Vehicle Systems

Tyler Carter

September 20, 2018



Through my eyes, systems are created to help people. For example, vehicle systems are created to transport people from one place to another place. A car is a vehicle systems.,  It starts out as a frame. Then different parts are added. The interior is put together first, such as the driving wheel, the seats, gears and the break and gas pedals. This vehicle system cannot move without things like the engine, battery, transmission, and exhaust. The vehicle system also has an exterior. The exterior is made up of the wheels, hubcaps, mirrors, doors, gas tank, headlights, hood and the trunk. There are robots that paint the vehicles. The robots work with the computer to decide what color to use. People also help with building vehicle systems.


I experience a vehicle system because I ride on a trolley everyday to school. I also rode on a school bus from kindergarten to eighth grade. I also ride in my grandfather's car. I have also been on a plane to go to Florida and Maine. I have also taken a train to Florida. Some vehicles systems are faster than others. I do not like to take the train to Florida because it takes too long to get there. I also have a bike. I ride my bike around my neighborhood. like vehicles systems because it takes you places. I do not like to walk, I would rather take the trolley.

Systems help other people in their lives by taking people where they need to go. People would not be able to survive without vehicle systems because we get to get somewhere with wheels; we can´t walk everywhere. If we didn't have public transportation the world would be cleaner because buses take up a lot of fuel and people would have to walk everywhere if they didn't have a car.








Teamwork - Ethan Chen

The Frisbee Game

“Remember you are first cut, he second cut, I will call stack, and he will be swing.”

Hearing an actually formulated plan from my teammate woke me up as my mind was quickly losing focus. Right now we are tied with a score of 2-2. He was telling me the position I should be playing in the field. I will be the first man that the handler will attempt to pass the frisbee to. It was the last point before the end of the game and both teams were giving their all. We been chasing the frisbee disc up and down the field but no progress has been made. It was 5 minutes in the point, the longest point we had. My body already felt restless, legs heavy as bricks, my stomach growling, and my mouth dry begging for a drip water. My team always had a problem when it came to communicating with each other. We have always been unorganized, all over the place, no rules or positions had been in place.Our clueless faces on the field show that we did not even know what to do. We would always lose the games and it would be pure luck if we score a point. My coach would be on the side lines shaking his head in disappointment and I could see it was his turning point to make a change.

At our last practice, our coach wanted to talk about a essentiel concept called communication.

“It is one of the most key things when working as a team, not only for ultimate frisbee, but also with school work and other sports,” as he said putting emphasis to each word.

We spent that whole practice learning how to communicate with each other. We learn the commands and what each command means. We also learn how important eye contact and hand signals where useful in communicating with each other too. At the end of the practice, we were playing like a real team, a real ultimate frisbee game for once. We shouted commands at each other, made solid eye contact, and most importantly, work as a team. Just in time for the next game.

“Alright,” I said to my teammate.

We raise our fist and our opponent throw the frisbee out to the end of the field. We all ran down the field to get to our position’s.

“STACK ON ME,” as one of my teammates shouted out loud as I breathlessly ran down second to last in the stack.

The handler had picked up the disc. The defenders were all lined up to each one of us.  

“DISC IN,” shouted the handler. The first cutter sprinted off to the open side. He was able to outrun his defender. The handler fake his defender (trick his defender by going in one direction then rapidly change to the other direction) and pass the frisbee to the first cutter.

“NEXT CUTTER WHO SECOND,” scream the first cutter.

I already ran down field so I sharply turn back towards where the first cutter was. Clap-clap-clap as I repeatedly clapped my hands to signal him that I was open. He threw the disc to me. I clap the disc with both hands and caught it. I look for an open person but my mind was under pressure and there was only confusion. The defender started to stall count me beginning from 10 as my sweat drip down my face.

Then from the corner of my eye, the handler waved his hand at me outrunning his defender. I turn around, eyes locked on him, and throw the frisbee at him. He caught the frisbee and signal the next cutter to go deep into the end zone. The deep cutter ran down and the handler huck the disc (Threw the disc far down the field). It travel far and fast down field. The deep cutter sprinted quickly down the field as his defender and others around him try to desperately catch up to him. The disc dip lower and lower and everyone ran faster and faster to the disc. The body of everyone from my team and the opponents team obscure my vision of the disc. There was a moment of tension to see if he caught it. A scream of joyness came out from my team. The deep cutter caught the disc! We won! We line up and shook hands with our opponents said, “good game good game.”

As I travel home, I realize how important communication is when it comes to teamwork. You can have a group of people no matter how many people are in, ranging from intelligence, backgrounds, if they like dogs or cats, etc. What most crucial out from teamwork is communication. When you communicate to your peers, you and your peers will understand what is the next step and who is playing what role. With that, you have organize the certain task to certain people to complete one objective. I had never taken that into consideration before and thought to myself, “I should try to apply that with other things in life,” as I approach to my front step, ready to begin a new day.  


Advanced Essay #1: Diving In


Dear reader,
Throughout this reading I want you to get a feel of how emotionally involved I was in this moment of my life. Taking these actions molded me into a more optimistic, open-minded person. I am proud of the quality of my paper. I put so much effort into this, being that it is my first advanced essay. I believes it shows. One of the down sides of this essay is my process. I took me an extra day to fully complete my work to the best of my ability. I hope you enjoy.

Sincerely
Sierra 
Diving In

Jumping off a cliff. Sounds crazy right?  How about jumping off a cliff into a river full of rocks? Even crazier? Well, it was. But sometimes you have to take that leap of faith and like a bird, hope your wings will open and catch you. 
“Ready, set…” 
“Wait!” I screamed in fear as I felt the blood rushing through my body.
Attempting to calm myself down, I concentrated on each and every breath. 
“In and out. In and out.”  
“I don’t think I can do this!”  I thought to myself as I was climbing up to the sharp, slimy boulders. 
They were infested with mosquitoes larvae. There were groups of them neatly tucked into the dents of the boulders. They slipped on the puddles. The puddles on the rocks were strangely heated under my toes. It was slightly awkward to touch since I adapted to the cold water from the river.  
First and foremost I thought we were just going white water rafting. I didn’t know anything about the additional stops. The water was gentle. We floated across. 
“Right back, left forward!” my instructor demanded. 
He spoke fairly good English. Better English than I do Spanish. I presume he gets a lot of practice with all the other North American groups that come down to do white water rafting.  I had the best instructor, I don’t remember his name but I do remember him rapping the theme song of “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” in Spanish. 
“En el Oeste de Filadelfia nació y se crió en el patio de recreo es donde pasé la mayor parte de mis días…” he sang gleefully.
The water grew furious. It slammed into the raft, leaving our clothes clinging to our bodies. The water threw itself into us once more devouring one of the rowers. We quickly extracted from the water onto the raft by his gleamingly yellow life jacket. 
“Left forward, right back!” my instructor asserted repeatedly with anxiety. 
Rowing out of the storm, the rapids started to tranquilize once more. We steered the raft towards the land where a ginormous cliff stood tall and mighty. 
“Whoever wants to jump into the water can get out of the boat now. ” my instructor announced.
Eager to do so, I sprung out of the boat along with six other people. I lifted my eyes towards the strong powerful rocks. I became paralyzed by its elegance. Inhaling the pure aroma, I attempted to climb up the rock. With the powerful ore smirking down at me, my foot slips off of it. I pushed forward with determination to defeat the rock. My impression of jumping off of the rock was the reward of conquering it, but that was the most demanding portion of the exploration. My bare feet on the sharp granite rock standing 10 feet tall above the rushing blue water slamming into the rocks on the sides.
“This is nothing!” one of the rowers howled diving off.
“Ah!” another shrieked. 
“Oh no!” I cried standing still staring ten feet down to my doom.
The water burst out in laughter. Mocking my fear. I stared at it, watching it swallow each and every person that dared it. 
“I can’t do this!” I thought to myself as my eyes studied the bellows of my destruction. 
“You got this.” one of my tour guides José reassured. 
I felt my stomach dance inside of me, my hands clammy, and my knees convulse. 
“Here hold my hand.” He said offering comfort
 I held my tour guides hand and pinched my nostrils with the other.  
“Go!” He screamed. 
And we went. My free body flowed through the air. I connected with the water. I became one with it. I felt it throughout my body. I grew limp allowing the water to appraise me. It pushed me up. It didn’t swallow me. But why not? Was it all in my imagination? How could I think the water was my nemesis? All along it was my friend. I didn’t need to fear it, I just needed to trust it. I needed a support system behind me to guide me through it. And most importantly I needed to be free. I was the bird, José was my wings, and the water caught me. 


Advanced Essay #1: The Bigger Help

The purpose of this essay is to show it's okay for people to need help.  Even though you can handle situation on your own most of the time don't turn people down who try to aid you in tough times. Writing skills I'd like to improve are transitions because I feel like they can be stronger in this essay.



Growing up as a young man, you’re taught to “man up,” and deal with things on your own. The thing is everyone needs a helping hand sometimes despite how strong you are. There were times where I needed a helping hand when I was in a vulnerable state. One of those times was in 9th grade around the end of the school year.

       I woke up feeling drained and to my surprise, my throat was killing me. My eyes were barely open and I slowly trailed to my mom’s bedroom. The terrible thought of swallowing and feeling like someone is sliding sandpaper down my throat was excruciating. These feelings were only a few symptoms of strep throat. My mom in a quiet tone, “Can you please take me to the emergency room? My throat is killing me.” She replies, “Of course, just tell me what’s wrong while we get ready.” I explained to her it feels like I have people scratching the inside of my throat to the point that it burned. We assumed I had strep throat again so we immediately get into the car and head to the ER. This morning ride on such a dreadful day of my life felt like forever. Every time I wanted to swallow, it brought tears to my eyes and a slight flinch joined the pain as well. Not to mention the lack of sleep I had which only made it worse. We arrived at the ER at around 5:30 AM with nothing stopping us to get checked into the hospital. In the hospital room, it was bright and smelled like it was just cleaned. My mom and I sat waiting for the doctor. He was pretty tall had brown hair, and was wearing the typical doctor scrubs. After he asked us for our general information he began to examine me. I tried to ignore the strong pain in the back of my throat and the slight feeling of a headache beginning to creep up. After the examination, the doctor says with a smile, “There are no signs of strep throat, there’s just some redness and swollen lymph nodes. There is nothing to be worried about.” My shoulders dropped as a sign of relief. My mom took the small piece of paper with the prescription of the medicine that should cure the intolerable pain in my throat. Sadly that wasn’t the truth about my situation.

