This is actually the top page of a trifold brochure on Langston Hughes that Samantha put together for her 7th grade poetry project.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Langston Hughes
This is actually the top page of a trifold brochure on Langston Hughes that Samantha put together for her 7th grade poetry project.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Reflections on Writing - Get them telling stories
When Alexa was 4 years old and seemed ready for Kindergarten, I read The Three R's of Homeschooling by Howard and Susan Richman, as well as a few homeschooling books by Raymond and Dorothy Moore. From these emerged two particular concepts that greatly influenced our hs writing program -- that it should be a group activity with lots of interaction and involvement on my part and that it should have purpose and an audience.
Writing started with inventing a story together. Frequently when we drove in the car, I would offer a simple prompt or story-starter, something like, "The attic was really dark, when Zach secretly climbed up the ladder and opened the door..." Once started, Zach could keep a story going, and going, and going. Eventually, I got the point across that stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end. When we arrived home, many long stories were modified and shortened. Zach or Alexa would recite as I typed them out using the largest font available. If something didn't make sense, I would try to get them to make a change. As they grew older, they gradually began to appreciate my suggestions.
See "A 'Short' Story by Zachary Weber" that I typed for him when he was 7 in 1995.
Writing started with inventing a story together. Frequently when we drove in the car, I would offer a simple prompt or story-starter, something like, "The attic was really dark, when Zach secretly climbed up the ladder and opened the door..." Once started, Zach could keep a story going, and going, and going. Eventually, I got the point across that stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end. When we arrived home, many long stories were modified and shortened. Zach or Alexa would recite as I typed them out using the largest font available. If something didn't make sense, I would try to get them to make a change. As they grew older, they gradually began to appreciate my suggestions.
See "A 'Short' Story by Zachary Weber" that I typed for him when he was 7 in 1995.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Mother's Perfect Day
4th grade
The Mother’s Perfect
Day of School
“Hi, mom. Guess what? I cleaned my room. I emptied the dishwasher, washed the dishes, and put them in
the dishwasher. I did my French on T.E.A.C.H., and
then I started the book you wanted me to read, and I’m halfway through.”
“Wait! Whoa! Slow down, all right?”
“Mom, what I’m trying to say is that I did my schoolwork. Since it’s early and it’s such a beautiful day, let’s go golfing, ok?”
“Wow, yes, I think we can do that.”
“Let’s go!
The Mother’s Perfect
Day of School
“Hi, mom. Guess what? I cleaned my room. I emptied the dishwasher, washed the dishes, and put them in
the dishwasher. I did my French on T.E.A.C.H., and
then I started the book you wanted me to read, and I’m halfway through.”
“Wait! Whoa! Slow down, all right?”
“Mom, what I’m trying to say is that I did my schoolwork. Since it’s early and it’s such a beautiful day, let’s go golfing, ok?”
“Wow, yes, I think we can do that.”
“Let’s go!
My Room
4th grade
My Room
“GO CLEAN YOUR ROOOOOM, SAM!”
“ARGH – another DAY of cleaning my room…”
All these SHOES to pick up!
I pick up dress shoes (for all those dresses I HATE to wear). I pick up soccer shoes (three years of undefeated soccer shoes!). I pick up Nike shoes (which helped me run and to place in many track meets). I pick up sandals (which were nice on those hot, hot days of play). I pick up my slides – my slip-on shoes – always comfy after games.
Shoes!!! I sure love shoes!
Not only do I wear many shoes, but I also wear many hats. I hang up a hat from my very first Creation – way back in 97 (which I almost had to throw out cause it was so often used and worn). I next pick up my soccer hats from summer soccer camps. And of course there are always those baseball hats collected from 5 years of playing.
Next I move on to my golf bag which I must find a place for, and I think of all those games of golf played with friends before flopping down onto my fuzzy blue coca-cola-bear blanket. I always will remember this blanket because me and my sister got blankets together which my mom stitched for us (I love you Alexa!). I smile as I think of all those special times I will always remember.
And then my dad calls, “TIME TO EAT!” I jump off the bed and away from my thoughts, and remember, “Oops! I was supposed to be cleaning my room!”
My Room
“GO CLEAN YOUR ROOOOOM, SAM!”
“ARGH – another DAY of cleaning my room…”
All these SHOES to pick up!
I pick up dress shoes (for all those dresses I HATE to wear). I pick up soccer shoes (three years of undefeated soccer shoes!). I pick up Nike shoes (which helped me run and to place in many track meets). I pick up sandals (which were nice on those hot, hot days of play). I pick up my slides – my slip-on shoes – always comfy after games.
Shoes!!! I sure love shoes!
Not only do I wear many shoes, but I also wear many hats. I hang up a hat from my very first Creation – way back in 97 (which I almost had to throw out cause it was so often used and worn). I next pick up my soccer hats from summer soccer camps. And of course there are always those baseball hats collected from 5 years of playing.
Next I move on to my golf bag which I must find a place for, and I think of all those games of golf played with friends before flopping down onto my fuzzy blue coca-cola-bear blanket. I always will remember this blanket because me and my sister got blankets together which my mom stitched for us (I love you Alexa!). I smile as I think of all those special times I will always remember.
And then my dad calls, “TIME TO EAT!” I jump off the bed and away from my thoughts, and remember, “Oops! I was supposed to be cleaning my room!”
A Cooking Escapade
4th grade?
My kind of in-side-out cake.
This is how you don’t fallow derections.
For a pineapple in-side-out cake this is how you make it.
First ¼ cup of butter or margarine.
Second 1 cup packed brown sugar.
Third 1 can (20oz) sliced pineapple “in jucie.”
Forth 1 jar (6 oz) maraschino cherries, drained.
Fith 1 package of “Betty Crocker Super Moist yellow cake mix.
Put it all in one big bowl and mix till you think it’s done.
Add oil and eggs as called for on cake mix package directions.
Then chose a pan 13”-9” , or two 8” , or two 9” , or 24 cupcakes, or last but not least 12-cup bundt cake pan take your pick! (But, I chose a tube pan!)
So I choose 12-cup bundt cake pan (that was a tube pan) and just dump the cake mix in but of course you forgot to greese and flour the pan but you simply just say “oh well” and put it in the oven. It says cook for 45 minutes to 50 minutes but I just end up setting it for 50 minutes because I like that number. I hope that no one will open the oven and “look” because they will see pinapple in the cake mix and cherries.
Now that the cake is “done” and out of the oven I end up spillin the beans. I say um I axidently put the whole can of pinapple jucie plus the the pineapple and the cherries “in” the cake. And well did’t do it right. So later we all look at the Derections and not the ingredients.. And find that I was supost to make a Pineapple up-side down cake. Well first I was suppost put the pineapple and the brown sugar and the cherries on the bottom and then just put the oil and the eggs and the cake mix and all the other stuff on top of the fruit and sugar; so when it was done baking then you turn it upside down and have the fruit on the top….. But oh well it turned out alittle too sweet and too runny (because I didn’t DRAIN the pineapple) and well a little weak in the texture. But now I know to read the direction and not the ingredients. But, maybe I invented a new cake: The very wet pineapple/cherry inside out cake!
My kind of in-side-out cake.
This is how you don’t fallow derections.
For a pineapple in-side-out cake this is how you make it.
First ¼ cup of butter or margarine.
Second 1 cup packed brown sugar.
Third 1 can (20oz) sliced pineapple “in jucie.”
Forth 1 jar (6 oz) maraschino cherries, drained.
Fith 1 package of “Betty Crocker Super Moist yellow cake mix.
Put it all in one big bowl and mix till you think it’s done.
Add oil and eggs as called for on cake mix package directions.
Then chose a pan 13”-9” , or two 8” , or two 9” , or 24 cupcakes, or last but not least 12-cup bundt cake pan take your pick! (But, I chose a tube pan!)
So I choose 12-cup bundt cake pan (that was a tube pan) and just dump the cake mix in but of course you forgot to greese and flour the pan but you simply just say “oh well” and put it in the oven. It says cook for 45 minutes to 50 minutes but I just end up setting it for 50 minutes because I like that number. I hope that no one will open the oven and “look” because they will see pinapple in the cake mix and cherries.
Now that the cake is “done” and out of the oven I end up spillin the beans. I say um I axidently put the whole can of pinapple jucie plus the the pineapple and the cherries “in” the cake. And well did’t do it right. So later we all look at the Derections and not the ingredients.. And find that I was supost to make a Pineapple up-side down cake. Well first I was suppost put the pineapple and the brown sugar and the cherries on the bottom and then just put the oil and the eggs and the cake mix and all the other stuff on top of the fruit and sugar; so when it was done baking then you turn it upside down and have the fruit on the top….. But oh well it turned out alittle too sweet and too runny (because I didn’t DRAIN the pineapple) and well a little weak in the texture. But now I know to read the direction and not the ingredients. But, maybe I invented a new cake: The very wet pineapple/cherry inside out cake!
The Rest of Rock 'A Bye Farm
THE REST OF ROCK*A* BYE FARM
THE NEXT MORNING THE FARMER WAKES HIS MOUSE. WHEN THE MOUSE IS SCURRYING, THE FARMER WAKES HIS HORSE. WHEN THE HORSE IS MUNCHING GRAIN, THE FARMER WAKES HIS COW. WHEN THE COW HAS BEEN MILKED, THE FARMER WAKES HIS PIG. WHEN THE PIG IS SLOPPED, THE FARMER WAKES HIS SHEEP. AFTER THE SHEEP HAVE BEEN SHEARED. THE FARMER WAKES HIS HEN. WHEN THE HEN IS UP AND HAS LAID HER EGGS, THE FARMER WAKES HIS DOG. WHEN THE DOG IS BARKING LOUDLY, THE FARMER WAKES HIS BABY. WHEN THE BABY IS PLAYING WITH ITS MOTHER WITH THE RATTLE, THE FARMER GOES INSIDE AND WAKES HIMSELF. NOW THAT EVERYONE IS UP, THE FARMER GOES TO WORK.
THE NEXT MORNING THE FARMER WAKES HIS MOUSE. WHEN THE MOUSE IS SCURRYING, THE FARMER WAKES HIS HORSE. WHEN THE HORSE IS MUNCHING GRAIN, THE FARMER WAKES HIS COW. WHEN THE COW HAS BEEN MILKED, THE FARMER WAKES HIS PIG. WHEN THE PIG IS SLOPPED, THE FARMER WAKES HIS SHEEP. AFTER THE SHEEP HAVE BEEN SHEARED. THE FARMER WAKES HIS HEN. WHEN THE HEN IS UP AND HAS LAID HER EGGS, THE FARMER WAKES HIS DOG. WHEN THE DOG IS BARKING LOUDLY, THE FARMER WAKES HIS BABY. WHEN THE BABY IS PLAYING WITH ITS MOTHER WITH THE RATTLE, THE FARMER GOES INSIDE AND WAKES HIMSELF. NOW THAT EVERYONE IS UP, THE FARMER GOES TO WORK.
A Dozen Things to do with a Zucchini
Samantha Weber
Grade 4
Writing Club, 9/26/2001
A DOZEN THINGS TO DO WITH A ZUCCHINI
I can pretend I’m baseball player and make a home run.
I can be a famous food lifter and win a gold medal.
I can be a carpenter and build a great castle!
I can pretend I am a fairy and wave my wand, “ Bibbityy, bobbity, boo foo” -- something like that.
I can scoop one out and give it a popsicle-stick mast and a paper sail and sail it across my swimming pool.
I can cut it up in chunks and feed it to my dog.
I can play “caveman” and it’ll be my club.
I could cook it and eat it, but I wouldn’t want to.
I could ask my mom to grate some and make zucchini bread.
I could ask my mom to grate some and make zucchini crab cakes, which I hate but my brother and sister love!
I could bang it on my head or on yours.
I could dress it up and pretend it’s a doll baby and I’d call her,
Zelda the Zucchini!
Grade 4
Writing Club, 9/26/2001
A DOZEN THINGS TO DO WITH A ZUCCHINI
I can pretend I’m baseball player and make a home run.
I can be a famous food lifter and win a gold medal.
I can be a carpenter and build a great castle!
I can pretend I am a fairy and wave my wand, “ Bibbityy, bobbity, boo foo” -- something like that.
I can scoop one out and give it a popsicle-stick mast and a paper sail and sail it across my swimming pool.
I can cut it up in chunks and feed it to my dog.
I can play “caveman” and it’ll be my club.
I could cook it and eat it, but I wouldn’t want to.
I could ask my mom to grate some and make zucchini bread.
I could ask my mom to grate some and make zucchini crab cakes, which I hate but my brother and sister love!
I could bang it on my head or on yours.
I could dress it up and pretend it’s a doll baby and I’d call her,
Zelda the Zucchini!
A Perfect Day
A Perfect Day
Of Homeschooling
3d or 4th grade
“Good Morning!”
“Sam, it’s ll:00 a.m. and you can have ice cream for breakfast”
“ICE CREAM for BREAKFAST!!!!!!! Yay! Yay!”
After I’d had two big bowls of banana pudding ice cream, Mom came back in the kitchen and said, “Go get dressed and get ready for school.”
“Well, ready to do school? Go write your paper for writing club”
I went to my computer and it was all written.
“Hey, mom, here it is.”
“ Oh, ok. Now, go do math, and try to do it as fast as you did this.
When I opened my math book, the next assignment was all done. So, I yelled to my mom, “It’s all done mom.” “Wow, I’m impressed; You’re really fast today!”
I smiled and laughed.
“Now, one more thing and then we’ll be done. Do your Language Arts.”
“Ok, and it was done too!!!!!”
“Well then, you’re all done!!!!!!!”
And then I woke up and it was all a dream!
“ Sam, wake up! You should have been up at 8:00!!!
Of Homeschooling
3d or 4th grade
“Good Morning!”
“Sam, it’s ll:00 a.m. and you can have ice cream for breakfast”
“ICE CREAM for BREAKFAST!!!!!!! Yay! Yay!”
After I’d had two big bowls of banana pudding ice cream, Mom came back in the kitchen and said, “Go get dressed and get ready for school.”
“Well, ready to do school? Go write your paper for writing club”
I went to my computer and it was all written.
“Hey, mom, here it is.”
“ Oh, ok. Now, go do math, and try to do it as fast as you did this.
When I opened my math book, the next assignment was all done. So, I yelled to my mom, “It’s all done mom.” “Wow, I’m impressed; You’re really fast today!”
I smiled and laughed.
“Now, one more thing and then we’ll be done. Do your Language Arts.”
“Ok, and it was done too!!!!!”
“Well then, you’re all done!!!!!!!”
And then I woke up and it was all a dream!
“ Sam, wake up! You should have been up at 8:00!!!
George Washington Carver Book Report
October 5, 2001
Samantha Weber
Grade 4
Language Art through History
GEORGE WASHINGTON CARVER
George Washington Carver was born in 1864 to a slave woman near Diamond Grove, Missouri. While he was still a baby, he and his mother were stolen from their owners, Moses and Sue Carver. The Carvers hired a bushwhacker to try and find them and bring them back, but only the baby was found and the mother was never heard of again. The Carvers kept George, as well as his older brother Jim who hadn’t been stolen, and brought them up together. George was very frail and couldn’t do hard work, but he helped around the house with “Aunt” Sue. He was good with his hands though and when he saw Aunt Sue knitting and crocheting, he asked himself, “Why can’t I do that?” And he did – he taught himself and was very good at it all his life.
George Carver was black and lived after the Civil War. Although blacks were “free” then, they did not have the same rights or respect as whites. He lived in such a way as to bring respect to himself and to his race. He became famous in his own lifetime and became the “Father of Synthetics.” (A synthetic is a product made by taking something apart chemically and then putting the parts back together differently. It is not a naturally existing material, but is manmade.) But, he had many more “claims to fame.” Even when he was a young boy, he was called “The Plant Doctor” because he was able to take people’s plants that were dying and make them well again. He was also a very talented artist and won an award for some of his work at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. Saving the South by introducing the peanut and the sweet potato and kicking out “King Cotton” who had ruined the soil was also one of his great achievements.
Some “little” things about him that impressed me were that he got up a 4 o’clock in the morning at the farm where he grew up and that when he was 10 years old he went to Neosho 8 miles away from the Carver farm. He moved there all by himself so that he could go to school. All he had to take with him was a sack of food that Aunt Sue gave him. The Carvers were very sad to see him go, but they knew that George wanted an education very badly and in Neosho there was a school for black children.
George had no money lots of times but he did different things to earn money, food, or housing. There were three things he always kept in his mind when he moved from place to place: 1) Where shall I sleep? 2) What shall I eat? And 3) What shall I do? Sometimes he did errands for people: cooking, cleaning, or working with his hands knitting or crocheting. Then someone taught him how to “do laundry” and he was able to start his own laundry business, which he even continued when he finally got to go to a college.
Things that I learned from reading about him are:
• that getting a good education is important.
• “Keep on keeping on” (this paper is a good example for one of those times!) even when you feel like giving up.
• Making money has nothing to do with true accomplishment.
• Living a simple life is okay.
In the book I read about him, by Anne Terry White as well as at the website, http://www.cr.nps.gov/museum/exhibits/tuskegee/gwcoverview.htm, God was a big part of George’s life. He believed God had a call and a plan for him. Doing what God wanted him to do was the most important thing to him. There were many times when God was evident in his life. The woods were a special place to George because when he had to take care of plants for his neighbors he always took them back to the woods and he could almost feel God there. (I thought this was kind of neat because I think that if I had been George, knowing I’d been stolen as a baby, I would have been afraid to go off in the woods alone.) Also when he was a boy, he had a dream about a pumpkin in a cornfield carved out by a knife. In a cornfield around where he lived, he found a knife the very next day. He thought God had given him the knife. It was an important sign to him that God knew him and cared for him because he had wanted a knife for a long time.
Starting with George’s first trip to Neosho, God always provided for his needs. He moved often and every time he went pretty much without anything and without knowing where he would get food or shelter. He seemed to have a lot of faith that God would provide and God was always faithful.
I think that George W. Carver could always keep keeping on because he believed that God had something important for him to do. I liked the story of his life because it encourages me to believe that God has a plan for me and that I should keep doing my best for God.
Samantha Weber
Grade 4
Language Art through History
GEORGE WASHINGTON CARVER
George Washington Carver was born in 1864 to a slave woman near Diamond Grove, Missouri. While he was still a baby, he and his mother were stolen from their owners, Moses and Sue Carver. The Carvers hired a bushwhacker to try and find them and bring them back, but only the baby was found and the mother was never heard of again. The Carvers kept George, as well as his older brother Jim who hadn’t been stolen, and brought them up together. George was very frail and couldn’t do hard work, but he helped around the house with “Aunt” Sue. He was good with his hands though and when he saw Aunt Sue knitting and crocheting, he asked himself, “Why can’t I do that?” And he did – he taught himself and was very good at it all his life.
George Carver was black and lived after the Civil War. Although blacks were “free” then, they did not have the same rights or respect as whites. He lived in such a way as to bring respect to himself and to his race. He became famous in his own lifetime and became the “Father of Synthetics.” (A synthetic is a product made by taking something apart chemically and then putting the parts back together differently. It is not a naturally existing material, but is manmade.) But, he had many more “claims to fame.” Even when he was a young boy, he was called “The Plant Doctor” because he was able to take people’s plants that were dying and make them well again. He was also a very talented artist and won an award for some of his work at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. Saving the South by introducing the peanut and the sweet potato and kicking out “King Cotton” who had ruined the soil was also one of his great achievements.
Some “little” things about him that impressed me were that he got up a 4 o’clock in the morning at the farm where he grew up and that when he was 10 years old he went to Neosho 8 miles away from the Carver farm. He moved there all by himself so that he could go to school. All he had to take with him was a sack of food that Aunt Sue gave him. The Carvers were very sad to see him go, but they knew that George wanted an education very badly and in Neosho there was a school for black children.
