  

As I nervously made my way into my house, I saw my mom talking to an officer. He was holding a clipboard and a writing utensil.  I felt refreshed from swimming yet I couldn’t help sweating anxiously. The officer was asking my mom questions. I wasn’t sure what happened because my mom looked so calm.  I walked into my living room and saw that a window was broken. I noticed two guys looking for fingerprints around the window. I looked around the room. It looked the same except that the floor behind our couch was covered in broken glass.

I remember telling a cop that this really shook me hard. “It’s a violation. That’s a perfectly normal feeling to have,” the cop said to me. I was nervous but I thought to myself, we have an alarm system, so hopefully the burglar or burglars hadn’t taken much. I hoped that none of my personal belongings were taken.

The officers recommended that we remain down stairs until they could search the 2^nd and 3^rd floors of our house. I wanted to go upstairs because I was anxious to let out my frustrations by playing some videogames. The officers didn’t find very much in their search. They reviewed the final police report with my mom and gave us a number to reach them at if we had any thing else to report stolen or if we had any additional questions or concerns. 

As they left, I took a deep breath to reassure myself that everything was going to be okay. I hugged my mom tightly and then went to pour myself something to drink. I walked up to the second floor to play some video games on my PS2. When I got upstairs, I looked down at my TV stand. To my horror my PS2 wasn’t in its normal spot. I realized it had been stolen.

            Losing my PS2 made the robbery feel a lot more real to me. It wasn’t all about the PS2; it was more the violation of having something taken from inside my house-of all the places on the earth, the place I should feel the safest.

             I may sound like I feel the world should revolve around me. But when something you loved is gone, all you want is to have it back in your possession. I felt so paranoid after the robbery. It was crazy how something can change your life just out of nowhere.  I didn’t ever want to leave my house. I found myself avoiding public transportation and walking places by myself. I slept with a baseball bat next to me every night.

            My parents were really worried about me. They put me in therapy for a few sessions. Therapy helped a little bit. It made me realize that it could’ve been a lot worse, and that people take risks everyday.

            The risks we take are vast. They can include driving in a car to get somewhere, or leaving your house unattended for the day. Anything can happen whenever and wherever. You can never predict the exact outcome of what is going to happen, but in life you need to be able to move on, regardless of what has been thrown at you.

            Due to the robbery, a lot of bad ended up turning into some good. I saved up some money and my mom helped me buy a PlayStation 3. I also started to take more precautions to prevent future incidents.

             I ended up learning a lot from it all. I learned more than anything else that taking risks is a large part of everyday life. When I think about them as risks, then I feel like I’m going crazy. The thought of the robbery haunted me worse than the actual robbery. I learned that I have a choice about letting things get to me. If I don’t worry about possible crimes, they don’t seem bother me at all. And this is true in many situations, not just the robbery.

Soy una chica baja

con sueños tan alto como el cielo

Un día voy a ser una persona famosa

Me veran en la pantalla del televisor

Un día pronto

I remember when I was in ninth grade, well last year I had got in trouble by Mr. Lehman. But it wasn’t just me; it was I, and Nuri. It was just the two of us who always get in trouble over the weirdest reason and it was really dumb. First it was when we went to the store and we weren’t supposed to go and the second time was when we wouldn’t sign our name on the paper. The problem started when we were around people that were playing in the café and some how, some way we had got insoluble. So officer Bird old us to write our name on the paper. But we refuse to. So she told us if we wouldn’t she would tell Mr. Lehman. We told her we didn’t care if she dad or not because we didn’t do anything wrong. So she got mad and told us to leave and go home.

     The next day when we went to school, in the middle of class we herd our name on the loud speaker telling us to go to the office. So as we were on our way to the office, we were told that Mr. Lehman wanted us inside his office. So when we enter his office, it was he and Officer Bird. So we already knew what was going to happen.

Office Bird said: “Yup it’s these two. I'm going to leave and let you handle these two.”

Mr. Lehman: “Are you serious, you guys again!!!!!”

Nuri & I: “Oh No!!”

Mr. Lehman: “Sit down… matter fact stand up until I’m done with you… so give me a good reason why you guys are in my office again”

Me: “Officer Bird told me I had to write my name on the paper because she said I was playing around and disturbing people while they was working in the lunch room after school, when I wasn’t. I was just sitting there around the people that was playing around and she assume I was with them playing around. And I told her no I wasn’t putting my name on the paper because I wasn’t gona get in trouble for something I didn’t do.”