People don’t always have to be hurt or sick to need a helping hand. A person could get yourself into trouble without meaning to. Or be involved with something that wasn’t their fault. Another moment where I needed one was in 8th grade, and I was in the situation where I was involved with something that wasn’t my fault.

“Kai, I just want you to be the best person you can be, but clearly this email says otherwise,” my mom says in disappointment. The side of the lunchroom I sat on was in a complete mess. Spaghetti noodles on the wall, meatballs on the floor, tomato sauce on the table. It was complete chaos around me. While this was going on I was minding my business just eating my lunch. My teacher emailed all the parents of the kids that sat in that section even though I had no part in it. The teacher explained, “ None of the children that had a part in this would be able to go on the 8th-grade class trip,” which ripped the heart out of my chest. That was going to be the best thing of the whole school year. A good time at lunch that left smiles around all of the people around me left me in disbelief. I told my mom my side of the story and she emailed the teacher back. It wasn’t a long email something short and straight to the point. She said, “My child had no part and I don’t think he should be penalized for the events that took place at lunch.” A sparkle of hope began to form in my mind hoping that I would still have a chance to go to the 8th-grade class trip.

I’m not saying I wouldn’t be able to live my life without my mom assisting me every step of the way, but when she’s around it’s a big help. Without the help of others from time to time life would be hard being on your own. You could be the strongest man on Earth but if you get badly injured you would need someone to help take care of you, and it’s okay to ask for help. Without my mom and other support systems around me, I would be a helpless mess.


Advanced Essay #1: Stressed to Impress

The purpose of this assignment was to create an essay that linked to a greater idea using a scene from the writer's past. When first given this assignment, I knew which moment in my life on which I wanted to speak but had difficulty connecting it to my larger idea. I eventually found a way to do so through the use of thought-shots, which is displayed later in the text.

The beginning of fifth grade was a stressful time in my life. I was transferring from a Catholic school to a charter school, and I did not feel prepared. The first week of my new school was a lot different than my old school. I still had to wear a uniform and still had assigned seating in every class, but the atmosphere felt peculiar.

The classroom I was in did not look unique compared to ones I had seen before. Cramped, wooden desks were still placed in rows, which were still difficult to navigate through. There were lockers in the back of the room, which I had never used before. A projector and screen were present at the front of the classroom, which was different from the chalkboards with which I was comfortable. The teacher’s desk was pushed off into the upper-right corner of the room.

In general, Catholic school felt a lot more strict when it came to regulations. I thought that having less rules would be great for me, considering I had a hard time following the more obscure ones at a young age.

The teacher immediately went into what she expected from us this year. She began by stating the number one rule of our school: respect. This was also a crucial point used before, so I immediately thought this year was going to be simple, despite being a new student. However, the next part of her introduction made everything more complex. She aimed to base her curriculum around presentations, which meant we were all expected to present projects for a grade.

Presenting was not a foreign concept to me. However, it never counter as part of the rubric. This meant I could usually pass through speaking to the class by mumbling.

I was always afraid to speak as a child, because I always felt like what I said never mattered. My time at Catholic school was filled with immense amounts of bullying paired the inability to discover a social clique. Nobody listened to me. I would always wonder to myself: Why should I waste my time speaking to others when they do not care. I became a very isolated child, which triggered my desire for a fresh start. A new school.

Several weeks passed before the class’s first real presentation. The goal was to memorize three stanzas of poetry, and present it to the class. I spent days perfecting the goal, to avoid embarrassing myself in front of my new classmates. This was my time to impress them! My mind constantly focused on this idea.

Finally, it was time for me to display my speaking ability. The teacher decided that I should declare my piece early, and I joyously agreed. After several presentations, which I had deemed sloppy in my mind, it was my time to shine. I steadily approached my destination. The front of the classroom. My eyes were locked straight ahead, instead of the downward sight I always displayed when presenting. My hands were not clenched and my mouth formed an awkward, yet toothy smile. My posture was perfectly straight. I was ready.

Or, I thought I was ready. After stating three lines perfectly, my voice began to nervously rattle out words: “While follow eyes the steady…” I looked at my hands. They were tightly clenched. My posture became slouched. I was now aware of the monstrous frown on my face. I could only see the floor, unable to look up at my classmates. I realized that my eyes were watery, and I could feel the red color placed on my forehead. I was afraid. I sulked back into my seat, unable to finish the poem I had studied endlessly for days. I was embarrassed. The classroom looked much larger than before, and everybody was staring at me. I was not ready.

I realized that I spent so much time focusing on a single poem, that I had missed opportunities to introduce myself to the other students and attempt to find new friends. Looking back on this experience, I realize that I was unable to present this poem for a much larger reason than just stage fright. I had isolated myself in Catholic school, so I assumed that I was alone at this school in addition. I never reached out to anyone, asked for any phone numbers, or compared homework answers with another student before class. I had convinced myself that impressing my classmates with my stellar presentation would force them to not bully me. I was unable to realize that a new school meant a new experience, and I had to let go of the fears I held from Catholic school. One of the most important moments of my grade school career was letting go of those fears. Eventually, with proper introductions and a new mindset, I was able to present without worrying about my past.

Advanced Essay #1: [A Dream Loaded With Broken Promises]

​I swear, I put a lot of heart into this piece of writing. A lot of emotion that I don't usually put into writing unless it my music or a personal piece. But with this group I feel comfortable sharing my experiences. I just want my readers to see and know what I've been through. It really explains a lot about the type of person I am. I want people to know that it's okay to cry. (Sometimes even crying yourself to sleep). In the future I definitely want to get more editing help. I would like at least one person that I can trust to read over it and make sure that it sounds good yet at the same time it still sounds like me.



A Dream Loaded With Broken Promises

“She’s gone Pam!” My aunt cried out at the entrance of the kiddie water park at Dorney Park. It literally felt like all of time just stopped. A blue glare blinded my eyes. My stomach dropped and made my shuffle to the benches harsh and burdensome. There was no need to ask about who...or what happened. We had been expecting it...just not this soon. My aunt and mom just couldn’t hold back their emotions, which left my dad and I to be the “consolers” of the moment. That was the longest 15 minutes...in a amusement park that I’ve ever been through. Not to mention the blunt stares from people as they walked by us. That got me agitated. That emotion was more bearing than the grief at the time. Honestly that was one of the...if not the most strangest moments in my life.


I honestly hate going through this kind of stuff. After 10 close deaths in less than 5 years it just becomes almost innate in your life. You just learn to deal with it. At least that’s I’ve learned to do. It’s really hard to just put your emotions to the side and try to hide them. Especially when the emotions are stemmed from people you really love and care about. Personally I’ve had to find other outlets that help me keep my emotions in tact while also trying to stay responsible and focused on other parts of my life. Music, Swimming, engineering, Digital Video, MMA, and my awesome friends and family have all helped me get through.  But it wasn’t always like that. During my freshman and sophomore year of highschool it was really hard for me to keep up with my work because there was so much going on outside of school. When my parents and advisor saw my grades, they asked if I was being distracted by anything. I told them that I wasn’t because I didn’t want to expose my emotions. I ended up having to hold them in until I got a break from school. That wasn’t until February of that year. It was my mom’s birthday and we were going on a week-long cruise, and five days in Miami. That’s where I met some of my favorite friends that I have today. That trip took my mind off of so many things. I felt to so rejuvenated by the time it was over. When I came back from the trip there were so many people that I couldn’t wait to tell about it. But almost everyone who I knew would really care...was gone. All of my grandparents had passed, pretty much right before the trip. My best friend’s sister, who I grew up with passed while I was on the trip. I knew that I wasn’t alone but I felt like it so much. At that point every little thing got me emotional. From my dad yelling at me, or being disregarded, to even not living up to my own, small expectations. That was just a phase. I guess that’s what happens after being through that much grief.


After just barely passing 10th grade, I have a fresh start. I feel better than I ever have before. I’m past the grieving stage of all of them. They have all been great but however unfortunate learning experiences. A lesson that teaches to never take anyone for granted. No one or nothing on this earth is promised. Cherish the moments, big and small.





Gender vs. Individuality

Introduction: The purpose of this text was to portray a struggle that effects me and many other girls from around the world that has experienced isolation due to son favoritism in the culture. This is a universal issue that effects many of daughters today. Daughters are left abandoned, killed, discriminated because they are viewed as shameful and useless to the family, however I personally were lucky to not receive such as harm treatment coming from my culture. I used this negative discrimination that i did receive growing up as motivation and encouragement to be the independent and a strong courageous women that i am today. 

A Couple years ago on my birthday in Algeria, the house filled with joyous laughter, loud cheery cultural music, kids footsteps thumping through the hallways, and wine glasses clinking together leaving a tender crystal vibrating echo across the room. With a matter of seconds, the music came to a halt, the laughter ceased to complete silence, footsteps slowed down, and the precedent echoes from the wine glasses became a little more clear and less tender. A repetitive throb with an awful scream gusted in from the doors and windows and froze everyone still.

“Aghiles? Where is Aghiles? My mom jumped out of her seat interrogating everyone for my brother..

I knew where he was. I knew he didn't listen when my grandmother warned him about the broken gate on the front porch. Ever since he got his green lantern bicycle with flashy training wheels, he has not gotten off of it. He rides the little green monster like a NASCAR driver back and forth. And by the pitch of his screech of pain, I guess this time it took a bad turn.

We all ran outside to help, Aghiles is at the bottom of the huge grey staircase. I got drowned and disposed of in the back of the crowd. The little king. My brother's wines drew the people closer and closer and further and further away from me.

It's my birthday. They’re my guests. If a birthday is supposed to be the day you get the most attention and care then it must've been his birthday every day.

“My son!” My mother cried.

He’s going to be fine, a broken arm hasn’t killed anyone before. Was this that big of a deal? Can we get back to me?

Growing up with two brothers, there was never enough attention to spread to me, there was never enough extra care to come to me. I had to give the attention and care to myself.

Why didn’t my mother scream out,

“My daughter!” When I fell down the stairs. And I was way younger than then he is and the stairs were much larger and longer than those ones. This was not an accident,  he was asking for it. On the other hand I fell down the stairs by accident. I remember that incident as clear as day.

