Descriptive Essay: The heart has no color

   I ALWAYS saw this everywhere, interracial relationships. Whether it be white/asian, spanish/black, and more common mixes. I usually don't see a caucasian male with a female that is another race. I don’t know why but it always seemed really cute in the movies. Picture perfect, and anyone who feasted their eyes on the movies would say so too. As I got older, my mind opened up more and I fell in love with my bestfriend who is now currently my boyfriend and I guess its not like the movies, because we get different reactions... As a child, the only interracial relationship that seemed possible was a black/hispanic mix. But it was more common to be in a relationship with your own race, or else it didn’t look right (from my 3rd grade mind). I didn’t know who I would choose though. An African-American? Or a Puertorican? I’m half and half so I just settled it. I was going to wait all my life to find someone who was black/puertorican so I can marry and be happy. I’ll admit, I was proud of who I am and what I liked, but I didn’t like white people. Everywhere I went with my mom, a white employee was always rude to her and due to my adolescent ignorance I just connected those experiences to the WHOLE race. From pre-school to 5th grade I was pretty much this way until I hit middle school.

   I went to A.M.Y (Alternative middle years) 5 for middle school. I went to the meeting in the summer to get my summer reading assignments. Everything looked pretty good and the only white kids that I saw were maybe five? There were white teachers, but I was used to seeing them, so I felt pretty good. After I started my first year, thats when I saw it.         Mixed in with everyone else was a bunch of white people! I get anxious and nervous around people and cramped spaces (which A.M.Y was. Way too cramped). There were so many and I couldn’t believe it so I prepared for the worst. Now, after some time passed I came to the conclusion that I hated this school and so did all of my friends. But I thank this school, because some of my friends were white, asian, arab and more! This school showed me that just because some people decided to be idiots doesn’t mean theyre connected to the entire race. When I graduated, I ended up with all types of friends. I remember one time I was sitting in Amy’s library with one of my good friends Miranda. It was a nice day, but rare. I didn’t get to see her much because she was always in the hospital, so when I do get to see her I’m pretty happy. She was white. She hung out with this group of white girls that I guess didn’t like me that much because her friend Melissa said “Why are you hanging out with black people?” and Miranda replied “Why AREN’T you hanging out with black people?”. And when I heard that I felt a twinge of happiness; she didn’t care what skin color I was. And no one else should either. But I had one BEST friend and his name was Scott Sicilia, and he was different .

   After starting my school at Science Leadership Academy, the school year was all tense and I had a five minute breakdown over benchmarks (You see, I wasn’t used to so much work being bombarded on me so I broke down, cried and all). So, seeing some old friends eased my mood. I went to the mall and I saw Scott again. He ran to hug me and honestly, it was the best feeling ever. I’m not going to bore you with the whole love story thing but basically, we went to the movies as friends, and left as boyfriend and girlfriend. As we held hands to walk, people were already glancing, maybe more than three times and my eyes started to jet everywhere on my body. Was my hair okay? Is there something on my shirt? No, there was nothing wrong with me. So why were they glancing? Soon, I would come to a conclusion that it’s the guy I’m with, because I will be experiencing a lot of these glances.

   I always saw a African American male with a Caucasian female and that was okay! I’m fond and thankful for interracial relationships or I wouldn’t be here. Around where I live, a caucasian male and a hispanic female or an african american female OR in my case, both, is not common. You never see it. So I could understand why some people glance again and again. And most of the times I’m proud because I like who I’m with. He’s not perfect but he’s awesome and no one else should really have anything to say. It’s when they DO have something to say, that it kills my mood but makes my beliefs stronger.

   The first time I ever really felt angry and almost lost it was when a group of guys walked by and yelled out loud “What’s he doing here?” or “Yo he belongs in Kensington”. I would have thought that even today, some people would be more mature. One time I was with him at a bus stop and some guy came up in a car and said “I SEE YOU WHITE BOY” and his friend started laughing, I guess they saw the sharp and agonizing look in my eyes because they turned away and drove off. My boyfriend can defend himself very well but I won’t just let someone try to downgrade him. At other times, drivers stare as they drive by or flip us the finger. Occsionally we get “You guys are so cute” or “You guys are dating? That’s so nice!”. And it makes me feel good that we have some people who are accepting. I don’t care what other people think, but when you mess with me and my boyfriend there is obviously going to be a problem. No one should care who I hang around with and who hangs out with me.. It’s 2012 and people need to recognize that we aren’t in the old days anymore. I can be with whoever I want to be and go anywhere I want to go. There aren’t any Jim Crow laws, there isn’t any segregaion, we have a mixed president! So why is it a problem that my boyfriend and I are together? There are just some things in this world that I can never understand, I just remind myself that everytime we hold hands in public, it’s making a difference.

Descriptive essay: Kodak Moments

6:15 in the morning, sitting at the corner of my bed with my eyes on the clock hoping that time will hopscotch to 7, O’clock, Holding on to my gold bedpost with the cold crisp air coming from the dark skies as I feel the wind hit my skin coming through the window. I only have one thought in my head “ALL OF THESE PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE AND NO ONE ARE OPENING GIFTS?!? THEY’RE CRAZY!” As I lay back down on my bed trying one more time to fall asleep. I feel something vibrating in my sheets, I through my sheets rapidly to see if I have a message from anyone, I Grab my phone to see to see that it’s my mother.


“ Merry Christmas Ron!” She said

“Merry christmas Mom” I happily said back

“I Miss you, I hope to see you soon” Said mother

“ I miss you too mom, I’ll get dad to drop me off today afternoon” I said

We hung up the phone after that, I laid in my sheets panicking to see everyone in my house, even though we’re all family, I was still shy coming around the family like they’re my new classmates in a new school year. I wondered why It’s always been like that between me and my grandparents, laying in my bed staring at the ceiling but my eyes were looking at memories and thoughts about my family... I looked at my phone to realize that it’s peeping 7, O’clock, The night before my father said when It hits 7AM, You’re allowed to leave your room to go down stairs, But I know I’ll end up leaving my room later than that because my father isn’t the lightest sleeper I know, and maybe just because I don’t like to be alone downstairs with my aunt & uncle, grandparents without my father, It’s just something about them I don’t like, I’ve always only been closer to my mother & her side, Well .. Just my mother, I guess it all started when I was a little child, My mother was always there for me, me and everyone else in my family just didn’t click with anyone else, I couldn’t laugh with anyone else like how I laugh with my mother, I just wasn’t as comfortable as I should be with my father, But I was damn sure more comfortable with my father than anyone else in the house.

I remember looking at my phone and I watch it hit 7:05, I slowly get out of my bed because the creeks in my bed make an alarming noise at the time, As I tiptoed to my door I stuck my fingers through it just to take a small peek with my eye to see if there was any sign of life walking down my hallway going down the stairs, All I could see with my left eye was my grandfather walking out of the room to walk downstairs, This sends some peace of mind in my head to let me know that someone is up & I wouldn’t be yelled at if I walked downstairs alone, But I still wanted to wait for my dad.