Nuri: “Well Mr. Lehman I was sitting there minding my own business and officer Bird came up to me and told me to write my name on the paper and I said why and she said because I was playing, disrupting the people that stayed after school to finish some of there work. And I told her no because I wasn’t playing and I didn’t do anything wrong. So I didn’t write my name.”

Mr. Lehman: (Shouting) “ ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS, OVER THIS LITTLLE THING AND YOU GUYS JUST DIDN’T WRITE YOUR NAME ON THE PAPER. IF YOU GUYS JUST WROTE YOUR NAME AND TOLD ME THE REASON YOU WOULD OF MADE MY JOB EASY, BUT YOU GUYS CHOSE TO MAKE THINGS SO HARD, FOR ME AND FOR YOU. YOU KNOW WHAT … (Silent moment) YOU GUYS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE IN THE CAFÉ FOR TWO WEEKS… GET OUT OF MY ROOM”

   I have never seen Mr. Lehman face so red in my life. It was kind of funny but I knew it was wrong, but the good thing was that he didn’t tell our parents. He gave another chance. But the next time if he does hear about us it wouldn’t be excuses, he would just suspend us for a week and give us detention for a month.

    What I leaned was instead of making things so difficult, and getting in trouble for the dumbest reasons, and making it a big problem when I can just make it easy and just do what they tell me and solve the problem later. And not only that if I’m around people that I see play I would leave so I wont get trouble.

Gold Stream

            “What! That can’t be! When did he die? What, why didn’t you call me? This is ridiculous, I’m coming home.” My mom slammed the phone onto the beige receiver. Salty wet tears began to fall down her cheeks. My six-year-old mind automatically went into worried mode. She began to slide down the white kitchen wall and onto the brown patterned floor. She began to stare at the ground; I walked over to her and stared into her eyes. They seem to be lifeless; her hazel green eyes that were once full of life and joy were empty. I was frightened and began to step backwards, very slowly and quietly. Than with what seemed liked all her strength she gently rose her head. “Jhonas, your grandfather passed away last night.” I didn’t know how to react I was close to him. But I hadn’t seen him in about a year and a half and he lived hundreds of miles away so I couldn’t seem him very often. But the thought of losing a family member made my eyes watery. My mom stood up off the kitchen floor and walked towards the living room. But every step she took she brought her sorrow with her. She slowly walked up the steps, two feet at a time. I could hear her from the kitchen; she walked towards her room at the far end of the house. She opened the closet door and took out some brief cases. I walked to the living room and I could feel all the negative energy my mom had spread through out the house. I jumped onto our Persian style couch and I could here the phone dialing upstairs. The beeping of the numbers mad me curious whom my mom was calling. Tip toed to the living room phone, which was only a few steps away. I grabbed it and pushed that treacherous on button. “My dad just died last night and I’m on the first flight out of here. I’m taking Jhonas but you can stay here with Hanna” “Seems fine to me, I’m sorry” It seemed boring so I hung up. I heard my mom slowly walking upstairs like a zombie. Back and forth between her room and mine. Than I heard the zipper close the bag and it sent a chill down my spine. I heard it hit the ground and the rolling of the wheels against the hard wood floors. I saw her and than I heard the “thump, thump, thump” of the briefcase down the steps. She looked down at me “We’re going to Ecuador to say our last good byes to grandpa before we’re never able to see him again. Now go and put on your shoes.” I did as I was told and put on my Buzz Light year light up shoes as my mom was putting on her shoes. I walked out followed by my mom and the brief case. My mom slammed the door as hard as she could. She put the key in to the lock and I heard the click and we walked off into the distance towards the train station.