It was a bright early morning. It had to be the weekend or I would've been at school already. I knew how to walk fine but I still never really looked or cared about where I went. I just step after step and move forward.

I begun picking up the pace and ran towards the staircase. I looked down leaning forward and holding on to the very high wall that was where the pole used be. Before I knew it I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder as my legs swung upwards depassing my chest. I clenched my eyes and wrinkled my forehead from the pain. I could feel the jets of the smoldering hot sun beaming down and scorching my fair white skin. Thump after thump. I could feel the bruises ingraining into my exposed and helpless body. The pain no longer had value, it became numb. I was rolling down the stairs and finally made my last clash onto the brisk, textured, concrete pavement. I shouted and shouted for help. My heart continued to pick up the pace as if it was about to escape my chest.

I couldn’t understand what the dark figure was standing over me. Through the hazy atmosphere, I recognized the sharp teeth with saliva dripping from the keel tip. I heard a heavy bark followed by a slimy and long lick across my face. It was my dog.

No matter how loud my screams were, they were not enough. I patted off the little pebbles and dirt engraved into my arms and legs. I shook off any dirt access on my little pink dress and I pulled myself up and walked inside. I dragged over the chair and reach for the emergency box and grabbed a couple band-aids. After a couple of struggles, I had finally got them on. I took care of myself. I did it alone.

Being from a country where sons have more value than the daughters, many of the incidents as so, happened plenty of times growing up to me and many other siblings as well. Though, I do not see it as a curse like most people do, I view it as a good lesson taught. Similar to many girls in my position, we are forced to grow up quickly and take care of ourselves alone. My gender has made the individual, independent, secure female that I am today.


Advanced essay #1(The movies)

The were many movies out that I wanted to see, but they were all rated R and being me, a mere sixteen year old I could only fantasize. I looked around on all the movie theater websites like the RAVE, the AMC and of course google itself for a movie that wasn't rated R. Then I found it; Happy Death Day. I was a bit hesitant because I really enjoy a good scare when I go to a horror movie, and the best scares  were the movies rated R, so I assumed that the scare was not going to be as well done compared to the movie Saw (2004).

On October 19th I asked around snapchat if any of my friends wanted to see a movie. I asked them, “Hey do you wanna go out and see Happy Death Day the movie with me?” I wanted to see it really badly because all of the other horror movies that I wanted to see were all R rated.  I was only 16 at the time so I would had needed an adult I didn't want to sit down with one of my parents through a horror movie that they would hate it. It might've been awkward. I asked the new girl in our grade, Maddy I added her on Snapchat when we first meton the first day of Sophomore year. My friend lou introduced us in the cafe of the school

“Hey this is Maddy” she said

“Are you two sisters or something?” I asked

“No!” they both said

I asked her if she wanted to go and she said “Yeah sure I’ll go”. Around 9:00 pm we go to go the Rave at 40th and Walnut. We got there and it was actually my first time in a movie theater at night with no adults. The theater had as usual, there's the classic 90s carpeting pattern, the red background and the little black triangles and yellow squiggly lines that looked like mustard on the floor.


The Movie was about a girl in college that had one day of her life repeat over and over.

At first she is confused about this strange phenomenon. She wakes up everyday in another bed after a late night of partying, a friend of the strangers and says something disrespectful about her being there. It is her birthday she walk outside and notices little different thing like a group of people having a picnic then the sprinkler turns on and they get all wet, the next thing she notices is a guy that passes out from some kind of frat hazing this happens many times. She gets used to these recurrences and she does something each time this happens. Ten thing start to get weird  a masked killer suddenly takes her life in a brutal attack again she wakes up without a scratch. She uses this phenomenon to get who the masked killer is.

The movie was fine but I don't recommend it, I was very confused but I still figured out who the murder was  half way through the movie and that was fun. I didn’t enjoy the scares since it was a PG13 movie.

Then her parents came to pick her up and I was picked up too. Later that night I asked her out and she said yes and now were together. if this is you can, you can get to know things about new people that you meet and create new friendships and and relationships with a simple text.


Advanced Essay #1: When Life Happens

The goals I set for this essay was to try and dig for deeper life lessons than the surface lessons that were obvious. Secondly I wanted both of my memories to happen recently so I could be as vivid as I could with the memories. By the memories being so recent to my life I could remember sensory details and be completely honest rather than having to piece together old things that I didn't really remember. Ultimately I am very proud of my bigger picture because I think that its something that people don't really acknowledge and end up feeling lost when life does happen. 

When Life Happens 

As I was staring out the window, I could see the streets flooding with brown water. The water had become brown from the runoff from a construction sight from a few miles behind. It was pouring. I felt the train slowing down since the last stop and then it came to a complete stop in a heavily wooded area. A few seconds later, the loud speaker came on and the conductor said, “Folks, we can no longer move forward due to flooding on the tracks.” I had already been on this train for three hours going on four. After the announcement went off, all the passengers who had to sit in the cafe car just like me, could feel the annoyance level skyrocket. Nobody knew how long we would be waiting but all I knew was that I was going to get all my homework done.

This was the first time I had been a situation like this by myself. I am usually with someone else but there was no one I knew that was on the train with me. It was a major experience where I had to be responsible of my safety and be able to stay calm. Being responsible meant that I had to keep my parents updated with the status of my train and staying aware of my surroundings. Although I was slightly worried that I was going to have to sleep on the train, I remained calm.

Early that week I had another life experience that I clearly remember going like this. “Ding, ding, ding, dIng,” is what you could hear Ms. Diane saying over the loudspeaker. This was the fire drill my physics teacher had informed us on minutes before. I grabbed my phone and proceeded to the hallway as other classes flooded the same direction as me. Although I was warned and was told that we were going to have the drill, I was still caught off guard. It was just one of those things you can never really prepare for in your mind. Once we got to the end of the hallway, we made a left turn to a side stairway that was steep. It was dark and cool as we walked down the steps but as we got closer to the bottom, I could see how bright it was outside. When I got to the bottom of the steps, I could feel the sun on my face and instantly knew that this fire drill was going to be miserable.

Fire drills may not seem like something big, but it's always a good example of being prepared just in case life happens. I am not sure how I will act if there was actually a fire but what I can say is the I know the plan to get out safely. I have been doing fire drills since I started school and I never really took the time to think about why they were so important. Now being the young adult that I am, it is just another way of schools preparing us for life.

Being put into situations like being caught in a storm and having the fire drill were two totally different experiences but very relatable. Both of these experiences taught me to be prepared for the anything, even for the worse. Thinking back to when I was stuck on the train, I remember my mom kept texting me about if my phone was dying. Just imagining what it would have been like if my phone had died would’ve been terrible. I would not have had a way to contact any of my family to tell them that I was stuck. Everyone would have be worried about why I was not answering the phone and if something had happened to me. Although nothing went wrong during the fire drill, it still helps me stay prepared for the worse. If there ever was a fire in school, I would know the safest route to get out. My teacher made it very clear about which way to go and even where to go after I got outside.

The bigger picture to both of these memories is that if I stay ready, I won’t have to get ready. In life, you never know what is going to happen next and sometimes things can happen and change your life forever. Although we all like to believe that we have total control over our lives, sometimes life happens. You can't control what things happen but you can control how you react and deal with things. For instance, when I was stuck on the train, I couldn't control the water flooding but I could control how I reacted and how I was going to deal with the situation. It's important to make the best decision possible when things come up because they might have long term effects.


Advanced Essay- Justin Siegel

Football has always been very important to me, I still have a lot of memories from when I used to play. Part of me wishes that I had never stopped, the other part of me understands, and decided that it was better for me not to get hurt. Not playing football allowed me focus more on my school work. It was one of the harder decisions I ever made, and I still consider football to be a very important passion for me. I will never forget certain things such as going to put my football helmet on everyday.

A fake helmet. Not everyone would call it art, but I would. It has meaning to me, and to me it glistens in the light on the shelf where it sits. It is all black with a red cardinal decal on both sides. It has a white brim on the back that even says Ridell. It looked so real, and the memories it brought back to me were endless. Anyone else would say its just a toy. It’s not it has my life bottled up inside of it. It had a facemask on it, and even had real padding inside of it. The helmet has a piece of masking tape on it that says ‘Justin Siegel’. I put the tape their, it looked exactly like the tape on my helmet when I played football. My coach put it their, on the first day of practice.

My coach also happened to be a mentor to me, he gave me the helmet. This little helmet had meant something to me for multiple reasons. It was shiny, without a single scratch on it. It looked exactly the way it looked the day that I got it. I couldn’t say that about the actual helmet I wore when playing football. My other helmet had better days, It had dents and dinks all over the place. I had thrown it had the pavement a few times after the two games my team lost in my 8th grade season. So at least my replica helmet still looked perfect. I plan on keeping this helmet, because it will help me remember when I lived in northfield forever.

Whenever I see this helmet sitting on the shelf in my room, it makes me think about football. I would think about how I loved to play, and how I may have regretted my decision. At the same time the helmet itself makes me think about all of the times I had banged my head, or banged into the opposing player. Tough decisions are always hard, and especially when they have such great magnitude. Next, I will mention a moment that I will never forget, because it makes me think about how our team had such a geniune camaraderie.

“You can do this boys” my coach yelled during the time out. There were two minutes left in the game, and we were down by a touchdown. We needed the ball back, and we needed it at that very moment. It was third down and they needed 4 yards for the first down. A fire had been lit inside of me, I wanted to win more then anything. I looked to my left, and right. My teammates were just as angry as me. We worked hard for this moment. Next, I looked at the sideline. I saw my dad, my grandparents, and my coaches. I was too focused to let my nerves distract me. I was exhausted though. I didn’t care, I cared about Brandon. The opposing quarterback. I could remember everything he said about us, and how we didn’t stand a chance.

“Ready. Set. Go. Hut. Hut.” he screeched. The ball flew back to him from the center. I rushed passed the offensive line, and brandon was in my cross hairs. I chase him for a couple seconds. Then, I reached my hand out, and dived for his legs. I had wrapped his legs up, and pulled him down. It was shocking, We’d get the ball back, they needed to punt. Finally I turned, and looked at my coach. He looked back, and we both smiled.

