ywcAdams News

Special Person

Jackie — Fri, 18 Nov 2005 01:03:50 GMT

First of all, let me introduce one of my favorite cousins, Katherine. She was brought into this world on April 17^th, 1993. We’re always there for one another, like the time when we got lost somewhere and Katherine started crying. I’ve known her for basically all my life and right now, we’re definitely best buddies. Usually, Katherine gets in a lot, and I mean, a lot of trouble. You could say she’s a phone and computer aholic. She can actually talk on the phone, be on the computer, and listen to music all at the same time. She can do this for probably 5-10 hours straight.

I must admit Katherine can get easily pissed. There was this one day where me and Katherine was talking about shoes online.

“Eh? What shoes are you wearing right now,” I asked.

“My Chucks you dork, what are you wearing?” replied Katherine.

“Haha. Nice. I’m wearing my baby blue K-Swiss, you know, the ones you wanted before.”

“Oh shut up, Chucks are beep better.”

“Oh well, I don’t care, come on, they’re shoes.”

“Yeah, but you have to have nice shoes. Jackie, be like me.”

“Oh my beep god. Damn, I don’t care. Sheesh.”

“Admit it, my shoes are better than yours, beep.”

“I know that. I don’t care,” I said tiredly.

“Dude what the beep!” Katherine started to say.

I’m not quite sure about the conversation we had, but it led to her getting really angry. (A lot of cussing was in the conversation but I either beeped it out or didn’t say it at all). She got so angry that she actually even blocked me on AIM (AOL Instant Messenger). After I found out what she did, I actually got pretty angry because she was really mad for no darn reason. I mean, come on, we were only arguing about shoes.

On the other hand, I like Katherine for is her laugh. She can laugh so easily! Maybe it’s just me, but I’m always the person who makes her laugh so hard her side will start hurting. I mean, I get all happy just seeing her laugh hard because I’m the only person who can make her laugh like that. I’ll just say something plainly, and she’ll start cracking up. If I say something in a funny but mean way, she’ll start laughing. There was also this one time at one of her parties that she had, and we kept opening our relatives’ car doors. It was hilarious! (It doesn’t sound funny but it sure was.) There was a round curb in the middle of the street where cars turned around when one of our relatives’ cars passed by slowly, we’d open the car door and be like, “Excuse me, may I please have your license and insurance?” It was something like that anyway. We were doing stupid things all day long, cracking up, and having fun.

There was this other time where I swear I was so hyper! I had just finished eating a big scrumptious cookie. I started to act all hyper and I started to jump up and down. I even started crawling around her house and chasing her cat, Lis. Another thing I did was that I went to one of her rooms and we started eating shrimp chips. While we were eating, I was lying down on the bed on my side and I started to shove the chips in my mouth. The shrimp chips looked like sticks so I could stuff quite a number of them in my mouth and they ended up hanging out of my mouth and some were even falling out. Katherine and I started cracking up so badly after this and we even took pictures! She started cracking up so badly she nearly started crying.

Katherine and I love to act retarded or stupid, like the time we were at our niece’s 1^st b-day party. We stole around 5 balloons and started running around crazily. There was this big window where you could see through and see the restaurant from the sidewalk. We kind of looked like puppets that were strung from above. We looked so stupid in formal dresses and being weird and all. It’s actually really fun if you’re someone who can find it funny.

Katherine might not seem like much to you, or you could say she’s just “an average girl”, but you know, not everyone is just plain “normal”. What would you describe as normal? Katherine definitely amazes me and I really love her (cousinly love, come on now). She’s such an amazing person that even I find out more about her every day while I’m talking to her over the phone. I love spending time with her, anytime. If you first meet Katherine, first you’d be like, “ What a quiet person.” But then when you would start to get to know her, you’d be more like, “What a nice, laughing out loud fun person.” There are so many things I love about Katherine. It’d take day for me to describe though. I love my little cousin, and I hope we’ll always be together. Love you Katherine.

Special Person

ryanm — Thu, 17 Nov 2005 20:08:13 GMT

My special person is my grandfather,my mom's dad. I chose him baecause hi is a person I admire. He can always make me laugh at anytime.When I am really down, he will come out of nowhere and tell me something really or turn on the TV and find a channel that looks interesting. Something will happen, he will say something really funny, and I'll start cracking up and feel a lot happier.

Special Person

simonl — Thu, 17 Nov 2005 20:06:39 GMT

My dad has wavy brown hair, has deep brown eyes, and is fairly tall. He is very supportive, and sometimes a little over supportive, making him slightly pushy. I knoww him as "Papa" or "Pa", Which is what you say in flemish. I like too hang on to him and wrestle him. My mom says it's almost embarrassing to walk with us down the street, half wrestling.H is sometimes serious, and a tiny bit "moody".that is only if his laser doesn't work (

My Special Person

kailij — Thu, 17 Nov 2005 20:05:49 GMT

My special person is my Aunt Denise

A Lesson I Learned

thomasb — Thu, 17 Nov 2005 20:05:40 GMT

A time that I learned a lesson was right before sixth grade. I was fooling around at my house when I accidently kicked a table that had a drawing that my brother did on it. He yelled at me for almost kicking a drawing off the table. I started egging him on about him yelling at me for something as stupid as almost knocking off his drawing. He got so mad at me that he kicked me and broke my finger.
The lesson I leaned was "Don't make my brother angry."

