Abandonment

        Not many people know about my past because I see no point in telling it, but my sin involves a person who I cared deeply about. I used to have a friend, Emily, who meant the world to me, I loved her like a sister. We had known each other since we were two years old and our friendship lasted through my many moves whether it was across town or halfway across the country. She knew all my secrets and I kept hers happily. Though as we grew up our different upbringings had begun to show. I’m a girl who’s shy and likes reading and art and she likes death metal and piercings. Our differences had always caused many fights between us that often ended in tears, but they also brought us closer and taught us to go out of our comfort zone and try new things.

         I moved back to Oklahoma when I was 14 and we were still as close as ever but I had noticed differences in her, physically and mentally. Emily had always been the outgoing one, the one who loved and craved attention while I was content with being in the background, but since the beginning of the summer when she visited me she had changed. She was seeing a therapist who claimed she now has social anxiety and ADHD all while being depressed. My Emily, the girl who would run around the mall singing at the top of her lungs, the girl who forced me to dress up and pose in store windows with her and walk up to strangers on dares, had depression to the extent that her therapist had her on two different antidepressants and sleeping pills.

        Apparently she had started cutting while I was in Georgia and she decided to tell me that summer. She said she didn’t want me to worry and I was so far away that there was no point in telling me, but I had seen the scars when we were swimming one day so there was no other option. She said she was so sad that when she cut the physical pain made the emotional all go away and although she was ashamed of it she couldn’t stop. I was the only one who knew and she begged me not to tell our parents. Looking back I wish I had but I’m not sure if anything would have been different. The pills ended up making her feel more numb rather than less depressed so she used them more and her friends all did drugs so she was surrounded by forces that I couldn’t control.

       She got hooked, and she couldn’t stop. After a year the drugs and the cutting got worse and the more I tried to help the farther away she would push me. So I stopped nagging at her. I couldn’t watch her slowly kill herself while I did nothing, so I told her either she needed to shape up and stop or I was going to leave. I left.

       We haven’t talked in a year and half. She’s still cutting and doing drugs, and I still can’t bare to watch her do it. Her mom knows and has a therapist pushing pills at her, insisting that they’ll help, and she went to rehab for a couple weeks then left. I guess the point of my story is that my sin, though justified, was leaving her. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I know nothing I said or did would of helped her stop and I didn’t want to chance being dragged down with her. She was toxic and I have plans for my future. I still left though, I left my best friend when she needed someone stable. She needed to know that I still loved her no matter what she did or the mistakes she made. In my heart we’re still sisters and that’s my punishment, I still care so I still hurt every time I see what she’s doing.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Beyond The Lights