The game I was just talking about was one of the biggest moments I remember from playing football. It feels like it was just yesterday, playing under the lights on that november saturday night.  Although football had such a great impact on me, I think that SLA has had a greater impact on me. This decison was the right one looking back. The experiences, friendships, and learning experiences I have had at SLA are untouchable compared to football. Football was a great part of my childhood, and i will remember those awesome moments forever. In the end I don’t regret my decision though.


Advanced Essay #1: Coaching Kills

Youth sports is at an all time low in participation, and is only projected to dip lower and lower. This is primarily due to the way coaches are taking kids' health into their own hands. I have been on the receiving end of a coaches irresponsibility, and I will share both my story and my thoughts on this unfortunate situation.

I showed up to the field, finally, about 10 minutes before the game started. This wasn’t good, seeing as how it was the first game of the fall season. I grabbed my bag and ran down to the cluster of fields below the parking lot. When I got there my coach looked somewhat relieved.

He clasped my shoulder and said, “You’re starting today.”

I looked at him with wide eyes and replied, “Sure coach, whatever you need.” From there, I had about 7 minutes to get ready to start the first game of the season. There were a handful of college scouts behind the dugout waiting to watch the game, to see who they would recruit in the future. After I threw a little and got somewhat loose we had to take the field. I felt alright, but I took my time with my warmup pitches just to be cautious.

However, as soon as the game started, the pressure of the college coaches started to reach me. I felt like I had to throw the ball through the catcher's glove in order to impress. This extra exertion only wore me down quicker. During the third inning, I could tell that I was starting to fade. My mechanics were getting sloppy, but I couldn’t tell my coach.  Then the worst thing that could happen happened. I went into motion, whipped my arm forward, and released the ball. I could feel tingles start in my elbow and slowly crawl towards my fingertips. My arm felt like it was on fire. Everything slowed down, and I knew it was bad. It’s amazing the impact one pitch can have on your entire trajectory.

Unfortunately this is the way of youth sports nowadays. Overuse is one of the most common reasons for serious sports injuries, and it isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Many coaches of youth teams prioritize winning over player development and health. My coach made the decision to start me and try to put the team at an advantage, but put my health and safety at a disadvantage. This is a problem that starts and ends with coaches caring about their players. It is the responsibility of the adult managing the children, however this power of coach is often abused, and the kids pay the price.

Another reason that is causing these serious youth sports injuries is the unnecessary competitiveness from youth coaches. Once you get to a high enough level in your sport coaches will do anything to win and gain some recognition for themselves. I have been on the receiving end of this competitiveness, and it stunted my growth as a player.

If these coaches can not find a balance between winning and developing youth players. Unfortunately the only way to make this happen would be to enforce even more regulations into these games. This is a shame as it doesn’t allow the kids to just play the sports they love to play, but it is necessary if coaches do not change their actions on the field.


Advanced Essay #1: The Ties of Technology and Society

Technology is more than a form of entertainment. From personal experience, technology can be a simple and impacting way to understand the struggles and stories people deal  with in life. Some of the stories can be about things you have a general idea about that gives you a better understanding then what you originally knew. I never had a story that I could personally relate to but those type of stories can happen. Now the way I heard this story are going to be strange to most people but video games is where I get these stories the best. I hear impactful stories while playing video games because I do LFG (Looking For Group) forums all the time for the game I play and I can get good stories time to time. Some funny, some just random talk, and then some that are just impactful to the views of life.


I’m going to tell a story that I heard over the summer from just finding random people on LFG to do something I know I can’t do alone and before I start let me just note the people I was with were all adults as I said earlier I was finding random people. The story I heard when I was doing missions with someone then his buddies hopped in the voice chat we were in. I never started the conversation as I was dead silent as I wanted to focus on what I was doing in the game. I can’t remember much of this part of the conversation but the guys soon started talking about how they or someone they cared about was going through or overcame drug addiction. I can’t remember much of that conversation as they never talked that much on it but this part of the conversation I remember as this story made me say to myself “I deeply respect this man.”.


It started when one of the guys talked about how he was in the military reserves. After he finished talking one of the other guys started talking about how he was actually deployed onto the field for 2 years then after he was honorably discharged from service he got put in the reserves and how he hated it.  “They were all truck drivers.” he said referring to everyone else working their. Before he went to leave, he researched what they could do to him. The military could do nothing to stop him from leaving as he already was honorably discharged so he quit the reserves. He dropped his gear off at the building and when he told the sergeant in charge of the place, the sergeant started yelling at the guy. The guy yelled to the sergeant that he couldn’t stop him from leaving and that he could beat the sergeant up. He then yelled towards to the men listening to the conversation saying how he went to battle for 2 years while they had no experience except training. He then challenged them to stop him. No one stood up and he walked out the front door and just like the research told him they did nothing to him. I had a deep sense of respect for him after his story as I had no knowledge of the military and I never knew that his story could ever happen, especially that nothing happened to him after. I was both surprised and amazed by his story I had to remember it. It’s stories like this that you can’t hear in your daily life unless your job is to find the most random and crazy stories for a newspaper or article job. I took a few things from that story is that even if you work for the Military and your abide not to leave there are conditions that they can’t touch you just for leaving. One thing I still wondered but never looked up is what could the military/government have done if he wasn’t honorably discharged.


Many people have different ideas about how to understand and gain a bigger impact of life but to me the best source can be just meeting random people using technology to talk to them server to server as it’s a part of their own life and in their own words unedited by reporters or editors for a article so it’s a really reliable source. LFG in video games can find you people you can get a story out of but it won’t just be told randomly unless they are seeking for attention. For me I only hear these stories after someone else or I bring up a topic the person with the story can relate it to. If you do find an interesting story don't be afraid or nervous to ask for more details as that's when you learn even more so you can understand the bigger meaning.


Tribute // Kyle Thomas

​Introduction: This essay mainly focuses on how you should keep extended relationships. I am proud of the amount of hard work that I had put into this essay. Also, I am proud of my time management with this project because I had made sure that I completed all checkpoints on time. 

Tribute

Screams, cheering, and applauses rumbled through the room. Heart racing, heavy breathing, sweaty hands. I’m sitting in the room waiting to hear my name to get called. I’m on stage at a dance competition sitting with my friends and teammates. It was the last award for the night.

It was a hot night in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and my team was going to perform on stage. There were only two acts left. We all gather in a circle and wish each other luck on stage. When I was dancing on the stage, my confidence boosted higher. The nerves that I felt before all had disappeared as I moved. Sweat dripping down my face and my heart is racing. My eye filling up with water and I’m about to pass out while I danced. After we performed, all you can hear was heavy breathing and people cheering that we had done a great job.  The last award was between us and another team. By one point, the other team had won. The look on all of our faces was speechless and upset because we did everything that we could to get to nationals. You can see the sweat and tears rolling down our face, but we didn’t let it get to our heads and we pushed to go harder.

A few days after the competition, I was walking up the steps to get to the third floor to go to my dance studio. Suddenly I heard  my dance director counting, “Five, six, seven, eight.” I walked into my dance studio with black sweatpants, a black hoodie and headphones in my ear playing one of the dance sets. My dance studio is really big and has a lot of air conditioners in it. As you walk in you will see a tone of trophies on the wall, floor, and on the shelves. Suddenly, I notice that my dance director was crying in her office and my teammates had surrounded her. When I got there, my other dance director Ms. Danielle who is best friends with Ms. Kamillie told everyone, “Ms. Kamille mother had passed away from cancer.” My eyes began to tear up when I heard the news because her mom always uses to walk up to me after every performance telling me that I did a great job and how she likes the way that I dance.  Ms. Kamillie’s mother had always brought this positive energy everytime you are around her. She cared about all the kids and made sure that we all would stay out of trouble.

Later on,  the team and I decided to do a dance tribute to her mother because we felt as though that we need to show her how much we cared about her. The practices were long hours everyone was tired and trying to push through the pain. Ms. Kamille didn’t know that we were doing this for her. We had to keep it a secret. We performed this at our dance recital because we wanted everyone to see this dance tribute that we put together. At the end of the dance, we gave Ms. Kamille flowers and a big group hug to show support and love. Ms. Kamille was speechless because she saw how much we cared about her and how we all will manage to get through it.

After that experience, it made me realized how it is good to have people support and care for you. I had learned that it is good to have extended relationships with people because I know that I can contact them at any time if I needed anything and they would be there to help me. This situation will always resonate with me because it allows me to see the importance of friendship and family. It made me realize why they are important to me. People should be grateful for the people in their lives because you never know if they will be gone in the next moment. Life's too short for you not to appreciate the ones who support you and care about you. You need to realize how big of an impact that will have on your life because you will know that they got your back no matter what you plan on doing. Lastly, everything is not always about winning but it's about the work you put in that made you and/or others happy.


Advanced essay #1: Willpower

​Idea: My main idea is to focus on willpower and how everyone has the power to succeed even if it seems impossible. In this essay, I will focus on my one year school experience in Algeria. During that one year, I had to learn how to read, and write Arabic. It wasn’t easy, but because of my hard work and the support I got from my family, I managed to pass. I'm proud of myself for writing this piece and I put a lot of effort to it. I would like the students to notice the struggle I went through during that experience and give everyone hope that they can be successful as well. I also want them to note that the stress they are going through in school will always pay off. I want to improve my introduction because I feel like it wasn't engaging.


Willpower

I was filled with excitement while walking to the airport with my mother and brother. I was going back to Algeria. My mother told me that we were going to stay there for a year. I told her that I was ready for this big change but I actually wasn’t. The change that made me view everything differently. The change that made me a weak yet strong person. The trip lasted eighteen hours and we finally arrived to Algeria.

It was the beginning of September. The chilly soft breeze hitting our faces as we made it to our apartment in Medea, Algeria. My mom’ first step was to find a good school for me and a daycare for my brother. This procedure took a week-long, meaning that I started school late. I was thrilled to go to my new school. I was always ready for changes, but I didn’t realize that it was going to be that difficult. That morning, I gathered the school supplies that I bought from America and placed them on my pink book bag. My mother walked me to the classroom.

“Good luck honey!” She waved as she walked away.

I waved back and turned to the front door.

“It’s only fourth grade… it’s not going to be too hard... I got this!” I thought to myself. I entered the huge classroom and everyone's eyes fell on me. My face flushed red as I averted my eyes to the ground.

“Hello, you must be the new student.” said an old lady, whom I presumed to be the teacher.

“Yes...” I replied quietly.

“Welcome, I am your teacher. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” she stated.