My Special Person

malinaw — Thu, 17 Nov 2005 19:57:20 GMT

"Boo!"

I sprang out of a closet and started chasing my half sister Jonina down the stairs, Jonina.She is my favorite person in my giant family.Jonina is 5 years older than i am.She has short blonde hair and blue eyes.In the sunlight they look likea sparkling ocean and change colors if she turns in a different direcetion

the out siders five years later

liat — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:02:02 GMT

                            THE OUTSIDERS FIVE YEARS LATER

    Ka-chink, chink was the sound Iheard whenI poured a cup of fruit punch for myself. Clack,clack,clack.....
    "Oh my God,is it,it is,Ponyboy ?,Is that you?'' asked a surprised Cherry Valance.
    "Hi Cherry, long time no see," I answered.                                                       '' Gawd, it's been five years since I last saw you,"said Cherry.
    "Yeah," was all I could say.                                                                           "Hey , let's go outside,away from this stuffy party ," said Cherry."Yeah" was all I could say .
     Indeed the music was too loud, and they are playing American Idol reject music.
    "What is it?"asked Cherry
    "Oh I was just thinking about Johnny," I said.
    "What?" she asked
     "

Special Person(or People)

leslyl — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:58 GMT

Special Person(or People)

       "I call Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince!" I yelled.
       "No, that's mine!" Elisabeth yelled back, swapping the book off the green glass table before i could reach it.
       "I want to read it, though." I argued, grabbing the book from her.
       "But it's my book and I got it for my birthday which happened to be yesterday." Elisabeth took the book back scowling.
       "But my birthday was a week ago." I shot back. "And I'm a bigger Harry Potter fan than you are. HA! Can't beat that."
       Elisabeth paused in thought. "Well, it's mine, so I get to read it."
       "Do you not realize the importance of reading these books quickly? There are so many other people reading this book, and I am going to read it the fastest, but definately not first, since obviously people have already finished it and so since I haven't I won't be the first to read it, even if you don't count the people with the Advanced Reader's Copies." I said without taking a breath.
       "Why do you talk in run-on sentences and always speak so fast?" Amelia questioned.
       "Uh... because?" I answered. She snorted and turned to Elisabeth.
       "Can I borrow Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?" she asked Elisabeth.
       "Yeah," she replied, "It's in my room next to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."
       "Hmm... How coincidental," I said.
       "Can I borrow the Goblet of Fire?" Marilyn asked hopefully. Elisabeth nodded.
       And for the rest of the day we sat around bonding over Harry Potter.

       Marilyn, Amelia, and Elisabeth have been some of my best friends for over a decade. When we were aound 2 years old, we attended Pacific Rim International Scool, or PRINTS in Emeryville, California. This is a trilingual school where you are taught English, Japanese, and Chinese during your Preschool through First Grade years, then you concentrate on English and either Japanese or Chinese when you reach the Elementary Divison. When you reach the Elementary Divison , you have class with your whole grade. Altogether , this adds up to an insane number of people: 5. Since the classes are so small, everyone develops a close relationship with their peers.This is what happened with Sita, Jody, Sarah, and I . We grew close to each other over the years, and then I moved to New York, New York in 1997 when I was 4.

Pony Boy's Journey

iant — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:56 GMT

         Ponyboy's Journey
    At the punch table , Pony boy looks across the table and sees a familiar face. Cherry. Cherry looks up, then spots him. Ponyboy waves and walks over.
    "I haven't seen you for a while."
   Cherry is still surprised .
    "Oh, hi Pony Boy. I think we need to talk. Right now. Follow me." She walks outside, and Ponyboy follows."I still can't believe that Bob is dead. he was a good person, but he's dead still. And he always will be."
    "Johnny was a good person, too. It wasn't his fault. he was scared at first, like I was. I was scared when I first jumped and scared when Bob died. But I'm not anymore i'm going to stay golden."
    "What?" asks Cherry, puzzled.
    "Stay golden. It's what Johnny said before he died. he wasn't afraid to die then, in the end. I'm going to be brave, like Johnny. Before Johnny had the gang, he was afraid and when he was alone on the street he was afraid. But, when he was with the gang felt safe. He knew that they would protect him, adn anyone else in the gang."
    "The Socs stand up for each other too, you know, Ponyboy. They would die for each other, if they knew each other for long enough. They had feelings, they just hid them very well. The only feelings they did reveal were anger, and respect, because that was considered cool amongst them. They cared about more than themselves, even if it didn't seem like it."