George had no money lots of times but he did different things to earn money, food, or housing. There were three things he always kept in his mind when he moved from place to place: 1) Where shall I sleep? 2) What shall I eat? And 3) What shall I do? Sometimes he did errands for people: cooking, cleaning, or working with his hands knitting or crocheting. Then someone taught him how to “do laundry” and he was able to start his own laundry business, which he even continued when he finally got to go to a college.
Things that I learned from reading about him are:
• that getting a good education is important.
• “Keep on keeping on” (this paper is a good example for one of those times!) even when you feel like giving up.
• Making money has nothing to do with true accomplishment.
• Living a simple life is okay.
In the book I read about him, by Anne Terry White as well as at the website, http://www.cr.nps.gov/museum/exhibits/tuskegee/gwcoverview.htm, God was a big part of George’s life. He believed God had a call and a plan for him. Doing what God wanted him to do was the most important thing to him. There were many times when God was evident in his life. The woods were a special place to George because when he had to take care of plants for his neighbors he always took them back to the woods and he could almost feel God there. (I thought this was kind of neat because I think that if I had been George, knowing I’d been stolen as a baby, I would have been afraid to go off in the woods alone.) Also when he was a boy, he had a dream about a pumpkin in a cornfield carved out by a knife. In a cornfield around where he lived, he found a knife the very next day. He thought God had given him the knife. It was an important sign to him that God knew him and cared for him because he had wanted a knife for a long time.
Starting with George’s first trip to Neosho, God always provided for his needs. He moved often and every time he went pretty much without anything and without knowing where he would get food or shelter. He seemed to have a lot of faith that God would provide and God was always faithful.
I think that George W. Carver could always keep keeping on because he believed that God had something important for him to do. I liked the story of his life because it encourages me to believe that God has a plan for me and that I should keep doing my best for God.
"In the Trenches" soliloquy never given
Six days in the trenches – that’s enough for me! Too much, actually! I’m glad it’s not 1914 though – took the British Army almost a year to figure out soldiers needed to be issued several pairs of socks. Can’t begin to keep your feet dry if you don’t have dry socks. I don’t know who came up with the idea of the duckboards they have down overtop all the muck and mud. If I knew, I’d sure shake his hand and thank him.
I can’t wait to get rid of these clothes – they’re full of lice. The critters breed in the seams. I’m so itchy all the time – it’s impossible to sleep. I take this comb and run it along my skin to rake ‘em off. Ya know, I saw a fellow once down in the trench was about to go crazy with the itching. He tore off his shirt and threw it on the ground and the thing practically walked away! It was alive with those lice!
Boy, it’s good to be outta that trench! The only thing that ever helped was having a cigarette. I’d just hold onto my cigarette, take a few puffs, and pretend like everything was okay. Then, all of a sudden, the shellfire would start up. I was sitting smoking my cigarette and talking to this other guy one time when a shell blew up right behind him – the front of him seemed okay, but he took a big piece of shrapnel in the back of his head. I thought it was funny how he didn’t say anything else – then he fell forward and I saw. Like that everyday, you never knew if you were about to breathe your last.
Not that the air smelled that good – with the pit-toilet down in the trench, and the muck and the mud and dead bodies – stinks. The rats sure like it though.. They like us too. Heh, he, he, - my buddy woke up one time and found he was hugging this rat – it was the size of a teddy bear! Oh, my gosh, what’s this? I told you those rats like us!
I’d rather have the rats than the lice. Ya know, if I hadn’t gotten out of the trench today, I was wondering how one of them would taste. All the food they manage to bring up during the night tastes the same – and it ain’t good! I want something to chew – sure can’t chew the biscuits. I took a rock I found and tried to bust one into small enough pieces that I could just kinda suck on. Wonder if you couldn’t cook and eat one these rats?
You think all this sounds pretty bad? That’s all the easy stuff. Night patrol – that’s what I don’t ever want to do again. But, we gotta know what those Germans are up to. I only had to go once – on my belly, took all night, cause you gotta go so quiet and slow. Fortunately the patrol I was with knew the land, but one time we had a partrol go out and this one guy got hung up in the barb wire. He couldn’t get lose, we heard him crying out there all night. Nobody could get to him cause the Germans kept sending up those flares on little parachutes that light up the sky. In the morning, they shot him.
I can’t wait to get rid of these clothes – they’re full of lice. The critters breed in the seams. I’m so itchy all the time – it’s impossible to sleep. I take this comb and run it along my skin to rake ‘em off. Ya know, I saw a fellow once down in the trench was about to go crazy with the itching. He tore off his shirt and threw it on the ground and the thing practically walked away! It was alive with those lice!
Boy, it’s good to be outta that trench! The only thing that ever helped was having a cigarette. I’d just hold onto my cigarette, take a few puffs, and pretend like everything was okay. Then, all of a sudden, the shellfire would start up. I was sitting smoking my cigarette and talking to this other guy one time when a shell blew up right behind him – the front of him seemed okay, but he took a big piece of shrapnel in the back of his head. I thought it was funny how he didn’t say anything else – then he fell forward and I saw. Like that everyday, you never knew if you were about to breathe your last.
Not that the air smelled that good – with the pit-toilet down in the trench, and the muck and the mud and dead bodies – stinks. The rats sure like it though.. They like us too. Heh, he, he, - my buddy woke up one time and found he was hugging this rat – it was the size of a teddy bear! Oh, my gosh, what’s this? I told you those rats like us!
I’d rather have the rats than the lice. Ya know, if I hadn’t gotten out of the trench today, I was wondering how one of them would taste. All the food they manage to bring up during the night tastes the same – and it ain’t good! I want something to chew – sure can’t chew the biscuits. I took a rock I found and tried to bust one into small enough pieces that I could just kinda suck on. Wonder if you couldn’t cook and eat one these rats?
You think all this sounds pretty bad? That’s all the easy stuff. Night patrol – that’s what I don’t ever want to do again. But, we gotta know what those Germans are up to. I only had to go once – on my belly, took all night, cause you gotta go so quiet and slow. Fortunately the patrol I was with knew the land, but one time we had a partrol go out and this one guy got hung up in the barb wire. He couldn’t get lose, we heard him crying out there all night. Nobody could get to him cause the Germans kept sending up those flares on little parachutes that light up the sky. In the morning, they shot him.
Shelly Home -- just in the nick of time!
My cat Shelly was missing. This wasn’t our only cat. Our other cats were busy eating some food. but not Shelly -- she was out in the miserable world all alone! And we were looking for her. She had disappeared about three weeks ago. and we had been looking for her ever since. Before she disappeared she was getting really fat! Shelly was a calico, and everyone knows all calicos are females.
Now to get to know what kind of cat Shelly really was I’ll tell you a couple quick stories about Shelly and individuals in my family. First there was the time when my mom was working in the garden and bent down with the hoe. All of a sudden Shelly jumped up on my mom’s back. Pretty funny, huh? Then there was the time when my sister was sitting down to practice piano and Shelly was asleep on the far end of the couch. My sister sat down and started playing the piano. Shelly got up went over to my sister’s arm and bit her on the elbow, and then went and laid down again to go back to sleep like nothing had happened. Yep, interesting cat, huh? That is nothing compared to what is next. My sister and I were heading out the door to go to Washington D. C., and had the one job that was the hardest, getting Shelly outside with us. The rest of the family were in the car waiting for my sister and I to come down so we could leave. I went to grab up Shelly, and she started pawing at us. (like she does when we walk by and she is under the bed and jumps out to grab our feet. That’s how she got the nickname Machine Gun Shelly.) We tried one more time, and as incredible as this sounds, Shelly jumped up and did a back flip. Now to the real story now that you know a little bit about Shelly.
Going back to where we left off, we were driving around looking for Shelly. But now it was going on 9:00 p.m., and we were all exhausted. We decided we did enough searching for one night and headed home. I had to get up in the morning and go to Vacation Bible School.
RINGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!! It was 7:30 a.m. I got dressed in my favorite new jeans and a cool shirt, then went to the kitchen to eat breakfast. After I ate and was ready to go, I grabbed my backpack and went out the door to my ride. When I got back it was lunch time, and I was starved after memorizing verses and watching a puppet show and doing crafts. I was happy that my friend had come home with me. We went outside to play while our parents talked about me going home with my friend. When we were playing tag, all of a sudden Shelly came out of the bushes!!!!! I ran over and called, “time-out.” When I got Shelly back in the house, everyone was celebrating! We were all happy Shelly was home, and I could go to my friend’s house, and did I mention, Shelly was home!!!!! When I got back from my friend’s around 3:00 p.m., my mom was downstairs with my sister on a ladder fishing into the drop ceiling. When I asked them what in the world they were doing, they simply said Shelly had kittens in the ceiling and that they were trying to get them out. Was Shelly coming home really “just in the nick of time?” What a coincidence!
Kennywood Memories
Writing Club, September 27, 2002
Kennywood Experiences
“Jamie! I don’t think I want to go on this! It looks pretty scary, and I’m eating dip n’ dots annnnnd……”
“Kristi, it’s fine!’
Obviously, my sister wasn’t going to be very much help! To make things worse, Jamie said we had to sit in the very front seats to feel the excitement. I thought the middle seats would give us a better view. I bet I’d get sick on the ride, Maybe I’ll just grind my teeth and not think about it. That always helps. I stood and watched as people hung upside down and screamed. I looked around for mom. She was sitting on a bench, pretty far away. I gave the rest of my dip n’ dots to Jamie and moved back in the line, behind her four friends that were all talking and paying no attention to me. I kept thinking how I might throw up and how awful that feeling is when that happens. I still had a lot of other rides I really wanted to go on. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was my mom and she wanted to know if I really wanted to get on this ride. I said, “Oh, yes, I can do it!” Then mom walked away, and the man putting people off and on, said, “Next.”
Kennywood Experiences
“Jamie! I don’t think I want to go on this! It looks pretty scary, and I’m eating dip n’ dots annnnnd……”
“Kristi, it’s fine!’
Obviously, my sister wasn’t going to be very much help! To make things worse, Jamie said we had to sit in the very front seats to feel the excitement. I thought the middle seats would give us a better view. I bet I’d get sick on the ride, Maybe I’ll just grind my teeth and not think about it. That always helps. I stood and watched as people hung upside down and screamed. I looked around for mom. She was sitting on a bench, pretty far away. I gave the rest of my dip n’ dots to Jamie and moved back in the line, behind her four friends that were all talking and paying no attention to me. I kept thinking how I might throw up and how awful that feeling is when that happens. I still had a lot of other rides I really wanted to go on. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was my mom and she wanted to know if I really wanted to get on this ride. I said, “Oh, yes, I can do it!” Then mom walked away, and the man putting people off and on, said, “Next.”
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Mary Cassatt - My favorite artist
Mary Cassatt is my favorite artist and I first got interested in her because she was from Pennsylvania. I recently discovered that she grew up around Pittsburgh. She is an impressionist artist. The impressionists lived mostly in the 1800’s and their art is described as being “free and sunny”. They liked to go outside and paint.
One of the things you can see about Mary Cassatt’s painting is that she painted a lot of women and children. Artists that came before her painted many portraits where people posed like we might do today to have their picture painted. But in Cassatt’s paintings the people look like they are not posing or don’t even care that someone is painting their picture. There’s one painting called, The Cup of Tea, that’s of her sister that especially looks this way.
Even though Mrs. Cassatt grew up in Pennsylvania, she left here to go to Paris and be among other impressionist artists. It was unusual for a woman to become an artist and she really had to prove herself. A good friend of hers was Edgar Degas who is famous for his beautiful paintings of ballerinas.
One of the things you can see about Mary Cassatt’s painting is that she painted a lot of women and children. Artists that came before her painted many portraits where people posed like we might do today to have their picture painted. But in Cassatt’s paintings the people look like they are not posing or don’t even care that someone is painting their picture. There’s one painting called, The Cup of Tea, that’s of her sister that especially looks this way.
Even though Mrs. Cassatt grew up in Pennsylvania, she left here to go to Paris and be among other impressionist artists. It was unusual for a woman to become an artist and she really had to prove herself. A good friend of hers was Edgar Degas who is famous for his beautiful paintings of ballerinas.
Speech for Cyberschool
Presented by Alison in Capitol Rotunda, Harrisburg
Teaching children in their home has been successful for our family. We graduated a daughter from homeschool last year who is now attending The Ohio State University Honors College on a full scholarship and entered with sophomore standing. She is also a National Merit Scholar. We call that Academic success.
She took many online courses: chemistry, AP US HISTORY, AP MACRO AND MICRO ECONOMICS. She also used video courses, and courses from local community colleges, and some correspondence courses.
Our family has looked at educational resources from a consumer’s perspective because we have paid course by course, text by text. The least expensive course was $150.00; the most expensive course was $700.00. It adds up.
Education is costly – not everyone realizes just how much it does cost – but ask any homeschooling parent how expensive it is – especially where one of them has given up one of those two-incomes most families need just to get by.
Our state legislators know how expensive education is though – they allocate over 40% of our tax dollars to be spent on it and that does not include your local school tax dollars. But that money never seems to get to those of us who want to try a better way, a different way.
Because the online courses my older daughter took were so successful and enabled her to earn the highest grades on AP exams or to CLEP out of many college courses, and because our youngest (soon to be 10) wants to be “just like her big sis,” we decided to experiment with The Einstein Academy Charter School.
We will always wonder what it would have been like if the school had received the monies it expected to have when it expected to have them. We’ll never know.
A week ago, we were all thinking how wonderful it was that the school was just about fully operational – all of our classes were up and running and we were moving rapidly ahead. In our Language Arts through History class my daughter was using the web to find out about Condaleeza Rice and Colin Powell and Ralph Bunch and a dozen other well known black leaders. Then all of a sudden, we hear that the Department of Education is going to withhold the school’s funding – again!
That night my daughter fell asleep crying and asking Why would they do that to my school? Is my school going to have to close?
I couldn’t answer her questions. That’s why I’m here in Harrisburg today. Does the PDE want to investigate the school
–
or do they just want to put such a stranglehold on the school that it will simply die.
Alison Weber
155 Spohn Road
Freeport PA 16229
Teaching children in their home has been successful for our family. We graduated a daughter from homeschool last year who is now attending The Ohio State University Honors College on a full scholarship and entered with sophomore standing. She is also a National Merit Scholar. We call that Academic success.
She took many online courses: chemistry, AP US HISTORY, AP MACRO AND MICRO ECONOMICS. She also used video courses, and courses from local community colleges, and some correspondence courses.
Our family has looked at educational resources from a consumer’s perspective because we have paid course by course, text by text. The least expensive course was $150.00; the most expensive course was $700.00. It adds up.
Education is costly – not everyone realizes just how much it does cost – but ask any homeschooling parent how expensive it is – especially where one of them has given up one of those two-incomes most families need just to get by.
Our state legislators know how expensive education is though – they allocate over 40% of our tax dollars to be spent on it and that does not include your local school tax dollars. But that money never seems to get to those of us who want to try a better way, a different way.
Because the online courses my older daughter took were so successful and enabled her to earn the highest grades on AP exams or to CLEP out of many college courses, and because our youngest (soon to be 10) wants to be “just like her big sis,” we decided to experiment with The Einstein Academy Charter School.
We will always wonder what it would have been like if the school had received the monies it expected to have when it expected to have them. We’ll never know.
A week ago, we were all thinking how wonderful it was that the school was just about fully operational – all of our classes were up and running and we were moving rapidly ahead. In our Language Arts through History class my daughter was using the web to find out about Condaleeza Rice and Colin Powell and Ralph Bunch and a dozen other well known black leaders. Then all of a sudden, we hear that the Department of Education is going to withhold the school’s funding – again!
That night my daughter fell asleep crying and asking Why would they do that to my school? Is my school going to have to close?
I couldn’t answer her questions. That’s why I’m here in Harrisburg today. Does the PDE want to investigate the school
–
or do they just want to put such a stranglehold on the school that it will simply die.
Alison Weber
155 Spohn Road
Freeport PA 16229
Pastor Jeff's Recommendation for Alexa
JEFFREY YOUELL
1112 Highland Avenue, Tarentum, Pennsylvania 15084
(724) 226-0678, youell@nb.net
December 31, 2000
Ladies and Gentlemen, Ref: Alexa Weber, Scholarship Recommendation
It is my privilege to recommend to you Alexa Weber for consideration in this scholarship award. As her pastor and friend of her family, I have had firsthand opportunity to see her personal growth and maturing through her teenage years. While I am aware of and would cite many of her achievements through the years I have known her, I would like to note those that I believe particularly indicate who Alexa is and what her life is about.
I was impressed watching a confident young lady step off of an airplane in a third world country and immediately reach out to meet and care for people living in the most desperate situations. I have seen Alexa instantly communicate with and bring her unique variety of enthusiasm to the young and old, serving any and every need. On that mission field the genuineness of her love and passion infected and cheered large children’s groups, young adult language classes, and seniors who just needed a little personal attention. In both playing with the little ones and her tenderness with all, I witnessed the heart and selfless devotion that this young lady brought to a ministry team and mission effort in Haiti. Her example, initiative, and tireless work set the pace for her team. I am proud to have seen her in action and been a part of her team.
Alexa’s creative mind and hand have provided special moments of worship and effective ministry for our fellowship. Her signing and artistic interpretation of songs have brought some beautifully distinct experiences to our public worship services. She has combined her own personal flare with serious performance and she has lifted us all. Whether up front or behind the scenes, she brings a wonderful spirit and an inspiring talent to all she undertakes: Writing and directing children’s plays, planning and organizing youth group service projects, leading in worship gatherings, and good one-on-one help, to mention a few.
Even more than participating in volunteer service, Alexa has been proactive in the brainstorming, planning, and follow-through of many community efforts. As she has shared ideas with other adult leaders and me, she has demonstrated an appropriate respect and deference to those with whom she works. She has brought both an honest excitement and a responsible level-headedness to the many efforts in this church ministry.
Alexa has been a tireless worker and motivates us all with her commitment to excellence in anything she does. I have seen some of the remarkable fruits of her labor in professional-quality websites she has designed and constructed, editing and compiling photo presentations of youth group projects, and writing and directing children’s programs. Her schoolwork reflects this same determination to do and bring her absolute best to all she undertakes.
Alexa is one of the brightest, most diligent, and loving young people I have ever met. She honors her parents and credits her family with providing a great home for learning and maturing. She has converted these strengths and blessings into exceptional personal growth and accomplishment. She has earned the admiration of her peers and adults who have come to know and work with her. I am at the top of that list. Alexa will be great in whatever she pursues in the years ahead. I commend her to you for your highest and first consideration for any awards and assistance. You would be investing in a young life that is already shining brightly and has extraordinary possibility for great service ahead.
I thank you for the honor of speaking for Alexa.
Sincerely yours,
Jeff Youell
Pastor, Christ Community Fellowship
Evangelical Free Church of America
1112 Highland Avenue, Tarentum, Pennsylvania 15084
(724) 226-0678, youell@nb.net
December 31, 2000
Ladies and Gentlemen, Ref: Alexa Weber, Scholarship Recommendation
It is my privilege to recommend to you Alexa Weber for consideration in this scholarship award. As her pastor and friend of her family, I have had firsthand opportunity to see her personal growth and maturing through her teenage years. While I am aware of and would cite many of her achievements through the years I have known her, I would like to note those that I believe particularly indicate who Alexa is and what her life is about.
I was impressed watching a confident young lady step off of an airplane in a third world country and immediately reach out to meet and care for people living in the most desperate situations. I have seen Alexa instantly communicate with and bring her unique variety of enthusiasm to the young and old, serving any and every need. On that mission field the genuineness of her love and passion infected and cheered large children’s groups, young adult language classes, and seniors who just needed a little personal attention. In both playing with the little ones and her tenderness with all, I witnessed the heart and selfless devotion that this young lady brought to a ministry team and mission effort in Haiti. Her example, initiative, and tireless work set the pace for her team. I am proud to have seen her in action and been a part of her team.