The turn of the century saw many in the world migrate from their native countries to the western world which was experiencing a tremendous amount of economic growth. Some other people also migrated because of the impending wars and the instinctive desire to save their lives and that of their family. America’s human resource soared with the influx of immigrants as it took advantage to continue its growth as a leading economic power. Many people benefited from this change but one of the things that was always difficult to satisfy were the diverse dreams of the immigrants who expected to climb the social ladder . Living in this time period was definitely challenging as it was the survival of the fittest. Fate chose Maggie and placed her in an Irish family downtown New York where one had to fight for a means of survival before even thinking about securing a spot on the racial league. In Maggie:A Girl of the streets, Maggie is drawn to Pete as a result of poverty, lack of realistic ambitions and a lifetime of brutishness which eventually leads to her death.As a result of these dwindling circumstances, Maggie by no means master crafted her downfall.
In Maggie: A Girl of the Streets , Maggie’s future is affected by her background and the impact it had on her family. It is not surprising that many people tend to blame Maggie for how her life ended because she had the power to prevent certain things from happening. It is right for one to argue that Maggie was blinded by her romantic nature from seeing the real world. Her sudden leap from a life of confinement to one of pleasure had the better part of her. She was eclipsed by this sudden change in her life as “her cheeks were blushing with excitement and her eyes were glistening. She drew deep breaths of pleasure. No thoughts of the atmosphere of the collar and cuff factory came to her” (Crane 35). At this point in her life she had no eyes to see neither was there anyone to walk her through life nor carefully instruct her. Her heart was beating so fast that it couldn’t pause for a second to feel Pete’s deceitful touch. If she had made a conscious effort to see beyond the fantasies Pete offered her, it could had made a difference in how her life ended. Maggie couldn’t sense the danger in the atmosphere as she continued to drown in ecstasy. She couldn’t think beyond the love she had for Pete and this played a role in her death. Despite this fact, it should be well noted that there too many pitfalls along Maggie path. These were circumstances beyond here control which eventually fabricated how she lived her adult life.
In spite of all the allegations that can be leveled against Maggie and the claim that she orchestrated her own death, people tend to forget that she was a virtuous and naive girl whose future was ruined by social forces which were out of her control. Maggie had no control over where she was born or whom she was born to. It was an act of destiny that Maggie was born to a poor Irish family in the slums of New York. There was a little to learn since both of her parents were drunkards and rarely taught her any valuable life skills. The circumstances surrounding her childhood had a huge impact in how she lived her adult life as “ her father died and her mother’s life were divided into periods of thirty days” (Crane 19). Maggie lost her Dad early in life and her Mom was not in the right position to instruct her daughter on how she should live a proper life. She was left to face the rigours of life on her own at an early age. She was always limited in resources in her childhood. It is quite easy to understand there is not much to learn from a mother who is almost drunk all the time and does not make any effort to raise her children properly.
As a result of poverty, Maggie had no realistic ambitions growing up. Her eyes couldn’t see beyond the four corners of the slums. Maggie could have lost her life as a baby just like her little Tommie but “She and Jimmie lived” (Crane 19). There was no promise of a better future for Maggie. There was not a single person in her family whose life carved a path which she could follow. It was hard to ever perceive her life as a precious gift rather than something that merely fades away with the passing of time. For Maggie it was either she stayed home and dealt with her drunk mom or watch the boys fight on the streets. She was left to receive whatever the streets had to offer her and due to this she had no hope of a better future. To sum up, she had no one to look up to and she couldn’t see herself becoming anything good in life. Her Mom made her believe she was just one in a billion people on earth who walk the face of the earth and eventually become a part of the soil once her days were done.
Not only this but also, Maggie was affected by a lifetime of brutishness. Maggie experienced so much hatred from her mother as a child and this affected her adult life. Maggie was not shown enough love as a kid. Maggie grew up in a house similar to hell “for they thought she need only to be awake and all fiends will come from below” (Crane 17). Mary was abusive and these memories had a huge impact on Maggie’s adult life as she was swept away by the little love Pete demonstrated. Besides her Mom yelling at home all the time, she would go to the streets as an escape route only to meet people who cursed her at the slightest opportunity. It was as though the entire world hated her and that explains why she was easily swayed by Pete when he came around. Maggie was looking for love and at this point in her life it didn’t matter where she found it. All these culminated in drawing Maggie towards Pete and her eventual death.
It will be rather cheap to conclude that Maggie was responsible for her own downfall without considering the societal plugs that ensured that she couldn’t rise high enough beyond the giant towers that surrounded her in New York to see the hope that exist in other parts of the country and in the world. While it is understandable that she was blinded by her romantic nature, there are more factors that held Maggie down which were beyond her reach. Her poor background, the lack of realistic ambitions and a lifetime of brutishness were some of the many forces in the society that can be accounted for as reasons why Maggie fell for Pete, prostitution and her eventual death.

 

Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Comments

Second Recess Soccer

The room is hot and humid, my hands are shaking, and I am sweating a lot. I’ve been waiting for 5 minutes now. “Has she forgotten about me?” I think to myself. As I continue to wait, I found myself thinking about what I did and weather it was worth getting in trouble for. Suddenly I hear the door open and I grasp my chair tight waiting to see who walks out door.

Now you’re probably wondering how I got here, so let’s go back a couple hours. It was twelve o’clock and time for the second recess. I always ate and did extra homework for the first recess, then played soccer with my friends for the second. After we got dismissed I grabbed a snack from my bag, walked down the stairs, and headed to the basketball court. The basketball hoops had soccer nets under them, so we played soccer on the basketball court.

Second recess soccer was very competitive. We would always get into fight and arguments over fouls, goals, or anything we could find to fight about. The teams were based on your grade. All the sixth graders would make a team, all the seventh graders would make a team, and all the eighth graders would make a team. Usually a team consisted of about five to six guys. Their was only one girl who play, but she rarely played because she was too soft and always got hurt. The first two team ready would be the first to play. We would play for 7 minutes, or the first team to score two goals won. If your team wins you kept playing, but if you lost you rotated out with the next team.