“Our friendship was like a magnetic bond, it kept us together, even if it meant being arrested or sacrificing something important. The gang was always the most important. What kept us together helped us to get by the daily problems, like safety in numbers. It still keeps the remaining members together today. After Johnny and Dally died, my whole world was a dream, until I graduated from high school. I wasn’t scared, and the urgency to do well disappeared. ”

“That happened to me too, after Bob died. I drifted in and out of reality, until my report card woke me up. I realized that life was still going on, even if wasn’t a part of it anymore. I thought about everything that happened, how I was an oblivious teenager, one of many. Then, I stopped and looked at both side’s cases, I remembered how I ceased to be a Soc, and was just in the middle of an endless battle between the two social classes.”

“I also felt like that. Before, I thought the Socs were just evil, and we were fighting because of that. There was good and bad on both sides, us stealing and the Socs instigating fights. But we responded, and took it personally, while the Socs thought it was just a fun thing to do. But, I saw that both of us were in the middle and wanted all the fighting to stop, because it was so pointless. The fighting did stop, but it cost the lives of three people that were good at heart. It was a high price, but now, hopefully, there will be no further fights, and killing.”

“It was nice to talk to you, Pony Boy. I wanted to get that out for a long time, but it hurt and embarrassed me too much to talk to my other friends about it. They wouldn’t understand, they didn’t have to go through it like you and I did. ”

“Thanks, Cherry, I feel netter now that I got it out.”

“I do too. Good-bye, Pony Boy. You’re a real friend.”

“You are too, Cherry. Bye. ”

She's My Special Person

tiannad — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:55 GMT

Her name is Trudy, Trudy Westby. I met her in 3rd grade and we've been friends ever since. We have a special bond that is different from the bond that I have with all my other friends.

Her nickname is Trudez, and even though she is almost a year younger than me, we get along really well because we share a lot of the same interest like music, fashion, purses, cell phones, and boys, things that most girls like. Some of the artists we both like are Ciara, 50 cent, Snoop Dogg, Eminem, and Nelly. We love going to each other's house and we both like soccer, volleyball, and tennis. Sometime we watch football.

Usually Trudy and I get along, but there are those times when we don't. "I was going to use that!!!" Trudy would say.

"But I brought it over." I responded. We would then stop doing what we were doing at the moment and be a little mad at each other for the rest of the day. However, by the next day we would have made up, or we would have forgotten about it all together. There haven't been that many times when Trudez and I would fight, but when we did it was always about stupid little things that only mattered in our little world.

Trudy and I enjoy rock climbing together. This past summer we took a rock climbing camp at Iron Works. We learned how to belay, and one day we even got to go to real rocks in a park in Berkeley and try climbing on them. It was fun but it was hard for both of us because it was so different from the rocks in the Iron Works building. We love to take turns belaying each other, and we also like to boulder.

One time a few years back, Trudez and I were bored so we decided to make up a game. Trudy has a long, steep driveway on a quiet street. We would take turns kicking a soccer ball down her driveway, turning around, waiting a minute, and then going and finding the ball. Sometimes the ball was across the street and sometimes it didn't even make it to the bottom of the driveway. We had so much fun that evening. We only played that game once, and it was really silly, but I will always remember that day.

Our little world consists of lots of memories, both happy and sad. Memories that are happy include when we first met, when she got a cat, and when our friends threw a surprise birthday party for us because our birthdays are 18 days apart. There are also shared memories that are sad, such as when Trudy fell down a hill and got a big cut on her chin, and when we had to put my friendly, loving dog, Sam, to sleep because he was 14 and had cancer.

Trudez and I were in school together from 3rd to 5th grade at Kensington Hilltop Elementary School, but of course time changes things. Now she goes to Windrush and I go to AMS, and we don't get to see each other that often anymore. When we do, we still get along great; we catch up, and talk about how school is going. Trudez is always there for me and that's why she's my friend.

Outsiders Essay

gillianm — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:47 GMT

Outsiders Essay

"Chug, chug, chug, chug!!" I heard in the background as I made my way over to the punch bowl. I started drinking my punch as I turned arouned and to my suprise I saw Cherry. " Cherry, Cherry is that you?"I said in a slightly suprised voice.

"Ponyboy? I didn't know you went here," she said in a some what happy voice.

We started to talk about what we've been doing the past few years and somehow we started to talk about the old days." I didn't get a chance to talk to you after........well........what happened with Johnny," she said.

" Yeah after all that death I was a bit confused, then I read this letter. It eased me up a little, and I started to read more and you know Mr. Syme who assigned me that theme?" I said.

"Yeah why?" she said a little confused.

" Well that inspired me to write!"

" WOW!" Cherry said amazedly.

" I didn't realize something so good as a passion for writing could come from something so horrible. I mean you were only fourteen when Bob got killed and then Johnny after that."

Mommy, Mas-Mas

elizabethb — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:47 GMT

    "Can you drive me to school?"

    "No!" she shouts back.

    "But I'm tired and just don't feel good," I whine.

    "Absolutely not!" she exclaims angrily.

    "But I have to walk like a mile to shool and a mile back every single day!"

    "Oh fine, but you owe me big time..." she regrets this as soon as she says it- I can see it in her eyes.