I opened my door at the way because I felt like I was serving a life sentence in my bedroom. I walked down my hallway on my burgundy carpet passing my bathroom to my right & my computer room towards my left, There is a set of back stairs to walk down other than taking the main way down, I stood there next to my bathroom looking down there to listen for anyone in the kitchen, As I post my eyes by the door, I actually hear my entire family downstairs in the kitchen laughing & cooking morning breakfast, Nasty eggs but I never complained out loud about anything unless I was angry, that never went well.

I slowly walked down the stairs amazed at the fact that it’s christmas morning, but everything really hasn’t hit me yet, apart of me was waking up to a regular day, but the other half of me was still a little child wanted to run to open the biggest gift that they lay there candy addicted eyes on, But I walked down to the kitchen where I learned that even my father was already down there at the stove making breakfast, Would've figured it was my grandparents making it, when I walked in I see my aunt and uncle sitting at the table by my window towards my right when I walk in, everyone screamed “GOOD MORNING RON! MERRY CHRISTMAS!” I awkwardly said hello to everyone with a fake smile like I woke up just to say merry christmas to the family that I don’t like, I sat at my island table towards the end at the back door hoping I’ll go unnoticed but that doesn’t usually work, depressing it doesn’t, My grandfather turns her body around the table to look at me and start a small talk conversation with me.


“Merry Christmas Ron, are you excited this morning” Grandmother said

“Same to you, Yes I am “ I said

Everyone but my father left the kitchen & Being the shy Anti family person I am, I chose to wait for my father as we cleans up the kitchen and collects everyone’s plates. My dad & I didn’t really have a very close relationship, but it was closer than everyone elses in the house, That’s a sad story. but it’s whatever.


We all got in a circle around my family room & said a prayer to be blessed on christmas morning, I held my fathers hand on my right, & my grandfathers hand on my left, My grandfather lead the prayer as he always does, It was short and sweet, everyone dropped hands and began to give each other gifts with dead christmas tree parts on it from sitting under the tree to long, everyone was opening gifts, my grandmother handed me one, Now I didn’t ask for much but money & a pair of Dre beats, from my expectations on previous years, I figured I was already going to be handed what I wanted, But instead I was handed a jean jacket that didn’t fit, and looked like a cowboy’s jacket, meanwhile I look to the corner of my eye & all I see is my uncle opening an IPAD 2 from my aunt, I brushed it off though, Christmas wasn’t over yet.

I opened up another gift that my grandmother gave to me, It was the Dre beats that I’ve been asking for, my eyes lit up like the fourth of july, I had a smile doing ear to ear, I know my christmas was better than ever, suddenly I was in the christmas mood, I felt like everything was finally coming into place, but Did I feel that way because I only got the gift? At first, Yes, But it opened my mind, to look at everyone’s reactions when they each got a gift from each other, the bear hugs given, all of the Kodak moments that were being made, I knew none of them were being missed because my grandfather just loved to hold history and take photo’s of every family get together.

This whole Time I know I’ve never been the closet to my family, but I still take hold times like these because I know they’ll never come back, and these are the people that will be with my until the end, I know I love my father, & the rest of the family I will in due time, But right now I just want to enjoy this moment.





Descriptive Essay: A Weight Have Been lifted Of my Shoulder

A few months ago, I had just received an invitation for a scholar program called The National  Society of High School Scholar. I scan the envelope from back to front, I was so curious. The envelope texture was so high quality. The golden color, the rough paper which felted so smooth, the envelope looked so thin. I tumble up the staircase into my room to grab a scissor to cut the edge off smoothy. Slowy I remove the letter from the envelope and the first word that came directed to my eye was, “Congratulations!” I was even more curious on what the letter was about, I slowly read through the letter making sure I read every information. I was so excited on what the letter said, I immediately went to my dad, asking can I join, I was so hype. I believe I was talking so fast that my dad didn’t really understand me.

Finally, when I received my membership kit I was so excited that I ripped the box open. I flipped my laptop open, logging into the website to see any scholar available. As soon as the page loaded, I saw a event on August 3 at Washington D.C on their homepage about their 2012 Annual Scholar’s Day Event. I register for it immediately without think. I felt so conflicted with the idea of my parents letting me. So I told myself that I will tell them 2 week before the event start.



Two weeks later:
Me: “Daddy, can I got to an event in Washington D.C for the NSHSS?”
Dad: “No, it’s too far, who is going to take you?”
Me: “I will take the train there and stay in a hotel for 1 night or I can stay over uncle house at Washington D.C.”
Dad: “Ask your mom?”
Me: “Well it can help me in the future and I get to met famous people like Claes Nobel and it will even look good when I apply for colleges.”
Dad: “Fine, okay. You can go.”

That night when my mom came home around 9 o'clock. I told her that “Mommy, Daddy said I can go to Washington D.C for the annual for the NSHSS.”
My mom immediately responded, “No, it’s too far and your dad just called me saying to stop you from going.”
I grip my fist up into a ball inside my pocket and I felt like I had just been stab in the chest. I felt so hurt. I responded saying, “No he didn’t! He said I can go and I’m still going! I don’t care! I plan out everything already! You never let me go nowhere! All you care about is trapping me at home!”
She yelled at me how stupid I am and how I don’t know anything. Without thinking, I walked out the house sitting on my swing, refusing to look at her or to speak to her. I felt like my heart just skipped a beat and my chest felt so tight from all this anger. That night was cold so, I balled myself into a ball while sitting on the swing to keep myself warm. I rubbed my two hand together to create some heat for my body and started rubbing my forearm. I heard the door open and it was my mom. She said, “Get inside the house.” I ducked my head under her arm so I wouldn’t slam my head on her arm. I skipped two steps up the staircase to get away from her.
I shut my room tight and tear started to run down my face. I can taste the salting tear drip down my face. I wonder to myself thinking that Why can’t I go? She never let me go anywhere. She always get to choose what I have to do, this is so unfair. Sometime I wonder, why don’t parent believe in their child on making the right choice. Why can’t they believe them on the path they choose to take. More and more thoughts came to mind. I know I have a path that I want to take, I want to become a doctor. Can they really compare me to other people who they never met, or are they just want me to take their path, a path that they never took and want me to succeed that path.

People like me have their own dreams and goals and no one want to live of your parent in the future. Yes, there are time when I play around and act stupid but when it comes to education, I am a competitive person who like to stand out and succeed with my own acknowledgment or power with something that I earned, not from the power of my parent.