The rules were simple. There was no out of bounds, and if their was a tie you battled it out in rock paper scissors. Coach Chucho was the teacher on duty for the second recess, so he would “supervise the soccer.” Most of the time he would leave to go hit on the new teacher Ms. Lisa, she was from sweden. With Chocho gone, the court became a battlefield.

My team was always the first to be ready. It consisted of me and five others: Tony, Andres, Brandon, Dean, and Jose. Jose and Anita had started dating a couple weeks ago, so he didn’t really show up to play after that. All they did was sit and talk, which sound so boring to me. It’s like if she owned Jose. He did anything she wanted him to do and would always be with her. Andres and I would always joke around and told Jose that she had him on a leash, but he would always deny it.

The Sixth graders were usually the second team to be ready because the eighth graders took forever to get dismissed. We all stormed the court and began to play. Dean was the most ponderous on the team, so he played goalie. Tony wasn’t really a soccer player, so he played defense and would kick the ball up the court. Brandon was really fast, so he didn’t have a position because he just ran all over the place. Finally Andress and I would play striker together because we were the only two who played soccer outside of school competitively.  

Two minutes go by and we beat the sixth graders. By then, the eighth graders were ready and the fun began. It had been three days since the eighth graders had lost a game in recess, but today was the day that all came to an end. The eighth grade team had six boys, all of them big and strong. Five of them played soccer outside of school, and the one that didn’t was still pretty good.

As our game kicks off, the fighting begins. All twelve of us eager to claim the second recess title, biting and scratching our way through the game. I was hot and tired, and my school uniform was drenched with sweat. Pedro Alvarez, and eighth grader, got the ball near their goal. I bumped him into a wall and over two girls. I passed the ball to Andres, he fake shot it and passed it back to me. I tapped the ball in, and brought their three day streak to and end . As we celebrated in the corner, Pedro grabbed me and threw me down on the ground. He held me down and raised his fist. At first I was scared, until I heard Ms Nurias voice. “Pedro! Get off Christian,” she said from across the court.

She picked us both up and sent us to the principal’s office. While we both waited outside her office, Pedro had some aggressive words to say. I just sat their and smiled. He asked me why I was smiling, and I said, “I can’t wait to see what your mom has to say about this.” Pedro is called into the principal’s office, while I sat outside waiting for my turn. Which brings us to how I got here. After pedro left, I thought to myself, “Was winning really worth getting sent to the principal’s office? Yes. Whats my mom gonna think about this?” I finally realized that sometimes I’m way to competitive and need to calm down. Although my team won, I felt sorry for pushing Pedro into the group of girls watching the game. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by loud footsteps and the sound of the opening door. Pedro walks out, turns to me, sarcastically smiles, and says, “My mom wants to see you.”

What’s your Sin letter?

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Things Are What You Make Them

The Oxford dictionary defines morality as the “principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behavior.”  This definition is not completely accurate.  Popular culture, or the culture based on the tastes of ordinary people rather than an educated elite, has a very strong influence on what we as people believe to be moral or not.  This was evident in a recent presidential election.  The average man or woman had to decide what their morals were.  This decision influenced which presidential candidate they voted for.  The winning candidate is the figure who leads the country and sets the priorities and morals of our our nation.  Therefore, the general population is the factor that decides the morals of a society.  In the puritan society, religion was the law of the land, and today, due to large scale media coverage women’s rights and racial profiling take center stage in common morality issues and debates.  Since the time of the puritans, society has not became more or less moral.  People today, like back in the 1600’s, follow the precedent set by popular culture.  This precedent that is set defines the word morality for each and every person in their society.

In the Puritan society, ridiculing a sinner was considered normal.  We see examples of this in The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne.  In one scene, Hester and Pearl are going to the Governor’s house, and proceed to have mud slung at them.  The kids who see them passing by say, “Behold, verily, there is the woman of the scarlet letter; and, of a truth, moreover, there is the likeness of the scarlet letter running along by her side! Come, therefore, and let us fling mud at them!” (Hawthorne 70).  The kids have seen the example set by their parents that sinners are to be punished for their actions.  This example of public humiliation does not only come from elder figures; their whole town is set up to make sinners feel bad for what they have done.  The scaffold in which Hester appears on three times throughout the story is the center of town, which shows that public humiliation of sinners was an intrical part of their society as a whole.  