Alexa’s creative mind and hand have provided special moments of worship and effective ministry for our fellowship. Her signing and artistic interpretation of songs have brought some beautifully distinct experiences to our public worship services. She has combined her own personal flare with serious performance and she has lifted us all. Whether up front or behind the scenes, she brings a wonderful spirit and an inspiring talent to all she undertakes: Writing and directing children’s plays, planning and organizing youth group service projects, leading in worship gatherings, and good one-on-one help, to mention a few.
Even more than participating in volunteer service, Alexa has been proactive in the brainstorming, planning, and follow-through of many community efforts. As she has shared ideas with other adult leaders and me, she has demonstrated an appropriate respect and deference to those with whom she works. She has brought both an honest excitement and a responsible level-headedness to the many efforts in this church ministry.
Alexa has been a tireless worker and motivates us all with her commitment to excellence in anything she does. I have seen some of the remarkable fruits of her labor in professional-quality websites she has designed and constructed, editing and compiling photo presentations of youth group projects, and writing and directing children’s programs. Her schoolwork reflects this same determination to do and bring her absolute best to all she undertakes.
Alexa is one of the brightest, most diligent, and loving young people I have ever met. She honors her parents and credits her family with providing a great home for learning and maturing. She has converted these strengths and blessings into exceptional personal growth and accomplishment. She has earned the admiration of her peers and adults who have come to know and work with her. I am at the top of that list. Alexa will be great in whatever she pursues in the years ahead. I commend her to you for your highest and first consideration for any awards and assistance. You would be investing in a young life that is already shining brightly and has extraordinary possibility for great service ahead.
I thank you for the honor of speaking for Alexa.
Sincerely yours,
Jeff Youell
Pastor, Christ Community Fellowship
Evangelical Free Church of America
My OSU Packing List
Everyday Necessities
Day-to-day clothes, hanging around clothes, church/dressy clothes, both cool and warm.
PJ’s! Both long and short.
Swimsuit, gymn clothes
Socks, stockings, underclothes
Toiletries:
o Toothbrush + Toothpaste
o Contact case, solution, contacts, drops
o Earring stuff
o Nail clippers, file, polish, remover
o D.O.
Hair – Brush, comb, bands, gumbands, clips
Shower:
o Flip-flops
o Caddy
o Body-wash + Soap + Pouf
o Shaving cream + razor
o Shampoo + cream rinse
o Two big towels
o Wash-cloth and hand-towel
o Blue towel
Laundry detergent, basket/bag, iron, board
Raingear – poncho, pocket-umbrella
OSU jacket, winter coat (?), gloves (?)
Coat-hangers
Alarm clock
Cup, bowl, plate, mug, silverware, tupperware
Dorm survival kit
Purse, planner (?), backpack, belt-pack
Keylaces + BuckID
Cleaning – Fantastic, Windex, paper-towels
First Aid – Ibupropen, Cotton balls/swabs, hydrogen peroxide (?)
School/Office Supplies
Pens – gel and normal, pencils – retractable
Art supplies – basic erasers and drawing tools
Prismacolors Colored Pencils
Stapler, hole-punch, scotch tape, scissors
Adhesives – Photo-stickers, tacky, glue sticks
Papers – Photo, plain printer paper, inkjet, lined, ivory, card-stock, scrapbook
Index cards and card binder
Personal notebook/notepad or steno pad
Graphing calculator
Desk-set – trays, pen-holder (Coke glass), bookends, drawer-organizer, CD-holder
Paperclips, staples, rubber-bands
Batteries
Trapper for classes, expenses and budget, planner and steno-pad for notes
Highlighters, white-out
Floppy disks and CD-RWs
File-folders and hanging folders
Pencil sharpener
Room Furnishings
Sheets, mattress-pad, pillows + cases, comforter
Coca Cola throw-blanket
Sleeping-bag
Zach’s old curtains
Bed-pillow for reading (?)
Bed-side shelf
Green carpet
Lamps: Desk lamp, bedside/reading lamp, flo-lamp, target lamp, lava-lite, black-lite, halogen
Fan and personal fan
Picture frames and select decorative items
Stuffed cat or two
Glow-in-the-dark stars
Posters, calendars, picture from Han, magnets
Computer, monitor, printer, scanner, surge thing
CD Player (?)
Extension cords
File-storage box and contents
Personal Items
Shoebox of/for photographs
Shoebox of past journals and notebooks
Empty shoebox for mementos and souvenirs
Empty shoebox for junk and doohickys
Guitar, music and picks; piano music
CD collection in a CD case
Camera and film
Photo albums, senior scrapbook (?)
Cards, stickers, envelopes, stamps
Movies (?) and personal videos (?)
UNO cards and playing cards, water-spoons (?)
Bop-it
Books, Reference and Binders
Ohio State Guide binder
Scholarship binder
Christianity-Casebook binder
Bible and notebook
Favorite, quotable, useful books: Confessions of a College Freshman, The Genesee Diary, Celebration of Discipline, The Case for Christ, When God Writes Your Love Story, Mere Christianity, Conspiracy of Kindness, A Ready Defense, Type Talk, Fresh Wind Fresh Fire, How to Be . . . Selfish Pig
Useful, educational, etc. books: Night, 35mm Photography, Berlitz Grammar and Verb books, my French notebook from French in Action
Fun, conversational books: Conversation Starters, 2001 Things, Are You Normal
Day-to-day clothes, hanging around clothes, church/dressy clothes, both cool and warm.
PJ’s! Both long and short.
Swimsuit, gymn clothes
Socks, stockings, underclothes
Toiletries:
o Toothbrush + Toothpaste
o Contact case, solution, contacts, drops
o Earring stuff
o Nail clippers, file, polish, remover
o D.O.
Hair – Brush, comb, bands, gumbands, clips
Shower:
o Flip-flops
o Caddy
o Body-wash + Soap + Pouf
o Shaving cream + razor
o Shampoo + cream rinse
o Two big towels
o Wash-cloth and hand-towel
o Blue towel
Laundry detergent, basket/bag, iron, board
Raingear – poncho, pocket-umbrella
OSU jacket, winter coat (?), gloves (?)
Coat-hangers
Alarm clock
Cup, bowl, plate, mug, silverware, tupperware
Dorm survival kit
Purse, planner (?), backpack, belt-pack
Keylaces + BuckID
Cleaning – Fantastic, Windex, paper-towels
First Aid – Ibupropen, Cotton balls/swabs, hydrogen peroxide (?)
School/Office Supplies
Pens – gel and normal, pencils – retractable
Art supplies – basic erasers and drawing tools
Prismacolors Colored Pencils
Stapler, hole-punch, scotch tape, scissors
Adhesives – Photo-stickers, tacky, glue sticks
Papers – Photo, plain printer paper, inkjet, lined, ivory, card-stock, scrapbook
Index cards and card binder
Personal notebook/notepad or steno pad
Graphing calculator
Desk-set – trays, pen-holder (Coke glass), bookends, drawer-organizer, CD-holder
Paperclips, staples, rubber-bands
Batteries
Trapper for classes, expenses and budget, planner and steno-pad for notes
Highlighters, white-out
Floppy disks and CD-RWs
File-folders and hanging folders
Pencil sharpener
Room Furnishings
Sheets, mattress-pad, pillows + cases, comforter
Coca Cola throw-blanket
Sleeping-bag
Zach’s old curtains
Bed-pillow for reading (?)
Bed-side shelf
Green carpet
Lamps: Desk lamp, bedside/reading lamp, flo-lamp, target lamp, lava-lite, black-lite, halogen
Fan and personal fan
Picture frames and select decorative items
Stuffed cat or two
Glow-in-the-dark stars
Posters, calendars, picture from Han, magnets
Computer, monitor, printer, scanner, surge thing
CD Player (?)
Extension cords
File-storage box and contents
Personal Items
Shoebox of/for photographs
Shoebox of past journals and notebooks
Empty shoebox for mementos and souvenirs
Empty shoebox for junk and doohickys
Guitar, music and picks; piano music
CD collection in a CD case
Camera and film
Photo albums, senior scrapbook (?)
Cards, stickers, envelopes, stamps
Movies (?) and personal videos (?)
UNO cards and playing cards, water-spoons (?)
Bop-it
Books, Reference and Binders
Ohio State Guide binder
Scholarship binder
Christianity-Casebook binder
Bible and notebook
Favorite, quotable, useful books: Confessions of a College Freshman, The Genesee Diary, Celebration of Discipline, The Case for Christ, When God Writes Your Love Story, Mere Christianity, Conspiracy of Kindness, A Ready Defense, Type Talk, Fresh Wind Fresh Fire, How to Be . . . Selfish Pig
Useful, educational, etc. books: Night, 35mm Photography, Berlitz Grammar and Verb books, my French notebook from French in Action
Fun, conversational books: Conversation Starters, 2001 Things, Are You Normal
My College Search (crashing down) paper
I never believed in “the feeling” until I stepped onto Taylor’s sun-bathed campus one November 99 evening, but from that day on, Taylor University became the light at the end of my homeschool-high-school tunnel: I just knew it was where I belonged. I spent Summer 2000 there, and I loved it all the more. Though the cost was high, I clung to the oft-spoken adage, “Never choose a college based on finances” . . . Until February 2001 came – and brought financial “aid” reports. And the very tunnel came crashing down. “Have you ever felt abandoned? / So lost that you were stranded? / Just like all the walls were closing in and you were left inside.” When in Doubt became my mournful song as I kicked at the rubble and could only wonder “WHY.” I could not move on – the situation was too confusing, with most other colleges’ deadlines having passed, none of the 25+ private scholarships providing any return, and with even my fallbacks falling back for various reasons. Everything had fallen.
I tried to put the pieces together, as I clung to every one of the fallen stones of the path to Taylor, refusing stubbornly to change my mind’s direction. Time was passing. April showers beat me to the ground. And finally I realized the only direction I could go was down. Letting go of all I’d held onto, I fell to my knees. There, God began to speak and I began to listen. I lingered among the muck and rubble, confessing that even if God calls me to stay here yet another year, simply hanging by a moment with him, there’s no place I’d rather be. Though I knew not where I was going, or where or when or whether God would rebuild my tunnel, or where it would end when he did,
I tried to put the pieces together, as I clung to every one of the fallen stones of the path to Taylor, refusing stubbornly to change my mind’s direction. Time was passing. April showers beat me to the ground. And finally I realized the only direction I could go was down. Letting go of all I’d held onto, I fell to my knees. There, God began to speak and I began to listen. I lingered among the muck and rubble, confessing that even if God calls me to stay here yet another year, simply hanging by a moment with him, there’s no place I’d rather be. Though I knew not where I was going, or where or when or whether God would rebuild my tunnel, or where it would end when he did,
Alexa Responds - OSU Lantern article
(a copy of the article Lex responds to is at the bottom of this post)
If a physician abused the Hippocratic Oath, would you blame the oath, or would you blame the doctor that broke it? It would not make sense to blame the oath, but for some reason it makes sense to people, like Andronic Orosan, to blame a religion like Christianity for historical atrocities that are completely inconsistent with its teachings. I doubt, however, that the point of Orosan's article was really to prove that religion has caused most of the world's deaths (a statistically unfounded idea; look it up: atheists have done far worse -- and could do so without acting inconsistently with their beliefs). Such an illogical objection to Christianity is merely an attempt to justify dismissing "religion" altogether. The heart issue, rather, is this: Why do Christians have the audacity to claim that their religion is true -- for everyone?
This is why: Because truth is NOT like ice cream, it is like medicine. With ice cream, you choose what pleases you. With medicine, you must choose what heals. While tolerance simply means avoiding offending anyone or infringing on their happiness, the importance of Christianity's implications requires Christians to do something harder: To love. To say, "Evidence, logic and reality all suggest that Christianity is what heals. In fact, I am convinced, not that it makes me happy all the time, but that it is true, and if it is, it's a matter of life and death. I care enough about you to warn you not to throw off Christianity lightly without considering the evidence. I love you enough that I'll risk our friendship, my reputation, even my life -- because I believe you are worth it." That is the heart of true Christianity.
Despite drawbacks, religion good for some
I never go to church except for the rare family-induced holiday special, and I have joined and left more religious denominations than I can name. I no longer even believe in the Santa Claus-like story of a bearded, all-knowing white man who watches over my thoughts and deeds, gently guiding me down the righteous way.
I'm going to hell.
Religion, I have found, is most often an angry and unforgiving business. It has been at the root of more wars and the cause of more deaths than all the greedy, land-grabbing capitalists combined.
Charismatic con men have fooled our society on their televised telethons. Perverted priests, with protection, commit foul acts against children of their own flock.
Failing to convert us, religious extremists strike against us "savages," trying to tear down the capitalist evil they see inside of us.
These antagonistic preachings are displayed on a lesser scale in our own Oval, as Brother Tom condemns the sinners and whores with vaudevillian style as anti-everything students revile and ridicule him.
Where is the compassionate Jesus many so-called Christians claim to emulate?
Why has God's marketing arm appeared to have taken over in the new millennium, sprouting catchy slogans like "What Would Jesus Do?" and "Why Are U Here?" on everything from sidewalks to bracelets?
Many of the missionaries seem to have become so busy spreading the word, they forget to follow it themselves. Worse still, their faith in goodness seems to have been downgraded to a demand for the destruction of perceived evils.
Yet, we cannot condemn all organized religions. They simply are only as good as the congregation who creates them. A childhood friend of mine "found God" in recent years, and it's made all the difference in his life.
Angry with his parents, defeated by society and unsure of his own skills and purpose, he was lost. He had found a way to care less for himself than he did about others, following only what satisfied him on an instinctual level.
Now he has a path and a plan, a structure by which to define not only himself, but the world in which he interacts. He found his happiness.
Each of us is born with innate skills in some particular areas and certain weaknesses in others.
Our socialization shapes what remains, forming our personalities and belief systems. Race, class, gender and location influence it all, creating the wonderfully unique individuals each one of us has become.
Like flavors of ice cream, no single religion could possibly satisfy us all. Simple spirituality, however, may quench all our thirsts just like the water we all share.
Wouldn't a God just want us all to get along? We'd learn, love and live balanced lives. We'd be kind to our allies and compassionate with the opposition. We'd share our truths but understand they're not absolute.
Our human race is too simple to understand the all-encompassing force weaving through all forms of matter, creating the unique quality of each individual amid a complexity of relationships within the balance of nature. Why must we then continue to barter, belittle and butcher in His name?
Andronic Orosan is a graduating senior in english. He can be reached for comment at andronicporosan@lycos.com.
If a physician abused the Hippocratic Oath, would you blame the oath, or would you blame the doctor that broke it? It would not make sense to blame the oath, but for some reason it makes sense to people, like Andronic Orosan, to blame a religion like Christianity for historical atrocities that are completely inconsistent with its teachings. I doubt, however, that the point of Orosan's article was really to prove that religion has caused most of the world's deaths (a statistically unfounded idea; look it up: atheists have done far worse -- and could do so without acting inconsistently with their beliefs). Such an illogical objection to Christianity is merely an attempt to justify dismissing "religion" altogether. The heart issue, rather, is this: Why do Christians have the audacity to claim that their religion is true -- for everyone?
This is why: Because truth is NOT like ice cream, it is like medicine. With ice cream, you choose what pleases you. With medicine, you must choose what heals. While tolerance simply means avoiding offending anyone or infringing on their happiness, the importance of Christianity's implications requires Christians to do something harder: To love. To say, "Evidence, logic and reality all suggest that Christianity is what heals. In fact, I am convinced, not that it makes me happy all the time, but that it is true, and if it is, it's a matter of life and death. I care enough about you to warn you not to throw off Christianity lightly without considering the evidence. I love you enough that I'll risk our friendship, my reputation, even my life -- because I believe you are worth it." That is the heart of true Christianity.
Despite drawbacks, religion good for some
I never go to church except for the rare family-induced holiday special, and I have joined and left more religious denominations than I can name. I no longer even believe in the Santa Claus-like story of a bearded, all-knowing white man who watches over my thoughts and deeds, gently guiding me down the righteous way.
I'm going to hell.
Religion, I have found, is most often an angry and unforgiving business. It has been at the root of more wars and the cause of more deaths than all the greedy, land-grabbing capitalists combined.
Charismatic con men have fooled our society on their televised telethons. Perverted priests, with protection, commit foul acts against children of their own flock.
Failing to convert us, religious extremists strike against us "savages," trying to tear down the capitalist evil they see inside of us.
These antagonistic preachings are displayed on a lesser scale in our own Oval, as Brother Tom condemns the sinners and whores with vaudevillian style as anti-everything students revile and ridicule him.
Where is the compassionate Jesus many so-called Christians claim to emulate?
Why has God's marketing arm appeared to have taken over in the new millennium, sprouting catchy slogans like "What Would Jesus Do?" and "Why Are U Here?" on everything from sidewalks to bracelets?
Many of the missionaries seem to have become so busy spreading the word, they forget to follow it themselves. Worse still, their faith in goodness seems to have been downgraded to a demand for the destruction of perceived evils.
Yet, we cannot condemn all organized religions. They simply are only as good as the congregation who creates them. A childhood friend of mine "found God" in recent years, and it's made all the difference in his life.
Angry with his parents, defeated by society and unsure of his own skills and purpose, he was lost. He had found a way to care less for himself than he did about others, following only what satisfied him on an instinctual level.
Now he has a path and a plan, a structure by which to define not only himself, but the world in which he interacts. He found his happiness.
Each of us is born with innate skills in some particular areas and certain weaknesses in others.
Our socialization shapes what remains, forming our personalities and belief systems. Race, class, gender and location influence it all, creating the wonderfully unique individuals each one of us has become.
Like flavors of ice cream, no single religion could possibly satisfy us all. Simple spirituality, however, may quench all our thirsts just like the water we all share.
Wouldn't a God just want us all to get along? We'd learn, love and live balanced lives. We'd be kind to our allies and compassionate with the opposition. We'd share our truths but understand they're not absolute.
Our human race is too simple to understand the all-encompassing force weaving through all forms of matter, creating the unique quality of each individual amid a complexity of relationships within the balance of nature. Why must we then continue to barter, belittle and butcher in His name?
Andronic Orosan is a graduating senior in english. He can be reached for comment at andronicporosan@lycos.com.
A Prayer for Our Graduate
A Prayer for Our Graduate
June 28, 2001
Today is a special day for us as Alexa officially is graduated from high school – 13 years of homeschool. Thank You, Lord, for each year, every accomplishment, every obstacle overcome, for the person of faith, dedication, ambition, and love that You have made her in these sometimes long and lonely years. Thank you that we, her family, have had all this time to enjoy and know each other. Thank you for this time to prepare her to the best of our ability to go on now. We pray for You to call her forward – to new relationships, to career and educational pursuits, to new horizons but all within a single-minded pursuit of knowing You.
Bless her relationships and give her friends – true friends who stand upon Your Truth – encouragers. Make her paths straight.
Lord, prepare that special person who will one day be her life’s partner. Develop godly leadership, wisdom, and compassion in him. Give him a servant’s heart like her father’s. Establish the work of his hands and put your glory in him. Mold him and her that they will blend their faith and personalities and spirits into Your Perfect Unity.
Give her the desires of her heart and glorify Yourself in her life and being. Remind her often that You are in control of every detail of her life and You desire to bless her. Help her to acknowledge her utter dependence upon You, remain steadfast in faith, and be gracious to all, ready to give a defense of her faith and show others The Way.
Take her where You want her to go. Be her God and she Your child, your bondswoman.
Amen
June 28, 2001
Today is a special day for us as Alexa officially is graduated from high school – 13 years of homeschool. Thank You, Lord, for each year, every accomplishment, every obstacle overcome, for the person of faith, dedication, ambition, and love that You have made her in these sometimes long and lonely years. Thank you that we, her family, have had all this time to enjoy and know each other. Thank you for this time to prepare her to the best of our ability to go on now. We pray for You to call her forward – to new relationships, to career and educational pursuits, to new horizons but all within a single-minded pursuit of knowing You.