I flipped my laptop screen open again, logging back into the NSHSS home page and stared at the screen. I was debating on should I unregister or should I disobey her and do what I want to do and what is good for me in the future?” My tear stop running down my face and when I blink, my eye burn for crying and staring at the screen too long.
One week later, my dad, my mom and I drove off to Washington D.C to pick up my brother and sisters from my uncle house. I had a whole row open for myself and I layed down, relaxing until we arrived. During dinner, we celebrate and sang a Happy birthday song for my sister, Cindy. Suddenly my mom bought up the situation about me going to washington D.C. My uncle immediately said “why don’t she stay here? I can take her there since I live here.” I felt like a whole weight had been lifted of my shoulder and I was so relieved. I body felted so light like I was floating. I thought to myself, “how come only my uncle could understand me but not my mom?” My mom said, “okay to my uncle,” and I was so happy that I just ran up my cousin room and started jumping on her bed while playing the mini guitar.
That night, I layed in my cousin bed thinking. Why was my mom so worried about me getting lost? I am grown enough. I also soon realize that I was wrong. My mom was only worried and denied that I can’t go because she was concern of my safety. But still I think that we as her child have the right to make our right choice then living under a circumstance of their rules.


AH Project Reflection

What surprised me the most, was finding out the reason of why immigrants come to America. And what they wanted to do in while here. Also the process that most of them had to go through surprised me as well.  What was obvious to me was the data in the graphs during different time periods. Such has how many immigrants came to the US during the depression. Over the next two years, I think the rate for immigrants to come over is very slim, until we there more jobs provided and the economy gets better. I don't believe we'll become over populated anytime soon.  As a group we already knew we wanted a keynote. We also came up with the conclusion that we just wanted to share quick facts instead of long paragraphs. The most challenging part was when some people didn't collect quicks facts. And also the process of agreeing on everyones facts. I would have more pictures and graphs, and try to add some more realistic things to improve my project. 



Project-
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/ij91xcglmryl2m0/YjQoFcYGBx 

Sweet 16!

“Happy Birthday Chaveliz”! I was extremely delighted to hear and see people entering my birthday party and wishing me a wonderful birthday. Nothing can or ever will make me feel the way I did on that special day to me. So much preparing and so much hard work to spend four hours with my family and friends.
It all started a few months before my 15th birthday. My parents asked me if I wanted a quinceañera or a sweet 16. I automatically said a quienceañera because it was a tradition in my culture. Unfortunately, my parents said if I wanted a quiceañera, I had to do it with my older sister because her birthday was a few days after mines and she wanted a sweet 16. I was a little disappointed but told her that I would rather have a sweet 16 too so that both of us could have our own day. We wouldn't have to worry about who or what people say or have to worry about whose friends can come or not.
When the time came for my birthday, all the preparations came along with it. The dress, the cake the decorations, the food, everything! My mother told me not to worry about all of that because the hall we rented for the night, came with everything that we needed for the day. The hall was a beautiful burgundy color with a lot of flowers everywhere and a really big dance floor. The lighting was a little dim so my dress would have its own spotlights when I entered and the lights would shine on me. All I had to worry about was the cake that I was going to get and the two dresses, and the invitations for the party. My mother asked me so many times what I wanted for my birthday but I didn’t know what to say or ask for because I had everything I asked for.  

When June of 2012 came around, I had to start working out to buy my dress or thats what I thought was going to happen. What girl would not want her dress to fit and look beautiful? During the summer, I was babysitting my cousins and staying at my uncles house. But at  the same time, I ate so much I always told myself that I would exercise later or go to the park in the morning. The reality was that I gained weight during the summer. “Did you finish working out”? my uncle asked me. I said yes because I knew he wouldn’t let me order my dress until I did. “okay then. come over here so you can order the dress of your choice” he said. I ordered my dress online. I orders a long poofy dress. It was a champagne colored dress with a lot of diamons on the upper part of the dress.I was hoping for it to fit because I got it the size I thought would fit. And also it was extremly beautiful! The shipping date was September 4th and I would get the dress September 12th. I finished babysitting and went back home because school was about to start. I got home on August 28. Everyday, I used to check if the mailman was there with my package. One day, i went out with my mother. “Mom we have to go buy my new pair of heels for my party” I told my mom. She replied with an okay we will get to the mall in 15 minutes. We bought beige colored heels that complimented the champagne and silver dress. When we arrived home,I saw a note on my door that said a package came to your house but it was left in my porch.My neighrbor left a note on my door. I was extremely excited to know my dress was just footsteps away. “Mom it’s inside Aalliah’s house”! I said. I will be right back with my dress. I bursted out of my house to go to my neighbors house and get the dress! I saw my neighbor outside of her house with the package and she handed it to me. I took it and said thank you for holding on to it. I was surprised because it was September 6 and I already had my dress! I was very joyful and thankful I got my dress.I was so thankful because I knew I had to adjust the length because it was 5 inches longer than it should be on the website. But when I went to put it on, that wasn’t the only problem. My dress did not close ! It was small! I tried and tried and tried to put the dress on correctly but it did not fit! My mom tried to put it on but still it did not fit! Extremely upset, I took the dress off and got ready to work out. I need that dress to fit! It’s my dream dress! The only one I ever wanted.

On the brightside, by my dress getting to my house three weeks before my party, I was able to work out and get it fixed on time. I got up early in the morning the next day and I heard my mother tell me to hurry up and get ready. We were going to work out! “ Run Chaveliz, You want that dress don’t you”? I replied with a yes! “So get to it and start running” my mom said. This happened for two weeks and a half. I saw the changes. I was so happy I saw physical changes. Now all I was waiting for was my dress!A few days before my party, I tried on my dress fitted perfectly. It had to be tweaked in a few placed to look better but it fitted. I was so grateful it did. Now knowing that my dress fitted fine, I went shopping for my changing dress. After two intense days of shopping, I found the dress that matched perfectly to my first dress and there it was ,it hit me. The idea of knowing that my party will be in two days!

On the day of my party, I woke up early to get beautified. I went to the hair salon and got a lot of curls on my hair, and got my nails done.I was extremely tired! But still tried to remember that all my friends and family will meet me at the hall. I left my house at 10 in the morning and got back home at 3:26 in the afternoon. In three hours, I had to be at the hall for my party. The hall that was full of flowers, full of butterflies and especially full of family and friends. I looked for all my make up and put some on. I was glowing and felt like a princess! Two hours down and I had nothing to do. So I sat and watched tv and took some pictures and then put on my dress. My ride got to my house ten minutes before. SO I had to rush out of my house and proceed to the hall. I saw so many lights on my way to the party. So many signs and I just sat there. Excited trying to  calm myself down and there I was. In front of my hall. People entering and everyone screaming“Happy Birthday Chaveliz”! I was extremely delighted to hear and see people entering my birthday party and wishing me a wonderful birthday. Thats all I heard when I arrived at my party. That day will always be held in my heart. I saw my friends and family and enjoyed it dearly. Now I know if I want my dress to fit, without any complications to work out or if not my party will be a disaster!