    Thank you thank you thank you!" I shout,"I promise I will walk to shool and back every single day the rest of the year. Well, except when it's raining."

    And, of course, three weeks later, almost the exact same argument occurs again.

    My nickname for her is Mas-Mas, and she is my mother. I don't know why, but I just started calling her that some time in fifth grade. We talk about what is going on in my life, like what is happening at shcool. I think we are very close. I love her because she carts me around, feeds me, takes me shopping, thing like that. But not only that, she takes care of me when I am sick, comforts me when I am sad, and just mothers me in every way possible.

    Of course there are many good things about my mom, many happy memories of her letting me get a dog and making me promise that I walk him twice a day and do all the necessary tasks of having a puppy. Of course she ended up doing almost everything. I remember her tidying up my room the night before the cleaners come, when I am too tired or just forget. Also my mom takes me to movies she soesn't really want to see just because it makes me happy.

    But, on the other hand, every relationship must have it's downside. I remember endless hours of shopping with her, arguing about the tiniest little things, nit picking about so many items of clothing or shoes we don't agree on. I might see a pretty shirt or a or a cool bag, and I would ask, how about this one? BUt the answer would be a straight out No or a funny face if she doesn't like it. You see, my mom is very particular about what she likes and doesn't like. When I go shopping with my aunt or a friend, and I bring home and she doesn't like it, she simply doesn't let me wear it. For instance, I went shopping with my aunt once and I got this really pretty sequined shirt. I wore it once, and she said, calmly, "Go change your shirt." And I did.

    She is my mother and I will always, always love her. She will always, always be so important to me. She will allways give me a nice, warm hug when I am upset. Though we may fight, we will always make up very soon. She will always, always be my Mas-Mas.

My Special Person

hannahk — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:45 GMT

    "Alright class, let's take it from the beginning. And I would not like to see lazy arms or sloppy pirouettes. If it's almost perfect this run-through, then we can go on." That's my ballet teacher, Maryse, talking in the background. She's five foot four with hair the color of a juicy, ripe tomato, and a great smile that accompanies a hearty laugh when someone says something funny. I've known her since I was three when I started taking ballet. Now, I go to her studio threes times each week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. After eight years she hasn't ceased to make my dance classes a favorite part of my week.

    "Let's do it again from the top. That was pretty good, but a dancer is supposed to look like they're having fun." Her loud voice speaks over the dance class' excess noise and soft music. Finding a way to give substantive criticism is definitely one of her strong points. In my personal experience, dance teachers are often either extremely strict or so nice that they are exceptionally dull not challenging like a teacher should be. Maryse somehow finds a way to avoid becoming either of these people. She has a good idea of how to say something without hurting their feelings and how to get kids psyched for a show when they have been rehearsing the same hard steps for weeks, which is amazing to me.

    Once, at our annual dress rehearsal Maryse was walking around with her headset, making sure everyone was in their first costume. She reminded me of a news anchor with that silly microphone. Unfortunately my hair had come undone just then. I was only about seven, so I thought that having your bun fall apart was the worst thing that could happen five minutes before you were about to perform. Of cours she came over, laughed and said,"Looks like you're going to need some more bobby pins Miss Hannah." She effortlessly fixed my bun and I scurried off to meet the other dancers in the wings.

    One of the amazing things abaout her is the poised way she can stay calm during performances even though there is so much to do and so much that could go wrong. She choreographes, teaches, and designs costumes for twenty new dance routines each year. At the shows, parents come up to her and say,"Teacher, teacher, my sequin belt broke, and what's my ending pose again?" and parents with: "Have you seen Gloria and Lily? Oh, and if my child isn't in the front row, you will be meeting my lawyer." Through all of this, she manages to keep evereything running smoothly and without problems.

    Teaching dance is harder than it looks but Maryse must love her job because she is great at every aspect of it. From running through difficult steps to organizing dancers on show night, she makes dance fun for all of her students. She can always find a way to give criticism and get kids enthusiastic about dancing. By setting this example, Maryse not only teaches leaps and rhythm but how to have a good outlook and a positive attitude.

My Little Sister

sitaw — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:44 GMT

My Little Sister

My younger sister's name is Xian Xiaozhen Sweet Wong, but to me she is either "Bon Bon," "Xianee," or "Xian." She is eleven years old and has black silky hair about shoulder length. Every now and then she will get on my nerves, but usually she doesn't.

     Almost every night at dinner my sister will make herself and everyone else laugh. At least once during our family dinner my sister starts cracking up for no apparent reason. My sister will start a weird conversation, like the time she mentioned what she thought she should be when she grew up.
    "What do you think I should be when I grow up? An actor or a comedian?"
    "You mean an actress or a comedian," my older sister, Crystal, corrected.
    "Yeah, an actress not an actor, an actress."
    "Well, you need to work hard and memorize a lot of stuff to be an actress," my mom told Xian.
    "Yeah, and to be a comedian you need to be serious and not laugh at your own jokes so hard so that the audience can actually hear you," my brother, Philip, said jokingly.
    "Yep, that will be hard for Xian," Crystal said, laughing.
    "You know, I think Xianee would be good at being a comedian. I mean she already can make half the family laugh," I said to try and lighten her spirits.
    "Yeah, you just need to be funnier," Philip said in a sarcastic voice.
    "All you have to do is work hard on what you want to be," my mom said in a cheerful tone.
    "So do you think this will help?" my sister laughs at herself, snorting through her nose, and than the whole family starts to laugh.