            After three long blocks of what seemed liked three miles because my mom walking so fast my little legs could barley keep up. We only waited a couple minutes for the SEPTA train to come to take us to thirtieth street station. We climbed the train while my mom was hauling the luggage. We picked some seats and sat in them. The conductor cam by and my mom whipped out a 10 and said “30^th please.” The conductor took out his ticket pad like it was a gentle flower. He whole punched the ticket and handed it to my mom. He got off the train at the old thirtieth street station. We took the escalator down to go to a different station to catch the airport line over to Philadelphia Airport. We went back up a different escalator and waited for the dreadful train to come. The train finally came we packed in it like cattle being transported to a slaughterhouse. We arrived at the airport and got off the crowded train car. We went across the street to the continental airlines desk. There surprisingly was no line at all. We did the loop around the line guards have and we went straight up to a representative. “Hello welcome to continental, how may I help you?” “We need one adult and one child to Quito Ecuador.” “Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem. We have two for the next flight.” “We’ll take it.” My mom pulled out her gold sears credit card. She slid it into the credit card slot and the representative gave her to tickets. We went through the long line a security, which seemed like the last level of snake. We put our suitcases and shoes in the bins and walked through the metal detectors. We were cleared and put on our shoes and towards the boarding pad. My mom told me she had to go to the bathroom and I told her I wanted to go see what was in the store across the hall. I than proceeded to walk across the hall and towards the toy store, she told me to stay in there and not move, I agreed. As soon as I got in I was disappointed, it didn’t have legos. I went to every store in that hall and couldn’t find any. So I went back to the bathrooms to find my mom except, she wasn’t there. I lost her. I was so scared. I began to cry and a nice security guard walked up to me asked me were my mom was. I said I didn’t know so we went to some room with a bunch of cubicles. He told me to wait there and a few minutes latter my mom walked out of an office and I hugged her like I would never see her again. We left the office and towards were we would catch our plain, we got there and we sat in the chairs and waited, and waited, and waited, than finally “flight to Quito is now boarding.” We handed the nice sturdiest our tickets and moved in the hall to the plane. We went to the back and put our suitcases on top of our seats. We sat down and as soon as the last person sat down and had there seat belt on the video came up on safety. I didn’t pay attention to the video so I have no idea how it went. We went backwards, than forwards, than stopped for what seemed like hours than took off. It started off slow, than faster, than faster, than faster and before I knew it we were up in the air. I was so bored I slept through out the whole flight. My mom woke up to the sound of seat belts being unbuckled and sturdiest welcoming us to Quito Ecuador. We left the plane and into the airport building. The building was warm and welcoming. There were lots of toy stores, which I liked a lot. We latter went through a conveyer belt and in to the exit. Family usually greeted us but I latter discovered they were all in my mom’s hometown of Santa Isabel. We left the building which seemed liked the a last taste of America and I leapt into the dark night of Ecuador.

            My mom waved for a taxi and it stopped. My mom said, “bus station” and the taxi man sped off like we were being chased by the police. We arrived at the filthy bus station. It was filled with back packers and native people trying to get by. My mom walked to a booth for a ticket to Santa Isabel. She paid in cold hard green cash and we went to our bus. It was blue and had Azuay written on it in big letters. We lazily walked to our bus and sat in our seats and I immediately fell asleep. I woke up, I looked out the window and the town was empty. We got of the bus and walked across the street. We were greeted by one of my aunts that showed us to a room were we could get changed. I changed into my little dress pants and button down shirt. My mom wet my hair and combed it back. She than lead me across the house outside and down the stairs were there were a large amount of people. She told me to wait there, she left me alone, she had told me not to go anywhere because it would be dangerous or scary. I saw a line accumulate around a strange box and I wanted to see what was in that box. So I decided without a second thought to stand in the line. It didn’t take long before I was next. People went and saw what was in the box and left crying their eyes out. I went and stood on a wood box and saw a pale face of what was my grandfather. He was a wearing a jet-black suit with a silk whit shirt and silk red tie. In his left hand he was wearing his wedding ring and both hands were across his stomach. It wasn’t even a second until I slowly got off the box and waked to the door as if I had seen a ghost. My mom cam back and said “Oh my god, Jhonas, what happened” I didn’t respond.

            I learned a very valuable lesson in that span of 3 days, follow directions. Even though that was a long story all the events lead up to seeing my grandpa, dead. To this day I still have nightmares of it, I think I’ve been scared for life. There is also the part at the airport when I lost my mom because I decided to wander off and not follow directions and look where it got me. A life of mental scaring, pain, and fright.

Gold Stream:

A Memory In The Night

The smell of smoke and gunpowder lingered in the air, not visible against the dark, starless sky. The flashing lights of red and blue lit up the night, revealing even the darkest of corners. It was cold, the chilly wind pricked at my skin like an invisible cactus. My body was shaking with excitement, and at the same time sorrow. On the ground was a black blanket that slowly stained red. I was fifteen at the time, but that didn’t make a difference because nothing could prepare me for the actions just played before me.  A scene that I will always remember, always referring to. Still trying to contemplate what just happened, I started to think back on what just went down.