Bless her relationships and give her friends – true friends who stand upon Your Truth – encouragers. Make her paths straight.
Lord, prepare that special person who will one day be her life’s partner. Develop godly leadership, wisdom, and compassion in him. Give him a servant’s heart like her father’s. Establish the work of his hands and put your glory in him. Mold him and her that they will blend their faith and personalities and spirits into Your Perfect Unity.
Give her the desires of her heart and glorify Yourself in her life and being. Remind her often that You are in control of every detail of her life and You desire to bless her. Help her to acknowledge her utter dependence upon You, remain steadfast in faith, and be gracious to all, ready to give a defense of her faith and show others The Way.
Take her where You want her to go. Be her God and she Your child, your bondswoman.
Amen
IM - 1st week of college - lex @ osu
1641 Lincoln House
1810 Cannon Drive
Columbus, Ohio 43210
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
Lexy the Buckeye: oops
Lexy the Buckeye: Suite 1641 Lincoln House
Lexy the Buckeye: you stole my zachy!
CoachMumofSoccer: I did?
Lexy the Buckeye: um ya
CoachMumofSoccer: oh, was he talking to ya
Lexy the Buckeye: i was singing to him
Lexy the Buckeye: yeah
CoachMumofSoccer: good, cause he needs a little cheerin up
CoachMumofSoccer: he doesn't like sitting on the bench in the rain for some reason
CoachMumofSoccer: guess he told ya what happened
CoachMumofSoccer: are you still plannin to call
CoachMumofSoccer: hello
CoachMumofSoccer: are you talking to Eddie
Lexy the Buckeye: no i am trying to see if i can talk to you via im
Lexy the Buckeye: can you hear me
Lexy the Buckeye: can you hear me
Lexy the Buckeye: ?
Lexy the Buckeye: hmm
Lexy the Buckeye: i can't hear you if i am talking
Lexy the Buckeye: so you have to im me
Lexy the Buckeye: mooon
Lexy the Buckeye: no
Lexy the Buckeye: mom
CoachMumofSoccer: we can hear you but can't figure out what to talk into - the french mike
Lexy the Buckeye: Yeah
CoachMumofSoccer: well talk
CoachMumofSoccer: and we'll
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: we hear clear
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: you're playing to us!!!!
CoachMumofSoccer: play us a song
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: a good song
CoachMumofSoccer: who else is there
Lexy the Buckeye: "Cause you oughta know
There's a reason for these changing seasons
God only knows how much your heart can bear
So don't you let go
Cause everybody has their up and down times
Everybody needs to know how much their loved
My friend
So hold on
it's not the end"
Lexy the Buckeye: isn't that a good song now?
CoachMumofSoccer: i've been wondering if you were guitarying
CoachMumofSoccer: i miss your hair
CoachMumofSoccer: changins easosns
CoachMumofSoccer: godlkkdk
CoachMumofSoccer: yes im typing to it
CoachMumofSoccer: kdkdiekdiekdkkkkkkkkkkkk
CoachMumofSoccer: djdjdjdjieieieiekdkdiieieiekkkkk
CoachMumofSoccer: yeya
Lexy the Buckeye: can you really hear me well?
CoachMumofSoccer: no but im just clunking keys to the beat
CoachMumofSoccer: yes hear well
Lexy the Buckeye: okkkk
CoachMumofSoccer: don't stop
CoachMumofSoccer: same some
CoachMumofSoccer: same song
CoachMumofSoccer: how were your classes
CoachMumofSoccer: weird
CoachMumofSoccer: oh no
CoachMumofSoccer: oh no no
CoachMumofSoccer: tell them your mother doesn't approve
CoachMumofSoccer: does everyone else have their cameras
CoachMumofSoccer: wow
CoachMumofSoccer: great
CoachMumofSoccer: is she a design major
CoachMumofSoccer: have you talked to your advisor any
CoachMumofSoccer: why
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: what to do so we can talk back and then you can sing
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: sing
CoachMumofSoccer: i'll cry you sing
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: zach
CoachMumofSoccer: sam went to get something to eat
CoachMumofSoccer: sing
CoachMumofSoccer: don't stop
CoachMumofSoccer: hi kristen
CoachMumofSoccer: oh
CoachMumofSoccer: hi Christine
Lexy the Buckeye: christine
Lexy the Buckeye: yay
CoachMumofSoccer: does Christine sing
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
Lexy the Buckeye: i dont know
Lexy the Buckeye: crying yet
Lexy the Buckeye: ?
Lexy the Buckeye: isn't that a good song now even though you said it was boring and has notune?
CoachMumofSoccer: yes yes yes !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CoachMumofSoccer: I look at the piano and lose it during the day
Lexy the Buckeye: "it's just a love song / cause everybody needs a friend / and I'll be right here for you / it's just a simple prayer / from the bottom of my heart / that he'll never let you go"
Lexy the Buckeye: awww ;-(
Lexy the Buckeye: this songmakes me cry
CoachMumofSoccer: i know
CoachMumofSoccer: did you know its quiet here w/o ya
CoachMumofSoccer: dad just made kettle corn
CoachMumofSoccer: we redid your bathroom
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: ohhh
CoachMumofSoccer: so what about the design class
CoachMumofSoccer: he's in and out
CoachMumofSoccer: art survey into to OSU
CoachMumofSoccer: Hello Michelle
CoachMumofSoccer: how can an art survey course be about osu
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: i remember big ga
CoachMumofSoccer: gal
CoachMumofSoccer: hmmm not sure
CoachMumofSoccer: but i don't understand - yousaid it was about osu - the art survey course?
CoachMumofSoccer: oh, okay
CoachMumofSoccer: sam says you should check your email - she sent you somethin
CoachMumofSoccer: yep
CoachMumofSoccer: she's sitting on the desk w/me
CoachMumofSoccer: she wants to know if you got the second one
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: hurray she says
CoachMumofSoccer: is this the first you've played
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: what did you get at Target or Staples
CoachMumofSoccer: bigger i hope
CoachMumofSoccer: cool
CoachMumofSoccer: hope it works better than mine. I have so many pockets I can't remember where i put what
CoachMumofSoccer: nothing else for your room?
CoachMumofSoccer: I have a package to fix up to send to you
CoachMumofSoccer: yes hello
CoachMumofSoccer: what address do i use?
CoachMumofSoccer: duh
CoachMumofSoccer: duh
CoachMumofSoccer: duh
CoachMumofSoccer: do you really want your supertones
Lexy the Buckeye: Yeah!!!
CoachMumofSoccer: give mother a good address to use then
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: what
Lexy the Buckeye:
1641 Lincoln House
1810 Cannon Drive
Columbus, Ohio 43210
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
Lexy the Buckeye: oops
Lexy the Buckeye: Suite 1641 Lincoln House
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
CoachMumofSoccer: y
CoachMumofSoccer: es
CoachMumofSoccer: what's with all the boys
CoachMumofSoccer: your whole floor is connected i hear
CoachMumofSoccer: i looked at the floor's website
CoachMumofSoccer: could use a little jazzing up
CoachMumofSoccer: NOW that the President has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that Congress has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that our Governor has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that the NY city Mayor has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that the "liberal" media and most other branches of our American society
> have called us to prayer . . .
> AND NOW that our churches are assembling in special prayer . . .
> "Honorable" Justices of the Supreme Court, I have only one question . . .
> Would it be O.K. to pray in our schools??
>
> Signed,
> An American Citizen & Christian
CoachMumofSoccer: I'm looking at my email
CoachMumofSoccer: Look at this I just opened from Linda Burkett:
CoachMumofSoccer: Hi,
Just a quick note to let you know you have been on my mind all week. I was thinking you took Alexa to college this weekend. Was just keeping you in thought and prayer because that can be one of the most bittersweet crossroads for Moms. (Been there, done that.) Often the kids do better than we do.
Have a good day.
Sincerely,
Lin B. :-)
CoachMumofSoccer: I loved that first Acq the Fire in Balt
CoachMumofSoccer: that song reminds me of it
CoachMumofSoccer: how was the candle light ceremony
CoachMumofSoccer: who spoke
CoachMumofSoccer: a what
CoachMumofSoccer: sikh
CoachMumofSoccer: hindu
CoachMumofSoccer: ?? don't know, but thought siks were Hindu
CoachMumofSoccer: no calls to prayer hum
CoachMumofSoccer: are you planning on going to any christian meetings this week
CoachMumofSoccer: good
CoachMumofSoccer: cool
CoachMumofSoccer: can i come
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: wow
CoachMumofSoccer: a free club
CoachMumofSoccer: when is your tumbling class
CoachMumofSoccer: have you thought about checking into piano lessons
CoachMumofSoccer: have you checked out my sorority
CoachMumofSoccer: yep we were too
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: fuzzy
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: so did you find them interesting
CoachMumofSoccer: did they take your name
CoachMumofSoccer: and they know i was an alpha xi
CoachMumofSoccer: Dad just sent me a message: Hey, what about me. Does Alexa have a new name?
CoachMumofSoccer: His name is weighdaddy and I think he'd like to be on here w/us
CoachMumofSoccer: ok i told him
CoachMumofSoccer: weighdaddy: hello
CoachMumofSoccer: alexa says you have to walk up stairs and listen in
weighdaddy: I want to but it's crowded. I was going to join in from here.
CoachMumofSoccer: evidently no can do - it'snot that crowded
CoachMumofSoccer: y'all come
weighdaddy: And bring the kettle corn/
CoachMumofSoccer: i just ate all the kettle corn
CoachMumofSoccer: but i'm thirsty
CoachMumofSoccer: weighdaddy: Okay, I get the picture or is is pitcher
CoachMumofSoccer: actually, it's a computer screen
CoachMumofSoccer: and we only have sound, no pitchers
weighdaddy: you drink computer screens?
CoachMumofSoccer: okay, that was taking it too f
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: lex are you talking to me
CoachMumofSoccer: or someone in room
Lexy the Buckeye: no i was talking to marc
Lexy the Buckeye: lauras boyfriend
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
CoachMumofSoccer: how the food been
CoachMumofSoccer: we had spaghetti
CoachMumofSoccer: with spinach in the sauce
CoachMumofSoccer: for Sam, of course
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: zach is in room typing paper for English and feeling miserable, I think
CoachMumofSoccer: did he tell you about the game
CoachMumofSoccer: getting red carded
CoachMumofSoccer: and thrown out
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: some kid from Mars pulled him down, sat on him, and when Zach threw his elbow back to knock him off, the ref saw that and threw him out. He was crushed - he wanted to play sooooo bad and had to sit through game in rain, no less
Lexy the Buckeye: :-(
Lexy the Buckeye: that sucketh
CoachMumofSoccer: yeseth
CoachMumofSoccer: it was a great game though and they won
CoachMumofSoccer: yes but some are muffled
CoachMumofSoccer: no tell everyone to speak clearly and slowly please
CoachMumofSoccer: Dad's here and he can['t hear
CoachMumofSoccer: either way
CoachMumofSoccer: you know
CoachMumofSoccer: he hears like he spells and types
CoachMumofSoccer: no he hears you now
CoachMumofSoccer: dad thought he could go on his computer and actualy*talk* to you
Lexy the Buckeye: i think you need to plug a mic in for that to work ;-)
Lexy the Buckeye: sometimes it helps
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: i only have buttons to push for push to listen
Lexy the Buckeye: no push to talk?
Lexy the Buckeye: o
Lexy the Buckeye: hmm
Lexy the Buckeye: maybe it wontwork for you to talk ...
Lexy the Buckeye: i dunno
Lexy the Buckeye: i should get off to go to bed soon tho
CoachMumofSoccer: i pushed button that says talk below here and got that i was already in a talk session
Lexy the Buckeye: 11 is my scheduled bedtime at least
CoachMumofSoccer: there's something that says half-duplex: you can talk
CoachMumofSoccer: so how is the food
CoachMumofSoccer: are you getting to all the meals
CoachMumofSoccer: you only got 40 back for breaksfasts for the whole year
CoachMumofSoccer: oh
CoachMumofSoccer: did you get books yet
CoachMumofSoccer: zach says get up and get breakfast!
CoachMumofSoccer: a day w/o oj is like a day w/o sunshine
CoachMumofSoccer: but then there's tomato juice
CoachMumofSoccer: well I'd like to keep this up but I've been sitt
CoachMumofSoccer: did that
CoachMumofSoccer: there's a button now that says push to talk but its not available
CoachMumofSoccer: i like it but it makes me cry
CoachMumofSoccer: it just makes me tear up
CoachMumofSoccer: arghhh
CoachMumofSoccer: when we talk about it
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: bye bye hug my lex
Lexy the Buckeye: everyone here says bye
CoachMumofSoccer: well let's say goodnight
Lexy the Buckeye: Goodnight *hugs*
Lexy the Buckeye: love you!
CoachMumofSoccer: when can we get together again
CoachMumofSoccer: okay was wondering cause of the IV and chi alpha - thought you might be out
CoachMumofSoccer: don't go out alone at night
Lexy the Buckeye: oh i forgot
Lexy the Buckeye: yeah i wont
Lexy the Buckeye: jkrsiten is going to this stuff w me m ostly
CoachMumofSoccer: so will you be on line tomorrow or not
CoachMumofSoccer: good
CoachMumofSoccer: are the mtgs tomorrow night
CoachMumofSoccer: okay that was what i was trying to figure out
CoachMumofSoccer: really
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: oh i've not seen that yet
CoachMumofSoccer: no i'll go read it later
CoachMumofSoccer: zach says goodnight
CoachMumofSoccer: ah
CoachMumofSoccer: no he's not in the mood
CoachMumofSoccer: yuck that's awful
CoachMumofSoccer: life
CoachMumofSoccer: soccer problems
CoachMumofSoccer: as stated
CoachMumofSoccer: say good bye sam dad and I are standing beside puter
CoachMumofSoccer: we love ya.................forever
CoachMumofSoccer: and mekia
CoachMumofSoccer: oh
Lexy the Buckeye: puffy
Lexy the Buckeye: what about him
CoachMumofSoccer: we haven't seen puffy since we got back
Lexy the Buckeye: what?!??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lexy the Buckeye: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
CoachMumofSoccer: yeah, and Sam's called him
Lexy the Buckeye: *waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
CoachMumofSoccer: but he may show up
Lexy the Buckeye: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Lexy the Buckeye: you better find him
Lexy the Buckeye: .. . .. . .. .. ... .
Lexy the Buckeye: that'd be the end of the world
CoachMumofSoccer: yeah I 've been wondering and looking
CoachMumofSoccer: no you're leaving was the end of the world as we knew it
CoachMumofSoccer: but enough
CoachMumofSoccer: Bye
1810 Cannon Drive
Columbus, Ohio 43210
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
Lexy the Buckeye: oops
Lexy the Buckeye: Suite 1641 Lincoln House
Lexy the Buckeye: you stole my zachy!
CoachMumofSoccer: I did?
Lexy the Buckeye: um ya
CoachMumofSoccer: oh, was he talking to ya
Lexy the Buckeye: i was singing to him
Lexy the Buckeye: yeah
CoachMumofSoccer: good, cause he needs a little cheerin up
CoachMumofSoccer: he doesn't like sitting on the bench in the rain for some reason
CoachMumofSoccer: guess he told ya what happened
CoachMumofSoccer: are you still plannin to call
CoachMumofSoccer: hello
CoachMumofSoccer: are you talking to Eddie
Lexy the Buckeye: no i am trying to see if i can talk to you via im
Lexy the Buckeye: can you hear me
Lexy the Buckeye: can you hear me
Lexy the Buckeye: ?
Lexy the Buckeye: hmm
Lexy the Buckeye: i can't hear you if i am talking
Lexy the Buckeye: so you have to im me
Lexy the Buckeye: mooon
Lexy the Buckeye: no
Lexy the Buckeye: mom
CoachMumofSoccer: we can hear you but can't figure out what to talk into - the french mike
Lexy the Buckeye: Yeah
CoachMumofSoccer: well talk
CoachMumofSoccer: and we'll
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: we hear clear
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: you're playing to us!!!!
CoachMumofSoccer: play us a song
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: a good song
CoachMumofSoccer: who else is there
Lexy the Buckeye: "Cause you oughta know
There's a reason for these changing seasons
God only knows how much your heart can bear
So don't you let go
Cause everybody has their up and down times
Everybody needs to know how much their loved
My friend
So hold on
it's not the end"
Lexy the Buckeye: isn't that a good song now?
CoachMumofSoccer: i've been wondering if you were guitarying
CoachMumofSoccer: i miss your hair
CoachMumofSoccer: changins easosns
CoachMumofSoccer: godlkkdk
CoachMumofSoccer: yes im typing to it
CoachMumofSoccer: kdkdiekdiekdkkkkkkkkkkkk
CoachMumofSoccer: djdjdjdjieieieiekdkdiieieiekkkkk
CoachMumofSoccer: yeya
Lexy the Buckeye: can you really hear me well?
CoachMumofSoccer: no but im just clunking keys to the beat
CoachMumofSoccer: yes hear well
Lexy the Buckeye: okkkk
CoachMumofSoccer: don't stop
CoachMumofSoccer: same some
CoachMumofSoccer: same song
CoachMumofSoccer: how were your classes
CoachMumofSoccer: weird
CoachMumofSoccer: oh no
CoachMumofSoccer: oh no no
CoachMumofSoccer: tell them your mother doesn't approve
CoachMumofSoccer: does everyone else have their cameras
CoachMumofSoccer: wow
CoachMumofSoccer: great
CoachMumofSoccer: is she a design major
CoachMumofSoccer: have you talked to your advisor any
CoachMumofSoccer: why
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: what to do so we can talk back and then you can sing
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: sing
CoachMumofSoccer: i'll cry you sing
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: zach
CoachMumofSoccer: sam went to get something to eat
CoachMumofSoccer: sing
CoachMumofSoccer: don't stop
CoachMumofSoccer: hi kristen
CoachMumofSoccer: oh
CoachMumofSoccer: hi Christine
Lexy the Buckeye: christine
Lexy the Buckeye: yay
CoachMumofSoccer: does Christine sing
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
Lexy the Buckeye: i dont know
Lexy the Buckeye: crying yet
Lexy the Buckeye: ?
Lexy the Buckeye: isn't that a good song now even though you said it was boring and has notune?
CoachMumofSoccer: yes yes yes !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CoachMumofSoccer: I look at the piano and lose it during the day
Lexy the Buckeye: "it's just a love song / cause everybody needs a friend / and I'll be right here for you / it's just a simple prayer / from the bottom of my heart / that he'll never let you go"
Lexy the Buckeye: awww ;-(
Lexy the Buckeye: this songmakes me cry
CoachMumofSoccer: i know
CoachMumofSoccer: did you know its quiet here w/o ya
CoachMumofSoccer: dad just made kettle corn
CoachMumofSoccer: we redid your bathroom
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: ohhh
CoachMumofSoccer: so what about the design class
CoachMumofSoccer: he's in and out
CoachMumofSoccer: art survey into to OSU
CoachMumofSoccer: Hello Michelle
CoachMumofSoccer: how can an art survey course be about osu
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: i remember big ga
CoachMumofSoccer: gal
CoachMumofSoccer: hmmm not sure
CoachMumofSoccer: but i don't understand - yousaid it was about osu - the art survey course?
CoachMumofSoccer: oh, okay
CoachMumofSoccer: sam says you should check your email - she sent you somethin
CoachMumofSoccer: yep
CoachMumofSoccer: she's sitting on the desk w/me
CoachMumofSoccer: she wants to know if you got the second one
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: hurray she says
CoachMumofSoccer: is this the first you've played
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: what did you get at Target or Staples
CoachMumofSoccer: bigger i hope
CoachMumofSoccer: cool
CoachMumofSoccer: hope it works better than mine. I have so many pockets I can't remember where i put what
CoachMumofSoccer: nothing else for your room?