I turned to face the students, they were all girls and the seats were arranged in rows facing the board. I observed the classroom and noticed that there were about forty students. I introduced myself and noted the fact that I’m from America and I don’t know Arabic very well. The majority of their eyes widened when I mentioned I’m am not from here, as a result, some started whispering to each other.

“You may have a seat,” the teacher pointed to the empty seat in the front row.

I slowly walked to my new seat, ignoring all the eyes observing my every movement. I sat down and the teacher began her the lecture. After seven hours of class, the bell rang and I quickly packed my stuff and left the classroom, avoiding those who wanted to talk to me. As I walked out I saw my mother waiting for me at the school entrance.

“Hey sweetie, how was school?” she questioned in a sweet and soft tone.

“I don’t like it.” I answered bluntly.

“I didn’t understand anything the teacher was saying… I want to go back to America. Mama! I’m scared how can I do this?!” I continued with a desperate tone.

“This is just the beginning Amira, you know the basics of Arabic, I know you can do this, I know your capacities.” She answered with honesty. I stared at her with a look of disbelief.

“Everyone has the willpower to succeed, and if you work hard for it then you will succeed.” She said with pride. I stayed silent but let those words sink in. It gave me a little bit of hope.

Months have passed by and I was slowly starting to understand what was going on in class. My mother was always there to support me and help me with my study. Because of her, I learned how to read and write in Arabic. The struggle wasn’t easy, but I always managed to push myself to the limit. Sometimes it would take me hours just to finish my homework, and in my free time I would read Arabic books and take notes on them.

It was almost the end of the school year, the period of the major exams. The exams that determined whether I would pass to the next grade or not. I would stay up until two in the morning studying for those exams, with the help of my mother. Days flew by and It was the first day of the exams, I entered a different classroom filled with students who I never saw before. My heart was pounding loudly as I sat down and waited for the exam paper.

“This is it,” I thought wiping away the sweat that was building up on my forehead.

“I really hope my hard work will pay off,” I said to myself as I lifted my number two pencil and wrote my name at the top of the exam. Two weeks later, the results were announced. A mixture of emotions stirred inside me. A combination of fear, excitement, and disappointment. “Did I pass or not?!” I thought loudly in my head. I opened my booklet and noticed a green stamp near the bottom of the page. I passed and with high grades! My eyes filled up with tears of joy. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents. They will be so proud of me. I walked outside and saw my mom outside holding a tissue and wiping out the tears in her eyes.

“I passed,” I smiled and hugged her.

More tears started to flow down her cheeks as she embraced me back.

“I knew you could do it, I’m so proud of you.” she sobbed. I remember when my mother would go up to the teachers and ask them what my next unit will be about and they would always reply with “It’s okay if she fails.” Even the principal once said, “There are people born here and don’t pass. This is her first year of school in Algeria, so I highly doubt she will pass.” I was furious after hearing that, and I wanted to prove them wrong. In the end, I did. I showed them my capacity and willpower. The support I had and my strong determination led me to success.


Advanced Essay #1 Layout


“So do yall wanna call it or play universe in the rain?”

“UNIVERSE!”

“Alright let's go”

I lined up with my six other teammates. We all had the same intensity in our eyes, I started to giggle with excitement, I mean this is Ultimate Frisbee  at its finest. We had a full 7 on 7, each player was skilled for the game and to top it off it was pouring down raining. My team had defense first so we threw the frisbee down the field. The other team caught it and connected a few passes. The disc gets to one of their handlers and he messed up his throw. I don’t blame him, I mean it’s raining hard and we are throwing a piece of smooth plastic around, it’s bound to be slippery. It didn't matter anyway because not too long after my team did the same.

The two teams were evenly matched. I realized that the other team had one player making all the plays so I called a switch so I could mark him and shut him down. With me on him nobody would throw him the disc. Finally he loses me by faking like he was walking then taking off. He had a good three steps on me, just enough for him to get the disc. He was fast but I was faster. They threw him the disc and using all my speed I ran and dove in front of him blocking the disc with the tips of my fingers. He drops the disc making it a turn over, our disc. I was so excited that I bursted down field and ran for the endzone. My teammate picked up the disc and threw it to me but it fell short of the endzone so I doubled back to catch it. I saw an open man and threw it but like everybody else it slipped from my hands and I threw it right into the other team's hands. They capitalized on my mistake and threw it down field and scored. We lost. For a split second I was the hero of the game but I was also  the downfall of what should have been an easy win.

After the game we gathered for lunch. I was soak and wet so I went back to my dorm room to change into some dryer clothes. The walk to my room and to the cafeteria was kinda depressing for me. I kept going back to the moment when the disc slipped out my hands. Like I can never finish. This is a reoccurring thing with me like I do something good or even awesome but soon after I make a mistake that overshadows my good making my good pointless. I wish I was like those kids who don’t make mistakes or make small mistakes that really don’t matter so I can stop making a fool of myself. The rain sure did not help but aid in putting me into my depressing mood.  I finally made it to the cafeteria and I came in to a warm welcome and everybody congratulating me on my block. It was like nobody noticed my mistake costed my team the game. They were super siked about the D. Somebody even got it on video. I still felt bad but listening to everyone saying that I did good brightened the day and made me feel better. One of my coaches/counselors came up to me and said:

“Why so glum chum?”

“Just thinking about how I messed that throw?”

“Duude! Are you serious? You made an amazing block made the biggest play of the game and your crying over a bad throw. You can’t worry about your mistakes, you must learn from them. What you should focus on is what you did right and give yourself a pat on the back. Don’t let your mistakes rule your life.”

After she said that I started carrying myself different. I became comfortable with my mistakes and I learn from them much easier.  Don't focus too hard on the bad, keep your head up and stay positive. Nobody is perfect accept your mistakes and let them make you a better person.


Working Around What you Can't Fix

“Can you hear me when I talk this low?” She muttered.

When people find out that I am hearing impaired, they try to figure out how bad it is. There’s a distinction from when you are deaf and when you have hearing loss. People hear things differently than I do, but I don’t recognize that I perceived it incorrectly. When people say, “Madison you’re yelling.” I don’t acknowledge that I was yelling. Hearing loss is not something people automatically notice, and it’s hard for me to remember that I am hearing things differently because I have dealt with it my whole life. My hearing problem affects many different aspects of my life, including the way I grew up, the way I talk, and the way I take in information.

When I was 6 years old, I was placed in the class where the teacher had a black, circled microphone around their neck. I had the teachers who taught the kids with disabilities. Truth be told, I never understood why I was known as someone with a disability because I didn’t think it was a big deal. When I looked around the sunlit room, I saw the little kids around me get into a circle for show and tell. I remember glimpses of my teacher from kindergarten with a long sleeve, gray shirt on, asking me, “Madison can you hear me?" I thought to myself, did she really think I was deaf? When she would talk into the microphone for more then an hour, I wouldn’t be able realize she still had it on because I was so used to hearing it that way. I remembered that when she did turn the microphone off after using it for a while, I had trouble hearing her and couldn’t adjust to the lower volume. I felt like I should have been able to hear her. I was always placed in the front of the room, so it wasn’t until I didn’t have a microphone and was sitting in the back of the room that I saw a difference.

When I speak, my mind tells me that I hear myself in a regular American accent. I hear my voice differently than others do, and when I hear myself in a recording, it takes me a second to realize that it’s my voice. I wonder why my mind hears something one way, but it comes out a different way. When I was in 5th grade my dad, who had squared glasses on, and a shirt that said AAMCO on it and I were in a meeting with a speech therapist, talking about how I didn’t need to be monitored anymore.

“Ever since she was little she has had this certain accent that makes it hard for others to understand her. Now that her voice has begun to mature, will that accent go away?” My dad said.

I had never realized before that I pronounced things differently than anyone else. I looked at the speech therapist who was answering my dad’s question and thought about how people always say, “what” to me because they misunderstood what I was saying. I felt bad and embarrassed because the next thing I noticed was the speech therapist saying,

“It is common for kids with hearing loss to not enunciate when they speak.”

I was really confused because when I speak, I hear myself enunciate. That was when I realized that I’m not just hearing a lower volume than everyone else, but that it can affect other abilities I may have too.

Information is the key to helping people succeed in life. That’s how we learn and keep moving forward. I have learned that when I am taking in the information, or reading the information, I don’t understand it as quickly as others might. When I was 14 years old, a psychiatrist gave me a test that helped me notice how much my hearing problem really affected me. She gave me a test that showed me a pattern, and then I had to create that pattern using blocks. I stared at the puzzle and I couldn’t identify what direction I should put the shapes in. I got frustrated because it was a simple task, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. My face got bright red, and the psychiatrist could tell I was embarrassed.

“Just take your time you're doing fine.” She said hesitantly.

I was able to tell from the way she said it that I wasn’t doing it as quickly as she thought I would. In that moment, we both realized that was part of the reason I had to take the test in the first place. To actually narrow down what affected the way I learned. The psychiatrist explained to me that I was able to do a lot of things including reading quickly and memorizing things, but when I actually need to run the process through my mind, I have a slower time.

It wasn’t until I actually began to mature that I really understood the way my hearing loss affects me. I didn’t realize that my teacher was asking me if I was able to hear what she was saying not only to make sure I knew what she was saying, but to make sure that I fully comprehended what she was saying. I now have ways to work around my hearing loss when I am taking in information, including repeating what a person says to me a few times, and pausing for a second to actually give myself an easier chance of understanding. I learned how to speak slower so people will be able to understand what I’m saying, and if I needed to enunciate for anything I learned that if I bit on my tongue for a few seconds, it helped me to do that. Sometimes when you have a problem that you can’t fix, finding ways to make it work with your life is the solution.



Advanced Essay #1: Change Through Music

Introduction: In this essay I speak about a battle between fitting in or staying true to my culture. The highlights of this paper are the descriptive scenes and the analysis/reflection that came afterwards. There is always room for improvement especially in my grammar, that can take my writing to the next level. 

We walked into music class but the teacher had planned something different for today. We sat at different sections of the risors, the black steel platforms covered by a grey carpet at the end, where I sat with my friends. The teacher walked in front of the class and asked

¨Did every group pick your favorite song over the summer? ”

Quickly my friends began to converse amongst themselves and completely left me out of the conversation. I inched towards the huddle in hopes of them realizing I was apart of the group too. They continued to talk, I was on the sideline, benched.