It was just another quiet day at the store. My mom was doing the lottery, hitting numbers using a worn out pencil eraser. Tap! Tap! Tap! for several minutes at a time. An old couple were hoping to support their grand children, faces worn, wrinkled and sagging with age. I was on the computer doing what I usually do. Checking FaceBook, reading the news, and chilling out. It was a nice day outside, the sun was setting, with a vibrant orange in the sky. I had turned and smiled when I heard the old couples dreams of supporting their grand children. Suddenly, loud noises came from outside the facility, sounding like fireworks that had smacked the ground pretty hard. Running to the window I peered out to see two cops bloodied, both faces grimaced in pain, with guns drawn towards their apparent assailant. The assailant was backing up into a green chevy, sweat dripping down his face, gun drawn. His eyes were shaking as if a mini earthquake were happening in his head. It was clear that he had gone mad.

Suddenly, the whole area was surrounded. The sound of tires skidding against the road. Ambulances, cop cars, and undercover cops all pulled over securing the perimeter. All of the cops opening their doors, gun drawn pointed toward the gunman simultaneously, each ready to pull the trigger if the need be. Paramedics moved in on the two wounded officers. They were shaking hard, trying their best to remain oblivious of the gunmen a couple of feet way from them. Groans of pain could be heard as the downed officers were moved onto the stretcher. Blood was already soaking through the stretcher. They had left a bloody pool at where they had been downed. The sight was engraved into my mine. Burned deep into my soul like freshly branded cow.

I had started to back away, my body shaking with fear and excitement, my mind racing. My mom had left her post and asked what was wrong, her tone indicated that she was already aware of the situation. After recounting to my mom what I had seen, more pops were heard just a couple feet outside the window. It sounded as if fifty fireworks had gone off at once, but it slowly dawned to me what had happened. Looking up, the green chevy pickup looked like a cheese grater instead of a truck. Smoking bullet holes were seen at the driver side door where the gunman had barricaded himself. A hand could be seen reaching up from the bottom of the door within.

It all happen so fast. I sat there watching everything and inspecting every element as an artist would his work. My mom was long gone, but I never noticed. Just then, a black figure walked in from the right side of my view. They called him the “Negotiator”. His face was a rock, his skin complexion was a light tan. He was a big fellow, wearing heavily padded armor with what looked like a assault rifle in his hand, as squinting in concentration. He walked up to the green chevy. After some talking with the man, the negotiator ran back, his face stricken at what he just heard. He ran back screaming “GET BACK, EVERYONE GET BACK!, THERE HAS BEEN A BOMB THREAT”

I almost ran from my spot at the window,which was a couple feet from the alleged bomb but something kept my feet firmly planted on the floor I stood on. Out of nowhere, SWAT came. They were dressed in the same fashion as the Negotiator. They moved up and took point behind a patrol car. Just then, Police Commissioner Ramzi was seen giving orders to SWAT. He was a chubby fellow. His uniform heavily studded with badges of honor reflecting the red and blue lights from the cop cars. Suddenly SWAT started to move. Slowly, at a snails pace, they walked up to the green car. I turned around to see my family just as awestruck as I was. “EVERYONE GET DOWN!” blasted through the night. BOOM! A bright flash was seen outside the window. All our ears popped. After a couple of minutes, everyone got up and looked outside the window again. The sight wasn’t pretty.

SWAT was dragging out a body which was badly mutilated. Covered head to toe in blood, with what seemed to be several bullet holes in his body. He was bright pink in some spots, and dark red in other spots. This man was pretty tall, and proved an easy target for the police to shoot at. He was laid on the street next to the car, and a black blanket was placed over him. Many camera flashes went off to take pictures of the scene as the forensics team moved in.

I ran to my computer to go check the news. A helicopter had been at the scene and captured everything, but for the publics sake, showed none of the shooting. From helicopter view, I could see my house right next to the scene. I was so excited that my house was on the news, but that quickly died when I realized it was for all the wrong reasons. Five minutes later, I refreshed the page, to find out that the two officers that were wounded from the gunmen were in good condition at a local hospital. Then I went back to the window again.

The smell of smoke and gunpowder lingered in the air, not visible against the dark, starless sky. The flashing lights of red and blue lit up the night, revealing even the darkest of corners. What seemed like hours took only about 45 minutes. I walked into my room and prepared for sleep. As I laid there in bed, I wondered if something where to happen to me when I went later. I started to hesitate, wondering how unsafe my area is. Here I thought that I was in my own little protect bubble, but this bubble was ready to burst whenever I walk outside my sanctuary of a house. It was ready to burst from a single gunshot. Building up courage, I went to sleep preparing myself for the next day.

• What surprised you most about this information?  What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?

• Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.

• Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.

• What parts of group work were challenging?

• What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?