CoachMumofSoccer: I have a package to fix up to send to you
CoachMumofSoccer: yes hello
CoachMumofSoccer: what address do i use?
CoachMumofSoccer: duh
CoachMumofSoccer: duh
CoachMumofSoccer: duh
CoachMumofSoccer: do you really want your supertones
Lexy the Buckeye: Yeah!!!
CoachMumofSoccer: give mother a good address to use then
CoachMumofSoccer: no
CoachMumofSoccer: what
Lexy the Buckeye:
1641 Lincoln House
1810 Cannon Drive
Columbus, Ohio 43210
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
Lexy the Buckeye: oops
Lexy the Buckeye: Suite 1641 Lincoln House
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
CoachMumofSoccer: y
CoachMumofSoccer: es
CoachMumofSoccer: what's with all the boys
CoachMumofSoccer: your whole floor is connected i hear
CoachMumofSoccer: i looked at the floor's website
CoachMumofSoccer: could use a little jazzing up
CoachMumofSoccer: NOW that the President has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that Congress has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that our Governor has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that the NY city Mayor has called us to prayer . . .
> NOW that the "liberal" media and most other branches of our American society
> have called us to prayer . . .
> AND NOW that our churches are assembling in special prayer . . .
> "Honorable" Justices of the Supreme Court, I have only one question . . .
> Would it be O.K. to pray in our schools??
>
> Signed,
> An American Citizen & Christian
CoachMumofSoccer: I'm looking at my email
CoachMumofSoccer: Look at this I just opened from Linda Burkett:
CoachMumofSoccer: Hi,
Just a quick note to let you know you have been on my mind all week. I was thinking you took Alexa to college this weekend. Was just keeping you in thought and prayer because that can be one of the most bittersweet crossroads for Moms. (Been there, done that.) Often the kids do better than we do.
Have a good day.
Sincerely,
Lin B. :-)
CoachMumofSoccer: I loved that first Acq the Fire in Balt
CoachMumofSoccer: that song reminds me of it
CoachMumofSoccer: how was the candle light ceremony
CoachMumofSoccer: who spoke
CoachMumofSoccer: a what
CoachMumofSoccer: sikh
CoachMumofSoccer: hindu
CoachMumofSoccer: ?? don't know, but thought siks were Hindu
CoachMumofSoccer: no calls to prayer hum
CoachMumofSoccer: are you planning on going to any christian meetings this week
CoachMumofSoccer: good
CoachMumofSoccer: cool
CoachMumofSoccer: can i come
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: wow
CoachMumofSoccer: a free club
CoachMumofSoccer: when is your tumbling class
CoachMumofSoccer: have you thought about checking into piano lessons
CoachMumofSoccer: have you checked out my sorority
CoachMumofSoccer: yep we were too
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: fuzzy
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: so did you find them interesting
CoachMumofSoccer: did they take your name
CoachMumofSoccer: and they know i was an alpha xi
CoachMumofSoccer: Dad just sent me a message: Hey, what about me. Does Alexa have a new name?
CoachMumofSoccer: His name is weighdaddy and I think he'd like to be on here w/us
CoachMumofSoccer: ok i told him
CoachMumofSoccer: weighdaddy: hello
CoachMumofSoccer: alexa says you have to walk up stairs and listen in
weighdaddy: I want to but it's crowded. I was going to join in from here.
CoachMumofSoccer: evidently no can do - it'snot that crowded
CoachMumofSoccer: y'all come
weighdaddy: And bring the kettle corn/
CoachMumofSoccer: i just ate all the kettle corn
CoachMumofSoccer: but i'm thirsty
CoachMumofSoccer: weighdaddy: Okay, I get the picture or is is pitcher
CoachMumofSoccer: actually, it's a computer screen
CoachMumofSoccer: and we only have sound, no pitchers
weighdaddy: you drink computer screens?
CoachMumofSoccer: okay, that was taking it too f
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: lex are you talking to me
CoachMumofSoccer: or someone in room
Lexy the Buckeye: no i was talking to marc
Lexy the Buckeye: lauras boyfriend
CoachMumofSoccer: ok
CoachMumofSoccer: how the food been
CoachMumofSoccer: we had spaghetti
CoachMumofSoccer: with spinach in the sauce
CoachMumofSoccer: for Sam, of course
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: zach is in room typing paper for English and feeling miserable, I think
CoachMumofSoccer: did he tell you about the game
CoachMumofSoccer: getting red carded
CoachMumofSoccer: and thrown out
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: some kid from Mars pulled him down, sat on him, and when Zach threw his elbow back to knock him off, the ref saw that and threw him out. He was crushed - he wanted to play sooooo bad and had to sit through game in rain, no less
Lexy the Buckeye: :-(
Lexy the Buckeye: that sucketh
CoachMumofSoccer: yeseth
CoachMumofSoccer: it was a great game though and they won
CoachMumofSoccer: yes but some are muffled
CoachMumofSoccer: no tell everyone to speak clearly and slowly please
CoachMumofSoccer: Dad's here and he can['t hear
CoachMumofSoccer: either way
CoachMumofSoccer: you know
CoachMumofSoccer: he hears like he spells and types
CoachMumofSoccer: no he hears you now
CoachMumofSoccer: dad thought he could go on his computer and actualy*talk* to you
Lexy the Buckeye: i think you need to plug a mic in for that to work ;-)
Lexy the Buckeye: sometimes it helps
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: i only have buttons to push for push to listen
Lexy the Buckeye: no push to talk?
Lexy the Buckeye: o
Lexy the Buckeye: hmm
Lexy the Buckeye: maybe it wontwork for you to talk ...
Lexy the Buckeye: i dunno
Lexy the Buckeye: i should get off to go to bed soon tho
CoachMumofSoccer: i pushed button that says talk below here and got that i was already in a talk session
Lexy the Buckeye: 11 is my scheduled bedtime at least
CoachMumofSoccer: there's something that says half-duplex: you can talk
CoachMumofSoccer: so how is the food
CoachMumofSoccer: are you getting to all the meals
CoachMumofSoccer: you only got 40 back for breaksfasts for the whole year
CoachMumofSoccer: oh
CoachMumofSoccer: did you get books yet
CoachMumofSoccer: zach says get up and get breakfast!
CoachMumofSoccer: a day w/o oj is like a day w/o sunshine
CoachMumofSoccer: but then there's tomato juice
CoachMumofSoccer: well I'd like to keep this up but I've been sitt
CoachMumofSoccer: did that
CoachMumofSoccer: there's a button now that says push to talk but its not available
CoachMumofSoccer: i like it but it makes me cry
CoachMumofSoccer: it just makes me tear up
CoachMumofSoccer: arghhh
CoachMumofSoccer: when we talk about it
CoachMumofSoccer: okay
CoachMumofSoccer: bye bye hug my lex
Lexy the Buckeye: everyone here says bye
CoachMumofSoccer: well let's say goodnight
Lexy the Buckeye: Goodnight *hugs*
Lexy the Buckeye: love you!
CoachMumofSoccer: when can we get together again
CoachMumofSoccer: okay was wondering cause of the IV and chi alpha - thought you might be out
CoachMumofSoccer: don't go out alone at night
Lexy the Buckeye: oh i forgot
Lexy the Buckeye: yeah i wont
Lexy the Buckeye: jkrsiten is going to this stuff w me m ostly
CoachMumofSoccer: so will you be on line tomorrow or not
CoachMumofSoccer: good
CoachMumofSoccer: are the mtgs tomorrow night
CoachMumofSoccer: okay that was what i was trying to figure out
CoachMumofSoccer: really
CoachMumofSoccer: yes
CoachMumofSoccer: what
CoachMumofSoccer: oh i've not seen that yet
CoachMumofSoccer: no i'll go read it later
CoachMumofSoccer: zach says goodnight
CoachMumofSoccer: ah
CoachMumofSoccer: no he's not in the mood
CoachMumofSoccer: yuck that's awful
CoachMumofSoccer: life
CoachMumofSoccer: soccer problems
CoachMumofSoccer: as stated
CoachMumofSoccer: say good bye sam dad and I are standing beside puter
CoachMumofSoccer: we love ya.................forever
CoachMumofSoccer: and mekia
CoachMumofSoccer: oh
Lexy the Buckeye: puffy
Lexy the Buckeye: what about him
CoachMumofSoccer: we haven't seen puffy since we got back
Lexy the Buckeye: what?!??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lexy the Buckeye: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
CoachMumofSoccer: yeah, and Sam's called him
Lexy the Buckeye: *waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
CoachMumofSoccer: but he may show up
Lexy the Buckeye: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Lexy the Buckeye: you better find him
Lexy the Buckeye: .. . .. . .. .. ... .
Lexy the Buckeye: that'd be the end of the world
CoachMumofSoccer: yeah I 've been wondering and looking
CoachMumofSoccer: no you're leaving was the end of the world as we knew it
CoachMumofSoccer: but enough
CoachMumofSoccer: Bye
AP Economics
I smiled. I sighed. I ran my hand through my hair, shaking my head sadly, overwhelmed by a mixed sense of loss, longing and laughter all at once as I pondered the weekend that had come and gone. We’d come, we’d laughed, we’d joked, we’d danced, we’d antagonized each other -- this handful of weevils and war hawks from the Richmans’ online AP classes -- as we met, some of us for the first time, some of us like old friends, at our end-of-year party. In many ways, it felt like graduation -- the end of a big, wonderful . . . something. I blinked at the “I will miss you’s” and “Good luck with life’s” that covered my senior scrapbook page, words, like those of the average high schooler’s common yearbook, that were strange, sad and uncommon to me. I’d left with a deep sense of finality and sadness for the end of something that had only just begun; and I was left wanting. Wanting to stay; to “linger a little longer” as the old campfire song says: “Oh it’s such a perfect night; it will never seem quite right; that this should be our (first and) last goodbye.”
Memories of that somber midnight of reflecting on the AP-party-day’s events flood my mind again as I stare at this screen, with the final drafts of the final Excelsior spread out on the desk, preparing to say yet another “goodbye,” to scribble those words of finality, “Hope your life is great, I hope it’s been a wonderful year.” That same, deep sense of loss and finality pervades once again. So many endings!
Yet every end is also a memorial to all that came in between: I realize that no longer do mere @’s sprinkle that once-abstract directory -- now, familiar faces smile out at me. I smile back, in particular, as I see the name of my dear friend Gwen Umbreit. No, the first, “trial-run” year of co-editorship has certainly not been 100% smooth; we’ve had our moments. But somehow, out of the ink and paper of the E, a friendship has emerged, and this farewell is a tribute to such friendships as now we nod goodbye -- Gwen heads to Shippensburg this fall, and I, at least I think, to Ohio State University Honors College. Ends also mark beginnings, and here I’d like to mention another friendship hammered out of the violent war-days of our, well, online AP Economics games -- that with Ben Carr, whom I am proud to introduce as the 2001-2002 editor. My antithesis personality-wise, Ben has always been around to critique my papers, to give me his blunt (“honest”) opinions (which he possesses about everything), and to provide, well, interesting companionship via AIM. An active staff member this past year, Ben possesses bold ambitions for the E, and as I (and Gwen) pass the torch to him, I am confident that the Excelsior “will never be the same” once in his hands.
I sigh. I leave behind the editorship and all it entailed. But I smile as I remember, as I said in my very first article this year, that “the end of a matter is better than the beginning.”
Memories of that somber midnight of reflecting on the AP-party-day’s events flood my mind again as I stare at this screen, with the final drafts of the final Excelsior spread out on the desk, preparing to say yet another “goodbye,” to scribble those words of finality, “Hope your life is great, I hope it’s been a wonderful year.” That same, deep sense of loss and finality pervades once again. So many endings!
Yet every end is also a memorial to all that came in between: I realize that no longer do mere @’s sprinkle that once-abstract directory -- now, familiar faces smile out at me. I smile back, in particular, as I see the name of my dear friend Gwen Umbreit. No, the first, “trial-run” year of co-editorship has certainly not been 100% smooth; we’ve had our moments. But somehow, out of the ink and paper of the E, a friendship has emerged, and this farewell is a tribute to such friendships as now we nod goodbye -- Gwen heads to Shippensburg this fall, and I, at least I think, to Ohio State University Honors College. Ends also mark beginnings, and here I’d like to mention another friendship hammered out of the violent war-days of our, well, online AP Economics games -- that with Ben Carr, whom I am proud to introduce as the 2001-2002 editor. My antithesis personality-wise, Ben has always been around to critique my papers, to give me his blunt (“honest”) opinions (which he possesses about everything), and to provide, well, interesting companionship via AIM. An active staff member this past year, Ben possesses bold ambitions for the E, and as I (and Gwen) pass the torch to him, I am confident that the Excelsior “will never be the same” once in his hands.
I sigh. I leave behind the editorship and all it entailed. But I smile as I remember, as I said in my very first article this year, that “the end of a matter is better than the beginning.”
Writing Club - The Thai Place
TheThai Place
Where’s the last place you ate out? Was coconut milk on the menu? Probably not. At least I’ve never noticed coconut milk on the menus of King’s, Eat ‘n Park, or Ponderosa – the “usual” places for family “out-to-dinner” nights. But coconut milk is evidently in lots of Thai dishes I discovered when my parents included me in the dinner arrangements for my mother’s birthday. The Thai Place is on Freeport Road right across from Waterworks Mall. That in itself is a major plus for anyone who likes to shop Old Navy, Barnes n’ Noble, or even WalMart.
Thai food may not be something with which many people are familiar. Maybe that’s why there were only a few people in the restaurant which would accommodate about 60 people. I don’t like crowded restaurants so that suited me well. I enjoyed the background music there much more than the “background noise” you hear in other more popular establishments.. What I really liked were the tablesettings with those gold folded napkins sitting up like little crowns and the mirrored walls that made the room seem double its size. Really the seating was just plastic booths, but it was comfortable.
Deciding what to order did take us a while. After all the menu was 6 pages long and included all kinds of dishes I’d never heard of. I’d expected the menu to basically be the same as at a Chinese restaurant. Not so. There was a Thai version of General Tso’s chicken and some sweet n’ sour dishes, but the other selections were all Thai. I’m not that adventuresome, so I actually just ordered Sweet n’ Sour chicken. My parents were not as inhibited. My mom started with Tom kah soup which was made with a coconut milk base and had chicken and fresh mushrooms in it and then chose an entrée called Tiger Prawns that was basically some large shrimp and mixed vegetables in coconut milk again. My dad had some kind of dish in which the main ingredient was squid. One neat thing is that the waitress asks you how hot (spicy) you want your food and you get to choose a number from 1 to 10. My dad discovered he didn’t like things quite as hot as he thought. He’d said 8 to the waitress! He did finish all his food (plus some of mine!) but he’d broken out in a sweat by the time he finished. Both my parents raved about their food.
Where’s the last place you ate out? Was coconut milk on the menu? Probably not. At least I’ve never noticed coconut milk on the menus of King’s, Eat ‘n Park, or Ponderosa – the “usual” places for family “out-to-dinner” nights. But coconut milk is evidently in lots of Thai dishes I discovered when my parents included me in the dinner arrangements for my mother’s birthday. The Thai Place is on Freeport Road right across from Waterworks Mall. That in itself is a major plus for anyone who likes to shop Old Navy, Barnes n’ Noble, or even WalMart.
Thai food may not be something with which many people are familiar. Maybe that’s why there were only a few people in the restaurant which would accommodate about 60 people. I don’t like crowded restaurants so that suited me well. I enjoyed the background music there much more than the “background noise” you hear in other more popular establishments.. What I really liked were the tablesettings with those gold folded napkins sitting up like little crowns and the mirrored walls that made the room seem double its size. Really the seating was just plastic booths, but it was comfortable.
Deciding what to order did take us a while. After all the menu was 6 pages long and included all kinds of dishes I’d never heard of. I’d expected the menu to basically be the same as at a Chinese restaurant. Not so. There was a Thai version of General Tso’s chicken and some sweet n’ sour dishes, but the other selections were all Thai. I’m not that adventuresome, so I actually just ordered Sweet n’ Sour chicken. My parents were not as inhibited. My mom started with Tom kah soup which was made with a coconut milk base and had chicken and fresh mushrooms in it and then chose an entrée called Tiger Prawns that was basically some large shrimp and mixed vegetables in coconut milk again. My dad had some kind of dish in which the main ingredient was squid. One neat thing is that the waitress asks you how hot (spicy) you want your food and you get to choose a number from 1 to 10. My dad discovered he didn’t like things quite as hot as he thought. He’d said 8 to the waitress! He did finish all his food (plus some of mine!) but he’d broken out in a sweat by the time he finished. Both my parents raved about their food.
Writing Club - Memories of Home
Memories of Home
Samantha Weber, 8th grade, Sept. 9, 2005
“Slish, Slosh, Slish, Slosh.” My boots tread through the muddy slush on the sidewalks of New York City. The noise of my boots stops when I get to the bus stop and sit down on the cold, wet bench and wait for the bus that will take me to the airport. I’m headed home to my family because it will be Christmas in a few days. I’ve been living in the Big Apple for six months now, going to classes, working my way through college, and, of course, playing soccer. As much as I love this city with all its history and the many different kinds of people, I’m ready to go back to my house out in the country, in Freeport, Pennsylvania, where I grew up and was homeschooled. I miss the wildlife that inhabits my family’s property; I hope there are still plenty of birds, deer, rabbits, foxes, squirrels, and chipmunks looking to find some birdseed in our feeders. So many different kinds of animals came through our yard. People in New York City have most likely never seen many of them except on TV I muse. One experience will always stick out in my mind: the day I saw the Cooper’s Hawk in my backyard.
It was the summer of 2005, I was 13 and sitting at my desk looking out the window at a little chipmunk that was in our feeding station. All of a sudden my mother started to call me to come quickly and bring the camera! Running into the kitchen with the camera in hand, I looked out the window my mom was staring through and stopped dead in my tracks; my mouth flew open as I stared wide-eyed at the most stunning bird I have ever seen in my entire life: a falcon, we thought. I was eyeball to eyeball with the deadly bird of prey, face to beak with the sharp, smooth bill of the powerful bird, hand to foot with the choking claws of the young bird of prey. The flat brown and white head was set off by the solid black beak that looked as if it could shred any animal’s body to pieces.
All 20-24 inches of the magnificent bird sat perched on our post that had a light on top for when it was dark out and we wanted to swim. The top of the post stood feet away from our kitchen window, and the bird was right at our eye level. For perhaps 5 minutes, he sat still, only turning his head and looking around through his yellow eyes, before he flew away, pumping slowly the strong dark wings. I was amazed at how long he had perched there without showing the slightest hint of nervousness. And, while he had sat, I had snapped pictures with our digital camera and my brain had recorded its own snapshops: these pictures are stored in my memory, where all my “once in a lifetime” experiences are kept along with all the other pictures that remind me of home. We sent our pictures to a local naturalist who told us the bird was not a falcon but an immature, and rather uncommon, Cooper’s Hawk. Remembering this hawk’s face-to-face visit with me makes me realize how often I took for granted the special little things of home and homeschool too because this bird encourter began a short unit study on hawks.
Ssssssssssss, the bus slows to a stop and a little bird that was in the street flies to a nearby tree; I get up off the bench and make my way to the bus door; I walk up the steps and find a seat in the back. As the bus starts to move, the buildings and dirty streets turn into a blur. I’m leaving New York City and going home. Home, where all the people are the same, but the panorama of wildlife is always changing.