    Almost every evening my sister and I have a routine argument. It goes like this.
    "Can I stay up a little later?" my sister pleaded on a school night. She was on the computer playing 'Roller Coaster Tycoon 2.'"
    "No I exclaimed,"you need to go to bed now so that it won't be so hard for me to get you up in the morning."
    "I promise I will get up on time. Pleeease."
    "No. You've promised this before ans you still didn't get up for school."
    "Please, pretty please?'
    "Alright, you can stay on for another five minutes, but then you have to turn off the computer and go to sleep, okay?"
    "Why can't I stay on for another ten minutes?"
    "Because Mom and I said only five more minutes."
    "Well, you said five minutes and Mom said five minutes so that must mean I get ten minutes, doesn't it?" asked Xianee in a cheerful voice.
    "No, it does not. You've already wasted three minutes talking to me." I walked out of her roo to finish my homework.
    Ten minutes later I go and check to see if Xian is off the computer yet. She isn't."You should have been in bed five minutes ago."
    "Sorry," she said in a sarcastic voice.
    "Brush your teeth and go to bed. NOW!"
    As Xianee is leaving to go brush her teeth, she starts muttering in a mimicking voice, "Get ready for bed. Go brush your teeth. Go to bed now."
    I did not say anything because I knew that she would start the whole argument all over again.

    Every now and then when I get really sick, my sister will sometimes let me hug her stuffed hippo, Shaggy, which is her favorite stuffed animal. For me to hug Shaggy is a big deal because she usuall doesn't like me touching any of her stuffed animals without permission. Aso, when I am sick she will ask me,"Do you want anything?" and sometimes I do and sometimes I don't, but when I do she will get me what I want, if we have it, without complaint which is really rare. For Xian to get something for me is rare because almost always we will get into an argument like:

"Hey, Xianee, can you do me a favor and turn off the light?"

"Do I have to?"

"No, but it would be nice if you did."

"Well since you said I didn't have to, I won't."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"No, go do it yourself."

"Fine. If you won't do me a favor and turn off the light, then I'll just turn it off myself, you selfish, do-not-help person."

Once during Labor Day weekend my sister was going to Portland, Oregon for a special martial arts camp. She left on Friday night and wouldn't be returning until Monday evening. For the days when Xian was in Portland, the house felt empty, like a room with nothing in it, and no color to it at all, no window, no chair, no nothing. Usually I would be happy that my sister left because she sometimes gets on my nerves and I just want her to leave. But during the time when she was in Portland I felt lonely. I missed her because I wanted to play and talk or even have an argument with her. Every night when it was time to go to bed I felt weird because almost every night I have had an argument with my sister about what time she was supposed to go to bed. When it was finally Monday I was so happy that my sister was coming back from Portland. I could not wait to play a game with her, which is unusual. I usually hate playing games with her because she sometimes is a bad sport when she starts to lose. When I finally got to see her, she gave me a big hug and showed me her two gold medals that she won in a competition. We were all proud of her. When it was finally time to go to bed, we had another small argument. Now I knew things would be getting back to normal.

I have known my sister for almost twelve years and we have never been apart for more than a week. As I get older, I will remember all the time we shared and how funny, playful (sometimes), nice, and loving she is. Definitely I will always remember asking her to do me a favor or telling her how messy her room is. I love my sister very much and that is why she is my special person.