Refection

What surprised you most about this information?

Not much really surprised me about this information. I did not know that they had to go through different processes. If they did not pass the processes they would have been sent back. So they would start all over or just give up which is sad.

What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?

The most obvious was explaining why immigrants decided to come over to America. America offered a lot of opportunity and still does which makes every one want to come here.

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 the trend for the next two years will increase by a certain number. I think that America still limits to the number of immigrants per year depending on the population because we do not want to become over populated. I do think that our population of immigrants will increase unless we start a war or go into another depression within the next two years.

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

At first we did not know what to do weather a keynote or a timeline. At first we thought a keynote would have too much words on it and alot of slides. But we still decided to a keynote.

What parts of group work were challenging? 

The most challenging part of my group was trying to get everyone to stay focused. I hope that everyone was doing their part to their fullst potential.

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

I would try to be more organized and communicate more with my group.

This is the link to my project: https://www.dropbox.com/s/t7r8cv4y66roh26/Immigration%20Project.key

Descriptive Essay: The Proposal


“Because I said so!” 

I shook my head in disbelief. If only I’d been meditating right now, my mom would be the perfect example of someone barking up my tree pose. I never understood the phrase, because I said so. I didn’t understand how someone could limit another person’s desires. Angry that my mother denied me getting four extra ear-piercings, I marched my loud, brick-like feet to my room, snatching white mac laptop out of my book-bag, and huffed into the only bathroom of our 2-bedroom apartment, slamming the door shut behind me. 

As a burning sensation sizzled at the basement of my eyelids, I quickly wiped the incoming flood from my eyes with my cocoa butter scented hands. I watched as the clear, single stream of sorrow rolled down my clear, hardened nail and over my ring finger. Miraculously, the tear rolled around the end of my finger. It was official, I’d cried these tears so many times, we might as well had been married. Sorrow was proposing itself to me. But my heart belonged to happiness, apparently the feelings weren’t mutual. 

I sat down on the toilet and went through my itunes’ Hot Chelle Rae playlist, looking for a song to listen to. I saw Keep You With Me and let it play, turning up the volume so I could hear it while I showered. After undressing, I threw my white towel over the silver, metallic shower curtain rod and stepped cautiously into the steaming shower tub. I sung along to my favorite Hot Chelle Rae song. When song was over, I wiped my hand dry on my towel before reaching out to switch the song, but then the softest song came on, Last One Standing. Suddenly a warm vibe flowed over my body from head to toe. Usually, that meant that my chakras were coming to alignment, a normal feeling whenever I meditated, but this was slightly different, more powerful. It wasn’t even as if the lyrics were getting to me, because it was simply a romantic song. 

After my shower, I went into my bedroom to dress in loose, comfortable clothing, and cleared my bedroom space as I always do when meditating. I turned off my cell phone and unplugged my radio. Electronics can interfere with my energy and set off unbalanced vibes.

Since I usually meditate with music, I left the exception of my laptop, and proceeded to turn on Last One Standing. Since my chakras were in a fair enough alignment for the time being, I decided not to focus on anything special tonight. I simply let the melodic sensations flow through me as they did earlier in the shower. I felt nothing as the song played. I had it on repeat for three times before I gave up. Maybe it’s because I’m expecting it. I thought. 

The next day I awoke on my long, soft, grey sofa I’d fallen asleep on the night before. My sister and my mom were sitting across from me, talking. The second they saw me pop my eyes open, they wasted no time badgering me with accusations and pointing fingers. I sat up, confused.

“What?” I said, wiping the morning out of my eyes.

“You can’t touch the laptop anymore. You left it on last night. Again.” Breanna said.

I tried my best to defend myself. This was only my second time in the three years we’ve had the old IMB. Still, my mother and sister banned me from the computer. Frustrated, I stormed upstairs and decided to take a much needed, relaxing bath.

 As I sat in the white tub full of hot water, I let my itunes music play on random. And just like magic, Last One Standing came on. There was that warm vibe again, stretching through me from head to toe. It was clear to me now, this was a stress relieving song that only affected me when I was washing up. That was the moment I fell in love with my bathroom. The bathroom’s main purpose is to cleanse, both your outside and your inside. Maybe it was cleansing my chakras, my soul, or even my mentality if not all of them. Whichever it was, it was the equivalent to slumber’s tranquility. On that day, I said “yes” to sorrow’s proposal. Because as long as sorrow remained holding my hand, happiness would come running back to me. I had the best of both worlds. Jealousy never felt so great. 

Reflection

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12942926/9%3A25%20Mini%20Project%20copy.key

  • What surprised me about this information is how the events occurring in the world effects where people move and why. I never explored why there were so many european immigrants during the early 20th century, and the reasons surprised me. 
  • What seemed obvious about the data set was the migration during the beginning of ww2 and how it was effected by the U.S/Japan tension.
  • Well the United States is predicted to be in a major war with (anihC) in the near future so I predict the immigration will be effected pretty heavily.
  • "Do you want to do a keynote?"
    "Yes."
    "Ok lets to a keynote."
  • The only part of the group work that was challenging was finding a source for facts.
  • The only thing I would do differently is I would try to get a better source for my information.

Reflection

 http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12942926/9%3A25%20Mini%20Project%20copy.key

I think what surprised me the most was how steady the rates would be and then suddenly they would plummet. After doing certain research it was most obvious that there were drastic changes at certain points because of laws made and or important historical events. I think that it will continue to go up and down. I know that with the possibility of a new president that makes there a stronger possibility to change in how things are run. The first thing that came to our mind was keynote because it is a nice visual way to see the work that you did. I think the most challenging part of group work is making sure it is all consistent and of course that they do their part and get it done. I might try and do a more creative way of presenting the information. 

Immigration Visualization Project

What surprised you most about this information?

The thing that I was most surprised by during this project was the amount of laws the United States government passed in attempts to slow immigration, especially to Asian immigrants. Multiple laws were passed that prohibited asian immigration, and other laws were passed to restrict immigrants to certain amounts by race.


What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?

The thing that was most obvious was the severe drop in immigration in 1931-1940, which was during the Great Depression and World War 2.


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 over the next two decades, the amount of immigrants will increase, but not by nearly as much as it did in the most recent decade.


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

We decided to make an interactive graph to represent our information. For our project, you can look at the graph, and if you want to know what happened in a certain decade, you can click on it and it will bring you to a slide that explains what happened in that decade.


What parts of group work were challenging? 

The most difficult part of group work was trying to communicate with another group member while they were absent for the day. We were not able to talk to them directly, but we were able to tell them what we did the day we were absent, and what we needed them to do for our project.