Samantha Weber, 8th grade, Sept. 9, 2005
“Slish, Slosh, Slish, Slosh.” My boots tread through the muddy slush on the sidewalks of New York City. The noise of my boots stops when I get to the bus stop and sit down on the cold, wet bench and wait for the bus that will take me to the airport. I’m headed home to my family because it will be Christmas in a few days. I’ve been living in the Big Apple for six months now, going to classes, working my way through college, and, of course, playing soccer. As much as I love this city with all its history and the many different kinds of people, I’m ready to go back to my house out in the country, in Freeport, Pennsylvania, where I grew up and was homeschooled. I miss the wildlife that inhabits my family’s property; I hope there are still plenty of birds, deer, rabbits, foxes, squirrels, and chipmunks looking to find some birdseed in our feeders. So many different kinds of animals came through our yard. People in New York City have most likely never seen many of them except on TV I muse. One experience will always stick out in my mind: the day I saw the Cooper’s Hawk in my backyard.
It was the summer of 2005, I was 13 and sitting at my desk looking out the window at a little chipmunk that was in our feeding station. All of a sudden my mother started to call me to come quickly and bring the camera! Running into the kitchen with the camera in hand, I looked out the window my mom was staring through and stopped dead in my tracks; my mouth flew open as I stared wide-eyed at the most stunning bird I have ever seen in my entire life: a falcon, we thought. I was eyeball to eyeball with the deadly bird of prey, face to beak with the sharp, smooth bill of the powerful bird, hand to foot with the choking claws of the young bird of prey. The flat brown and white head was set off by the solid black beak that looked as if it could shred any animal’s body to pieces.
All 20-24 inches of the magnificent bird sat perched on our post that had a light on top for when it was dark out and we wanted to swim. The top of the post stood feet away from our kitchen window, and the bird was right at our eye level. For perhaps 5 minutes, he sat still, only turning his head and looking around through his yellow eyes, before he flew away, pumping slowly the strong dark wings. I was amazed at how long he had perched there without showing the slightest hint of nervousness. And, while he had sat, I had snapped pictures with our digital camera and my brain had recorded its own snapshops: these pictures are stored in my memory, where all my “once in a lifetime” experiences are kept along with all the other pictures that remind me of home. We sent our pictures to a local naturalist who told us the bird was not a falcon but an immature, and rather uncommon, Cooper’s Hawk. Remembering this hawk’s face-to-face visit with me makes me realize how often I took for granted the special little things of home and homeschool too because this bird encourter began a short unit study on hawks.
Ssssssssssss, the bus slows to a stop and a little bird that was in the street flies to a nearby tree; I get up off the bench and make my way to the bus door; I walk up the steps and find a seat in the back. As the bus starts to move, the buildings and dirty streets turn into a blur. I’m leaving New York City and going home. Home, where all the people are the same, but the panorama of wildlife is always changing.
Writing Club - Go Fetch
“Go, Fetch!”
Samantha Weber, 8th grade, Sept. 9, 2005
“Mekia, Come!” “Come on, you lazy dog, get up! Mom says I have to go play with you; so, come on!”
Have you ever made a bunch of promises to your parents so you could get something? Promises that you probably wouldn’t keep? Like promising to take out the trash AFTER you watch some TV, or promising to do some extra math if you can go hang out with your friends first. Well, welcome to the club. I get in trouble almost every day for one promise I made my parents 4 years ago: to play with the dog every day. (Actually, that wasn’t the only promise I made to my parents about the dog; but, that’s the only one I’m going to write about today.) Although I’m really bad about going outside with Mekia to throw a ball or run with him, I do, sometimes, very rarely, get up and go do it without being told.
You see, my dog, Mekia, well, he’s not exactly the kind of dog that you only have to throw a ball for once and he’ll be tired. No, that is definitely not the case. Mekia is a combination Boxer, Lab, and Shepherd and is very athletic and very large. When he stands on his hind legs he is taller than I am. Playing with him over the course of the last couple of years has turned into his playing with me. When I made my promise to my parents, he was a little puppy and it was no “big deal” to go play with the little angel. All I had to do was throw the ball, he’d go get it and bring it back – no big deal. Because he was so athletic, it was actually very entertaining to watch him leap into the air and catch a Frisbee, then joyfully run it back to me, sit, and drop it at my feet, ready to go again.
Now, however, I throw the ball or Frisbee, he runs, maybe catches it, and then flops down on the ground, and waits for me to come get it. This means that I get as much exercise as he does, and I don’t need any more exercise!
I wonder if he’s mentally thinking, “Come on, Sam, “Go Fetch!” Now that this has been going on for some time, I’ve come to a conclusion. People say that when you get older you get wiser. Well, I think it’s the same for dogs: dogs get smarter the older they become, because I know Mekia thinks he has taught me how to play “Go Fetch.” Perhaps this saying is true for me too though because I have learned not to make such open-ended promises as the one to take the dog out and exercise him every day!
Samantha Weber, 8th grade, Sept. 9, 2005
“Mekia, Come!” “Come on, you lazy dog, get up! Mom says I have to go play with you; so, come on!”
Have you ever made a bunch of promises to your parents so you could get something? Promises that you probably wouldn’t keep? Like promising to take out the trash AFTER you watch some TV, or promising to do some extra math if you can go hang out with your friends first. Well, welcome to the club. I get in trouble almost every day for one promise I made my parents 4 years ago: to play with the dog every day. (Actually, that wasn’t the only promise I made to my parents about the dog; but, that’s the only one I’m going to write about today.) Although I’m really bad about going outside with Mekia to throw a ball or run with him, I do, sometimes, very rarely, get up and go do it without being told.
You see, my dog, Mekia, well, he’s not exactly the kind of dog that you only have to throw a ball for once and he’ll be tired. No, that is definitely not the case. Mekia is a combination Boxer, Lab, and Shepherd and is very athletic and very large. When he stands on his hind legs he is taller than I am. Playing with him over the course of the last couple of years has turned into his playing with me. When I made my promise to my parents, he was a little puppy and it was no “big deal” to go play with the little angel. All I had to do was throw the ball, he’d go get it and bring it back – no big deal. Because he was so athletic, it was actually very entertaining to watch him leap into the air and catch a Frisbee, then joyfully run it back to me, sit, and drop it at my feet, ready to go again.
Now, however, I throw the ball or Frisbee, he runs, maybe catches it, and then flops down on the ground, and waits for me to come get it. This means that I get as much exercise as he does, and I don’t need any more exercise!
I wonder if he’s mentally thinking, “Come on, Sam, “Go Fetch!” Now that this has been going on for some time, I’ve come to a conclusion. People say that when you get older you get wiser. Well, I think it’s the same for dogs: dogs get smarter the older they become, because I know Mekia thinks he has taught me how to play “Go Fetch.” Perhaps this saying is true for me too though because I have learned not to make such open-ended promises as the one to take the dog out and exercise him every day!
Writing Club - As Different as Day and Night
As Different as Day and Night
Samantha Weber, 13 Jan 06, 8th grade
“Tomorrow I want you to get up early so we can get started with school and get finished. You’ll feel much better if you go to bed now so you can get up early and get things out of the way!”
“Mom, I don’t want to get up early: I’m, just not a morning person like you!”
This was another attempt by my mother to try and get me to wake up early for school. She just doesn’t understand that we are two totally different people.
My mom is obviously the “early bird: she likes to get up around 5 a.m. and take pictures of the sunrise with her digital camera! (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand why she does this.) Once she takes the pictures, she uploads them onto her computer and adds them to her very long collection that is displayed on her screensaver as a slideshow. Occasionally, much to my chagrin, she wakes me up just to go look at the “beautiful” sunrise. Personally, all sunrises look the same to me; but to my mom, every one is a unique masterpiece: the artwork of God. I also appreciate the fact that “The heavens declare the glory of God,” but I prefer to find my artwork on my computer after the sun has set. You see, all day long I toil doing schoolwork and chores; and by the time all of it is done, it’s dark outside. I’m ready to be a rebel – to be “bad.” I have this nervous and excited (hyper?) feeling as I invade the web, pillaging for some kind of spoils. My gang is hanging out on IM, waiting for me. A perfect homeschooled student by day; but by night I’m “a bad white girl!” (Remember the Titans) Then at 10 p.m. when the whole gang is online, my mom disrupts the conspiracy and says I need to go to bed!
It’s absolutely not fair. She did the same thing to my brother and sister before me though. My sister would sneak back out of her bedroom to the computer after my mom went to bed. Occasionally, she would get caught, but as I hope you can see, it’s just natural for us to want to stay up. So many of my memories are of watching movies in my brother’s bed with my sister and Hannah Richman, late at night, eating frosted flakes and poptarts, then falling asleep on each other one by one; all the while my parents are in their bedroom on the other end of the house clueless. Come to think of it my parents have no idea of all the things that have happened on the “kid’s” end of the house, and don’t think I’m about to reveal my secrets either, because if I did, I would be stabbing my siblings in the back. I can’t imagine my life without those wonderful memories and midnight snacks, without them I think I would be incomplete Sometimes the two different worlds do collide as when over the Christmas holiday when my brother came home at 5:00 a.m. from with his two best friends to watch a movie and bumped into my mom when she was just waking up with her morning cup of coffee. Just because we all are “nocturnal” doesn’t mean we don’t love to sleep, as a matter of fact sleeping is one of my favorite things, but I like to do my sleeping during the morning hours. The house is its most quiet and peaceful then. The dog is asleep; the TV is off and all is quiet. Nothing has started and I think it should stay that way. Around 9 a.m. I am in a heavy state of dreaming and should not be awakened. Over the years, my mom and I have had numerous battles about the time I go to bed and the time I wake up. Usually, I lose at night but win in the morning because it is almost impossible to wake me up – or, if awakened, I’m so miserable to be around that my mom has learned to avoid the unpleasantness.
Hours earlier, while I’m snuggled down in my bed as peaceful as an angel, my mom has leaped out of bed, made the coffee, taken her sunrise pictures, and settled down with a good devotional book. She’s also got a load of wash started, taken something out of the freezer to thaw, straightened up the house, and made a list of chores and schoolwork for me. Maybe she is able to get up so early because she too feels stealthy, like she’s doing something that no one else would even think of doing (at least in our family). One day, maybe I’ll be just like her, getting up at the crack of dawn, making my kids go to bed early; who knows? But, for now, I think I’ll settle for staying up a little bit later
Just as I don’t appreciate the sunrise, my mom doesn’t appreciate the midnight hours and all the life it brings with it. I can’t help that she is a morning person and automatically is awake at the very ridiculous hour of 5 a.m., and I also can’t help that I perk up after dark.
Writing this controversial paper on our differences has brought us somewhat closer: I am starting to understand some of the reasons she likes to get up so early, and she is also trying to understand why I like to stay up. After writing this paper though, I still think my mother and I are two totally different people. In fact, maybe there are really only two kinds of people in the world anyway – the people who like to watch the sunrise and the people who like to see the sun set.
Samantha Weber, 13 Jan 06, 8th grade
“Tomorrow I want you to get up early so we can get started with school and get finished. You’ll feel much better if you go to bed now so you can get up early and get things out of the way!”
“Mom, I don’t want to get up early: I’m, just not a morning person like you!”
This was another attempt by my mother to try and get me to wake up early for school. She just doesn’t understand that we are two totally different people.
My mom is obviously the “early bird: she likes to get up around 5 a.m. and take pictures of the sunrise with her digital camera! (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand why she does this.) Once she takes the pictures, she uploads them onto her computer and adds them to her very long collection that is displayed on her screensaver as a slideshow. Occasionally, much to my chagrin, she wakes me up just to go look at the “beautiful” sunrise. Personally, all sunrises look the same to me; but to my mom, every one is a unique masterpiece: the artwork of God. I also appreciate the fact that “The heavens declare the glory of God,” but I prefer to find my artwork on my computer after the sun has set. You see, all day long I toil doing schoolwork and chores; and by the time all of it is done, it’s dark outside. I’m ready to be a rebel – to be “bad.” I have this nervous and excited (hyper?) feeling as I invade the web, pillaging for some kind of spoils. My gang is hanging out on IM, waiting for me. A perfect homeschooled student by day; but by night I’m “a bad white girl!” (Remember the Titans) Then at 10 p.m. when the whole gang is online, my mom disrupts the conspiracy and says I need to go to bed!
It’s absolutely not fair. She did the same thing to my brother and sister before me though. My sister would sneak back out of her bedroom to the computer after my mom went to bed. Occasionally, she would get caught, but as I hope you can see, it’s just natural for us to want to stay up. So many of my memories are of watching movies in my brother’s bed with my sister and Hannah Richman, late at night, eating frosted flakes and poptarts, then falling asleep on each other one by one; all the while my parents are in their bedroom on the other end of the house clueless. Come to think of it my parents have no idea of all the things that have happened on the “kid’s” end of the house, and don’t think I’m about to reveal my secrets either, because if I did, I would be stabbing my siblings in the back. I can’t imagine my life without those wonderful memories and midnight snacks, without them I think I would be incomplete Sometimes the two different worlds do collide as when over the Christmas holiday when my brother came home at 5:00 a.m. from with his two best friends to watch a movie and bumped into my mom when she was just waking up with her morning cup of coffee. Just because we all are “nocturnal” doesn’t mean we don’t love to sleep, as a matter of fact sleeping is one of my favorite things, but I like to do my sleeping during the morning hours. The house is its most quiet and peaceful then. The dog is asleep; the TV is off and all is quiet. Nothing has started and I think it should stay that way. Around 9 a.m. I am in a heavy state of dreaming and should not be awakened. Over the years, my mom and I have had numerous battles about the time I go to bed and the time I wake up. Usually, I lose at night but win in the morning because it is almost impossible to wake me up – or, if awakened, I’m so miserable to be around that my mom has learned to avoid the unpleasantness.
Hours earlier, while I’m snuggled down in my bed as peaceful as an angel, my mom has leaped out of bed, made the coffee, taken her sunrise pictures, and settled down with a good devotional book. She’s also got a load of wash started, taken something out of the freezer to thaw, straightened up the house, and made a list of chores and schoolwork for me. Maybe she is able to get up so early because she too feels stealthy, like she’s doing something that no one else would even think of doing (at least in our family). One day, maybe I’ll be just like her, getting up at the crack of dawn, making my kids go to bed early; who knows? But, for now, I think I’ll settle for staying up a little bit later
Just as I don’t appreciate the sunrise, my mom doesn’t appreciate the midnight hours and all the life it brings with it. I can’t help that she is a morning person and automatically is awake at the very ridiculous hour of 5 a.m., and I also can’t help that I perk up after dark.
Writing this controversial paper on our differences has brought us somewhat closer: I am starting to understand some of the reasons she likes to get up so early, and she is also trying to understand why I like to stay up. After writing this paper though, I still think my mother and I are two totally different people. In fact, maybe there are really only two kinds of people in the world anyway – the people who like to watch the sunrise and the people who like to see the sun set.
Summertime stuff
Operation Bangs
“Time to go! I don’t want to be out late!”
“I’m coming! I just have to fix my hair again!”
Today was a normal busy day. I did the usual: got up, did some school, got dressed, did my hair, did more school, and whatever else came my way. By now it was around 4:00 p.m., and I had no clue how much I would change by night. I rushed downstairs, still putting the ponytail holder in my hair, and jogged outside to the car where Mom was waiting for me.
“Oh, you put your hair up again? Don’t we have an agreement that when we go out, you wear your hair down?”
“Mom, it’s so annoying when it’s down, and you agreed to that, I didn’t.”
We pulled into an A+ parking spot at Wal*Mart, and I glanced over at Fantastic Sam’s to see if it was busy. It had been 3 months since my last hair cut, and I was due. When we finished our shopping in Wal*Mart, I asked my mom if I could get my hair cut she quickly agreed, knowing that they would make sure my hair was down when I walked out. We walked inside and my mom put my name down on the waiting list while I got a hair book to look at while we waiting. As my Mom flipped through the pages, she kept pointing to different haircuts that she liked; I was wanting a change, but I wanted to make sure it would still go up. I didn’t like any of the hairstyles in the book so I decided to just stick with getting my ends trimmed. The beautician called my name and took me back where she washed my hair. As the girl washed, she asked how old I was and what school I went to and all the other normal annoying questions beauticians ask. When she was done washing my hair, she combed it out and then trimmed it. While still asking those annoying questions the entire time. While she was blow-drying my hair, I asked what she thought I would look like in bangs. She said that she didn’t think they would look bad since I have a long forehead. I decided, since bangs were coming back in, I would take a chance and try them. So she combed down my hair in front of my face, asked how long I wanted them, and *snip * my 7 long, hard years of growing my bangs out just ended with new, short, straight across, bangs. I had forgotten that I had to tell her I wanted them angled! I couldn’t believe what I had done! They looked terrible, no matter what my mom said or anyone else! They were awful. Depressed, I kept rubbing them trying to make them grow back out all the way home.
Through the next couple of days, I learned to deal with them. Now, every morning when I put my hair up, I wet my bangs, comb them back, and then spray them until I am positive they don’t show. Although this is a sad tale, there are lessons to be learned: 1. Make sure all of your hair goes up in a pony-tail. And 2. Don’t forget to tell the hairdresser what you really want.
“Time to go! I don’t want to be out late!”
“I’m coming! I just have to fix my hair again!”
Today was a normal busy day. I did the usual: got up, did some school, got dressed, did my hair, did more school, and whatever else came my way. By now it was around 4:00 p.m., and I had no clue how much I would change by night. I rushed downstairs, still putting the ponytail holder in my hair, and jogged outside to the car where Mom was waiting for me.
“Oh, you put your hair up again? Don’t we have an agreement that when we go out, you wear your hair down?”
“Mom, it’s so annoying when it’s down, and you agreed to that, I didn’t.”
We pulled into an A+ parking spot at Wal*Mart, and I glanced over at Fantastic Sam’s to see if it was busy. It had been 3 months since my last hair cut, and I was due. When we finished our shopping in Wal*Mart, I asked my mom if I could get my hair cut she quickly agreed, knowing that they would make sure my hair was down when I walked out. We walked inside and my mom put my name down on the waiting list while I got a hair book to look at while we waiting. As my Mom flipped through the pages, she kept pointing to different haircuts that she liked; I was wanting a change, but I wanted to make sure it would still go up. I didn’t like any of the hairstyles in the book so I decided to just stick with getting my ends trimmed. The beautician called my name and took me back where she washed my hair. As the girl washed, she asked how old I was and what school I went to and all the other normal annoying questions beauticians ask. When she was done washing my hair, she combed it out and then trimmed it. While still asking those annoying questions the entire time. While she was blow-drying my hair, I asked what she thought I would look like in bangs. She said that she didn’t think they would look bad since I have a long forehead. I decided, since bangs were coming back in, I would take a chance and try them. So she combed down my hair in front of my face, asked how long I wanted them, and *snip * my 7 long, hard years of growing my bangs out just ended with new, short, straight across, bangs. I had forgotten that I had to tell her I wanted them angled! I couldn’t believe what I had done! They looked terrible, no matter what my mom said or anyone else! They were awful. Depressed, I kept rubbing them trying to make them grow back out all the way home.
Through the next couple of days, I learned to deal with them. Now, every morning when I put my hair up, I wet my bangs, comb them back, and then spray them until I am positive they don’t show. Although this is a sad tale, there are lessons to be learned: 1. Make sure all of your hair goes up in a pony-tail. And 2. Don’t forget to tell the hairdresser what you really want.
Writing Club - Operation Bangs
Operation Bangs
“Time to go! I don’t want to be out late!”
“I’m coming! I just have to fix my hair again!”
Today was a normal busy day. I did the usual: got up, did some school, got dressed, did my hair, did more school, and whatever else came my way. By now it was around 4:00 p.m., and I had no clue how much I would change by night. I rushed downstairs, still putting the ponytail holder in my hair, and jogged outside to the car where Mom was waiting for me.
“Oh, you put your hair up again? Don’t we have an agreement that when we go out, you wear your hair down?”
“Mom, it’s so annoying when it’s down, and you agreed to that, I didn’t.”