My Special Person

simkas — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:44 GMT

    Danny was different from all the other kids in Kathy Whalin's class. We didn't know that he was in that class at the time, because he wasn't generally mainstreamed with his classmates. Most of his time at school was spent time in room 6 and 7, the two connected special ed. classrooms in the school. He only occasionally spent time with his real class. Actually, I should say that he did spend most of his time with his real class, which was in room 7. The sweetest kids in the school spent most of their time there, while the rest of the school had no idea who they actually were at heart and made fun of them for how they moved or talked -- perhaps out of fear, fear of being an outcast.
    In the beginning of fifth grade, I read a really amazing book called Stuck in Neutral about a boy with Cerebral Palsy. In the book, the boy could not talk, or voluntarily move any muscle in his body. He had no way to communicate to the world. I showed this book to my teacher and told her how amazing it was and how it made me look at everything from a different perspective. I told my teacher, Mrs. Sinclair, about this book, and looking back at that year, I think that one of the reasons she chose me to be Danny's buddy was because of my interest in this book. She knew I was taken up in mental disabilities, and she knew I was responsible and caring. Even though I can't say for surte that that was the reason she chose me, I think it was part of it.
    I remember my teacher calling me up during SSR and me thinking, "Oh God, what did I do?" But what she talked to me about was not getting in trouble; it was about my first grade reading buddy. She asked me if I was interested in being buddies with a boy who wasn't learning at the rate the other kids in Kathy's class were; in other words, someone who was retarded. She said that he wasn't that easy to control, both mentally and physically, and that I should pick someone who could help me, someone who I would get along with, someone who would be open-minded to the prospect of a relationship with a special ed. kid. I couldn't choose between my two friends Connie and Isabel, so I chose them both.
    My teacher was right; Danny wasn't what you'd call easy to handle. Sometimes he would try to hurt you or run away, or do something that he couldn't do, either because it was against the rules or because he wasn't capable. Sometimes he'd get frustrated and annoyed, and you wouldn't be able to understand what was going on. Sometimes he'd try to harm you when he got like that. He'd grimace and screw up his face, and grip your arm hard. It didn't hurt, but he was trying to be unpleasant to you, and that was against the rules.
    But all of our hard work really paid off. He could be so sweet, so happy. And he really loved us. I know that when I was gone for a day, sick or on vacation, when I came back I was informed that he was asking about me. He did that for Isabel and Connie, as well.
    Danny talked in the third person. He'd always say, "Danny's dad," or "Danny's going home?" On Fridays every week he would go home early because he went to a swimming program for autistic kids. That day his father wouldn't pick him up and all day he would say, "Danny's dad's coming!" and we would tell him, "No, today is Friday. You're going swimming. Dad comes later." But he would repeat it all through the day because his dad coming was such a big part of his routine. I also remember one time where he had a toy school bus and he would sing under his breath as he apprehensively paced the inside perimeter of room 7. Isabel asked him what he was singing, and he kind of smiled and went on muttereing. Then he'd shake his head, still smiling, and we would eventually go back to talking.
    We saw Danny every day, but he wasn't the only child in room 7 we spent time with. Connie and Isabel and I would come there during lunch and SSR to see Danny and the other kids. Paavlina and Paul and Matthew and Bowmun and Will and Asher were all really important to us. Paul and Matthew were really good friends, and Paul's hair was really soft. He was really small and talked with a slight lisp. He really liked to touch people's heads. Matthew was tan with curly black hair, and he was taller than Paul but a lot quieter. When he smiled, his whole face lit up. Paavlina was loud and gave kisses, and she was small like Paul. Will was in a wheelchair but he was really smart and he and his aide developed a way of communicating because he couldn't talk. Bowmun was small and quiet and didn't come much to room 7. And Asher was loud but didn't really form words, but he was an amazing artist. He loved to draw, paint, sculpt, any medium and he'd create something.
    Sometimes I don't know how Danny's family dealt with it all. His older brother had (and still has) cancer, and with the attention and Care Danny needed it seemed like the easiest thing could've been to put Danny in some kind of center. But they chose the harder way, which was also the way that Danny was happiest, I think. Danny's dad was the sweetest guy ever, and he completely supported Danny and was really present in his life. Every day when he came to pick Danny up, Danny's face would light up and he'd yell, "Dad!" at the top of his lungs. His dad would hug him really hard and he'd also smile like this was the best part of his day. If Danny was challenging at school, I can't really imagine what it would've been like to have him at home.
    You can tell that this is a bittersweet thing for me. I hate the people who tease the retarded kids. Sometimes, during SSR, some of our class would sit outside and read. During that time, we'd go to room 7, which was right down the hall from our normal classroom. Kids would sit there and bang their hands against their chests in a "spazzy" way, or make faces or something. Retarded literally means "slow," and no one laughs at you if you can't grasp imaginary numbers when you're five. But they laugh at you if you act a certain way, or say things differently, or look different. Remembering that year of fifth grade brings back a lot of hard feelings for the people who made fun of the children in room 7. Some of the people were my friends, but not for long. They got the message from me that it was NOT OKAY to tease the room 7 kids, or any other kids with mental disabilities.
    When Connie and Isabel and I graduated from Ocean View, Danny's dad gave us all cards, flowers, and chocolate. He didn't have to, but he appreciated our work since our presence in Danny's life made a difference to Danny. He said that he would miss us and our care for Danny, and that he wished we didn't have to leave the elementary school without Danny because we were such a great team working with him. We didn't want to move on, either, if it meant losing Danny in our everyday lives, but we survived. Last year, sixth grade, I saw him every Friday at a swimming program for autistic kids I volunteered in (the same one I mentioned before). I also participated in an adapted P.E. program. I wouldn't have done those things without Danny's presence in my life two years ago. I still come back to the memories of him and realize how much I miss him. At timea I wish I could be at Ocean View again so that I could see him every day like in fifth grade. Writing this paper reminds me of how big of a connection we had and how it changed my outlook on life. I never would have done the programs I did without him, never would have made some of the friends I have at the middle school, never would have discovered the cruel side of some of my peers without him. And most importantly, I gave him something, too. I gave him my love and care and friendship. He taught me so much. Danny changed my life.