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

If I were to do this project differently, I would try to come up with a plan for our final project in the beginning, instead of at the end. That way we would know what we would need to look for when researching our information, and communication issues would be as big of a deal.


Project link here.

Descriptive essay: The struggle!!

 

On a hot sunny day, it was about 90 degrees outside. I was in the house all day lying down bored on the black, comfy sofa and with soft pillows surrounding me, flicking through channels and relaxing. I stood up tired, exhausted, and didn’t feel like getting bothered at all.  I was trying to go to the bathroom, and then I heard the front door open. It was loud and noisy. I knew it was my mother by the smell of her strong perfume. So, I got up slowly and ran to the bathroom because every time she walks in the house, she starts to annoy me. I heard her footsteps from the bathroom. While I stand in the bathroom, as silent as possible, looking at the bluish wall, the smell of soup and the sound of the TV outside of the bathroom door. As I walk around the wet bathroom floor, frustrated to come out because I knew she would act like the same person I knew all my life, and that will be her always yelling. Five minutes later I heard call me. She was extremely angry.

(Khadi).  She sounded like she had a bad day. I excitedly opened the door, pretending I was happy about everything, and couldn’t wait for the so call family meting. The cool air touches my skin and the bright colored pink is what my mother was wearing. This is when everything started.

She angrily give me wet five dollar bill, I didn’t even know why it was wet but okay…she asked me to go to the store, as she walk up stairs I stomp my feet and got really mad, face frowned and eyes red. I hear a footstep coming back down.

My mother with a green shirt saying “oh yea don’t take your bike with you”, and I said but mom. She goes up the stairs and slam the door while she was going back up I heard her voice but in a smaller tone saying I’m not going to repeat myself. I didn’t feel like getting dressed I threw on my pink overgarment; I then put my green sneakers with a black and white kemar. I headed on out. I didn’t listen I walked outside with the bike. 

Wait let me try myself, Heart beating faster the sound of family laughter and conversations. I can barely pedal, trying my hardest not to make a fool out of myself, but in my mind that was the only thing I knew was going to happen. Teenagers disparaging me. Sounds of whispers, bubble gum, and the feeling of humiliation. I always knew that I could do whatever I put my mind to so I kept trying. Every Time I fell off I pretend I was doing it all of on purpose.

I was asked by my mother to sit down and relax for 30mins, so I watch running children’s, the sound of ice cream truck, mom yelling and boys who claims to be gang members. I waited the 30 minutes; I even counted down the last one minute. After the count down I rushed to the bike. I get on my bike and pedal slowly of the block. As I pedal passing by the police station I felt shy and somehow embarrassed. I then look down to the blackish gray concrete, was I seen Doritos, candy, and a pop eyes wrappers. I start to feel and wish I had some. As I get closer to the street I smelled chicken from the Chinese store, African food from the African restaurant close by. As the bike get slower I starts to feel my overgarment pull and I was confuse as for what was happening, I looked down and saw my overgarment stuck in the chins I tried to get up and I was stuck. I looked down and saw that the only way I could have solve the problem was to tear my garment and that’s what I did. I grandiloquently walked back home with feeling of regrets, and blaming myself was the best way to make myself feel better. Back on the block to sounds of the winds blowing the trees and kids sitting, and no ice cream truck. Everything was Calm. Until when my aunt Amina came with her precious daughter Aishah. Her Aishah started to cry, and all the other babies started crying, I was annoyed I got back on my bike and rode to the end of the block with a lot of audacity. 

Babies crying, moms frustrated, and kids wearing colors that kept calm and me motivated. Green, red and grayish. Everything was good. I pit myself on the spot. I felt the need to stop the whole entire family to tell that I can ride a bike now; I had everyone’s attentions I knew I had to do something good. I felt sweat dripping, and my heart once again was my heart was beating faster and I felt like I was going to pop my tiny blood vessels in my forehead. I felt a lot of pressure. I rode to the end of the block then made a u turn on my way back down, I could see nothing but a blurry shirt running around so I knew I had to make sure, not to run the child over, trying to save the kid made me fall hard of the bike to the ground. Tears dripping, my knees were bleeding, hands all red, and my whole day became a disaster.




 

 

 

 

 

Reflection:

Jalen decided we should have the layout in Keynote. We all figured it would look better and represent America. Plus it would be easily accessible to present.

Finding the facts was quite a challenge especially the push and pull factors for each exact decade. 

I would focus on a specific country's immigration and not just a trafficking of random facts.

Descriptive Essay: The Blind Eye

“What was the reason for me to buy a fresh hoagie when yet nothing was really wrong with the other one? How could I be so foolish?”

So there I was in my room on my bed, doing nothing. Just sitting there, thinking, trying to finish my homework. Right next to me sat the book “No Fear Shakespeare” on my inexpensive desktop table. In front of the book stood three weird characters. Their eyes were dotted and looked like a period while their noses looked like triangles, sharp, pointy, and simple. They all had four knives each stabbed in their backs on the same places. I thought it was pretty funny because there wasn’t any blood or gash and the characters failed to show pain. They all looked as if they were satisfied just to be with each other despite the stabbings.

My brother was yelling my name. When he yells for me, its either because he needs help with something or he believes he did a good deed. “Adam!” He yells. “Come get your hoagie! Hurry up! Get it before I eat it.” I rushed downstairs as if there was a special gift waiting for me and stormed into the kitchen. My brother begins to smile like a gremlin. I started to search for my hoagie but I couldn’t find it.

“Where is it?”

“Adam it’s next to the microwave.”

“Oh hey, you added extra mayo for me. Thanks bro!”

“No problem!” He replied full with joy.

Before I was even able to get a bit out of it, my mom yells, “ Take out that trash out first boy! What you forgot?” I then go and take out the huge bags full of old ingredients, sauces, and leftovers. As I returned back to the kitchen I saw my hoagie, but this time an object stood on top of it. It was small, black, and walking across my hoagie. I was disgusted, I began to imagine all types of images in my head, of maggots squirming around. I grabbed my hoagie and tossed it out, poof! It hit the inside of my trash can. I was still hungry and my insides were forming knots. So off I went, back to the store, and ordered another hoagie.

On my way back to the house I came across an alleyway. In that alleyway stood a homeless man who had fixed himself a very special dinner meal. He had a chicken patty, fries, soda, and a cigarette hanging on the side of his ear. Everything he had seemed to be fresh but it wasn’t, they were leftovers. On the chicken patty was two slices of bread, one was half gone, while the other had spaghetti sauce on it. The fries were wrinkled and there wasn’t much of it in the McDonald’s box. The soda had to be old and most likely was flat and the cigarette, although it was a whole cigarette, was stale. Despite the condition of his meal, he seemed to love it. Why? I was confused. I would never even eat something that may have had critters on it. I walked back into the house and sat on my table and thought, “How could I be so foolish?”