• ​The fact that there were so many non-European immigrants at this time surprised me. This is because I expected the only non-European "immigrants" to be slaves. However, I was not surprised that the number of immigrants decreased when there was a depression. I wouldn't expect people of foreign lands to travel to America during such a sad time.
• For the next two decades, I expect that the immigration trend will plummet once more. This is because America is currently going through a rough time. This results in the condition of America being less that ideal for an immigrant.
• I decided that something out of the ordinary would be the best way to present the information. I originally wanted to make a map of a theme park with checkpoints along the way. However, as time progressed and errors occurred, this became more extensive than I had originally envisioned.
• I had trouble with collaborating with my group simply because my laptop is in the shop getting fixed. So, this made it necessary for me to share a computer with a group member in class, making the amount of individual working time in class to complete the project increase.
• If I had to do this project over, I would have done more work on the project at home. This would have allowed the amount of time that I needed to use another group member's computer to minimize.
  

Cyndi Lynn Sheridan

Y – American History

September 23, 2011

Here is the link to our project:

https://www.lucidchart.com/documents/view#4db779d6-99e8-408f-b0d9-39290a56d331?branch=4868c155-9292-4f7f-8e9e-ec083d579280

Immigration Visualization Reflection:

After doing some research, it was interesting realizing how much of a struggle immigration seemed to be within society. Each decade consisted of different reasons to why there was either an increase or decrease in the amount of immigrants traveling over to America. I already knew that the United States was involved with several wars, so this crisis would have a significant impact on immigration. Today, the United States is facing a huge economic crisis leaving a large percentage of citizens unemployed, so if the graph would continue for the next two decades the quantity of immigration would slightly decrease. I say this because although there are some problems occurring, our country has a lot to offer regarding education and domestic necessities. We usually are able to rebuild the society as a whole, making the life style of citizens peaceful.

My group and I decided that it’s imperative to incorporate pictures for each decade. This would make it easier to portray the events going on during that specific period of time. Also, we created graphs to help analyze the amount of immigrants towards the total population. We thought all of these things would be best effective for describing the relationship between immigration and population. I feel as though the part that was challenging for my group was figuring out what presentation tool we were going to use, as well as making a graph for each individual decade. In addition, it was difficult putting each piece of the project together making an organized and efficient presentation. If I had to do this project all over again, I would do a few things differently. These include: making the Lucid chart bigger so it’s clearer to see the pictures and graphs, and manage our time better. It took a long amount of time coming to the conclusion on what application to use, having a decrease in the amount of time to actually work and research the information.

To view chart in full view, click here. https://www.lucidchart.com/documents/view#4e73634a-e110-46dc-be67-14c60a7f13a0?branch=39ec39e3-743f-45d9-aa53-e10b25501552

• 
  What surprised you most about this information?  What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?
  Many things that I was surprised about was the act that were established through the few decades I researched. I was surprised to see that someone were very discriminating. Some small things seemed to have quite an affect on America in that time. I also found a few things that I wasn't very surprised to see such as the Spanish, American War, Immigration Act of 1917 and 1918, and The Great Depression. 
• Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.
  I think that it will rise. America isn't the only country that is facing economic issues but on the other hand I think that it could possibly decrease eventually. Within the next two decades I believe immigration into America will continue to increase. 
• Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.
  Within my group we decided that the most straightforward place to represent our information would be a lucid chart. We thought that this would help us organize our thoughts and create a clean visualization. Originally we were going to show the volume of immigration by changing the sizes of the boxes. Then we agreed to use color instead. We thought it would be softer on the eyes and not so harsh. 
• What parts of group work were challenging?
  The most changeling part was organizing all our thoughts and finding a way to represent those thoughts and research. We wanted to create something that would be interesting and people would want to look at while also incorporating all the details. 
• What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?
  I would definitely find a different way to represent the information because this was something that I have only done a few times before so I would like to see how else I would be able to interpet this information. Also, I'd like to see what other tools are available for these kinds assignments. 

• What surprised you most about this information?  What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set? 
   
  
  
• Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.
  2001-2010 it wouldnt go up alot because of the immigration problem bush was having and then 2011-2020 wouldnt go up as much because of the money issues we were having 
  
  
• Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.
  well we made our frist decision after much discussion. alot of things had to be compromised since then due to technical difficulty.  
  
  
• What parts of group work were challenging?
  communication which im horrible it was hard to get things done because i didn't communicate what i needed to the rest of the group. i need to ask better questions to the group and be a better team member
  
  
• What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?
  i would do more i would try harder to learn how to properly use the technology available to me and spend more time at home on this then i did or comunicate want i needed done so my group could help me