A Special Person

juliar — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:01:42 GMT

                                          A Special Person
    A man with a lazy eye and a crooked finger suddenly ceased his blathering. Our principal, Bob, rolled out in his wheelchair, the wheels squeaking steadily. A woman stood next to him. She must've been about thirty, with hair like melting chocolate, and flawless olive skin that you could tell was smooth. She had black rimmed glasses, a quiet smile, and a shy expression.
    "This, kids, is Mara,"everyone knew who she was, or at least, we were pretty sure."She's the new four/five teacher." We were right.
    She smiled a little bigger, shyly waved, and quietly said "Hi." That's all she said.
    "She, as you know, is replacing Tim," Bob loudly began. He said something else, but my eyes were too busy looking at Mara for my ears to work.
    I was in Mara's class. Room six. She never wore her glasses. I always wondered about that. Fourth grade must've been difficult for her. I was so dreadfully annoying, as were a lot of my classmates. She never got angry. Never yelled. That's what I loved about her.
    On the last day of fourth grade, which was also my tenth birthday, we were doing appreciations. I spoke really softly. She couldn't hear me. I'm not going to lie. I really didn't like Mara that day. I tried to speak up. After a while of someone telling you to be loud, you just want to well, be loud. Scream. Tell them to shut up. I did, terribly enough, just that. I threw a two year old tantrum with some excuse about how it was "MY BIRTHDAY!!!!" She didn't get mad, she stayed calm.
    Mara was such an adventurer. She went to Madagascar the summer between fourth and fifth grade with a group of scientists to study the Slick Fossa, a relative of the mongoose, and an increasingly endangered species found soley on Madagascar.
   The first day of fifth grade was awkward to say the least. When you don't see someone for a while, and you did something reaaly stupid the last time you saw them, you basically hope they forgot about it. She probably didn't, but she acted like she did, which was good, because I had calmed down, and stopped being so annoying. We learned so many interesting things that year about Madagascar and her amazing trip there the previous summer. I really remember her teaching us that more than 80% of the animals that live on Madagascar live only on Madagascar. We also wrote complaint letters to Celestial Seasonings tea, because on their Madagascar Vanilla Red Tea box, none of the animals were from Madagascar. They sent us a generic letter that was saccharin and crushing.
    "We are so glad to hear from our customers..." They sent us magnets, free tea, and an invitation to come to their factory if we ever found ourselves in Boulder, Colorado, but nothing that indicated they even read our letters. They changed the box, but don't be happy yet. They changed it from a lion, a giraffe, a zebra, and an antelope to just a giant lion. I don't think they got the point, but Mara was proud of us for being the little activists that we were. She was so amazing. Although she kept it well hidden, Mara had been diagnosed with some parasite that she supposedly caught in Madagascar.
    I also remember studying Venezuela in spanish class, and doing a presentation on it. The class was over and I wouldn't shut up. She gently took me aside to tell me to stop, and I was so embarrassed that I made something of it, and swore that I 'HATED' her. I didn't. She didn't get mad at me. She brushed it off. When we graduated from Aurora, my elementary school, she wrote in my yearbook
    "I wish you all the best, I will miss you, love, Mara."
    Mara went scuba diving in Honduras. She broke a rib. She went to the doctor. He told her some terrifying news. Remember that parasite? It was colon cancer. She was thirty two.
    Mara spent the next year in experimental therapy. She always said she would come back to Aurora. At the traditional six month reunion, I saw her. She had lost a lot of weight, she was pale, her skin had lost it's warm, olive glow. Her chocolate hair was now thin, and graying.
    Jokingly I did something a little rude to this girl in my old class. I told her I got my ears peirced. She said "They weren't before?"
    I said laughingly "Wow, you don't notice details." Mara scowled at me. I suddenly said "Just kidding." loud enough for her to hear. The scowl relaxed from her face. I didn't talk to her the rest of the night. I figured I would see her at some Aurora function in a couple of months.
    Remember that whole thing about when you see someone after not seeing them, and you did something stupid before, and you hope they forgot about it? Well, I hope she forgot about it. I'll never know. I got an invitation to her memorial service a couple weeks ago. She was thirty three years old. Too young.