That homeless man was happy and grateful for what he had found to eat and yet I sat here with a fresh hoagie that costs four crumbly dollars. Was it really that deep for me to throw out the other fresh hoagie?

I use to think that I didn’t have anything, but I realized that what I have is what a lot of people out in the world don’t have. Like the time on a rainy wet day home from school. I was running full sprint to my house. My clothes were twice the size it they originally were suppose to be and my sneakers felt like gallons full of water. I rushed up the stairs were underneath the door stood that very special doormat that my mom had owned for so long. Instead of me using it for its purpose I decided to move it from its original position and hang it on the old rusty rail. I walked into my house without the slightest sense to take off my sneakers. As I walked into the kitchen, I left behind me huge blobs of dirt, little did I know that my mother had mopped the entire floor with pine-sol. My mom is a very hard working mom. She basically has two jobs. The first job is at work, the second job is cleaning the house and taking care of my younger siblings, so she is often tired. At the time I entered the house, I failed to notice that the floor was freshly scrubbed and that my mom was in the shower. My little sister comes running down stairs and before she took that last step down from the crackling stairs, her eyes widen and her eyebrows rose so far up her head that it looked as if it had touched her hair line.

“Ooo! You are gonna be in big trouble. Mommy just got done scrubbing and mopping the floors.”
“It’s no biggy Cassidy! I’ll just mop it up real quick” I replied.
I went and grabbed the mop and wiped the blobs of dirt. Turns out that was a big mistake. All I did was smear the dirt around the entire floor and I began to panic. That wasn’t the worst part, my mom was on her way downstairs and I didn’t know what to do. Each step she took down those crackling stairs just made my heart drop even more. When she got to that last step she was in disbelief.
“What the hell is this! My floor looks like a pig’s play pen. Adam! Why didn’t you wipe your feet before you came into the house?”
“Mom I forgot, I was in a huge rush to get inside the house.”
“Adam, I just got done mopping and scrubbing the entire floor do you not realize how tired I am? You kids don’t appreciate what I do. I wish you guys where in my shoes so you could see how hard it is to live in reality.”
“Mom, I can just mop it up.”
“Mop it up?” My mom replied. “Since you think everything is easy and you fail to realize how hard it is cleaning up after you guys, you’ll be cleaning the house from top to bottom!”
“Top to bottom? Mom, that’s a lot of work!”

I began to feel very guilty about how ignorant and careless I was and how stupid it was of me not to use my common sense.

“Always appreciate what people and things do for you!” She said.
Her last quote simmered in my head. She was right. I failed to realized that the little things make a big impact on my daily life. I never thought that what seemed to be so easy was yet very hard like scrubbing the floor or even washing laundry. I guess that in life you have to learn to appreciate things while it’s there and accept what’s in front of you because sometimes being so blind could hurt you in ways you’ll truly regret.

Experience

Oh come on this can't be happening, this is suppose to be my moment. I'm suppose to be winning. Am I dreaming or is this real? How in the world did I even end up here?

I got my racquet and hopped on to a Squash court. I started to hit the ball, with my racquet, straight down the right wall and got myself ready to play squash. The ball when across the court, as I went to get it I saw my best friend. He didn’t notice that I had smiled at him. I got the ball and began to practice again. I heard the door open, I looked to see who it was, and it was him. My heart started to beat fast as I started blushing, I wondered if he noticed. He asked if he could join me, I said "Yeah". So he stepped in and closed the door.

I gave him the ball and watched as he, with great power, began to hit the ball with his left hand. He hits the ball back to me. I asked if he wants to sever, he didn’t, so I served. He hits the ball back with a great volley and ends up getting the point. Just like always I was amazed but not ready to lose. I started getting more into the game, then him, and did a few hard shots and began to get his shots.

He opened his mouth and said the words “You got way better”.

While running to hit the squash ball, I said “I know I did but I could do better”

We kept score, he was way ahead but I began to catch up. Although it wasn’t an actual game I treated it like one, we kept playing. I mistakenly took my eyes off the ball and he made his comeback, for a second I thought I was dreaming. He did his amazing power serve and I just stood there thinking, why did I do that. The game was almost finished but he was still in the lead. The game ends with me losing, we leave the court and sat down on the bench.

I was out of breath and got some water. I looked as the sweats from his hair slowly moved down his forehead, to his cheeks and then one by one dripped down to the carpet floor. “I want a rematch”.

He took a deep breath and said “Fine let's go”. I thought about how much more experienced he was and that’s probably why he won. That moment reminded me of when I won against someone less experienced than me.

We arrive to the courts, rushed to get out and get our bags.

“You're squash game starts in just a few minutes hurry up and change” my coach told me.

“Are you serious?” I dashed past my friends and others to the bathroom and got changed right away. Then I rushed to the court and found out who my opponent was. I walked into the court, as I did I felt my heart beating so fast. I didn't know if the beating was from me running or me being nervous. I mostly got nervous during match’s because I’m mostly less experienced than other squash players. I started warming up to get set on what I want to do on the match. My heart started to slow down.

My opponent walked in and we both began to warm up. We spun the racquet to see who goes first; I get the serve. All eyes were on me as they waited for my first serve, I could the pressure building up again, I missed. NO! What did i do, how could I miss the first serve? The ball goes to her and then I get the point. Okay, now its all working out, I’m back in the game and we keep playing. As we played she won the first game, I made a comeback and win the second and third.

The fourth game kicked in and we both got more serious. I could feel my heart beating fast as I took a deep breath and made a great serve. Everything was going great but then out of nowhere she won the game. With her winning this causes us to go to the fifth game.

It was about 8:45 PM and I was up since 8 AM getting things together. I was so exhausted and could really use a nap. But I had to forget about that and focus on my game and win. The game starts, she does an amazing serve but I end up getting it and win the point. The game speeds up, ties up, and then I am at the lead with the score 10, 9.

Last point, this is when my every move and shot were at risk, if I made a mistake this whole match could be hers. I got the ball, taking a deep breath I looked at where I wanted the ball to hit then at my friend, letting me know that I can do this. I looked at the ball and it felt like I was speaking to it and saying how important this point was to me. I served, she hits and on the last shot I did a drop shot and she didn’t get it.

I got the point and won the whole match. My heart wanted to scream but I waited for the right moment. In the court I shook her hand.

"Great game," I told her.

Outside the court I was welcomed with a lot of hugs from friends and coaches.

My brother said “Good job but you could have done way better”. I sat down and thought about how I was more experienced than her, which kind of gave me an advantage. Working for what you really want is better than letting it get out of reach.

After a match I always look back at the court and thought of all that happened in there. I try not to let the thought of others being more experienced than me put me down. I believe the more experienced you are in something the much better you do in it. If you really want something put your mind and everything into it and it will be yours.