¨How about you Edwin? What was your favorite song over the summer¨  inquired Jaylen.

I quickly searched my playlist to find a song that I loved that they would also know. It was almost like a checklist, none of the songs met all of the requirements. Most of them were in spanish, they wouldn't know them, but the songs that were in english were all older, they would think I was lame. I knew it wasn't a test but at the same time, was I sure? My mind was playing games with me, I was just thinking about what they were think, ¨Does he not know any songs?¨ I saw Saimeen turn to Zoie and ask. She was the only other hispanic. I saw Siah's face turn from confusion to a judgemental understanding. He proceeded to say ¨He only listens to spanish music, he doesn't listen to anything else.¨  

¨No I don't!¨ My shame overshadowed my lie, no one listened to me. They knew the truth.  I replayed the events over and over again. Why did I lie? Why couldn't I just agree with whatever they said, how could I? I didn't even know what they listened to. I put my head down, and felt my palms digging into my cheeks.

¨What song did you guys decide on΅

¨Travis scott, antidote¨

I realized I was different from all of my other friends. They all grew up listening to the same music, they all liked the same thing. I wanted to fit in so bad at that moment, I was ready to change the music I listened to, but I didn't realize that I would end up changing more than just the music.

I got home feeling more out of place than I ever did before. I grabbed my phone and started to delete all of the music I had. All of the songs had one thing in common, they were in spanish. Before going to FACTS, every student was just like me, we all were the same. My fingers gripped the edge of my phone, the red trash can icon glowing on the bottom of the screen, I was throwing away all of the things I loved just to be accepted by my peers, but in this moment the thought of my culture and family heritage was deleted with the music.  

Before entering FACTS charter school, I attended Lewis Elkin Elementary.  The school was only four blocks away from where I lived. The school was in North Philadelphia, which meant that most or all of the students were of Hispanic heritage. The teachers at Elkin would speak spanish part or most of the day. All of the students I attended school with, grew up in the same area and culture as I did. I was just another Dominican boy that attended Elkins. I never felt out of place at Elkins, there was almost no possible way I could have.

¨What are you listening to?¨ I looked up and saw Zoie smiling at me, her pearly white teeth hid behind her plump lips.

¨Nothing¨ I tilted my phone so the screen was facing the ground, I clicked the lock button  the screen went black and I smiled at her. I didn't want her to see what I was listening to, just in case they didn't listen to this music either. This time it was in english and I made sure that the album released recently.

¨Just let me see it¨ she grabbed my wrist, having the phone looking towards the sky and clicked the home button to unveil the song title. I got nervous and I felt myself grip the side of my phone tightly, my hands were moist. ¨I love this song! J cole is poppin,¨ she smiled at me then continued ¨I didn't listen to the whole album yet, have you? Anyway the reason I came to you was to ask what music in spanish do you recommend? I just want to learn more spanish.¨ I grabbed my phone ready to show her my playlist with all of my favorite spanish songs, but I remembered that it was all gone, I deleted it. I stared at my phone, realizing the mistake I had made so many months ago, I stuttered looking for a response.  

For many months, basically the rest of my 7th grade year I only listened to R&B, Hip-Hop, Rap and started to only speak English at home. When I deleted all of the Bachata, Merengue, Dembo and Salsa from my phone I did not realize that I was also deleting part of my culture. I began to forget how to speak spanish and found myself not being able to form simple sentences. When Zoie came up to me I realized that I was losing more than just music, that I needed to find a balance to get the best of both worlds. I needed to be proud of where I came from.


Advanced Essay #1: Today Was The Day

Introduction: 
This essay tells the story of change and the different emtions one feels about a wedding. for most people weds are something we look forward to but for me, it was something I dreaded. I spoke on the emotions I felt and how the reationship would neever be the same. The goal of my essay was to share an expeiernce and shed insight. In the future, I would consider adding more of my own thoughts and figuring out ways to be more descriptive.

                                                       Today Was The Day
Seven years ago, I woke up excited as ever jumping off my bed and looking at what time it was. 5:00 AM. Jubilant remembering that today was finally the day. I still remember the feeling as if it was yesterday. Today was the day I kept telling myself. This was because I was going to see my first wedding ever. My cousin was to get married today. September 7 in the year 2012. And I was going to be in the wedding. That made me even more excited. I wanted to get there early so I can have time to see her get ready and to get ready with her. PS I think I was even more happy they were allowing me to wear makeup. So I started saying to myself, “ Hurry, Hurry, Hurry!” I brushed my teeth, wash my face and threw some clothes, and pack a bag with the dress I was to wear to the wedding. Then I eagerly ran down the steps to put my sneakers on. I finally met my mother in the kitchen and asked, “Mom can we leave to go to the hotel now?
“No” she replied.
She said, “If you don’t eat first, you don't have any energy for all the preparations for today. And plus I still have to get dressed. Did you even brush your teeth and wash your face yet?” 
With frustration, I replied, “Yes” and sat down at the table to eat my breakfast. I was having pancakes and sausage. I wanted to have more food, but that meant my mother would take longer. So I just threw my plate away and waited for her to get dressed. In about 45 minutes she was finally ready to leave.
Those 45 mins lasted a lifetime, each minute, every second seemed to last forever. I tried to pass by the time by watching tv. I turned it to 255. TeenNick. Which was my favorite at the time along with Disney Channel. It seemed to keep the anxiousness away for about a min or less, then it would slowly creep back in and I was anxious all over again. I was still hungry even though I didn’t want to admit it, so in the meantime, I raided the cabinets for any snacks I could find. I had about 5 pack of fruit snacks. Every 5 mins I would run to the bottom of the step and yell ¨ARE YOU READY YET?¨ each time was the same answer. She replied ¨ yet not¨ until she was. 
Fastword, we are now at the wedding. Everyone is dressed and ready to go. Somehow I've managed to keep my dress in tacked and not spoil my makeup, which had me looking the best I've looked in days. This was my opinion of course. There was an order in which we are to go. There are me and my cousin and then to follow was the groomsmen and bridesmaids and lastly the bride. She was happy, her smile was from ear to ear. You could see the joy in her eyes. Today was the day.  
  Although this was supposed to be a joyful moment it made me cry. Because I knew from this moment on I would come second. The relationship that we once had would no longer be because instead of my cousin she would now be known as Mrs.Adekunle. It would no longer be just the two of us. I know this was a selfish but that was all I could think ¨would she still remembers me?” In different stages of our lives, we change whether we know it or not. In the saying, ¨life goes on¨ I believed this could be stated in this situation as well. Because she was going into a new stage of life there were bound to be changed along with them. In a society like today, we don't control the change but the change controls us. It was out of me that she would be moving and starting a new life and the act of marriage is one of these milestones in your life that brings change. Whether we want it to happen or not. Because society sets rules as to what a normal life looks like, marriage being apart of it we learn that once you have entered marriage relationships will change. Just as the one with my cousin and I. After she saw me crying she came over and asked what was wrong, Once I told her she gave me reassurance, telling me that thing would change even though I knew things had already had.

Advanced Essay #1- Moving

I moved from a small town called Bristow in northern Virginia when I was 8 years old. I remember the bright red door on the red brick row home that we lived in. There was a crabapple tree in the front yard. My mom got remarried and this new man had a job in Philadelphia. My mom had recently lost her job due to the mortgage company she was working for going bankrupt. I was 8 at the time, my siblings were 5 and 11.

Moving from the only place you’ve ever lived when you are old enough to remember it all is really hard. I lived in a small town in Northern Virginia where all my friends lived within walking distance from me and everyone knew each other. The first night I spent in Philadelphia was the first time I had ever been here. I was very surprised at what Philadelphia looked like. The only cities I’d ever been to were Washington DC and Rochester New York. It was baffling to me that some people didn’t even  have front yards that they played in when they were kids.

I remember the day I moved. It was mid February and incredibly cold outside. I had on a tank top and a thin sweater. My sister and I had a very close friend named Kati Flamm who lived in the town house next to ours. My mom, sister, brother, and myself were all standing outside the u-haul with all our stuff in it and hugged Kati and her parents. Everyone was crying but eventually it was too cold to stay outside any longer. My whole family packed into the u-haul and drove to Philadelphia to start the new part of our lives.

When I got to Philadelphia and started my life here it was a huge culture shock to me. There’s people who had no idea what living outside of the city looked like. There was people who had never left Philadelphia before. City living was not something I was familiar with. Both of my parents are from small towns, I had only ever known suburban living. Moving forward in my life to a big city that I had never experienced before

When I walked into what would now be my home it felt strange. I was living in a freestanding house next to a church, My room was a lot bigger than the one I had before. The biggest adjustment for me was living away from my friends. I couldn't play outside with them anymore. I walked in with a duffel bag in my hand containing my clothes that I needed before we unpacked. I remember feeling so afraid of living in Philadelphia. It scared me to move away from anything and everything I knew. When I sat down on my bed I started crying. One single tear ran down my face as I realized this was home for me now. I felt my face heat up, I knew it was bright red. I was angry at the world for this. My mom walked in after a few minutes to say goodnight since it had been a long day for us all. I heard her slow footsteps coming down the hallway and i wiped my face and pretended everything was fine. She was happy. Being a mom, she knew immediately that something wasn't right. She sat down next to me on my bed and I felt the whole mattress shit with her weight. She put her arm around me, i put my head on her shoulder. She told me this was good for us and that I should give it a chance. I didn’t say a word she walked out of my room with a heavy sigh. I laid down and fell asleep.

Coming from from a small town where you knew everyone in your school and all of their business to Philadelphia where I was placed in a private school was a big jump for me. I felt like my world was imploding I didn’t have friends and I hated living in the city. I wanted so badly to move home to Virginia. I was so confused by everything. Some people had different accents than I had ever heard before. City living was not something I was used to.

One thing I know moving to the city has done for me is that it has given me a new mindset and a new open mind I don’t know if I would have had if I stayed in my hometown. I’ve been exposed to things that I would have never seen in in Bristow. Experiences in Philadelphia have definitely changed me as a person and given me a wider view on life and everything in it.


Advanced Essay #1; Passed

Introduction: 
This essay describes the dark times I had in middle school. I've changed a lot since then so if you personal know me you know I did. The reader should be more visualizing then reading or thinking. Even though I personal think I did a good job there could have been a lot of things I could changed or added. The theme of the story is not supposed to be depressing or sad, it's supposed to embrace the power of change.  