We pulled into an A+ parking spot at Wal*Mart, and I glanced over at Fantastic Sam’s to see if it was busy. It had been 3 months since my last hair cut, and I was due. When we finished our shopping in Wal*Mart, I asked my mom if I could get my hair cut she quickly agreed, knowing that they would make sure my hair was down when I walked out. We walked inside and my mom put my name down on the waiting list while I got a hair book to look at while we waiting. As my Mom flipped through the pages, she kept pointing to different haircuts that she liked; I was wanting a change, but I wanted to make sure it would still go up. I didn’t like any of the hairstyles in the book so I decided to just stick with getting my ends trimmed. The beautician called my name and took me back where she washed my hair. As the girl washed, she asked how old I was and what school I went to and all the other normal annoying questions beauticians ask. When she was done washing my hair, she combed it out and then trimmed it. While still asking those annoying questions the entire time. While she was blow-drying my hair, I asked what she thought I would look like in bangs. She said that she didn’t think they would look bad since I have a long forehead. I decided, since bangs were coming back in, I would take a chance and try them. So she combed down my hair in front of my face, asked how long I wanted them, and *snip * my 7 long, hard years of growing my bangs out just ended with new, short, straight across, bangs. I had forgotten that I had to tell her I wanted them angled! I couldn’t believe what I had done! They looked terrible, no matter what my mom said or anyone else! They were awful. Depressed, I kept rubbing them trying to make them grow back out all the way home.
Through the next couple of days, I learned to deal with them. Now, every morning when I put my hair up, I wet my bangs, comb them back, and then spray them until I am positive they don’t show. Although this is a sad tale, there are lessons to be learned: 1. Make sure all of your hair goes up in a pony-tail. And 2. Don’t forget to tell the hairdresser what you really want.
“Time to go! I don’t want to be out late!”
“I’m coming! I just have to fix my hair again!”
Today was a normal busy day. I did the usual: got up, did some school, got dressed, did my hair, did more school, and whatever else came my way. By now it was around 4:00 p.m., and I had no clue how much I would change by night. I rushed downstairs, still putting the ponytail holder in my hair, and jogged outside to the car where Mom was waiting for me.
“Oh, you put your hair up again? Don’t we have an agreement that when we go out, you wear your hair down?”
“Mom, it’s so annoying when it’s down, and you agreed to that, I didn’t.”
We pulled into an A+ parking spot at Wal*Mart, and I glanced over at Fantastic Sam’s to see if it was busy. It had been 3 months since my last hair cut, and I was due. When we finished our shopping in Wal*Mart, I asked my mom if I could get my hair cut she quickly agreed, knowing that they would make sure my hair was down when I walked out. We walked inside and my mom put my name down on the waiting list while I got a hair book to look at while we waiting. As my Mom flipped through the pages, she kept pointing to different haircuts that she liked; I was wanting a change, but I wanted to make sure it would still go up. I didn’t like any of the hairstyles in the book so I decided to just stick with getting my ends trimmed. The beautician called my name and took me back where she washed my hair. As the girl washed, she asked how old I was and what school I went to and all the other normal annoying questions beauticians ask. When she was done washing my hair, she combed it out and then trimmed it. While still asking those annoying questions the entire time. While she was blow-drying my hair, I asked what she thought I would look like in bangs. She said that she didn’t think they would look bad since I have a long forehead. I decided, since bangs were coming back in, I would take a chance and try them. So she combed down my hair in front of my face, asked how long I wanted them, and *snip * my 7 long, hard years of growing my bangs out just ended with new, short, straight across, bangs. I had forgotten that I had to tell her I wanted them angled! I couldn’t believe what I had done! They looked terrible, no matter what my mom said or anyone else! They were awful. Depressed, I kept rubbing them trying to make them grow back out all the way home.
Through the next couple of days, I learned to deal with them. Now, every morning when I put my hair up, I wet my bangs, comb them back, and then spray them until I am positive they don’t show. Although this is a sad tale, there are lessons to be learned: 1. Make sure all of your hair goes up in a pony-tail. And 2. Don’t forget to tell the hairdresser what you really want.
One of the Best
Samantha Weber
Ms. Biesuz
Honors English 9-7
20 November 2006
One of the Best
Five days, five days to show everything I have and prove to the Region 1 coaches that I am one of the top-level soccer players from amongst seven hundred other girls in the fifteen states that make up Region 1. Last summer, I was in this same situation, coming to the University of Rhode Island to compete, but falling just short of the cut. “This year will be different; I will make the Region 1 Olympic Development Program (ODP) team, even if it kills me,” I tell myself.
I know I can make it: I’ve trained six days a week over the past year. Coaches I respect are telling me this is my year, and at an earlier ODP tournament I was told my name had been written down to be pulled to go into the select pool of players from which the final team would come. On the first day of the five days of identification camp, I get up fully energized, ready to play. I don a pair of white Adidas shorts and white camp shirt with number sixteen on the back, grab my bag, and head to the field. I will play six hours of competitive soccer today, but I am focused on the present – making every touch perfect, one touch at a time. At days’ end, I have done well, but I am nervous as I wait for the list of girls selected to the elite pool to be posted. It is 10:00 p.m. and I get into bed because the chaperones insist, but I do not fall asleep. The bulletin board is still empty. At 1:00 a.m. I hear a slight knock on my door, and my chaperone tip-toes to my bed and tells me I made it. I start to cry and a smile spreads across my face.
I beam everyday when I walk into the dorms and see the new list posted -- my name is still there. Each day has been more of an accomplishment than the day before as the pool narrows and the competition is tougher. On the final day of the camp, there are seventy girls still in the pool, but only fifty-five names will be announced in the closing ceremony. The other fifteen girls will have to try again next year. My palms are sweaty as I sit in the grass waiting for the program to begin. The closing ceremony starts with many “thank you’s;” and finally, the head coach begins to read off the fifty-five names. They are read in alphabetical order; and each time a name is read, my heart beats faster as she gets nearer to the letter “W.” So far, five of my friends’ names have been announced, and I hold my breath as a last name with a “W” is called out and it is not mine. Suddenly, just when I think they’ve gone on to the next letter, I hear my name loud and clear, “Samantha Weber.” I jump up and walk over to take my place among the other girls selected and let out a deep sigh and feel the weight of the last year fall off my shoulders. I came to this camp just a State ODP player, but I was leaving it as a Region 1 player, proving to everyone that I am One of the Best.
Ms. Biesuz
Honors English 9-7
20 November 2006
One of the Best
Five days, five days to show everything I have and prove to the Region 1 coaches that I am one of the top-level soccer players from amongst seven hundred other girls in the fifteen states that make up Region 1. Last summer, I was in this same situation, coming to the University of Rhode Island to compete, but falling just short of the cut. “This year will be different; I will make the Region 1 Olympic Development Program (ODP) team, even if it kills me,” I tell myself.
I know I can make it: I’ve trained six days a week over the past year. Coaches I respect are telling me this is my year, and at an earlier ODP tournament I was told my name had been written down to be pulled to go into the select pool of players from which the final team would come. On the first day of the five days of identification camp, I get up fully energized, ready to play. I don a pair of white Adidas shorts and white camp shirt with number sixteen on the back, grab my bag, and head to the field. I will play six hours of competitive soccer today, but I am focused on the present – making every touch perfect, one touch at a time. At days’ end, I have done well, but I am nervous as I wait for the list of girls selected to the elite pool to be posted. It is 10:00 p.m. and I get into bed because the chaperones insist, but I do not fall asleep. The bulletin board is still empty. At 1:00 a.m. I hear a slight knock on my door, and my chaperone tip-toes to my bed and tells me I made it. I start to cry and a smile spreads across my face.
I beam everyday when I walk into the dorms and see the new list posted -- my name is still there. Each day has been more of an accomplishment than the day before as the pool narrows and the competition is tougher. On the final day of the camp, there are seventy girls still in the pool, but only fifty-five names will be announced in the closing ceremony. The other fifteen girls will have to try again next year. My palms are sweaty as I sit in the grass waiting for the program to begin. The closing ceremony starts with many “thank you’s;” and finally, the head coach begins to read off the fifty-five names. They are read in alphabetical order; and each time a name is read, my heart beats faster as she gets nearer to the letter “W.” So far, five of my friends’ names have been announced, and I hold my breath as a last name with a “W” is called out and it is not mine. Suddenly, just when I think they’ve gone on to the next letter, I hear my name loud and clear, “Samantha Weber.” I jump up and walk over to take my place among the other girls selected and let out a deep sigh and feel the weight of the last year fall off my shoulders. I came to this camp just a State ODP player, but I was leaving it as a Region 1 player, proving to everyone that I am One of the Best.
Color Poems
Colorful Poems
by
Samantha Weber
Brown
Brown looks like my Brownie Troop 712,
around a campfire
Brown tastes like hot chocolate, after sledding
Brown smells like chocolate brownies, baking
Brown sounds like wood chips flying
from Daddy’s chainsaw
Brown feels warm on my back
from burning leaves in fall
Green
Green looks like a four-leaf clover on St. Patrick’s Day
Green tastes like boiled spinach
Green smells like the Christmas tree in our living room
Green sounds like crunchy celery sticks
Green feels like the soft sage my mother cuts to dry
White
White looks like an Arabian stallion, long mane and tail sailing behind him
White smells like the first slice of turkey on Thanksgiving
White tastes like marshmallows, crisp-burnt on the outside, gooey inside
White feels like a snowball made of frozen slush
White sounds like piano keys, 52, no flats or sharps, please!
Yellow
Yellow looks like the cathedral of golden light under our maple trees in fall
Yellow feels like the rind of a lemon
Yellow smells like vanilla flavoring when we’re baking sugar cookies at Christmas
Yellow tastes like birthday cake
Yellow sounds like gold finches fussing over thistle seed
Blue
Blue smells like hot blueberry pie
Blue looks like a clear sky on a summer day
Blue tastes like homemade blueberry jam on my fingers
Blue sounds like our State flag flapping in the wind
Blue feels like my favorite blue jeans
Purple
Purple looks like clusters of fake rubbery grapes
we keep in our white fruit basket
Purple smells like the lilac bush in our backyard
Purple feels like a velvet winter dress
Purple sounds like Easter music, songs that tell of
Jesus’ resurrection, according to my family
But it used to sound like, “I love you, you love me
we’re a happy fam-i-ly”
Red
Red looks like strawberries in green plastic baskets
fresh from the grocery store
Red smells like rose petals I crush to make perfume
Red tastes like cherries, without the seeds
Red feels like my long warm robe after my shower
Red sounds like jingle bells strung with red ribbon.
Copyright by Samantha Weber
November 28, 2000
by
Samantha Weber
Brown
Brown looks like my Brownie Troop 712,
around a campfire
Brown tastes like hot chocolate, after sledding
Brown smells like chocolate brownies, baking
Brown sounds like wood chips flying
from Daddy’s chainsaw
Brown feels warm on my back
from burning leaves in fall
Green
Green looks like a four-leaf clover on St. Patrick’s Day
Green tastes like boiled spinach
Green smells like the Christmas tree in our living room
Green sounds like crunchy celery sticks
Green feels like the soft sage my mother cuts to dry
White
White looks like an Arabian stallion, long mane and tail sailing behind him
White smells like the first slice of turkey on Thanksgiving
White tastes like marshmallows, crisp-burnt on the outside, gooey inside
White feels like a snowball made of frozen slush
White sounds like piano keys, 52, no flats or sharps, please!
Yellow
Yellow looks like the cathedral of golden light under our maple trees in fall
Yellow feels like the rind of a lemon
Yellow smells like vanilla flavoring when we’re baking sugar cookies at Christmas
Yellow tastes like birthday cake
Yellow sounds like gold finches fussing over thistle seed
Blue
Blue smells like hot blueberry pie
Blue looks like a clear sky on a summer day
Blue tastes like homemade blueberry jam on my fingers
Blue sounds like our State flag flapping in the wind
Blue feels like my favorite blue jeans
Purple
Purple looks like clusters of fake rubbery grapes
we keep in our white fruit basket
Purple smells like the lilac bush in our backyard
Purple feels like a velvet winter dress
Purple sounds like Easter music, songs that tell of
Jesus’ resurrection, according to my family
But it used to sound like, “I love you, you love me
we’re a happy fam-i-ly”
Red
Red looks like strawberries in green plastic baskets
fresh from the grocery store
Red smells like rose petals I crush to make perfume
Red tastes like cherries, without the seeds
Red feels like my long warm robe after my shower
Red sounds like jingle bells strung with red ribbon.
Copyright by Samantha Weber
November 28, 2000
Samantha - Autobiographical Poem
Samantha
Blonde , four-eyed and thin.
Sister of Alexa and Zach.
Who loves Mom , Dad , and Nike.
Who feels Peaceful about School.
Who need Mom and Dad! and Sleep!
Who gives Love , advice to others and Fun.
Who fears Going to Sleep, being alone and basement.
Who likes to see: Mia Ham and Grampa Stanley.
Who dreams To See My Dream house.
Who Likes to Play Soccer and to act and do plays.
Blonde , four-eyed and thin.
Sister of Alexa and Zach.
Who loves Mom , Dad , and Nike.
Who feels Peaceful about School.
Who need Mom and Dad! and Sleep!
Who gives Love , advice to others and Fun.
Who fears Going to Sleep, being alone and basement.
Who likes to see: Mia Ham and Grampa Stanley.
Who dreams To See My Dream house.
Who Likes to Play Soccer and to act and do plays.
Writing Club - Appendicitis
Appendicitis
Well, I’m sitting here daydreaming about, what was it?
Oh, yes, it all started at 7 a.m in the morning. “Mom, can I get in the bathtub?”
Mom: “Yes, go ahead. I’m surprisd you’re up so early!”
Me: “Oh, well……Mom, Mom, my stomach hurts really, really bad!”
Mom: “Dad, I think we need to go to the hospital.”
Me: “Mom, Mom……IT HURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Dad: “Okay, I’ll be right there…I’m getting in the shower.”
Mom: “Not in the shower….We have to go now!!!!!!!!”
Me: “Mom, mom, mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Dad: Ok, ok, let me get dressed!!!!!!!
At the hospital….
Doctor: You better give her something for pain. Then we’ll need to take some xrays.
Me: Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! It hurts!!!!
At xray:
Sam, can you stand up?
Me: Yyesssss!! Ouch!!!
Technician: All right, nice and slow, nice and slow…………..*snap* (pictures taken)
Tech: Ok, just wait right out here. (They roll my bed into the hall.)
Back in ER:
(I throw up ….ugh, I feel sick.)
Doctor: Well, Sam, we think you need major surgery and we have to send you down to Children’s Hospital where they will do your surgery. Looks like your appendix needs to come out.
Me: Oh, boy, I get to ride in an ambulance.
Ambulance guy: “Hey, Sam, if you give me ten dollars I’ll turn on the siren.”
Driver: Don’t pay him, Sam, it used to just be 5 dollars.
Me: Ugh
In the ER at Children’s….
Student Nurse: You can wait in this room. Here are some videos, and you can just yell when you need me. Just yell.
Mom: Sam, do you want to watch a movie. Let’s see there’s Lion King, un, Mary Poppins, and Jungle to Jungle.
Me: Mommm! I don’t want to watch a video. Mom it hurts again.
During the next 4-5 hours, numerous doctors come and go and they all do and ask the same questions:
Doctor: Can you point to where it hurts? Poke, poke….does this hurt? How bad does it hurt? On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad does it hurt?
Me: After a shot of morphine. How bad? About a 7
Doctor: Push, push, push…question, question, question………By the way, what do you want to be for Halloween? My daughter’s going to be a witch.
Me: We don’t dress up.
Doctor: Push some more, poke some more, question some more!
6 pm – Finally they move me out of ER
Nurse: Here is your room you will stay in. We need to get you ready for surgery. Let me get your temperature and take your blood pressure.
Nurse: Here’s a remote for the TV and when you need me, just push this red button.
In the surgery room…..
Doctor: What flavor would you like? Cherry, grape, buble gum, or strawberry?
Me: Strawberry.
Doctor: (putting mask on my face!) All right, when I tell you, breathe three times…..One, two, three
Me: Ouch! Take it off! Take it off!
In the recovery room…….
Nurse: Hi, Sam, how does your stomach feel?
Me: Okay
Nurse: Go get her parents
Mom and Dad: Hi, Sam, feel better?
Me: Sleep, sleep, sleep…snore?
Nurse: I think she needs to sleep.
Back in my room…….
Me: Sleep, sleep……..wake up
Nurse: Sorry, Sam, I need to check your IV
Me: Sleep, sleep……wake up
Nurse: Sorry, Sam, I need to take your temperature
Me: Sleep, sleep……wake up
Nurse: Sorry, Sam, I need to check your blood pressure.
Postscript:
1. What is pain??
Have you ever cut your finger? That’s not pain!
Have you ever stubbed your toe? That’s not pain
Have you ever caught your thumb in car door? Sorry! That’s not pain!
Appendicitis – That’s pain!
2. I’m glad about how it happened. Four days before my mom had gotten a thing from the doctor that was for me to go have blood drawn to see if it showed why my stomach was always hurting. I was very afraid, but when I woke up with “this pain”, I had to do whatever they wanted – I couldn’t fight it.
3. At the time there was nothing good about appendicitis. Now, I don’t think about the bad stuff, but I can remember some good things: Riding in the ambulance, being able to push a buttom and have a nurse come – that was pretty neat. My bed that would go up and down was really cool. And, I got lots of attention! Even Mrs. Richman came to see me!!!!
Well, I’m sitting here daydreaming about, what was it?
Oh, yes, it all started at 7 a.m in the morning. “Mom, can I get in the bathtub?”
Mom: “Yes, go ahead. I’m surprisd you’re up so early!”
Me: “Oh, well……Mom, Mom, my stomach hurts really, really bad!”
Mom: “Dad, I think we need to go to the hospital.”
Me: “Mom, Mom……IT HURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Dad: “Okay, I’ll be right there…I’m getting in the shower.”
Mom: “Not in the shower….We have to go now!!!!!!!!”
Me: “Mom, mom, mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Dad: Ok, ok, let me get dressed!!!!!!!
At the hospital….
Doctor: You better give her something for pain. Then we’ll need to take some xrays.
Me: Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! It hurts!!!!
At xray:
Sam, can you stand up?
Me: Yyesssss!! Ouch!!!
Technician: All right, nice and slow, nice and slow…………..*snap* (pictures taken)
Tech: Ok, just wait right out here. (They roll my bed into the hall.)
Back in ER:
(I throw up ….ugh, I feel sick.)
Doctor: Well, Sam, we think you need major surgery and we have to send you down to Children’s Hospital where they will do your surgery. Looks like your appendix needs to come out.
Me: Oh, boy, I get to ride in an ambulance.
Ambulance guy: “Hey, Sam, if you give me ten dollars I’ll turn on the siren.”
Driver: Don’t pay him, Sam, it used to just be 5 dollars.
Me: Ugh
In the ER at Children’s….
Student Nurse: You can wait in this room. Here are some videos, and you can just yell when you need me. Just yell.
Mom: Sam, do you want to watch a movie. Let’s see there’s Lion King, un, Mary Poppins, and Jungle to Jungle.
Me: Mommm! I don’t want to watch a video. Mom it hurts again.
During the next 4-5 hours, numerous doctors come and go and they all do and ask the same questions:
Doctor: Can you point to where it hurts? Poke, poke….does this hurt? How bad does it hurt? On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad does it hurt?
Me: After a shot of morphine. How bad? About a 7
Doctor: Push, push, push…question, question, question………By the way, what do you want to be for Halloween? My daughter’s going to be a witch.
Me: We don’t dress up.
Doctor: Push some more, poke some more, question some more!
6 pm – Finally they move me out of ER
Nurse: Here is your room you will stay in. We need to get you ready for surgery. Let me get your temperature and take your blood pressure.
Nurse: Here’s a remote for the TV and when you need me, just push this red button.
In the surgery room…..
Doctor: What flavor would you like? Cherry, grape, buble gum, or strawberry?