Discriminating against a sinner is also seen in the way  Hester is described after she is exiled from society.  The narrator describes it as, “And all her intercourse with the society, however, it was nothing that made her feel as if she belonged to it.  Every gesture, every word, even the silence of those whom she came in contact, implied, and often expressed, that she was banished, and as much alone as if she inhabited another sphere, or communicated with the common nature but other organs and senses then the rest of humankind” (Hawthorne 58).  The way people treat her makes her feel so lonely that she feels like she is an alien from another planet.  The reader sees this in the line ‘and as much alone as she inhabited another sphere.’  This sort of treatment was nothing new in puritan life.  Their whole society was based on religion, so when somebody sinned it was a serious offense.  People made sure that the sinner knew what he or she had done to go against God.  In this case, Hester committed adultery, going against one of the ten commandments, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.”  We also see the theme of popular culture setting the tone of moral judgement in Puritan society in a play based on a true story, The Crucible by Arthur Miller.  

In the play we see people going along with the trends, most notably when it comes to the witch trials.  In the introduction of the play, Arthur Miller says the witch trials were,  “the result of popular hysterical fear of the devil” (Miller vii).  These witch trials all started from the people.  It was not just a governing figure who started these.  In fact, Miller writes that the children are the driving force of these witch trials.  In act two, John Proctor says, ”but now the crazy little children are jangling the keys to the kingdom, and common vengeance writed the law” (Miller 73).  He is saying that these children completely dictate what happens with these witch trials and their ‘vengeance’ is what drives them to make these trials such a big deal.  The public’s perception of the devil and what could happen if they happened to be “possessed” drove the witch trials to what they became.  In this case, the ‘devil’ was a scapegoat for their vengeance and greed.  Human instincts caused these trials, so when more and more people started becoming more involved, it seemed like a normal thing to be doing.  When the trials started to become out of hand people started to notice the ridiculousness of what had been occurring.  These witch trials took over everyday life of the puritans in Salem.  Miller describes how the trials affected society, “The trials took precedence over all other activities.  They took the farmer from his field and his wife from the milk shed” (Miller xv).  People left their crops unharvested, and there were even orphans who wandered by themselves because the people who were supposed to be taking care of them were more indulged by these trials.  Like the witch trials in puritan times, racial profiling and women’s rights play large roles in morality issues in today’s world.  

There is still strong prejudice in our society today, and racial profiling is a very evident example of this.  The St. Louis Post-Dispatch wrote an article about racial profiling, and the numbers they mentioned were astounding:  ”In 2014, blacks were 75 percent more likely to be pulled over in the state of Missouri than whites. Blacks and Hispanics were more likely to be searched as a result of such stops, even though whites were more likely to be in possession of illegal contraband, such as drugs or weapons” (Editorial Board 2016).  Stereotypes directed towards African Americans and Hispanics have led to many of these unjust actions and events.  It is the popular perception of this race that makes them more vulnerable to these situations.  Many Mexicans are perceived as drug dealers because of the number of drug lords that come over from Mexico.  Obviously not every Hispanic person is involved with the drug trade, but the popular view makes them seem more likely to be involved with these sorts of things.  The stereotype that black people are all criminals has lead to unjust shootings and arrests.  One example of this came in the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.  In 2014, Brown, an unarmed black man, was shot by a white police officer after robbing a convenience store.  The fact that he was not white could have played a role in officer Darren Wilson’s decision to pull the trigger and kill Brown.  In the moment, Wilson’s morals may have seemed right because of what society perceived African Americans to be.