Passed

I’d never forget this moment. Sitting on the edge of a bridge. I felt the cold wind slapping me in the face. I was just, thinking. I’m not going to lie I had the most sharpest knife piercing slowly deadly into my hand. I could feel the cold warm beautiful blood slowly drip down from my arm, like when you eat ice cream and don’t have a napkin. I could tell that the burgundy blood wouldn’t stain the cold hard ground. 5 seconds later, it went plummeting down from my hand to the deep dark, distant waters. I just stared down, it’s like I could see everything mirroring off of the black dirty water. Next thing I knew, I was standing, on the edge. Just thinking. After that I put my foot out. Just thinking. Ten seconds later I was walking home. I didn’t jump from the gates of heaven to fall down to the nightmares of my personal hell. I was just thinking what if it actually happened.

          “What if I was just not standing in front of you right now.” The words went slowly through one of her ears and out the other, but they boomeranged back. She said,

           “Well, how do you think I would feel or how he would feel, if you did that then, I would bring you back and kill you myself.” I could hear her tears rolling down her face. I was, I was shocked.

           “Wait, we aren’t even friends, you don’t even talk to me like that.” Still as the words come out my mouth not my head, my mind was still focused on her previous words.

           “Well, how do you think I would feel or how he would feel, if you did that then, I would bring you back and kill you myself.” Still everything, everything was just so still, as she kept speaking similarities inclined on the conversation. I felt, different, wanted, accepted, and mostly loved. Then I felt the water, slowly purposely making its finally destination to the bottom of my face. I could hear her crying on the phone. It was so clear, like it wasn’t even 5 centimeters away from my ear. This was killing me, mentally. I found light in the abyss. I could basically say, I’m on the gates heaven, that reminded me that I didn’t want to jump from the gates of heaven, if had I would have fell down to the nightmares of my personal closed hell. The pounding of the metal on the door as the lock opens was loud to the point of fear rushing through your veins. It was my parents, coming back from the store. Husain bolted to my room with tears flooding to my chin.

           This was 7th grade, 2015. It was a new year same school same people same work, same bullies. Same words, same looks, same laughter, all the same counterfeit. I’m not going to lie, ever since middle school started nothing was the same, food didn’t taste the same, walking didn’t feel the same. Everything was different but the same.

           I had a lot of nicknames, there was “terrorist, bomber, suicide bomber, ka boom!”, and a lot of other ones that wouldn’t be appropriate to tell you. Everyday was the same, awake, school, sleep, repeat. I was getting nowhere. I was doing nothing. I was getting nowhere. Life had asked death once, why do people love me but hate you, death said, “Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.” After middle school has ended, it was a new chapter, a new book, a new beginning. A fresh start.

           Unsuccessful people hold grudges, I stopped holding grudges. Started to move forward, forget about the past, it passed. It was the first time I could just be me, play my tunes, listen to the drum kick in for the first time in more than 4 years. I Started to wear the SnapBack backwards.

           Food started to taste good, I didn’t just go to school, I did much more than just be apart of the system. I was let loose, I was surfing a new wave. The last one had too many currents.


Advanced Essay #1: Concert Culture

Introduction
     This essay explores some of the darker aspects of general admission concerts. The highlights of this paper are the descriptive scenes because of how much they live up to their name. Important analysis of these scenes and how it relates back to my thesis is also essential to the essay. Regardless of how descriptive my scenes may be, there's always room for improvement. I aim to really make my reader feel as though they're there with me in the scene I'm describing.

Essay: Concert Culture
     Concerts are supposed to evoke feelings of excitement and exhilaration. Sometimes these feelings can evolve into creating danger in a concert space. I’ve had my fair share of experiences of this nature, and most of them actually took place at one specific concert: Halsey’s Philadelphia Badlands show at Festival Pier. This show, an outdoor one, conveniently took place on the thickest, hottest day that August had gifted us that summer. The vibrations from the humongous speakers in front of the stage shook my heart inside my chest as the bass dropped after the second verse of Control. I pushed my sweat-saturated hair out of my face to be able to see the stage better behind the sea of heads. My body was being jostled around like a ragdoll. The friend I was there with, Jill,  hooked her arm around my neck. I turned to look at her, concerned. 
“Can I have one of the starbursts my mom gave us?” she shouted over the screaming voices and blasting speakers. 
I reached into my pocket to retrieve a piece of candy that Jill’s mom, a nurse, had given us to provide us with some energy throughout the concert. Before I could fish one out, Jill’s grip on my neck tightened suddenly.
“I’m going to pass out,” she managed to say before her body became completely limp and all of her weight yanked at my neck. I grabbed her by the waist before she would have had time to fall to the ground. Stunned and unable to move, I stood helplessly in the middle of the crowd. I tapped the girl in front of me who was leaning against the barricade. She turned around, unamused. 
“She passed out, can you get the security guard?” I shouted, nodding towards the burly man donning a uniform, standing in front of the stage. A blur of movement followed, and before I knew it, Jill was being pulled over the barricade and carried away. 
Looking back on this experience, although initially I was shocked, it didn’t take long for me to spring into action without skipping a beat. My friend had just lost consciousness in the middle of a stampede of teenagers and I simply handed her body off to a security guard and enjoyed the rest of the show. Writing out this scene caused me to reflect on why I was so nonchalant about the occurrence. 
These days, concerts can be a rather unpleasant experience for youth. Everyone packed into one place, looking to be as close to one person as possible, is a recipe for disaster. When you have a stranger pressed up to you from every side, it’s hot, and you aren’t allowed to bring water inside a venue, it’s likely for people to pass out. I had heard so many stories about people passing out at shows that I almost expected it to happen to us. I was also expecting to have a run-in with someone at this show over who was in front of who and all of that drama. Lo and behold -- it happened to me.
Earlier that evening, before any of the mess that that fateful Halsey show had in store for me, it was time for doors. I had been standing outside the venue for a good 12 hours beforehand. (First come, first serve. Don’t judge!). There were about 4 lines of people being restrained by gates like cattle in a pen. Everyone was exhausted from standing out in the heat for so long. Makeup was smudged under eyes and any hope for cute hairstyles went out the window, considering the humidity level. We all stood impatiently listening to the security guard’s speech about not running once he opened the gates. Then, suddenly, the dam burst and a flow of teenage girls poured into the venue. I clutched Jill’s hand and ran blindly. As soon as I entered the venue, I spotted an open spot on the barricade perfect for two people. I tugged her hand and ran for it, slamming against the hot metal bars. I turned to my left but I didn’t meet Jill’s eyes - instead those of an angry looking woman. Suddenly, I felt myself being shoved backward and off the barricade. 
“Ow!” I exclaimed, stumbling back. 
“F*** off,” stated the woman, matter of factly.
“What?!” I shot back, baffled and angry.
“We’ve been here since two AM,” said a girl next to her who appeared to be her daughter.
“I’ve been here since 7 AM!” I retorted.
“Yeah, right. You just got here.” 
I was at a loss for words. I had just been assaulted by a 40-something-year-old woman who was now yelling obscenities at me. I looked around at the other people in the crowd as if to say, “What the hell is wrong with this lady? Did you see that?!”, but to no avail. Nobody in my surrounding area seemed phased. 
Frankly, although I was offended and scared, I wasn’t all that surprised. Just like I had with the passing out, I heard many stories about fights within crowds and people shoving. General admission concert culture is extremely harmful and the fact that these two happenings, occurring on the same night, barely phased me, is problematic. But this experience brings me to this question: Why do concerts turn people into such monsters?
The more dedicated the fanbase, the worse the crowd will be. The longing to be an inch closer to the artist that you’ve waited so long to see and feel so connected to can turn you into a real monster. When you care so much about someone that you’ve only seen on a screen for so long, and suddenly they’re in front of you, you don’t care who you have to shove to get closer to them. 
We do crazy things for love. At concerts, we tend to develop tunnel vision and we forget about how we’re treating others when we’re honed in on the one we love. This must change, though. We as concertgoers need to understand that the people standing around us love the person on stage just as much as we do, and that love never justifies hurting others to pursue it.

Advanced Essay #1: That Was Then, This is Now

Introduction:

My intention for this piece was to touch on the importance of learning to let go of the past. I also wrote about the ways in which our perceptions of reality can change immensely as we grow up. It deals with coming to terms with growing apart from people, and how that is a part of life, and it happens to everyone. I am mostly happy with the way I reflected on my larger ideas, and how my scenes of memory tie into that reflection. For the future, I would like to improve the overall flow of my writing, and use even stronger descriptive language throughout.


That Was Then, This is Now

“Bedtime!” Wearily, I began the three-story hike up to our bedroom. With each tiring step, I dragged my hand along the unfinished wooden banister. My brother was already upstairs, getting ready for bed. I reached the final step, and moved toward our room. The thought of climbing into my bottom bunk was increasingly welcome.

All of a sudden I heard a noise. It was a monster! Its voice came booming from my bedroom. Terrified, I started to move back towards the staircase I had just ascended, but right then the monster came out of my room and tried to attack me. It became evident that the monster was my brother. Not reassured, however, I proceeded to let out my loudest scream, as the monster’s hands reached for me. Any trace of my exhaustion disappeared as I sprinted back down the stairs I had previously struggled to climb.

“Daaaaaaddyyyy!” I ran as fast as my six-year-old legs would carry me, fearful tears welling in my eyes. “Victor’s pretending to be a monster again!” My heart pounded faster. My dad met me at the bottom of the stairs and I ran into his protective arms. “It’s okay, Ruby, he won’t hurt you.” My brother followed me down the stairs, laughing. I was unconvinced that the monster wouldn’t hurt me, but as my dad carried me back upstairs to bed, I regained my desire for sleep.

As children, our perceptions of reality are intertwined with our imaginations. What we see as possible is not always true, just as I believed my brother to be a monster when he clearly was not. When we are older though, we gain a more firm grasp of what is feasible, and we become more accurate with our ability to set reasonable expectations. Similarly, when we are young, our future plans are easily formulated, yet difficult to maintain later on.