Ponyboy's Reflection

albertc — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 20:58:07 GMT

    "Johnny, your friend... he passed away didn't he?" Cherry said silently to Ponyboy as they sat on the bench.
    "Yeah, Dally too... he's also gone now," Ponyboy replied with a sunkene expression on his face. Ponyboy knew this was how this conversation was going to start out. This was five years after Johnny's death. After Johnny died, most of the gang got torn up, Dally and Johnny both, on the same night. It was too much. After the deaths Ponyboy tried to hide everything he thought about it. Johnny had considered Dally as a god, a saint. Ponyboy recalled the shy, expression on Johnny's face while with the rest of the gang and how it hardened as soon as a Soc came into view. The battered look he had after being beaten by his dad was weary and tired.
    "I'm sorry to hear that Ponyboy... That night Bob was drunk, I wish I could rewind it, to take back all the pain."
    "Like you said to me, the night we met, things are rough all over. It's time we start to live with it."
    "And now you and Darry are getting along, aren't you?"
    "Yeah, most of the time. We're good now. The gang is real beat up after Johnny's death though. It's like having someone that's always been there disappearing, a major part of your life, just gone. We miss him. Nervous wreck as he was, we all miss him. I doubt there wouldn't be anything we wouldn't give to have him back with us." Before I knew it, tears were running down my cheeks. I've never told anybody what I really thought after the event. I wanted to tell Cherry everything to just open up to her. People started staring at me now, people that were walking past. I was shamed of breaking down like this, but Johnny waas gone. "Cherry, life is unfair, the way the Socs and Greasers fight all the time. The war between both of our gangs. We risk everything and nothing. That night he passed away he told me to stay gold. To watch sunsets and to know that there's good in the world. Johnny left me a note asking me to tell Dally that there's still time to change, to become what we really want. I'm tired, Cherry, of all this fighting, all this useless trouble we go through."
    "Ponyboy, your friend Johnny saw what life really was, how important it really is, it was just too late for him. If there really is a future for the Socs and Greasers I want to be part of it. There probably are good people out there, people that would lend a hand despite the fact of you being a Greaser or Soc."
    As I thought over what Cherry just said, I realized it was true. It all happened too late for Johnny. He was the best buddy anyone could wish for. And the day he died he found out the world was good, it was something worth living for.
    "Cherry," I started, "Johnny wanted to see more, I know he did. Johnny didn't deserve to die. Those sixteen years he had weren't long enough, heck, he even said it himself, poor guy, he didn't get to see as much as he would like to."
    The part was starting to end. People, instead of milling around began to head back to their cars as it was getting dark. A slight drizzle started to fall from the partly cloudy sky. It felt nice and cold, washing away my tears. I don't know how long Cherry and I sat there. It seemed like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes. Only a couple of people were left and we decided to leave as well.
    "Ponyboy, hardships are everywhere, I hope you won't end up doing something stupid, like Dally or something outrageously heroic, like Johnny. You've been the only person that I've been able to talk to about things. Darry and Soda care about you. You should know that. The gang does too, we all care," Cherry said in a slightly quiet tone as she started to stand up.
    Getting to my feet myself, I got to my feet by pushing against the armrests of the now dampened bench. I stared up at the sky, while the bright sun slowly unravled itself from the veil of the clouds.
    "From now on Cherry, I am going to try to achieve what Johnny wanted to be, which was something more. It's going to be a new beginning." Later, Cherry and I each went home, but i kept on thinking about what Johnny said. His words were with me, keeping me away from dangerous things and telling me to be mindful of my actions. Sometimes it feels as if he's with me, always watching out for me. Sort of like a guardian angel. It's a strange feeling, and I know that his soul and words live on within all of us, the gang, Cherry, and me.

Sands of Time by Nicholas

Nicholas — Tue, 12 Jul 2005 17:15:21 GMT

Purple gargoyle sits still,

Watching time go by,

Rough, hard horns,

Watching sifting sand,

Battered rock wings,

watching sacred sands slide by,

Purple gargoyle sits still,

Watching time go by,

Blood-stained teeth and claws,

Wathcing the flowing river of sand,

Glaring, yellow eyes,

Seeing misery and grief of wasted time,

Purple gargoyle sits still,

Watching time go by.

Roots Article

Anna — Tue, 12 Jul 2005 04:16:44 GMT

The flowers and leaves are the only beautiful part of a plant right? Well what about the roots? Aren’t they wonderful, too? Roots are very important to plant’s living and being. They hold the plant down in the ground so it won’t topple over and die. They also take nutrients and water from the soil through tubes inside the root itself. These necessities get carried to the plant so the plant can eat and survive. When the plants have enough extra food left over, they send it back to the roots to be stored. There are three types of roots: the taproot, fibrous root and the adventitious root. Taproots grow very deep into the ground and there is one main root with many other roots coming off of it. They are large and fleshy and are also sometimes used to store food. Fibrous roots grow near the surface of the soil to gather rain early. They are little root hairs that gather in clumps and look like a bushy mane of hair. They look somewhat like Hagrid’s from Harry Potter. Adventitious roots help plants such as vines to climb. They grow on the sides of roots, horizontally. Lastly, they help underground stems grow, such as bulbs. So, roots are one of the many important things a plant needs to live. Without roots like these, all the plants wouldn’t have enough nutrients, water and would all fall over.

Learning but Not

Rachel — Mon, 11 Jul 2005 20:12:25 GMT

I remember learning but not really, staring at the three words on the page. They didn't make sense to me. They were just letters put together in three random clumps.

I remember not wanting to, but a strange force pulled me in. A thirst for knowledge, a sort of trance.

I remember saying I don't want to but not really feeling the words that were pouring out of my mouth.

I remember the stern look on her face. A mixture of dissapointment and anger. Scaring me. Scaring me into trying again.

I remember the look was so big and strong and I was too small and weak.

I remember giving in, squinting at the page, realizing what it said. I smiled and said clearly,

I love you