Me: Strawberry.
Doctor: (putting mask on my face!) All right, when I tell you, breathe three times…..One, two, three
Me: Ouch! Take it off! Take it off!
In the recovery room…….
Nurse: Hi, Sam, how does your stomach feel?
Me: Okay
Nurse: Go get her parents
Mom and Dad: Hi, Sam, feel better?
Me: Sleep, sleep, sleep…snore?
Nurse: I think she needs to sleep.
Back in my room…….
Me: Sleep, sleep……..wake up
Nurse: Sorry, Sam, I need to check your IV
Me: Sleep, sleep……wake up
Nurse: Sorry, Sam, I need to take your temperature
Me: Sleep, sleep……wake up
Nurse: Sorry, Sam, I need to check your blood pressure.
Postscript:
1. What is pain??
Have you ever cut your finger? That’s not pain!
Have you ever stubbed your toe? That’s not pain
Have you ever caught your thumb in car door? Sorry! That’s not pain!
Appendicitis – That’s pain!
2. I’m glad about how it happened. Four days before my mom had gotten a thing from the doctor that was for me to go have blood drawn to see if it showed why my stomach was always hurting. I was very afraid, but when I woke up with “this pain”, I had to do whatever they wanted – I couldn’t fight it.
3. At the time there was nothing good about appendicitis. Now, I don’t think about the bad stuff, but I can remember some good things: Riding in the ambulance, being able to push a buttom and have a nurse come – that was pretty neat. My bed that would go up and down was really cool. And, I got lots of attention! Even Mrs. Richman came to see me!!!!
Writing Club - Waking Up
Waking up
By Samantha Weber
9:00 p.m.
“You really should go to bed Sam. You know you have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I am just hold on one second I’m finishing up a game.”
“Oh, I don’t really care if you go to bed, I’m just giving you some advice.”
“Yeah, ok, hold on.”
9:30 p.m.
“Sam, you really need to get into bed, you’re going to be sorry in the morning.”
“Ok, fine but can I read for a little bit?”
“I guess but only until 9:45.”
“Ok, goodnight Mom.”
“Goodnight Sam.”
I would learn a lesson from this Friday night. I would learn not to stay up past 9:00 when you have to get up at 5:00 a.m. for a soccer practice an hour away. But, to make this story an interesting one let me take you into my brain. Well, not literally, just let me tell you what I was thinking when I got into bed. After I said goodnight to my mom I got into bed with my book. Not worrying one bit about getting up early in the morning. In fact it never crossed my mind that I had to get up in a little over 7 hours. Have you ever gotten up that early? Most of you probably haven’t, but this would become a routine for me every Friday night and Saturday morning. I started to read the last three chapters of “The Magician’s Nephew.” Glued to the pages I finished the book at 11:00 p.m. Still wide awake I wasn’t worried about getting up. I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes; but sleep didn’t come. I tossed and turned for another hour and a half until 12:30 a.m. Still not worried about getting up in 4 ½ hours I finally fell half asleep until 4:30 when I woke up and couldn’t find sleep again. I laid in bed until 5:15 when I finally got into a really deep sleep. Dreaming about winning an Olympic medal, my golden dream turned into a night mare when I broke every bone in my body. Feeling the pain in my ribs turned into opening my eyes and seeing my Mother poking my ribs. I screamed with relief that I wasn’t almost dead, and with horror as I noticed that my Mom was telling me to get up. With half closed I eyes I stumbled out of bed and got dressed. Realizing for the first time that going to bed after 9:00 and getting up at 5:00 with a sleepy body was one nightmare I could prevent in the future.
By Samantha Weber
9:00 p.m.
“You really should go to bed Sam. You know you have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I am just hold on one second I’m finishing up a game.”
“Oh, I don’t really care if you go to bed, I’m just giving you some advice.”
“Yeah, ok, hold on.”
9:30 p.m.
“Sam, you really need to get into bed, you’re going to be sorry in the morning.”
“Ok, fine but can I read for a little bit?”
“I guess but only until 9:45.”
“Ok, goodnight Mom.”
“Goodnight Sam.”
I would learn a lesson from this Friday night. I would learn not to stay up past 9:00 when you have to get up at 5:00 a.m. for a soccer practice an hour away. But, to make this story an interesting one let me take you into my brain. Well, not literally, just let me tell you what I was thinking when I got into bed. After I said goodnight to my mom I got into bed with my book. Not worrying one bit about getting up early in the morning. In fact it never crossed my mind that I had to get up in a little over 7 hours. Have you ever gotten up that early? Most of you probably haven’t, but this would become a routine for me every Friday night and Saturday morning. I started to read the last three chapters of “The Magician’s Nephew.” Glued to the pages I finished the book at 11:00 p.m. Still wide awake I wasn’t worried about getting up. I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes; but sleep didn’t come. I tossed and turned for another hour and a half until 12:30 a.m. Still not worried about getting up in 4 ½ hours I finally fell half asleep until 4:30 when I woke up and couldn’t find sleep again. I laid in bed until 5:15 when I finally got into a really deep sleep. Dreaming about winning an Olympic medal, my golden dream turned into a night mare when I broke every bone in my body. Feeling the pain in my ribs turned into opening my eyes and seeing my Mother poking my ribs. I screamed with relief that I wasn’t almost dead, and with horror as I noticed that my Mom was telling me to get up. With half closed I eyes I stumbled out of bed and got dressed. Realizing for the first time that going to bed after 9:00 and getting up at 5:00 with a sleepy body was one nightmare I could prevent in the future.
Writing Club - My Day at the Pond
My Day at the Pond
Well, you’re probably wondering why I’m sitting here in the car crying with nothing but a blanket on, right? I’ll explain. Let me go back to last week first. Last week I was “the Queen” -- the Queen of “High Adventure” (at Lutherlyn’s program for homeschoolers) that is. All the boys had to keep up with me! I was the first to climb the chimney twice; I was the first to get to the zip line by working my way over a thin piece of wire tied between two huge trees, 50 feet in the air, by hanging onto ropes. I was the Queen, and all the boys had to keep up with Ms. High Adventure! Well, this same group of boys went on this Pond and Marsh Study today. I wasn’t originally signed up for this, but I had no choice when my mother mixed up the day of the Ceramics course with the Pond and Marsh Study. So, here I was tired after hours of soccer the night before, in brand new pants, on my way down to the pond to look for water bugs!
After I had been down at the pond for awhile and had given up on the docks and other places where the boys had stood and found various specimens, I visually examined the small, grassy bank between the reeds. It looked safe – very much the same as another place I had already stood on. To be certain, though, I tested it by stepping out lightly with one foot and gradually adding some weight. Sensing it was fine, I brought my other foot forward. I hadn’t wanted to participate in this Pond Study, but I had to admit I was having fun, a little. I was the only one to not yet scoop up anything living, though. Others had found little snails, flat worms, minnows, and tadpoles. I wanted to catch something as big as a fish, something that nobody else had found yet. I bent down to dip my container in the water, but, just as I did, I felt the bank give way. I was wobbling and trying to stay ashore, but I knew I was going in no matter what. I felt as though I was going to sommersault head first into the dirty, scummy pond water. Therefore, instead, I jumped! I got soaking wet: pants, hoody, shoes, socks, everything! So, now I’m not the Queen, I’m the cluts. I cannot comprehend how I, the soccer player and elite athlete, could fall into a pond. It was so unlike me! How could I fall into a pond? This is one of those things that happen to every one else!
So, now I’m sitting in the car hearing how this will make a great writing club piece. I hope you have enjoyed “My Day at the Pond.”
Well, you’re probably wondering why I’m sitting here in the car crying with nothing but a blanket on, right? I’ll explain. Let me go back to last week first. Last week I was “the Queen” -- the Queen of “High Adventure” (at Lutherlyn’s program for homeschoolers) that is. All the boys had to keep up with me! I was the first to climb the chimney twice; I was the first to get to the zip line by working my way over a thin piece of wire tied between two huge trees, 50 feet in the air, by hanging onto ropes. I was the Queen, and all the boys had to keep up with Ms. High Adventure! Well, this same group of boys went on this Pond and Marsh Study today. I wasn’t originally signed up for this, but I had no choice when my mother mixed up the day of the Ceramics course with the Pond and Marsh Study. So, here I was tired after hours of soccer the night before, in brand new pants, on my way down to the pond to look for water bugs!
After I had been down at the pond for awhile and had given up on the docks and other places where the boys had stood and found various specimens, I visually examined the small, grassy bank between the reeds. It looked safe – very much the same as another place I had already stood on. To be certain, though, I tested it by stepping out lightly with one foot and gradually adding some weight. Sensing it was fine, I brought my other foot forward. I hadn’t wanted to participate in this Pond Study, but I had to admit I was having fun, a little. I was the only one to not yet scoop up anything living, though. Others had found little snails, flat worms, minnows, and tadpoles. I wanted to catch something as big as a fish, something that nobody else had found yet. I bent down to dip my container in the water, but, just as I did, I felt the bank give way. I was wobbling and trying to stay ashore, but I knew I was going in no matter what. I felt as though I was going to sommersault head first into the dirty, scummy pond water. Therefore, instead, I jumped! I got soaking wet: pants, hoody, shoes, socks, everything! So, now I’m not the Queen, I’m the cluts. I cannot comprehend how I, the soccer player and elite athlete, could fall into a pond. It was so unlike me! How could I fall into a pond? This is one of those things that happen to every one else!
So, now I’m sitting in the car hearing how this will make a great writing club piece. I hope you have enjoyed “My Day at the Pond.”
Writing Club - Your Parents Stories Retold
Reverse Psychology
by
Samantha Weber
Is that all you want? The clerk asked
Yes, that will be all. I calmly answered (although in the inside I was shaking)
It was a Saturday afternoon and my friend Jerri Lee, and I were buying cigarettes for the first time. We had gone across town so that no one would recognize us buying cigarettes. Only being 12 years old, we both new that our parents would not approve of us smoking, so we hid the box of cigarettes in a Q-Tip box and put that in the deepest pocket of our soft black leather purses. As we nervously walked down the sidewalk we started to jibber jabber about how easy it was to buy the cigarettes, and how the clerk was so clueless, and of course how we acted like 18 year olds. Our chatter was interrupted when we got to her house and walked inside. We immediately ran upstairs so that we could not be stopped by her mother with cigarettes in our purses. When we finally came downstairs her mother asked me to stay for dinner, which I politely excepted. After dinner I rushed home to watch Pinky Lee, I Love Lucy, and Jackie Gleason on TV. Once I was finished watching TV I went right to bed because I had to get up for church in the morning.
I woke up to the sun shining in my face, and got out of bed. Dressed in a blue straight skirt and a red cardigan sweater plus my cool bobby socks and penny loafers I walked downstairs and down the street to Jerri Lee's house to walk to church with her. After singing in the choir and listening to the pastor preach for and hour about loving your neighbors we walked back with our black purses hanging on our shoulders. We both went inside her house to listen to American Band Stand on Jerri Lee's pink High Fi. On the way upstairs we heard her mother doing dishes in the kitchen as we dropped our purses on her couch in front of Jerri Lee's little sister Darlene. Out of the clear blue Darlene grabbed my purse stuck her chubby little hand down in my purse and pulled out the Q-Tip box with the cigarettes in it and ran an gave it to her mother. Her mother opened up the box and found my cigarettes. Angry she chased me out of the house and told me that I better get back to my house and tell my mother that I was smoking before the phone rang. Huffing and Puffing I ran upstairs flung open my mother's bedroom door, jumped onto the bed and woke up my mother and told her that I was smoking. Much to my surprise she calmly answered that if I wanted to smoke that was fine, and to just stay away from mary janes. Although I had the approval of my mother, I never smoked again! That was when I was first introduced to reverse psychology.
by
Samantha Weber
Is that all you want? The clerk asked
Yes, that will be all. I calmly answered (although in the inside I was shaking)
It was a Saturday afternoon and my friend Jerri Lee, and I were buying cigarettes for the first time. We had gone across town so that no one would recognize us buying cigarettes. Only being 12 years old, we both new that our parents would not approve of us smoking, so we hid the box of cigarettes in a Q-Tip box and put that in the deepest pocket of our soft black leather purses. As we nervously walked down the sidewalk we started to jibber jabber about how easy it was to buy the cigarettes, and how the clerk was so clueless, and of course how we acted like 18 year olds. Our chatter was interrupted when we got to her house and walked inside. We immediately ran upstairs so that we could not be stopped by her mother with cigarettes in our purses. When we finally came downstairs her mother asked me to stay for dinner, which I politely excepted. After dinner I rushed home to watch Pinky Lee, I Love Lucy, and Jackie Gleason on TV. Once I was finished watching TV I went right to bed because I had to get up for church in the morning.
I woke up to the sun shining in my face, and got out of bed. Dressed in a blue straight skirt and a red cardigan sweater plus my cool bobby socks and penny loafers I walked downstairs and down the street to Jerri Lee's house to walk to church with her. After singing in the choir and listening to the pastor preach for and hour about loving your neighbors we walked back with our black purses hanging on our shoulders. We both went inside her house to listen to American Band Stand on Jerri Lee's pink High Fi. On the way upstairs we heard her mother doing dishes in the kitchen as we dropped our purses on her couch in front of Jerri Lee's little sister Darlene. Out of the clear blue Darlene grabbed my purse stuck her chubby little hand down in my purse and pulled out the Q-Tip box with the cigarettes in it and ran an gave it to her mother. Her mother opened up the box and found my cigarettes. Angry she chased me out of the house and told me that I better get back to my house and tell my mother that I was smoking before the phone rang. Huffing and Puffing I ran upstairs flung open my mother's bedroom door, jumped onto the bed and woke up my mother and told her that I was smoking. Much to my surprise she calmly answered that if I wanted to smoke that was fine, and to just stay away from mary janes. Although I had the approval of my mother, I never smoked again! That was when I was first introduced to reverse psychology.
Writing Club Assignment - Monday Mournings
Monday Mournings
By Samantha Weber
“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog…..”
“Mom, turn it off! Turn it off, and go away! Pleaseeeeee!!!!!!!”
“I will when you’re out of bed. Sam, get up!”
“No, no, no, no, no! I’m reeeally tired! I just got into my deep sleep!”
“That’s nice but all your school books are lonely in the schoolroom, and you have an arranged date with them.”
“Well, you can just tell them I’m canceling! I have a more important date with my pillow.”
“Sam, all of your public school friends have been up for hours and are probably finished 2nd period already in school.”
“Well, guess what mama? I’m not in public school! So,goodnight!”
“Sam, when you can’t play college soccer because you can’t get into college because you never finished 7th grade, you’ll be crying the blues back to me.”
“Mom, here is a famous saying: Sleep is GOOD!”
“Not when you need to get up!”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. Fine I’ll get up, but I’m taking a nap later!”
This was another bad start to the week. Mondays are my worst day, but it’s really all my mom’s fault because I should be allowed to sleep in on Mondays because Saturday mornings I have to get up really early. Let me take you back to Friday night when I learned a very valuable lesson about getting up.
9:00 p.m.
“You really should go to bed Sam. You know you have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I am, just hold on one second; I’m finishing up a game.”
“Oh, I don’t really care if you go to bed, I’m just giving you some advice.”
“Yeah, ok, hold on.”
9:30 p.m.
“Sam, you really need to get into bed, you’re going to be sorry in the morning.”
“Ok, fine but can I read for a little bit?”
“I guess but only until 9:45.”
“Ok, goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight, Sam.”
I would learn a lesson from this Friday night. I would learn not to stay up past 9:00 when you have to get up at 5:00 a.m. for a soccer practice an hour away. But, to make this story an interesting one, let me take you into my brain. If you could have looked through my eyes and into my cerebrum, you would have seen Digory trying to take an apple from a magic tree and carry it back to Aslan. Glued to the pages of the Magician’s Nephew, I finished the book at 11:00 p.m. I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t come. I tossed and turned for another hour and a half. Still not worried about getting up in 4 ½ hours, I finally fell half asleep; then at 4:30 I woke up and couldn’t find sleep again. I lay in bed until 5:15 when I finally got into a really deep sleep. Dreaming about winning an Olympic medal, my golden dream turned into a nightmare when I broke every bone in my body. Feeling the pain in my ribs turned into opening my eyes and seeing my mother poking me in the side. I screamed, with relief that I wasn’t almost dead, and with horror as I noticed that my mom was telling me to get up. With half-closed eyes, I stumbled out of bed and got dressed, realizing that going to bed after 9:00 and getting up at 5:00 with a sleepy body was one nightmare I could prevent in the future.
Now, obviously, a big advantage to Homeschool should be having the flexibility to sleep in on Monday mornings after exhausting weekends. However, homeschoolers, such as myself, seem to have a very hard time convincing our homeschooling parents of this. So, I guess I’m either going to have to learn to go to bed early on a lot of weekends since I have a lot of early morning practices/games or else continue to have the same old Monday Mournings!
By Samantha Weber
“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog…..”
“Mom, turn it off! Turn it off, and go away! Pleaseeeeee!!!!!!!”
“I will when you’re out of bed. Sam, get up!”
“No, no, no, no, no! I’m reeeally tired! I just got into my deep sleep!”
“That’s nice but all your school books are lonely in the schoolroom, and you have an arranged date with them.”
“Well, you can just tell them I’m canceling! I have a more important date with my pillow.”
“Sam, all of your public school friends have been up for hours and are probably finished 2nd period already in school.”
“Well, guess what mama? I’m not in public school! So,goodnight!”
“Sam, when you can’t play college soccer because you can’t get into college because you never finished 7th grade, you’ll be crying the blues back to me.”
“Mom, here is a famous saying: Sleep is GOOD!”
“Not when you need to get up!”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. Fine I’ll get up, but I’m taking a nap later!”
This was another bad start to the week. Mondays are my worst day, but it’s really all my mom’s fault because I should be allowed to sleep in on Mondays because Saturday mornings I have to get up really early. Let me take you back to Friday night when I learned a very valuable lesson about getting up.
9:00 p.m.
“You really should go to bed Sam. You know you have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I am, just hold on one second; I’m finishing up a game.”
“Oh, I don’t really care if you go to bed, I’m just giving you some advice.”
“Yeah, ok, hold on.”
9:30 p.m.
“Sam, you really need to get into bed, you’re going to be sorry in the morning.”
“Ok, fine but can I read for a little bit?”
“I guess but only until 9:45.”
“Ok, goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight, Sam.”
I would learn a lesson from this Friday night. I would learn not to stay up past 9:00 when you have to get up at 5:00 a.m. for a soccer practice an hour away. But, to make this story an interesting one, let me take you into my brain. If you could have looked through my eyes and into my cerebrum, you would have seen Digory trying to take an apple from a magic tree and carry it back to Aslan. Glued to the pages of the Magician’s Nephew, I finished the book at 11:00 p.m. I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t come. I tossed and turned for another hour and a half. Still not worried about getting up in 4 ½ hours, I finally fell half asleep; then at 4:30 I woke up and couldn’t find sleep again. I lay in bed until 5:15 when I finally got into a really deep sleep. Dreaming about winning an Olympic medal, my golden dream turned into a nightmare when I broke every bone in my body. Feeling the pain in my ribs turned into opening my eyes and seeing my mother poking me in the side. I screamed, with relief that I wasn’t almost dead, and with horror as I noticed that my mom was telling me to get up. With half-closed eyes, I stumbled out of bed and got dressed, realizing that going to bed after 9:00 and getting up at 5:00 with a sleepy body was one nightmare I could prevent in the future.
Now, obviously, a big advantage to Homeschool should be having the flexibility to sleep in on Monday mornings after exhausting weekends. However, homeschoolers, such as myself, seem to have a very hard time convincing our homeschooling parents of this. So, I guess I’m either going to have to learn to go to bed early on a lot of weekends since I have a lot of early morning practices/games or else continue to have the same old Monday Mournings!
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