I used to dream of opening up a cafe with my best friend. Our plan was to finish high school, go to culinary school in New York together, and then share an apartment with our two dogs. After college, we would open our storefront. Our best sellers would be our smoothies and grilled cheese sandwiches. It seemed the perfect plan at twelve. I thought that I could have my entire future set in place, unwaverable. But waverable it was; and some time after my pursuit of the culinary arts ended, my seemingly undying relationship with my best friend began to fizzle. It took me a while to begin to take any notice of this, but once I did, I knew that I had to come to terms with it.

As time went on, I came to accept the fact that we had both found new friends, and that I was no longer dependent on that one friend. These new friends were all I needed, and at times it felt as though my best friend had become just a distant memory. At first, this was a dismal notion, but I now recognize that these distant memories of my best friend have faded beautifully. Everyone has at some point outgrown a relationship, and people are quick to wish that past relationships were still present, but all relationships are still part of a person’s journey. My friend and I are different people now then we were as children, but we were still essential parts of each others’ lives.

As people, we must learn that just as our relationships shift, our conceptions of how the future will fall into place is altered. Difficult as it may be, we must all part with people and places that we cherish, and then be able to rebuild ourselves stronger. And this process of letting go of relationships and ideas with grace is one that all people must learn to do.

Advanced Essay #1 The Misunderstood

A sphynx walks in front of me. She sprouts hair side by side. She suffers from death to the left of me, behind me she´s forever intertwined. 9th grade, I entered SLA doors afraid of what was to come. After the summer institute, the feeling of reassurance was high, but I knew things would shift in time. One by one I met other students, later on discovering a more exuberant side of me that laid dormant as if it was the secret behind Chamber B of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple. Negative altercations led to the truest friendships and I exposed this side of me to everyone. I first put it to use in the library, then in class, and finally with the upperclassmen. My personality was at its peak and I soon began to realize this side of me has always been visible, just wasn't accepted by others as much so here.


As time passed I began following a daily routine, around five every morning I would wake up with my eyes virtually glued shut, equilibrium off balance, and the feeling of two bushy tails brushing against my legs as I try to make my way to the lavatory. Splashing some water onto my face and staring into the mirror in a daze, fantasizing about my desired future university. A small exchange of words for an act for a group project quickly became a game of me running through the halls. While others never understood what exactly was occurring, the individual on the other end always did. Eventually, everyone came to know me as the guy who runs through the hall and soon almost everyone understood the reasoning of it just being plain fun. I had friends now, most upperclassmen. They always provided me with the feeling of acceptance, which was never done by anyone outside of my household. It was like I felt happiness for the first time again. While I was overjoyed for this, I still had a contradicting feeling. A shadow that constantly hovered over me, filling me with nothing but fear. The feeling of being alone, insignificant, and a complete waste of time appeared erratically. The feeling that I was always doing something wrong.


Moments passed, laughs were exchanged, until the year finally ended when my mistake appeared vivid. I barely heard from anyone. It was like we never even really existed. As I paced outside late at night swatting the gnats that lingered among the streets like hungry predators waiting for their time to attack, my curiosity increased. Contemplating the feeling I couldn't quite pinpoint before, but now appeared so obvious. The feeling of neglect and obscure, one that I as a child experienced all too well. I cried for many nights and pondered through many mornings. It was heartbreaking to know I wasn't considered as important to them as I considered them to me. Memories of family members leaving came and went by the hour. I relived every awesome memory of me with them and I questioned everything.


¨What did I do wrong?¨


¨Is this just a repeated cycle?¨


¨Was I nothing more but a source for entertainment?¨


I've grown attached to them. Weakened by them in the most disgusting way possible. Emotionally. Depression returned and since then I vowed not to let this happen again. A game that was once a simple act of playfulness and immaturity, now used as a way of defense and disguise from others and myself.


Summer came and went, my mother came from and returned to the hospital causing me more stress than I believe she knew when sophomore year finally began. The first few weeks I observed everyone. Putting a mental labels on people that I could possibly get attached to who could make me relive the miserable feeling I had at the end of freshmen year and throughout the summer. Covered by my reputation for running through the halls freshman year, I was able to run away without the slightest sign of confusion from the individuals on the other end. Of course, this made them laugh, and surprisingly I was ok with this. Basically killing two birds with one stone, I gave others happiness and an interesting high school experience while at the same time keeping myself emotionally hidden. Unfortunately, something that's confusingly hard for me to do is lie. And it wasn't long until others wanted to know the reason for me sprinting away from them every time they came into view.


I was caught multiple times but coached by my eagerness to stay emotionally hidden. When asked, I said whatever came to mind first. Since scenes from my neighborhood replayed themselves in my head constantly, I used what I've witnessed and defined them as. Thugs and gangsters. I used the words ¨gang banger¨ many of times and shockingly I was able to navigate throughout my whole sophomore year with literally those two words. All I had to say was that and run and people would laugh and without question continue on with their day. Of course, like I said, it's incredibly hard for me to lie. And they saw right through that and soon demanded to know the real reason why. I couldn't tell them that I actually cared for them right? I mean, first and foremost, I know they wouldn't feel the same. They never do. I felt bad. I went back to my old ways of  ¨putting myself in their place¨ routine. I gave them things, wrote nice messages on the holidays. In my own slick way, trying to demonstrate love and friendship but never really confirming it. I gave things to people I barely knew just to even out the playing field so it would become less noticeable. I wanted them to know they did nothing wrong but for that, they would have to know the truth. While going through all this I saw an option of change, some hope that it would be different this year. My hands shook, my sweat glands unlocked, and my heart rate sped up. I gave me secrete to one of the seniors. As the year went by things continued to be the same. My depression soared, I watched my mom fade away before my eyes causing me nothing but agony, and me running from people I loved but I know wouldn't feel the same continued. But I waited. I waited to see if that one person I gave my secrete to would see my reason of action and at least make the effort to stay in touch and provide me with the feeling of acceptance once again. This never happened, ensuring my dark thoughts to be valid. But in a way, I was somewhat ok. For I have left her with the burden of a truth that no one would dare to believe.


As a child, I was taught to love others. Take them into account on every decision I make and consider them family. And yet inevitably, we are forced apart. Sometimes the bond of friendship is not a bond forged by choice. In fact, some would see friendship as a terrible burden. As the summer went by I replayed the memories from sophomore year mentally. The smiles I created that I will never see again with a mixture of dark thoughts that made me realize the obvious. Everything happens for a reason. While I thought this was making me weak, it was indeed making me stronger. It helped me to develop a line between me and them that was only beneficial to me. Which, I must admit, isn't a strong line but it's there. My mom had surgery and was granted a second chance reminding me of the saying ¨ Enjoy it while it last¨. Reassurance of the definition of life appeared clear. I now know that everything doesn't last forever. And there will come a time when I am truly alone. And for the first time in years, I´m actually ok with that. I won't lie, I am afraid. I've been threatened, beaten, and in a way neglected. Little did I know those things would make me more powerful and resistant now more than ever. I´m ready to start and end the junior year with a bang. But of course, this feeling I have now isn't promised. A sphynx walks in front of me. She sprouts hair side by side. She suffers from death to the left of me, behind me she´s forever intertwined.


sphynx-cat-names-2
sphynx-cat-names-2

Advanced Essay #1: It's not just me


It’s not just me  

  I could feel all eyes on me. I could already feel the heat creeping up my face, turning my face red. I was up on the stage and everyone was staring at me. I didn’t like being looked at, I lowered my eyes and hoped that everyone would just vanish. I didn’t understand why they had chosen me, me out of all the children, me. The air around me closed up around me, getting tight and started to suffocate me. The dim lights making me squint into the crowd below me. I could see their eyes trained on me, not blinking, motionless, just staring. The only other noise I could hear were the babies crying in the background, an occasional cough here and there and my heart beating, thump, thump, thump. I took a deep breathe in. Start! My brain yelled but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew I had to start and soon, so using every single ounce of courage I began, “in the book of eclastics, the apostle John wrote.” I pronounced every single world like they had taught me. By the end, I had read an entire scripture and had been confirmed. I had it done it. I took a deep breathe out.

    I was thirteen years old when I read in front of my church. Little to my knowledge I had tasted the beginning of my anxiety. Throughout my sixth grade year, I began to have mini attacks, there would be moments where I would freeze up and couldn't breathe, my chest would tighten up and the room would feel stuffy. No one would know I was having an anxiety attack until after it was over. I would be having them once or twice, up to three times a day. I was prescribed antidepressants, but nothing eased the aching pain I felt in my chest. I felt alone. My anxiety had a toll on my speaking skills, I began to stutter a lot and it would take me a while to form a complete thought. I was scared to stand up in class and talk or even raise my hand. When I told people about it, they took it as me being dramatic, little did they know that over 40 million teens across the US suffered from it. It wasn’t just me being dramatic, it was me beginning my disorder.

    “Cristina, what do you think.”

I looked from the back of the classroom. I had been snapped back into reality and all of a sudden the attention had turned to me. My face beaming red, breathe in, breathe out like I had been taught in my therapy. I slowly rose my head from the desk and faced the board,

“Can you please repeat the question.”

I felt stupid, now the teacher was going to know I wasn't listening and she was probably going to dock me points and she was probably going to call me out and everyone was going to turn and look at me. All these thoughts made my face turn an even deeper tone of red.

“Cristina, your answer please”

“Uh can you please come back to me”

As soon as the words exited my mouth I regretted it. Everyone was going to think I was stupid now.

 Back in middle school, my anxiety had been really bad, social anxiety was what I had been diagnosed with. I couldn't be looked at for too long without turning red or beginning to stutter. It was something that I had begun working on, my parents signed me up for therapy. I was going three times a week, for three hours. She taught me breathing techniques and how to cope with my anxiety. Over time it got a lot better, and I realized that I enjoyed speaking and participating, however, it was not something that came overnight. Sadly not every teen gets the same help I did. Many people fail to see anxiety as a disorder, they look at it as a personal matter and fail to recognize that it is a societal issue. We have to ask ourselves why the anxiety levels for teens rose 60% over the last ten years. It is a problem we have as a whole society, not something that a teen is making up to get out of giving his speech in history. It is a problem we need to address.

I officially stopped going to therapy my freshman year of high school. It was a great feeling knowing that I could confidently give a speech in front of hundreds of people or just raise my hand in class without turning red or shying away. I still live with my anxiety every day and I still have moments when I want to cawl in a hole and hide. Anxiety is not something that is easily dealt with and it’s something lots of teens are being diagnosed with now and we have to find a solution to it. I can proudly say I overcame it.