Just like racial profiling, women’s rights, more specifically equal pay for women, is another common subject of morality in the world today.  The precedent that women are less than men has been around for as long as history can tell us.  There is even evidence of this in ancient China thousands of years ago.  Women deserve equal opportunities and pay as men, but that does not always happen.  In an article by Janet Adamy and Paul Overberg, the pay gap between men and women is substantial.  The article reads, “After the research controlled for experience, practice size and practice ownership, the women earned about $32,000 a year less on average, according to the study of more than 500 financial advisers. An advisory panel concluded gender discrimination and bias were among factors dissuading women” (Adamy 2016).  $32,000 is a lot of money, and women earning that much less is not considered moral today.  On the other hand, popular culture drove this notion that women are less than men into people’s heads for centuries.  It was not until just recently that we as a society finally realized that women deserve to be equal that we found our morals were not right and it was time for a change.  This realization marks a change in people’s morals.  After many people realized that women deserve equal pay in the workplace, it became immoral to discriminate against them.  This popular movement was the deciding factor about whether women being paid unequally was moral or not.  

In summary, the influence of popular culture is what drives morality in society today; therefore, society has become neither better nor worse.  Morality does not get its meaning from a dictionary definition.  It is the common man and woman who decide the definition of morality in society.  Our culture is the driving force of our perception on what is right and what is not, and we see examples of this throughout history, specifically during the puritan times and in the modern day as well.  In puritan times, publicly ridiculing a sinner was normal, but now when we look back and it was not always the right thing to do.  Today many racial profiling incidents have led to unjust shootings like the one in Ferguson, Missouri.  A false stereotype may have been the driving force that the officer shot at Michael Brown.  In puritan times, the children who flung mud at Hester and Pearl seemed to be doing nothing wrong.  On the other hand, after decades passed, those actions seemed wrong.  The way Hawthorne describes the actions deems the kids to be the antagonists, not being moral at all.  Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote The Scarlet Letter over 200 years after the time period it is set in.  Will some of our daily actions be deemed immoral in 200 years?  The only way to find out will be to reflect on them when they do not happen anymore, just like the kids who flung mud at sinners.

 

WORKS CITED
Adamy, Janet, and Paul Overberg. “Pay Gap Widest For Elite Jobs.” Wall Street Journal. 18 May 2016: A.1. SIRS Issues Researcher. Web. 08 Nov. 2016.

Board, Editorial. “More Training and Police Consolidation Would Improve Racial….” St. Louis Post-Dispatch. 03 Jun. 2015: A.16. SIRS Issues Researcher. Web. 08 Nov. 2016.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel.  The Scarlet Letter.  

Miller, Arthur. The Crucible: A Play in Four Acts. New York: Penguin, 1982. Print

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

I Carry It All

I carry the red dirt on my bare feet from days of walking through tall grass in dense woods, trees looming high above me alongside the moss below me. Gleaming rays of sun burst from the canopy onto the deprived earth, while the surrounding leaves sing their lullaby into the breeze. The heat of the sun counteracts the cool of the dirt as it stains my skin, imprinting within me the land itself.

I carry the smell of summer rain. The rain that precedes a deathly storm, the kind that causes windows to shake and towns to go black. The sky’s so dark it seems to be an endless night, a backdrop to the pounding on the tin roof. Crashes of thunder that shake you to your core, breath getting faster as the wind slows. Lightning illuminating the horizon, rain soaking you to the bone. Until it stops, and the world is calm and beautiful in the aftermath, leaving only you as a remnant of the tempest.

I carry the whistling of wheat in the wind as I walk along the old wooden fence. Above, the sky is transforming, stuck between the brightness of evening and grey of dusk. Rolling pastures with grazing cattle stretch for miles on end on the other side of the fence. The wind lets out a sigh, causing the wheat to whisper soft nothings to me as I climb and rest atop the post, watching life play before my eyes.

I carry the sizzling of the steak on the grill as music flows through the radio. Smoke seeps out the top and rises in plumes of grey against the blue expanse above. You hear the distinct clinking of horseshoes against each other and the soft laughter of your family. The contentment is palpable around you, happiness woven into the very air you breath. Your mouth waters as you catch the scent of a home cooked meal drifting past and so you just smile and sing along with the music, knowing that this is a memory worth holding onto.

I carry the cool water of a lake as I take too deep a breath. It is clear to the bottom as I wade along the top. The sun reflects along the surface, casting a warm glow around me. I blink up and watch as droplets of water slide down my eyelashes, rippling as they break the barrier between water and air. The motor of the boat is echoing along the cliffs as it draws closer, so I close my eyes and lay along the surface trusting in the water.