Descriptive Essay: A Childhood Problem

I’ll never forget the times I had in the Hospital during Kindergarden. I layed there not moving at all. I heard tons of monitors and sensors going off,  doctors and nurses in and out of the rooms. You can smell the sterile in the air as a needle pumps fluids into my veins. I am getting worried as I wondered what’s going on.

My mother is staring down at me tears in her eyes saying, “Your going to be fine.” The room is all light blue including the walls, curtains, and even the sheets, but there’s a sense of dull that you can see. The door swings open and a large group of doctors and nurses grabbed my bed I’m on and pulled me out of the room. Before I leave I see that my mom is no full of tears as I’m just laying there oblivious to what is going on. There is flash after flash as the doctors drag my bed under the lights. The doctors but a strange mask around my mouth and tolled me to count to ten. I breathe in the air from the mask and everything went black.

I woke up confused. Wondering what was going on. I looked around a lot of things were blurry, but I could tell I was in a different room. It wasn’t the same cliché room I was in before the curtains were green. There was a pull-out bed with brown sheets on it that I assumed was for parents. I kept glancing around until I feel arms around me and realize they are my mother’s. Thats when it finally hits me. I survived, and now I could live my life how ever I see fit. A feeling of warmth spread throughout my body splashing me with a sense of happyness and relief.

I reflect on that day and constantly see it as a completly different thing now. As a kid there was a sense of accomplishment that I would get everyday I would wake, But now instead of a sense of accomplishment I feel nothing anymore. That scenario changed my life forever and now I look at it as if  it was a simple childhood problem as if every kid went through it. I compare it like the problem with the clay pot I had when I was younger.

You can smell the burnt clay as all around children are laughing and having fun. While I’m nervous and worried. I sit there motionless staring at a blob of clay not knowing what to do.Time is speeding up as my brain seems to slow down thinking of ideas for the clay before me. Then in the nick of time I decided something simple, yet practical a pot to hold things that I may lose. I quickly grab the clay taking a small piece and putting it to the side, the idea already taking place in my head. I start rolling the clay in total focus as the loud sound of kids were slowly fading away as I build my sculpture.  The clay feeling smoother and smoother as my desired shape was formed. I grabbed a cutting tool and carved a hole with little resistance in the now completed round piece of pale clay. I look around and saw that I was  the only one with the idea of making a item to hold stuff in. I saw kids being excited as they add the their final touches.  I decide thats what I need to do so I grab the little piece thats left and begin to roll it thinner and thinner. I combine both ends of the thin clay and putting them on the opposite of the top of the pot allowing it to now have an area for carrying. As time is running out i use my last minutes just carveing anything I could think of into the pot and then finally put my initials at the bottom claiming the  art as mine and mine alone. The feeling or nervousness and worry has completly into happiness  as I was finally done. I join the kids now with smiles on all of our faces as we had all finished are sculptures. Time runs out as my pot is taking away with me knowing that in a few days I see how my work payed off.  

This was a such a simple problem that I made a big deal that shouldn’t even compare to what I’ve been through. Yet I treat it just the same. My mom is haunted everyday because I what i have to do yet I treat it as all in the past never to bring it up yet I’m typeing about it right now.

Descriptive Essay: Indefinite Diction

The creaking steps whined under the weight of my uncertainty. My shallow breath squeezed in between the beating of my pounding heart. The ambient lighting of the stage did nothing to calm me. My stomach was shivering as I burned alive under a hundred eyes.

“Yeah Mani!”

“You better go girl!”

“You got it Poet!”

“I like that skirt child!”, I looked down at my tie-dyed turquoise peasant skirt and I smiled. There was a folded parchment of paper with my poem on it. I looked into the audience and saw Rasheem's teeth, in the back row, big and glorious, smiling at me.

I didn’t think the words were good enough to let everyone hear them. I had the type of fearlessness that stayed inside closed doors. My tenacity was as ruthless as Old Lady Muriel's chihuahua— Yapping at everyone through the glass window, but hiding under the couch when company dared to make its way into the house.

This is it, this is your chance to show something the world something, don’t mess it up.

But I don’t even like this poem.

What if they don’t like it? What if they don’t understand it?

Its too late now,

The mic hiccuped as I lowered the stand to meet my 5 foot stature. I was stiff, but here was nothing, I was letting go.

“I can't say that sometimes....”

These were my words, I let them out into the world.

I remember learning about a girl in matter of seconds based on words that weren't hers. I was waiting for a lecture to start, so I opened my computer and went to my favorite website.

After a couple of clicks, I heard, “You have a Tumblr?”. I looked behind me to where the voice was coming from and was greeted by a smile.

32 brilliant,white teeth,were accompanied by frantic and hungry eyes. “You should follow me.”

“What’s your name?”

“Zip zip hooray.”

With a couple of clicks, I entered her world. Pictures of relationships, people wearing tank tops lined with crazy prints, cartoons, gifs, and quotes. Everything in her blog, including the layout ,spoke for what she liked or was fascinated by.

Then and there, I realized that Tumblr is an I.D. of who you are, or rather who want to be. There is something magical about it. Even when words and thoughts aren’t your own, they say so much about you. So what happens when they're your own?

Every tap-tap around me gnawed at my insides, the pitter-pattering of 32 sets of fingers on keyboards drove me crazy, this topic was too broad. My water bottle broke the monotonous daze with a loud crack as I nervously sipped. My thoughts were as dry as my throat.

The cursor on the screen was the only eye on me. Everyone else was too intent on their work to care what anyone else was doing. They were bent over, eyes focused, backs hunched as if they were unloading the heavy words from their backs onto their fingers.

My mind was blank. Okay, it was swarming with ideas, but none of them were good enough. They whizzed by as if on a conveyor belt. My brain picked through every detail of every topic, always finding something wrong with the thesis; nothing was good enough. They were all either too generic, too obvious, or too personal. My hands remained dormant on my keyboard, waiting for a command.

I stared at the closed window blinds and rested my head on the clammy wooden desk. My heart pounded along with the click clacking of the ideas flowing around me. I looked up and the poster-plastered walls showed no sympathy. The warm air in the room wrapped around my shoulders, urging me to give up and doze off for the remainder of class.

“Five more minutes for writing”, his voice tinged with expectation called out and retrieved me from my stupor.

Why was I trying so hard to reach inside of myself? It was only an English paper that my class would see. Not a poem on the stage, not a song to sing. There was hardly any room for judgement, but I sat there, racking my brain for something I cared about. This was my piece and it wasn’t that I cared what anyone thought of me, I just wanted them to have an accurate reference of which to base their judgements. I was a good good enough writer to churn out what this man was asking for in a day. It would be quality work, but it wouldn’t have been a clear representation of me.

The self-scrutinization of my work is partly because I'm OCD, but we live in a society where it isn't hard to guess what will happen next. I've always felt the pressure to push myself in writing because my words, even when I do not necessarily care where they end up, need to be my best. I want them to stand out and mean something to me because there's no need to

I always want to be ahead of the curb and make everything my own. We live in a population where with the click of a button, we can judge one another's deepest or shallow thoughts. Make what you say count.


Descriptive Essay: "24 Pairs of Eyes"

Final Draft.

I could feel the eyes on me, the browns, the blues, the hazels, the greens and even the grays. They watched me, all 24 pairs, all 48 individual eyeballs. They watched me as i fiddled with my paper, dog ear folding the ends, then smoothing it out, then folding the paper back again, I continued like that, looking out into the crowd of 3rd graders. Their bored tired gazes lingered on me. My oversized pants and my powder blue uniform shirt suddenly felt 4 sizes too small. The room seemed to be closing in, everybody looked as if they were getting closer.
“Whenever, you’re ready” my third grade teacher Ms. O’rourke coached, her kind smile was the only thing that reassured me. I held the paper up high so that it blocked my view of the now impatient 3rd grade class.
“..T-hh-e b-b-b-ook,I read, fff-oor summer reading, w-wass.” I began, nervously picking at the edges of the paper.
“Naihema,” Ms. Chi my now fourth grade teachers sharp voice interrupted, startling me.
“That is not how 4th graders present, lower your paper, so the audience can see your face. Take a deep breath, slow down, and for goodness sakes stop mumbling.” My face felt hot, I lowered my paper as instructed, and tried my best to ignored my classmates giggling.
“The, book, I read for ssssu..ssummmer, reading, was Charlie and The Chhhocolate Fffactory.” I had only begun to read the first sentence of the passage in our reading textbook before Ms. Lacy my 5th grade reading teacher stopped me,
“Naihema, slow down, take a deep breath... hold it.. hold it.. now let it out. It’s okay, there’s no rush.” I sunk down in my chair, ashamed to still be getting told the same thing i was getting told in 4th grade. “
Slow Down, take a deep breath. theres no rush.” Nobody else in the 5th grade had this problem, this stutter, nobody but me. I reluctantly did as I was instructed, inhale and exhaling, trying my best to ignored to whispers and giggles of everybody in the now 6th grade classroom.
“Naihema, did you want to pick up where Deion left off?” Mr. Snyder my 6th grade reading teacher asked, I shook my head, and averted my gaze so that he wouldn’t ask any other questions. He nodded understanding, and simply turned to the next person to read. When Sierra was done reading her part of the passage, Ms. Conkey my now 7th grade writing teacher had instructed her to pick somebody else to read their summer essay. I was the only person who hadn’t read, so it’s not like Sierra had much of a selection. The whole 7th grade class turned my way, there they were, all 24 sets of eyes, staring into my soul, waiting for me to begin my essay. I racked my brain for any possible out. Soon resulting to having a “
coughing fit” and claiming to just be coming off of a cold.
I never actually had a speech impediment according to my mother, she would always say, my brain worked faster than my mouth. I had too many thoughts and not a fluent way of communicating them. That I simply talked to fast. But I always thought otherwise. All my life, throughout middle school, there was always this feeling of being less than the average student. I couldn’t raise my hand in class because, of the other kids constant giggles, whispers, and snide comments. I couldn’t read any of the papers I’d written, and the reports I’d spent sometimes days on. I couldn’t ask questions, or share with the class that the answer to number 4 section A was actually 56 instead of 57. Not like all the other kids. I eventually stopped trying to voice my opinion, get involved in class discussions, and volunteer to read my paper, by the time I realized that my stutter was a burden. I was a burden. Class had to be put on hold for about 15 minutes as I struggled through my paper. If i talked too fast, as my mother liked to think, shouldn’t i be finished reading my paper in half the time it took my classmates to read aloud?
I remember in reading Mango Shaped Space by Wendy Mass in the 6th grade, then having to write a report on the book, I remember loving the book so much, I read it twice. I remember the excitement I felt as I finished the report after spending all weekend plus the extra monday we had off to work on it. Bouncing excitedly on my tiptoes as the printer in the school library spat what i thought was the best thing in the word. Shoving it into my backpack, then walking swiftly to Ms. Conkey’s reading class. I went through the first 20 minutes of class, doing daily routines. Copying down the sentences on the board and picking out grammatical errors in them, going up to the handwriting bin, picking out the handwriting sheet, and tracing the cursive letters then rewriting them over. Then listening to the whines of my teacher as she complained about our inability to get finished our daily routines in a reasonable amount of time. All of that leading up to the moment where Ms. Conkey looked at her clipboard and began to read off names of the people she had preselected to read their presentation today. My heart rate sped as I patiently listened to the names she called out, hoping that one would be mine.

“Amirah, Kyleel, Andrew, Deion, Inayah, Naihema, Shannon, Jeffrey..” My heart skipped at the sound of my name. I sat patiently as the other 5 students before me, went up and read their reports. I began to get impatient as Inayah lingered on her last paragraph. She came to her last sentence, and i jumped up out of my seat with my paper. I went to the head of the classroom and stood on the presenting stool.
“Lets make this switft” Ms. Conkey said not bothering to look up from her notepad. I stepped on the presenting stool, it was suppose to act as if it was a stage. All eyes were on me, those same 48 that had been on me in 3rd, then again in 4th, alittle in 5th, not so much in 6th, and now as i stood here in front of the class for the first time in 7th.
“The book i read was, Mango Shaped Space” I started being sure to take a deep breath before i started, i read slowly, to make sure i didn’t tangle my words. I hadn’t even gotten through the 2nd paragraph  of my paper before Ms. Conkey interrupted, “Thank you Naihema, you can sit down now.” I stood there in awe, my face felt hot, the familiar sound of my classmates giggles filled my ears. My grip on the paper tightened crinkling, i just looked at her, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. Everyone else had gotten a chance to finish their essay, why not me? How was I any different. I looked down at the ground, standing there on the presenting stool. i remember feeling like i wasn’t good enough, feeling like i was incompetent. I began to doubt myself, and my ability to excel, how was i ever going to if i couldn’t get through my paper? That was the last time, i spoke in front of a crowd willingly, there was always times where the teacher had forced my to share or to read aloud. I never wanted to feel such humiliation, such disappointment in myself, i didn’t want to ever feel like i was anything less than normal. I learned to keep to myself and lay low, in the classroom. Knowing the correct moments to “sneeze”, to go in the hallways for a drink of water and when to that a quick bathroom break.
Although my mom was right, i did talk too fast, i never stuttered and i eventually grew out of it. But I could never erase the emotional toll it took on me, or the sounds of the familiar giggling of my classmates, or the feeling of having all those eyes on my, all 24 pairs of the browns, blues, greys, hazels and the greens.