I carry the twinkling stars of a southern sky from nights of endless gazing. Even after years of always looking up, I never tire of seeing the bright expanse of gleaming fire above me. The moon lights up the dark world below, a silent protector to the resting souls, always watching. There are no clouds. Everything is clear and visible. You can see the glittering array above trying to tell you a story centuries old. As we look into the endless expanse of space we read what isn’t written.

I carry the essence of every place that’s been my home, the places that made me who I am. As I watched life around me change, these places grew me. I learned love and friendship; I felt the energy of life coursing through green forests; I discovered who I am. The nature lover, the storm chaser, the girl who belongs nowhere, yet everywhere. Wherever I am I will always know the feeling of red clay between my toes, and the static calm in the air before the storm hits. I will always hold the smell of campfires and pastures within me. And in my eyes, there will always shine the stars of home.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Yearning for Your Hope

Brittle knuckles stuffed in dark khakis,

Doors swung and blindness meets the eye.

Somewhere out there he is looking,

Hope glimmers in the sky.

 

Breath billows turn to crystals,

There is not a soul around.

Somewhere warmth beats closer,

Hope suddenly makes a sound.

 

Brushed by the wrath of Boreas,

Hephaestus pulsates from below.

Somewhere she is waiting,

Hope he now must know.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

If I Could Go Back for Just One Day

“Wake up you’re gonna be late!” she said as I rolled out of my bed and into the clothes I left out from last night. I was tired, but very excited. It was the first day, and after so long I was eager to go back. I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and put some deodorant on. “They are here!”she said.

“I’m coming,” I screamed back. I ran down stairs, chugged down a glass of orange juice, folded up my waffle, and took it with me in the car.

“Hey, Mateo and Marcos!” I said as I opened the car door. I jumped in, slamed the door shut, and we took off. Mateo was in fifth grade and his brother Marcos in third, but I was the oldest of our car pool. I was in ninth grade this year. It always took about thirty minutes to get there, so we would always play games in the car. My favorite was sweet and salty. We would say hi to people outside the car as we drove by. If they said hi back they were sweet, and if they didn’t they were salty. Although Mateo’s mom didn’t like that game, we still played it all the time.

As we arrived, all three of us were ready to jump out as we pull up to the curb. “I’ll see you guys at 2:30!,” Mateo’s mom said as she drove away. I said goodbye to Mateo and Marcos as they left to their groups. It was cold in the mornings, and I had to walk across the soccer field to get to my group. Although the walk was long, I enjoyed seeing the sun crawl over the hills behind the school in the morning.

When I got there, I left my school bag and water bottle in the room my group was in, and lined up for attendance outside. It’s been so long since I had seen everyone. Everyone looks older and some of the guys already have facial hair, but I was so excited to see them that I didn’t pay much attention to how they looked. We all sat and talked while we listened to our school meeting. Once we finished singing the national anthem all together, we all started heading back to our rooms.

My group sat in our room for about ten min until Ms. Nuria showed up. God, was she the worst. She taught social studies, and all she would do is talk all class and give us so much homework. It was terrible. Although I didn’t like her, I had lunch to look forward to and hanging out with friends. It took forever for the class to end. It seemed like everytime i looked at the clock only a minute had gone by. Finally the bell rings and I get to leave for lunch. I meet up with my friend Andres, but he’s too busy doing homework from math class. Andres said that he had a soccer game later and wanted to finish as much as he could during lunch. I decide to go find Tony, but he’s with Dean doing Spanish homework too. I had no one else to go to, so I decided to sit down and do some of my social studies homework. That’s when it all hit me. I was in highschool and wasn’t a kid anymore. I would start to have more responsibilities and less free time.

I sat down at thought about it every way possible, but it always came back to me having to grow up. I missed being young and having no responsibilities. All I ever had to worry about was what I was going to eat, who I was going to play with, and when I got extra TV time. I soon realized I had spent my last couple of summer days as a kid, and had started to become a young adult.

A few hours later school was over and I met up with Mateo and Marcos to get picked up. We exchanged stories about our first day and compared who’s was better. When Mateo’s mom arrived, we all got in the car, tired and unhappy that school had started. I looked over at both Mateo and Marcos and said, “I know school boring, but enjoy it while it’s easy. Once you get older you’ll wish you could go back at least for one day.”

And the summer was over!

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Welcome

Welcome to the American Literature G period portfolio blog. This site will contain student writing examples and class discussions.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment