Endorsements mean more than whining! And who the endorser is determines the endorsement’s value. Senator Pat Toomey’s endorsement means Battaglia has his “stamp of approval.” Sam Rohrer travelled across the State to kick-off Battaglia’s campaign in February while Diane Irey leant her support too at the same event. Rohrer lost to Tom Corbett, who Battaglia supported, but as the new PA Director of Americans for Prosperity, Rohrer has identified Battaglia as the rising conservative to create jobs here. Diane Irey is a 4th term Washington County Commissioner and Murtha challenger in 2004, credited for impressive economic development achievements, who wants to work with Battaglia.
Friends and neighbors, we need to see the big picture! Conservative leaders, having won the day in the November 2010 elections, want to maximize opportunities for business and job development at the most local level. They are telling us Dave Battaglia is the Republican candidate for County Commissioner who will enable this multi-level conservative effort to be successful.
Battaglia’s opponents’ response to the Toomey endorsement is more than discouraging.I cannot vote for those who whine that “Toomey didn’t sit down with them” or “ask them what their platforms are;” nor for those who complain that “seeking endorsements divides the Party;” nor for those who belittle the endorsements, claiming they “don’t show the direction of a candidate.” Give me a break! I look for the “stamp of approval” from those highly respected Republican leaders.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
To Seth on the occasion of his 30th birthday
The 30th year is when men get serious and
re-examine the hopes and dreams of their 20s.
Realizing their lifedreams are not entirely
on course is often wildly shocking.
Hopefully, the shock, combined with new maturity,
results in greater leadership, well-grounded wisdom,
and more realistic and meaningful goals.
And, if the 30 year-old man decides to
truly follow Jesus, he will will begin
to resemble a servant-king and find his life empty
of the non-essential but full of timeless treasures!
May the treasures of heaven find their way into your pockets
and may you have a year of significance!
re-examine the hopes and dreams of their 20s.
Realizing their lifedreams are not entirely
on course is often wildly shocking.
Hopefully, the shock, combined with new maturity,
results in greater leadership, well-grounded wisdom,
and more realistic and meaningful goals.
And, if the 30 year-old man decides to
truly follow Jesus, he will will begin
to resemble a servant-king and find his life empty
of the non-essential but full of timeless treasures!
May the treasures of heaven find their way into your pockets
and may you have a year of significance!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Sam's graduation provokes some memories for Mom
Today Samantha brought home her cap and gown and recounted her amazing last day of *official* high school, filled with teachers, counselors, and students’ tears of sadness as this most-loved class of 2010 prepares to graduate and move on in separate directions. Teachers have said that every once in a while you get a class of students that is amazing, and this one was amazing in personality, character, accomplishments, initiative, charity, brotherly love and respect. I’m glad for the different educational venues Sam successfully navigated from public school kindergarten through 8 years of home education beside her brother and sister, to entrance into Freeport Area High School where she blossomed as an individual of strong character, defined beliefs, religious, political, and social, and realized her potential as a leader, a speaker, a friend, and a hard-worker. She learned to make friends and be a friend while keeping family first. She graduates with a 4.3 gpa and is headed to Grove City College where she will play soccer, major in English, and pursue their pre-med program.
But while Sam’s off to celebrate the last day, I sat down on the couch and while twirling her 2010 tassle on my finger, I was drawn back to my own high school experiences. I entered 9th grade after newly moving to Silver Spring MD. Previously I’d attended a public elementary school in Washington DC, and then bussed to a private school in rural Maryland where I’d had good friends but no one lived nearby. We’d moved because my mother had remarried a man I strongly disliked, a not-recovered alcoholic who eventually shot and killed her when I was 19. Those were literally rough years for me and only one teacher/class sponsor really came alongside me and was my friend – Mr. Hite, who left before I did and became a priest. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed till just a moment ago, sitting on the couch thinking of these wonderful times my daughter has enjoyed and all the plans for graduation and baccalaureate and a graduation party in July still to come.
My class’ last week of school, just as is planned for Freeport, included several days of practicing. We had an outdoor stage on the football field as I recall – that was Plan A. Plan B was to move the ceremony into the school auditiorium in case of rain. My class was over 600. (The whole week was somewhat spoiled for me already because my real father who’d taken off shortly after I was born had written a letter to my mother that I was not to have seen, but did, recounting every penny he’d ever spent for my upkeep as a caution against anyone expecting him to help with my college. My grandparents who lived with my mother and I were my only stability. So, the big day arrived. I think my father did show up with pearl earrings as a gift, which would have been fine if I’d never seen his letter. My mother gave me a Bulova gold watch (don’t remember if my grandparents gave me a gift of not) What I remember is that we lined up outside when it was obviously about to pour rain. When the sky opened up, we stood and got soaked. Eventually word was passed around that everyone should go to their homeroom to get their diplomas. The halls were packed. I eventually got to my homeroom; I think most kids were already gone by the time I got there. I fished through wet cardboard boxes, found my diploma, and drove home or maybe went to a party, don’t recall.
Like Sam, I’d worked hard and mostly excelled in high school, was well liked by most teachers, had put on the school’s first Senior Banquet with am amazing talent show that won me a good bit of recognition, worked behind stage for school plays, did some artwork for the school, and was a class officer. During our senior year, I came up with the idea to build a big wooden, coffin-shaped, box and painted it with school colors. It went in a display case and we filled it with all the memorabilia we could gather from high school years. At the close of school, several of the boys carried it to storage in the school attic – to be opened at our reunions. I was suppose to organize the first reunion – sadly, I never did and have never even heard if our class ever had a reunion. Northwood High School, home of the Indians, robbed the class of 1964 of their graduation, I feel sadder about it tonight than I ever have, but am thankful Sam is having this wonderful experience.
But while Sam’s off to celebrate the last day, I sat down on the couch and while twirling her 2010 tassle on my finger, I was drawn back to my own high school experiences. I entered 9th grade after newly moving to Silver Spring MD. Previously I’d attended a public elementary school in Washington DC, and then bussed to a private school in rural Maryland where I’d had good friends but no one lived nearby. We’d moved because my mother had remarried a man I strongly disliked, a not-recovered alcoholic who eventually shot and killed her when I was 19. Those were literally rough years for me and only one teacher/class sponsor really came alongside me and was my friend – Mr. Hite, who left before I did and became a priest. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed till just a moment ago, sitting on the couch thinking of these wonderful times my daughter has enjoyed and all the plans for graduation and baccalaureate and a graduation party in July still to come.
My class’ last week of school, just as is planned for Freeport, included several days of practicing. We had an outdoor stage on the football field as I recall – that was Plan A. Plan B was to move the ceremony into the school auditiorium in case of rain. My class was over 600. (The whole week was somewhat spoiled for me already because my real father who’d taken off shortly after I was born had written a letter to my mother that I was not to have seen, but did, recounting every penny he’d ever spent for my upkeep as a caution against anyone expecting him to help with my college. My grandparents who lived with my mother and I were my only stability. So, the big day arrived. I think my father did show up with pearl earrings as a gift, which would have been fine if I’d never seen his letter. My mother gave me a Bulova gold watch (don’t remember if my grandparents gave me a gift of not) What I remember is that we lined up outside when it was obviously about to pour rain. When the sky opened up, we stood and got soaked. Eventually word was passed around that everyone should go to their homeroom to get their diplomas. The halls were packed. I eventually got to my homeroom; I think most kids were already gone by the time I got there. I fished through wet cardboard boxes, found my diploma, and drove home or maybe went to a party, don’t recall.
Like Sam, I’d worked hard and mostly excelled in high school, was well liked by most teachers, had put on the school’s first Senior Banquet with am amazing talent show that won me a good bit of recognition, worked behind stage for school plays, did some artwork for the school, and was a class officer. During our senior year, I came up with the idea to build a big wooden, coffin-shaped, box and painted it with school colors. It went in a display case and we filled it with all the memorabilia we could gather from high school years. At the close of school, several of the boys carried it to storage in the school attic – to be opened at our reunions. I was suppose to organize the first reunion – sadly, I never did and have never even heard if our class ever had a reunion. Northwood High School, home of the Indians, robbed the class of 1964 of their graduation, I feel sadder about it tonight than I ever have, but am thankful Sam is having this wonderful experience.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Unknowns - A Story for Mr. Grasha, Honors Chemistry
The Tracker
“Oh, No!” Please. Don’t. I am begging you.” I pleaded.
Today was Sunday June 20th, 2009 -- my sister’s wedding day. She had just gotten back from getting her hair done at the salon and I was already fighting off a curling iron, a tube of mascara, a bridesmaid, and the photographer. Rachel, the maid of honor, was now holding me down and I was forced to be still. Of course every time she tried to put some kind of junk on my face I either squinted or jerked. I already had some black, purple, and blue streaks all over my face but I was not going to let her win without a fight. As you can see, I am not the bride, so why all the preparation? I had to go through all of this torture because I had to walk fifty-four steps down the aisle between two rows of white chairs, up onto the stage, and turn around all without tripping. Despite my athleticism, this was no easy task because not only was I forced to smile and act all lady-like but also I had to do it in a dress and heels. Ugh, the dress. It was time. This was definitely the worst part of this whole event. Truthfully, I could handle all the make-up; I could handle the dancing, but wearing a dress all day? No! That was too much. Nevertheless, Rachel hung the dress on the shower rod, pushed me into the bathroom, and locked the door. Soon, she set me free and I emerged dressed and ready to get the whole wedding over with. I looked in the mirror and realized that I didn’t look half bad. Personally, I preferred my more comfortable clothes back at my apartment.
It was time. I could hear Rachel frantically calling my name and I filed into line with the three other bridesmaids and the rest of the wedding party. Rachel handed me an aluminum lantern (we were carrying these instead of flowers) and I waited patiently to be given any last minute instructions. This was when it hit me, my sister was getting married. Emotions surfaced as I looked off my back porch at all the people in my backyard waiting for the processional to begin. I had always thought it was pretty stupid to have the wedding at our house, but now that it was actually happening, I realized how special this day was going to be, despite this tight dress. To be honest, I was surprised Lindsey had asked me to be in her wedding, I hadn’t really seen her in five years.
After I graduated from New York University in 2004, I was quickly scooped up by a private investigative firm in Manhattan. My family, however, did not know this. They thought that I worked for a publishing company, reading manuscripts and drinking coffee in a nice corner office. To them, I was moderately successful in a world of commas and periods. Period. But that wasn’t my real life. In reality, I was different from most women my age. I was organized, intelligent, and punctual. My job required a certain appearance, and when the Company’s previous agent, Leah, went rouge, I was recruited. My first day on the job I was completely transformed. I had grown up a rebellious tom-boy who hated make up, dresses, and anything girly, which was why I had to act the part now that I was back home for Lindsey’s wedding, but now, I had changed for the position. Presently, long straight dark brown hair lay gently against my back. I have soft olive colored skin. My eyebrows are slim and perfectly plucked. I am tall and physically fit. However, as perfect as my hair, face, and body are it is my eyes that attract the most attention. My name is Alex, and I am The Tracker.
My reflective thoughts are brought back to reality as the music begins and the first bridesmaid steps off the porch. When she gets to the back row of chairs, I take a deep breath and start my walk with my lantern daintily swaying in my left hand. This was no normal walk down the aisle. This was a “one, two, three, four” count. In the rehearsal we tried the “step-right, step-together, step left, step- together” but my father somehow was not able to do this. He would always step with the same foot forward and practically trip my sister. I am now halfway down the grassy aisle between the white chairs and all the guests. As I step, “one, two, three, four” my eye catches sight of one of the men from The Company. I know what this means – I’m needed right away for a new mission. I need to come up with some kind of distraction, need to find a way to get out of here immediately. Suddenly an idea pops into my head and I step into a small hole in the yard and I feel myself losing my footing and I am falling, falling…fallen. The agent from the Company slips out of the aisle and is leaning over me to help me up. Just as we were trained, he whispers two words indicating the level of emergency: “Copper Corkscrew” and gives me a small yellow pill that will help me fake a life-threatening medical emergency. I swallow the pill, and as my body begins to seize, the Agent explains to the guests and my family that he is a very good friend of mine and a doctor and that I need to be life-flighted to a hospital in New York City. My condition appears to be contagious to the touch and since he is the only one who has touched my skin, he is also the only one who should go with me to the hospital. Despite the hysteria from my family, it works like clockwork and we get out with relatively little difficulty.
Within ten minutes The Company’s helicopter arrives on scene and takes the Agent and I away. As soon as we are out of sight, I’m given the ok to wake up. Immediately, I am briefed on the situation: a Russian operative, Vladimir Smirnov, has smuggled in sulfur mustard that he plans to use to launch a chemical warfare attack on NYC at 2100 and it’s my job to find the suspect since I am the Tracker, after all. I’m informed that I am being sent back undercover to the active Russian mob, led by Nikolai Kurznetsov, a cover I had kept for the last three years before I got out just six months ago. The Agent tells me that I will be dropped off a few miles outside of the city where everything I need for my mission will be waiting for me. Quickly, I change into dark jeans, a slim-fitting t-shirt, and a black leather jacket while the Agent downloads further information and instructions to my PDA. The Agent hands me an ear piece that will connect me with the head intelligence officer, Christian Brauer. We land, and I jog over to the black 2010 Audi TTS Coupe waiting for me. Vroom, vroom, I’m off and speed towards an abandoned building in the center of the city where I know Nikolai Kuznetsov will be working on some kind of arms deal.
Kurznetsov is disgusted when I walk into the smoky three-story abandoned building he is working out of. Immediately, two of his men, Viktor and Dmitry, pounce on me like a cat on a mouse and I am slammed up against a brick wall. One of his body guards punches my ribs. My extensive training has prepared me to block out the sharp pain in my side and I stand tough, never dropping my eyes from Kurznetsov. The other guard begins to pat me down to check for weapons, perhaps enjoying himself a little too much. Kurznetsov walks towards me and curses in Russian. He demands to know what my business is coming here in the middle of his preparation for his arms deal.
“I heard there’s going to be a chemical attack on New York City that’s happening later today and I want in” I respond.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Alexandra. The only thing going down today is my arms deal and you are interrupting. Shoot her Viktor, she is of no use” Kurznetsov replies in his thick Russian accent.
“Я знаю, что будет нападение сегодня, и я повторяю, я хочу дюйм Вы должны мне, я сохранил ты жизнь дочери” I retort.
“Kurznetsov tosses me a nickel and says: “I’m not running the operation, but I’ve heard rumors that Vladimir Smirnov is. I don’t where he is or how to find him, but I can make a few calls. We’re even now.”
An hour later I walk back to my car as I wipe Kurznetsov and his men’s blood off my hands. I can’t afford to have loose ends. I jump in the driver’s seat and speed off towards an auto shop where Vladimir’s men are supposedly assembling the chemical weapon. Will I be lucky enough to catch them before they move the weapon again? Probably not, these types of missions are never that easy. Beep, beep my ear piece informs me that my deadline has been moved up to 1900. With no time to waste, I floor the gas pedal and watch the speedometer rise from seventy-five to eighty to eighty-five and then to where it finally rests at ninety. Within minutes I park a few blocks away from the auto shop and take a couple seconds to observe my surroundings. As my eyes scan, I find an adjacent abandoned building about eighty meters away from the auto shop. I pop my trunk and pull out the M24 Sniper Weapon and a bag of other supplies. As I climb the steps of the abandoned building, I assume there will be at least three men with Vladimir. One will probably be out back, the other out front, and one inside with him. That means I need two clean shots, one for Vladimir and one for his hopeful replacement inside.
I reach into my bag and pull out the thermal binoculars. There are four men in the auto shop, just as I suspected. I assemble my M24 and look through the scope, waiting for Vladimir to come into sight. My finger rests on the trigger, sweat drops slide down my skin in anticipation, but my body holds perfectly still. Suddenly, a man slides into view, I assume it must be Vladimir’s right hand man. I count back from three in my head to pull the trigger: “three, two…”
“Stop Alex. Stop” my ear piece exclaims.
“What Christian? He was in my line of fire!” I sigh as I let my finger fall off the trigger.
“We just got new intelligence; Vladimir isn’t in the building anymore.”
“Do you have any new leads?”
“No, nothing, however, we’re only an hour away from the deadline.”
“He had to have moved the weapon somewhere where he can release it to a very populated area within the city -- a subway or some kind of festival, perhaps?”
“I wish I had more information for you, Alex, but I’ve got nothing on this end. It’s up to you.”
I pounded my fists into my head. Think, Alex, think I said to myself. My right hand slips into my pocket as I try to figure out Vladimir’s next move. Suddenly, my fingers grasp the nickel Kurznetsov gave to me and it hits me – the Staten Island Coin Show kicks off at 1900 today.
“Clear-Chloride, Nitrate, Good-Golly!”
There will be thousands of people there and that has to be where Vladimir is planning to launch his attack. I jump into my car and speed towards Staten Island.
Upon arrival, I grab my SIG Sauer P220 handgun and sprint towards the center of the coin show. I know Vladimir will have had one of his men plant the sulfur mustard canister somewhere near the middle, and I also know that Vladimir will want to push the big red button himself from somewhere where he can watch. I scan my surroundings and my eyes lock on building directly outside of the probable strike range – Vladimir must be in there. I quickly turn around and head towards the only window within range of watching the imminent strike. My calves burn as I climb the steps, but I push on. I stop at the fourth floor and pull out my gun. I slip through the door and look towards the window. Nothing.
“Gah! I must have been wrong!” I think to myself.
Suddenly, a figure appears in front of the window and I recognize the man as Vladimir. I slide quietly against the peeling wall-paper and stop directly behind him. In one swift motion, I grab him and press my gun into his skull.
“Drop the remote Vladimir. It’s over” I whisper in his ear.
He gently sets the remote down and I handcuff him.
“Christian, I’ve secured the remote and have Vladimir in custod…”
CRASH!
“Alex! What was that noise?” Christian shouts.
“Vladimir. He jumped out the window. He’s dead.” I answer.
“Great. Just great. Well, at least we found him before he could set off the weapon. I just had some other Agents secure the canister; it was hidden underneath a table at the coin show. Pack up, Alex. Good work today. I’ll send some men over to clean up Vladimir’s body.” Christian said.
Three weeks later I was back at my parent’s house – my sister’s wedding had been rescheduled. No one in my family let me out of their sight after my “medical emergency.” Everyone was completely freaked out by my sudden illness on the original wedding date, and I just couldn’t seem to convince them that there was nothing to worry about now. Nevertheless, my mom watched everything I ate, touched, and drank like a hawk, even now her eyes were locked on me as I stepped “one, two, three, four” down the aisle between the white chairs again. As I walked, I constantly prayed, behind my smile, that I would not trip or throw my lantern and catch anyone on fire. But, despite my prayer, it happened: I stepped in a small hole and lost my balance. Although I wobbled a little bit, no one seemed to notice. I caught my balance and kept going, and then I was finally done. I now watched as the other two bridesmaids followed. Then the music changed and I watched as my sister walked down the aisle, probably praying the same prayer as me to not trip and fall. She was walking with my dad, and she was smiling. She was really excited. I looked at my dad’s feet and noticed that he was doing just fine, walking normally. Lindsey was now looking into Seth’s eyes and the pastor started the ceremony.
“Oh, No!” Please. Don’t. I am begging you.” I pleaded.
Today was Sunday June 20th, 2009 -- my sister’s wedding day. She had just gotten back from getting her hair done at the salon and I was already fighting off a curling iron, a tube of mascara, a bridesmaid, and the photographer. Rachel, the maid of honor, was now holding me down and I was forced to be still. Of course every time she tried to put some kind of junk on my face I either squinted or jerked. I already had some black, purple, and blue streaks all over my face but I was not going to let her win without a fight. As you can see, I am not the bride, so why all the preparation? I had to go through all of this torture because I had to walk fifty-four steps down the aisle between two rows of white chairs, up onto the stage, and turn around all without tripping. Despite my athleticism, this was no easy task because not only was I forced to smile and act all lady-like but also I had to do it in a dress and heels. Ugh, the dress. It was time. This was definitely the worst part of this whole event. Truthfully, I could handle all the make-up; I could handle the dancing, but wearing a dress all day? No! That was too much. Nevertheless, Rachel hung the dress on the shower rod, pushed me into the bathroom, and locked the door. Soon, she set me free and I emerged dressed and ready to get the whole wedding over with. I looked in the mirror and realized that I didn’t look half bad. Personally, I preferred my more comfortable clothes back at my apartment.
It was time. I could hear Rachel frantically calling my name and I filed into line with the three other bridesmaids and the rest of the wedding party. Rachel handed me an aluminum lantern (we were carrying these instead of flowers) and I waited patiently to be given any last minute instructions. This was when it hit me, my sister was getting married. Emotions surfaced as I looked off my back porch at all the people in my backyard waiting for the processional to begin. I had always thought it was pretty stupid to have the wedding at our house, but now that it was actually happening, I realized how special this day was going to be, despite this tight dress. To be honest, I was surprised Lindsey had asked me to be in her wedding, I hadn’t really seen her in five years.
After I graduated from New York University in 2004, I was quickly scooped up by a private investigative firm in Manhattan. My family, however, did not know this. They thought that I worked for a publishing company, reading manuscripts and drinking coffee in a nice corner office. To them, I was moderately successful in a world of commas and periods. Period. But that wasn’t my real life. In reality, I was different from most women my age. I was organized, intelligent, and punctual. My job required a certain appearance, and when the Company’s previous agent, Leah, went rouge, I was recruited. My first day on the job I was completely transformed. I had grown up a rebellious tom-boy who hated make up, dresses, and anything girly, which was why I had to act the part now that I was back home for Lindsey’s wedding, but now, I had changed for the position. Presently, long straight dark brown hair lay gently against my back. I have soft olive colored skin. My eyebrows are slim and perfectly plucked. I am tall and physically fit. However, as perfect as my hair, face, and body are it is my eyes that attract the most attention. My name is Alex, and I am The Tracker.
My reflective thoughts are brought back to reality as the music begins and the first bridesmaid steps off the porch. When she gets to the back row of chairs, I take a deep breath and start my walk with my lantern daintily swaying in my left hand. This was no normal walk down the aisle. This was a “one, two, three, four” count. In the rehearsal we tried the “step-right, step-together, step left, step- together” but my father somehow was not able to do this. He would always step with the same foot forward and practically trip my sister. I am now halfway down the grassy aisle between the white chairs and all the guests. As I step, “one, two, three, four” my eye catches sight of one of the men from The Company. I know what this means – I’m needed right away for a new mission. I need to come up with some kind of distraction, need to find a way to get out of here immediately. Suddenly an idea pops into my head and I step into a small hole in the yard and I feel myself losing my footing and I am falling, falling…fallen. The agent from the Company slips out of the aisle and is leaning over me to help me up. Just as we were trained, he whispers two words indicating the level of emergency: “Copper Corkscrew” and gives me a small yellow pill that will help me fake a life-threatening medical emergency. I swallow the pill, and as my body begins to seize, the Agent explains to the guests and my family that he is a very good friend of mine and a doctor and that I need to be life-flighted to a hospital in New York City. My condition appears to be contagious to the touch and since he is the only one who has touched my skin, he is also the only one who should go with me to the hospital. Despite the hysteria from my family, it works like clockwork and we get out with relatively little difficulty.
Within ten minutes The Company’s helicopter arrives on scene and takes the Agent and I away. As soon as we are out of sight, I’m given the ok to wake up. Immediately, I am briefed on the situation: a Russian operative, Vladimir Smirnov, has smuggled in sulfur mustard that he plans to use to launch a chemical warfare attack on NYC at 2100 and it’s my job to find the suspect since I am the Tracker, after all. I’m informed that I am being sent back undercover to the active Russian mob, led by Nikolai Kurznetsov, a cover I had kept for the last three years before I got out just six months ago. The Agent tells me that I will be dropped off a few miles outside of the city where everything I need for my mission will be waiting for me. Quickly, I change into dark jeans, a slim-fitting t-shirt, and a black leather jacket while the Agent downloads further information and instructions to my PDA. The Agent hands me an ear piece that will connect me with the head intelligence officer, Christian Brauer. We land, and I jog over to the black 2010 Audi TTS Coupe waiting for me. Vroom, vroom, I’m off and speed towards an abandoned building in the center of the city where I know Nikolai Kuznetsov will be working on some kind of arms deal.
Kurznetsov is disgusted when I walk into the smoky three-story abandoned building he is working out of. Immediately, two of his men, Viktor and Dmitry, pounce on me like a cat on a mouse and I am slammed up against a brick wall. One of his body guards punches my ribs. My extensive training has prepared me to block out the sharp pain in my side and I stand tough, never dropping my eyes from Kurznetsov. The other guard begins to pat me down to check for weapons, perhaps enjoying himself a little too much. Kurznetsov walks towards me and curses in Russian. He demands to know what my business is coming here in the middle of his preparation for his arms deal.
“I heard there’s going to be a chemical attack on New York City that’s happening later today and I want in” I respond.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Alexandra. The only thing going down today is my arms deal and you are interrupting. Shoot her Viktor, she is of no use” Kurznetsov replies in his thick Russian accent.
“Я знаю, что будет нападение сегодня, и я повторяю, я хочу дюйм Вы должны мне, я сохранил ты жизнь дочери” I retort.
“Kurznetsov tosses me a nickel and says: “I’m not running the operation, but I’ve heard rumors that Vladimir Smirnov is. I don’t where he is or how to find him, but I can make a few calls. We’re even now.”
An hour later I walk back to my car as I wipe Kurznetsov and his men’s blood off my hands. I can’t afford to have loose ends. I jump in the driver’s seat and speed off towards an auto shop where Vladimir’s men are supposedly assembling the chemical weapon. Will I be lucky enough to catch them before they move the weapon again? Probably not, these types of missions are never that easy. Beep, beep my ear piece informs me that my deadline has been moved up to 1900. With no time to waste, I floor the gas pedal and watch the speedometer rise from seventy-five to eighty to eighty-five and then to where it finally rests at ninety. Within minutes I park a few blocks away from the auto shop and take a couple seconds to observe my surroundings. As my eyes scan, I find an adjacent abandoned building about eighty meters away from the auto shop. I pop my trunk and pull out the M24 Sniper Weapon and a bag of other supplies. As I climb the steps of the abandoned building, I assume there will be at least three men with Vladimir. One will probably be out back, the other out front, and one inside with him. That means I need two clean shots, one for Vladimir and one for his hopeful replacement inside.
I reach into my bag and pull out the thermal binoculars. There are four men in the auto shop, just as I suspected. I assemble my M24 and look through the scope, waiting for Vladimir to come into sight. My finger rests on the trigger, sweat drops slide down my skin in anticipation, but my body holds perfectly still. Suddenly, a man slides into view, I assume it must be Vladimir’s right hand man. I count back from three in my head to pull the trigger: “three, two…”
“Stop Alex. Stop” my ear piece exclaims.
“What Christian? He was in my line of fire!” I sigh as I let my finger fall off the trigger.
“We just got new intelligence; Vladimir isn’t in the building anymore.”
“Do you have any new leads?”
“No, nothing, however, we’re only an hour away from the deadline.”
“He had to have moved the weapon somewhere where he can release it to a very populated area within the city -- a subway or some kind of festival, perhaps?”
“I wish I had more information for you, Alex, but I’ve got nothing on this end. It’s up to you.”
I pounded my fists into my head. Think, Alex, think I said to myself. My right hand slips into my pocket as I try to figure out Vladimir’s next move. Suddenly, my fingers grasp the nickel Kurznetsov gave to me and it hits me – the Staten Island Coin Show kicks off at 1900 today.
“Clear-Chloride, Nitrate, Good-Golly!”
There will be thousands of people there and that has to be where Vladimir is planning to launch his attack. I jump into my car and speed towards Staten Island.
Upon arrival, I grab my SIG Sauer P220 handgun and sprint towards the center of the coin show. I know Vladimir will have had one of his men plant the sulfur mustard canister somewhere near the middle, and I also know that Vladimir will want to push the big red button himself from somewhere where he can watch. I scan my surroundings and my eyes lock on building directly outside of the probable strike range – Vladimir must be in there. I quickly turn around and head towards the only window within range of watching the imminent strike. My calves burn as I climb the steps, but I push on. I stop at the fourth floor and pull out my gun. I slip through the door and look towards the window. Nothing.
“Gah! I must have been wrong!” I think to myself.
Suddenly, a figure appears in front of the window and I recognize the man as Vladimir. I slide quietly against the peeling wall-paper and stop directly behind him. In one swift motion, I grab him and press my gun into his skull.
“Drop the remote Vladimir. It’s over” I whisper in his ear.
He gently sets the remote down and I handcuff him.
“Christian, I’ve secured the remote and have Vladimir in custod…”
CRASH!
“Alex! What was that noise?” Christian shouts.
“Vladimir. He jumped out the window. He’s dead.” I answer.
“Great. Just great. Well, at least we found him before he could set off the weapon. I just had some other Agents secure the canister; it was hidden underneath a table at the coin show. Pack up, Alex. Good work today. I’ll send some men over to clean up Vladimir’s body.” Christian said.
Three weeks later I was back at my parent’s house – my sister’s wedding had been rescheduled. No one in my family let me out of their sight after my “medical emergency.” Everyone was completely freaked out by my sudden illness on the original wedding date, and I just couldn’t seem to convince them that there was nothing to worry about now. Nevertheless, my mom watched everything I ate, touched, and drank like a hawk, even now her eyes were locked on me as I stepped “one, two, three, four” down the aisle between the white chairs again. As I walked, I constantly prayed, behind my smile, that I would not trip or throw my lantern and catch anyone on fire. But, despite my prayer, it happened: I stepped in a small hole and lost my balance. Although I wobbled a little bit, no one seemed to notice. I caught my balance and kept going, and then I was finally done. I now watched as the other two bridesmaids followed. Then the music changed and I watched as my sister walked down the aisle, probably praying the same prayer as me to not trip and fall. She was walking with my dad, and she was smiling. She was really excited. I looked at my dad’s feet and noticed that he was doing just fine, walking normally. Lindsey was now looking into Seth’s eyes and the pastor started the ceremony.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Why I Am Running for Vice Chairman, Armstrong GOP Comm, May 2010
If you've followed my blog posts from the beginning, obviously I have been concerned with the hidden nature of the committee and the lack of representation across PA and the the country. As a County Coordinator for Sam Rohrer for Governor, I promoted not only Sam but also the county committees’ existence and role in the election process. Many eyes were opened and people stepped forward to seek committee seats. With that accomplished, my next goal is to bring Republicans together within the precincts, starting with my own. If this can be accomplished, what a strong foundation we can build!
In Armstrong County, the election of 108 committee people has almost tripled the membership from the previous year! As someone who eagerly sought increased participation and representation, I am thrilled by the results. This is the right kind of change! Other changes are needed, and the first is to effect a change in leadership.
I am supporting Ron Davis for Chairman. Ron moved to Armstrong a few years ago and has an enormous amount of experience in Republican Committee work from his years in Allegheny County. He knows how to bring people together and facilitate opposing interests to get real work accomplished with fairness to all. I am also supporting Andy Evans of Apollo for Treasurer. I’ve known Andy as an elder in the PCA and also as a successful businessman and CPA, and now the Tax Collector for North Apollo.
My resume is much more limited, but I too have a respect for individuals and want to see the Republican Party be the best it can be - which means being open, principled, and inclusive. I firmly believe that if we do "the right things," great rewards will be forthcoming. Manipulation, secretiveness, expediency, and cronyism are some of our enemies. Our strength will come from the ideas, initiatives, talents, and leadership that each of you will bring to the committee! Viewing the Committee as a pyramid, the base is where its strength lies. My vision for the Committee is that it is not led, but leads. The power of the Committee should come from the Republican electors in the precincts, flowing through the Committee system, to impact candidates and incumbents from here to Washington.
In Armstrong County, the election of 108 committee people has almost tripled the membership from the previous year! As someone who eagerly sought increased participation and representation, I am thrilled by the results. This is the right kind of change! Other changes are needed, and the first is to effect a change in leadership.
I am supporting Ron Davis for Chairman. Ron moved to Armstrong a few years ago and has an enormous amount of experience in Republican Committee work from his years in Allegheny County. He knows how to bring people together and facilitate opposing interests to get real work accomplished with fairness to all. I am also supporting Andy Evans of Apollo for Treasurer. I’ve known Andy as an elder in the PCA and also as a successful businessman and CPA, and now the Tax Collector for North Apollo.
My resume is much more limited, but I too have a respect for individuals and want to see the Republican Party be the best it can be - which means being open, principled, and inclusive. I firmly believe that if we do "the right things," great rewards will be forthcoming. Manipulation, secretiveness, expediency, and cronyism are some of our enemies. Our strength will come from the ideas, initiatives, talents, and leadership that each of you will bring to the committee! Viewing the Committee as a pyramid, the base is where its strength lies. My vision for the Committee is that it is not led, but leads. The power of the Committee should come from the Republican electors in the precincts, flowing through the Committee system, to impact candidates and incumbents from here to Washington.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
LTE published Butler Eagle 4-21-2010
Return power to the people
Most people in the country are registered Democrats or Republicans, but what has this meant? Probably not more than holding a political philosophy and pushing a lever to vote every four years.
And yet the parties have extraordinary power, and that power begins in the county committees at the grass-roots level.
In Pennsylvania, in the Republican Party, every voting precinct in a county elects two people to seats on the Republican County Committee. The problem is that this level of government is virtually invisible.
Can people name one of the committee people representing them in their voting precinct? Probably not.
And it is highly likely that no one is representing them.
In Armstrong County, there are 74 precincts; however, in the election on May 18, when committee people will be elected to four-year terms, only 22 of the precincts have even one person running. Fifty-two precincts will have no representation.
From the county committee, representatives are chosen for the Republican State Committee, and from the state committee representatives are chosen for the Republican National Committee. These committees have enormous power, and when it becomes concentrated in such a few people who might be entrenched in the system, the influence of big money, special interests and control of the ballots, endorsements and campaign money has huge potential for abuse.
I am told all of this is true for both parties across the entire nation.
Voters can change this on May 18. First, they should go to their voter registration office and find out if anyone is running in their precinct.
Second, if no one is running, it is not too late. Anyone can run as a write-in candidate. Only 10 people need to write in one's name (uniformly) on the ballot.
Additional information is available by googling the National Precincts Movement and, in Pennsylvania, the PA Precinct Activists.
This is the key to returning power to the people at the grass-roots level.
Alison Weber
South Buffalo Township
Armstrong County
Most people in the country are registered Democrats or Republicans, but what has this meant? Probably not more than holding a political philosophy and pushing a lever to vote every four years.
And yet the parties have extraordinary power, and that power begins in the county committees at the grass-roots level.
In Pennsylvania, in the Republican Party, every voting precinct in a county elects two people to seats on the Republican County Committee. The problem is that this level of government is virtually invisible.
Can people name one of the committee people representing them in their voting precinct? Probably not.
And it is highly likely that no one is representing them.
In Armstrong County, there are 74 precincts; however, in the election on May 18, when committee people will be elected to four-year terms, only 22 of the precincts have even one person running. Fifty-two precincts will have no representation.
From the county committee, representatives are chosen for the Republican State Committee, and from the state committee representatives are chosen for the Republican National Committee. These committees have enormous power, and when it becomes concentrated in such a few people who might be entrenched in the system, the influence of big money, special interests and control of the ballots, endorsements and campaign money has huge potential for abuse.
I am told all of this is true for both parties across the entire nation.
Voters can change this on May 18. First, they should go to their voter registration office and find out if anyone is running in their precinct.
Second, if no one is running, it is not too late. Anyone can run as a write-in candidate. Only 10 people need to write in one's name (uniformly) on the ballot.
Additional information is available by googling the National Precincts Movement and, in Pennsylvania, the PA Precinct Activists.
This is the key to returning power to the people at the grass-roots level.
Alison Weber
South Buffalo Township
Armstrong County
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
What Lies Ahead
What Lies Ahead
Throughout high school, I have been blessed to be surrounded by exceptional and effective leaders who were marked by honorable character and selfless service. I’ve learned a good leader is resilient and will find a way to rebuild the world when it begins to collapse. I’ve also been told that if I want something to change, I have to be the change I want to see in the world. It is for this reason that I want to pursue a career in medicine.
After enduring several serious sports injuries, I’ve made it my life’s goal to help other injured athletes not only get back onto the field but also avoid injuries to begin with. This is the change I hope to affect as nothing is more devastating to a committed athlete than to be told he should never play again. My pursuit of a medical career is not driven by a desire for a hefty salary but by a desire to provide exceptional care for athletes. . Overcoming my own athletic disappointments developed my stamina and perseverance while my competitive nature caused me to set my educational goals high. I plan to major in English and take the prerequisite classes for the MCATs so that I can go on to medical school. I have applied to the University of Virginia and Grove City College and have already been accepted to the University of Pittsburgh and Texas A&M. Any of these schools will provide me with the education and clinical and research opportunities as an undergraduate student that are necessary to realistically pursue a career in surgery.
I agree with Marian Wright Edelman when she said, “Education is for improving the lives of others and for leaving your community and world better than you found it.” My own athletic journey drives me to pursue a career in medicine and I’m anxious to begin studying.
Throughout high school, I have been blessed to be surrounded by exceptional and effective leaders who were marked by honorable character and selfless service. I’ve learned a good leader is resilient and will find a way to rebuild the world when it begins to collapse. I’ve also been told that if I want something to change, I have to be the change I want to see in the world. It is for this reason that I want to pursue a career in medicine.
After enduring several serious sports injuries, I’ve made it my life’s goal to help other injured athletes not only get back onto the field but also avoid injuries to begin with. This is the change I hope to affect as nothing is more devastating to a committed athlete than to be told he should never play again. My pursuit of a medical career is not driven by a desire for a hefty salary but by a desire to provide exceptional care for athletes. . Overcoming my own athletic disappointments developed my stamina and perseverance while my competitive nature caused me to set my educational goals high. I plan to major in English and take the prerequisite classes for the MCATs so that I can go on to medical school. I have applied to the University of Virginia and Grove City College and have already been accepted to the University of Pittsburgh and Texas A&M. Any of these schools will provide me with the education and clinical and research opportunities as an undergraduate student that are necessary to realistically pursue a career in surgery.
I agree with Marian Wright Edelman when she said, “Education is for improving the lives of others and for leaving your community and world better than you found it.” My own athletic journey drives me to pursue a career in medicine and I’m anxious to begin studying.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
31st Anniversary Prayer from Alexa (Nov 4 2009)
A prayer for mom and dad...
Father,
I just want to thank you for giving me parents who have followed and feared you throughout all their years together.
Thank you for giving me parents who trained up their children in the way they should go -- from reading the Bible in the evenings (even the mysterious book of Hezzekiah) to learning life lessons from The Millers and the Bayou, to instilling solid Calvinist values in us from an early age: "Why did God make you and all things? For his own glory!" I see so few people, even Christians, who have this solid foundation of truth -- and amidst all of today's postmodernism, there is nothing greater than knowing the truth.
Thank you for giving me parents who have remained my closest friends through the years. I meet so many people who don't want to go home for the holidays. But I can't wait to see my family and look forward to those walking-home-from-work calls every day! There's nothing more restful than just being at home with my family, eating ice cream cake, enjoying mom's amazing baking and dad's delicious cooking, and snuggling on the couches. Thank you for giving me a family with that kind of love and closeness!
And thank you for parents who've always reminded us that your siblings are going to be your closest friends throughout the rest of your life. I'm still always amazed when I see things like how Sam wanted to call home every day when she visited us in SF -- what teenagers want to do that?! But you've given our family a love and a bond that is really unlike any other. I pray that you'll continue to sustain it through the years.
I also thank you for all of the others they've brought into our family through the years. They've shown us what it means to open up arms and hearts to others. From Xavion and Savannah to Wayne to Hannah to Kathleen and Jake, our family is more than the 5 of us, and I thank you for giving me parents who are always eager to adopt more into this love! I pray that I'll be able to model this openness and hospitality throughout my life.
Thank you for giving me an example of what true love is -- a commitment that lasts through good times and bad times. When Seth and I decided to say "I love you," was when we realized that love is not about finding the perfect person -- because even if they were perfect at first, you may soon realize they have flaws you never imagined -- but instead it's about finding perfect commitment: Someone who is willing to stick with you, come what may.
Thank you for giving me parents who modeled this kind of love. There is no more perfect love than a commitment grounded in you! Considering how many people I meet these days who live together but don't want to get married because they fear they won't stay "right for each other" and won't be able to "change together" -- having parents who modeled real love that endures past all changes and all hardships and all the good times as well is such a rare blessing.
Thank you for showing me what it means to lift our faces towards you, even in the midst of the darkest times -- showing me what it means to say, "though he may slay me, yet will I trust in him." Sometimes I just can't believe the hardships and experiences that mom and dad have gone through, and are somehow able to praise you anyway. So many people would have run from you by now.
Yet mom and dad somehow have found their strength in you and have drawn closer to you through it all. Thank you for making them a light for you in the darkest times -- I know that so many people have seen it and been baffled. I know that through mom and dad, you have drawn so many people closer to yourself.
I also thank you for the model of hard work and selflessness that you've given me. I watch mom and dad at his job, just pouring themselves out -- like that Giving Tree -- till there's little left for themselves. They have poured so much into this family without expecting anything in return.
But now I pray God that YOU will fill THEM up. Give them your strength and your grace as it continues to overflow to others. I pray that today and each day they will feel refreshed and alive in you anew.
I pray that you'll give them strength in the days ahead -- watching Sam head off to college, continuing to work hard and enjoying the days ahead that you'll give us. Where there are fears and worries, I pray that they'll be able to cast all their cares upon you.
Give them strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow!
Great is your faithfulness.
Amen
P.S. I love you both so much! I didn't get to make you an interactive card this year... but since it's almost turkey season, don't forget to listen to the turkey song here: Snippets of Recordings for Mother's Day
Father,
I just want to thank you for giving me parents who have followed and feared you throughout all their years together.
Thank you for giving me parents who trained up their children in the way they should go -- from reading the Bible in the evenings (even the mysterious book of Hezzekiah) to learning life lessons from The Millers and the Bayou, to instilling solid Calvinist values in us from an early age: "Why did God make you and all things? For his own glory!" I see so few people, even Christians, who have this solid foundation of truth -- and amidst all of today's postmodernism, there is nothing greater than knowing the truth.
Thank you for giving me parents who have remained my closest friends through the years. I meet so many people who don't want to go home for the holidays. But I can't wait to see my family and look forward to those walking-home-from-work calls every day! There's nothing more restful than just being at home with my family, eating ice cream cake, enjoying mom's amazing baking and dad's delicious cooking, and snuggling on the couches. Thank you for giving me a family with that kind of love and closeness!
And thank you for parents who've always reminded us that your siblings are going to be your closest friends throughout the rest of your life. I'm still always amazed when I see things like how Sam wanted to call home every day when she visited us in SF -- what teenagers want to do that?! But you've given our family a love and a bond that is really unlike any other. I pray that you'll continue to sustain it through the years.
I also thank you for all of the others they've brought into our family through the years. They've shown us what it means to open up arms and hearts to others. From Xavion and Savannah to Wayne to Hannah to Kathleen and Jake, our family is more than the 5 of us, and I thank you for giving me parents who are always eager to adopt more into this love! I pray that I'll be able to model this openness and hospitality throughout my life.
Thank you for giving me an example of what true love is -- a commitment that lasts through good times and bad times. When Seth and I decided to say "I love you," was when we realized that love is not about finding the perfect person -- because even if they were perfect at first, you may soon realize they have flaws you never imagined -- but instead it's about finding perfect commitment: Someone who is willing to stick with you, come what may.
Thank you for giving me parents who modeled this kind of love. There is no more perfect love than a commitment grounded in you! Considering how many people I meet these days who live together but don't want to get married because they fear they won't stay "right for each other" and won't be able to "change together" -- having parents who modeled real love that endures past all changes and all hardships and all the good times as well is such a rare blessing.
Thank you for showing me what it means to lift our faces towards you, even in the midst of the darkest times -- showing me what it means to say, "though he may slay me, yet will I trust in him." Sometimes I just can't believe the hardships and experiences that mom and dad have gone through, and are somehow able to praise you anyway. So many people would have run from you by now.
Yet mom and dad somehow have found their strength in you and have drawn closer to you through it all. Thank you for making them a light for you in the darkest times -- I know that so many people have seen it and been baffled. I know that through mom and dad, you have drawn so many people closer to yourself.
I also thank you for the model of hard work and selflessness that you've given me. I watch mom and dad at his job, just pouring themselves out -- like that Giving Tree -- till there's little left for themselves. They have poured so much into this family without expecting anything in return.
But now I pray God that YOU will fill THEM up. Give them your strength and your grace as it continues to overflow to others. I pray that today and each day they will feel refreshed and alive in you anew.
I pray that you'll give them strength in the days ahead -- watching Sam head off to college, continuing to work hard and enjoying the days ahead that you'll give us. Where there are fears and worries, I pray that they'll be able to cast all their cares upon you.
Give them strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow!
Great is your faithfulness.
Amen
P.S. I love you both so much! I didn't get to make you an interactive card this year... but since it's almost turkey season, don't forget to listen to the turkey song here: Snippets of Recordings for Mother's Day
Monday, October 19, 2009
THE CRICKET by Samantha Weber
(I don't really remember now, but I imagine Sam dictated this to me. Over the years we collected a lot of critters and had our own natural museum. Such good memories. Guessing Sam would have been 5. Alison)
I see crickets all around my sandbox. Zach found 5 crickets and I caught one. Zach made me give it to him. He put all the crickets in a jar. He calls it his cricket jar. It has dirt in the bottom and plants. He wets a cottonball and puts it in the jar everyday. When I wanted my cricket back out of his jar, he wouldn't give it to me. He said it was his. I cried.
That night after dinner, I found a cricket right on top of our kitchen table. I caught it. I found an empty mayonnaise jar and put him in it. I fixed it all up with lots of grass and a wet cottonball and a stick. I found a lid for the jar too, but it didn't fit very well.
I took my cricket jar outside and tried to add some more grass to it, but it tipped over and my cricket hopped away. Actually, I didn't see it leave, but I know it did because when I looked in my jar again, it was gone. I was sad.
The End
I see crickets all around my sandbox. Zach found 5 crickets and I caught one. Zach made me give it to him. He put all the crickets in a jar. He calls it his cricket jar. It has dirt in the bottom and plants. He wets a cottonball and puts it in the jar everyday. When I wanted my cricket back out of his jar, he wouldn't give it to me. He said it was his. I cried.
That night after dinner, I found a cricket right on top of our kitchen table. I caught it. I found an empty mayonnaise jar and put him in it. I fixed it all up with lots of grass and a wet cottonball and a stick. I found a lid for the jar too, but it didn't fit very well.
I took my cricket jar outside and tried to add some more grass to it, but it tipped over and my cricket hopped away. Actually, I didn't see it leave, but I know it did because when I looked in my jar again, it was gone. I was sad.
The End
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Application Essay -- Samantha Weber Fall Senior Year 09
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
I’ve heard that when you think that something is the end, it is really only the beginning. To me, this means that when one chapter ends in your life, good or bad, you can be sure that a new chapter is about to begin. At the end of my freshman year in high school, my twenty-one year old brother died in a tragic hiking accident outside of his Air Force base in Aviano, Italy. His death was a closing to one chapter that transformed who I am today.
This new chapter titled “Formative” began in darkness as I went through all the necessities accompanying Zach’s death: visitations, the funeral memorials, followed by months of “firsts” without him. I questioned God and everything I had grown up believing. I mulled over questions, such as: “If there is a God, how could he have let the ground fall from beneath Zach’s feet? Why did He let him venture onto the ledge alone? Why did Zach have to die three days before coming home after being away for over eighteen months?” My heart ached for answers, for an explanation, for anything that would provide relief to something so incomprehensible.
I found relief starting my sophomore year when I read Night, by Elie Wiesel.
He detailed his suffering and questioning of God. Although our stories were different, I identified with him after he lost his family during the Holocaust. He also questioned God, and I understood his sentiment: “His eyes were opened and he was alone – terribly alone in a world without God.” My fingers fumbled as I turned page after page in Night, waiting, wanting, along with Mr. Wiesel, for God to intervene, but he didn’t. Instead Mr. Wiesel was beaten, worked, starved, and moved from camp to camp. He waited for the end, whether it came by rescue or by death.
As I turned the last page of Night, depravity became a tangible feeling that flowed from his book up my arms and into my heart. Then my heart began to break as my own depravity began to ravage me while I examined the opening chapters of my life and found their titles were ugly: Fastidious, Impetuous, Prodigal. Looking back, I realize that every time I fought with my mom, had to take out the trash, or had something not work the way I anticipated, I found a way to blow it completely out of proportion, bringing misery to others and myself. Then, one day, I looked out my window at the trees flowing orange, red, and yellow; the sun was setting behind them and clouds wisped white across a pink sky. Stunning! The warmth of the picture before me soothed my aching soul and God’s presence, like the sun lighting up a room, lit up my soul and spirit. The magnificent masterpiece before me was proof of God’s goodness, and I realized that no matter how many ghastly events happen, His goodness will always outweigh the pain and darkness of all tragedy.
Night detailed the impact the Holocaust had on Mr. Wiesel, and similarly, my life was also completely transformed by Zach’s death. No longer did I turn a fight, a bad grade, or a chore into a tragedy – now I knew what tragedy was. My fastidiousness turned to understanding, impetuousness to circumspection, and my prodigal attitude towards time to appreciation. Today, I find myself able to accept disappointment, such as when I tore the major ligament in my knee and had to miss my entire senior soccer season. Instead of wasting time pouting about my injury, I seized the opportunity to support my team and worked hard in physical therapy for my next season. Finally, I now take time each day to say “I love you” to my family and friends because I know how quickly things can change. I cannot say that all of these changes have come directly from Zach’s death; however, his death commanded maturity and, ultimately, a positive transformation.
Over the past three years my life has not always seemed fair; but since Zach’s death, I have gradually grown up to be a person I’m proud to be. I am proud to say that throughout my years in high school, despite the hardships I have faced, I have stuck to my principles and made changes for the better. I’m definitely not perfect, probably a little broken around the edges, but my resilience has allowed me to accept the closing of one chapter in my life and the beginning of a new one. Life truly is a journey and it takes determination and stamina to face the vicissitudes of life and climb to the mountaintops of success.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Leadership Essay
The content and experiences cited in this essay are Sam's, but I rewrote it (the italicized portions are mine) to emphasize the character trait I believed it showed best, Leadership. (Alison)
John Quincy Adams once said, “If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.” Making friends with Olivia, a girl several years younger than I and still in elementary school, while on a church mission trip to Appalachia Kentucky was, I now see, a time of inspired leadership for me. Olivia was quiet around me when we first met, but I sensed a need in her that made me want to get to know her. I saw myself reflected in her life as I became more acquainted with her: Olivia played soccer; she had a caring heart; and, like all girls her age, she needed someone to come alongside her and give her confidence. I was baffled by her lack of confidence but also identified with her. Every time I took a step back and examined her, I wanted her to see the amazingly gifted, intelligent, and beautiful girl that I saw. I began investing time in getting to know her and was able to arrange to work alongside her on our mission project to help renovate a home for a needy family. We became friends.
After the mission trip, every Sunday I would seek her out to talk about her week at school, how soccer had gone, and what was up with her friends. We have grown together, giving and taking from each other’s experiences, including the death of my twenty-one year old brother and the death of both of her grandparents. My twenty-one-year-old brother died unexpectedly and not long afterwards, she unexpectedly lost both her grandparents. I understood perfectly the grief she was experiencing and began to share and care for her at an even deeper level.
I’ve been told by her mother that Olivia uses my life as a model for her own, and I know from experience that she is willing to confide in me when she feels lost or uncertain. I was surprised when I was told this because my only goal was to be a friend and give a portion of my time to help her realize how great a person she is! Whatever the reason, I am honored to have this place in her life, and I pray that I don’t set a bad example for her. This leadership experience I wandered into where someone is looking to me as a role model has pushed me to be the best that I can be for her and everyone else in my life.
John Quincy Adams once said, “If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.” Making friends with Olivia, a girl several years younger than I and still in elementary school, while on a church mission trip to Appalachia Kentucky was, I now see, a time of inspired leadership for me. Olivia was quiet around me when we first met, but I sensed a need in her that made me want to get to know her. I saw myself reflected in her life as I became more acquainted with her: Olivia played soccer; she had a caring heart; and, like all girls her age, she needed someone to come alongside her and give her confidence. I was baffled by her lack of confidence but also identified with her. Every time I took a step back and examined her, I wanted her to see the amazingly gifted, intelligent, and beautiful girl that I saw. I began investing time in getting to know her and was able to arrange to work alongside her on our mission project to help renovate a home for a needy family. We became friends.
After the mission trip, every Sunday I would seek her out to talk about her week at school, how soccer had gone, and what was up with her friends. We have grown together, giving and taking from each other’s experiences, including the death of my twenty-one year old brother and the death of both of her grandparents. My twenty-one-year-old brother died unexpectedly and not long afterwards, she unexpectedly lost both her grandparents. I understood perfectly the grief she was experiencing and began to share and care for her at an even deeper level.
I’ve been told by her mother that Olivia uses my life as a model for her own, and I know from experience that she is willing to confide in me when she feels lost or uncertain. I was surprised when I was told this because my only goal was to be a friend and give a portion of my time to help her realize how great a person she is! Whatever the reason, I am honored to have this place in her life, and I pray that I don’t set a bad example for her. This leadership experience I wandered into where someone is looking to me as a role model has pushed me to be the best that I can be for her and everyone else in my life.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Narrative Statement for Gov School Application
This is an incredible essay and the only formula for this kind of success is T-I-M-E. Sam started this one weeks before the application deadline. She probably picked it up and reworked it 10-12 times. At one point it was more than twice the 2-page double-spaced page limit. Having to cut it down once she'd said everything she really wanted to say forced her to find better words and better phrasing and be succinct. We both talked about the fact that some of the phrasing came about after she let the paper sit, then when she picked it up, new and better ways to say things literally "popped" into her head. This experience makes writing fun, especially in comparison to trying to turn out a final paper in a brief timespan. Creativity does not like to be "forced." Alison
Narrative Statement
Character is not attained through ease of circumstances but through one’s response to the vicissitudes of life that at one minute you ride high on eagles’ wings while at the next moment you plummet and see yourself falling, falling, and dashed upon the rocky shore below. I have ridden the vicissitudes of life already and am emerging as a relentless, competitive, and yet caring person who compels others to come and fly as high as me.
Two years ago my twenty-one-year-old brother died in a hiking accident in the Alps near his military base in Aviano, Italy. Moving forward without him seemed impossible, but time passed and the deep lacerations in my heart scarred over. Toughened instead of weakened by self-pity, I rejoiced in the idea that he was climbing mountains when he died. In pondering my own response to his death, I realized I was a person who never gives up.
I see my relentless spirit as I keep at my schoolwork until I am satisfied I’ve done my best job. This past week, I had not only a difficult soccer schedule but also an enormous test in my AP US History class. I felt the need to put in extra hours studying in order to be certain I’d do well. I read over my own copious notes, took online quizzes, made my own terms list, read extra material, and also enlisted two classmates for a study/quizzing session. When I got my test back at the end of the week, I had the top score in my class! My study buddies did well too and I know they benefitted from the competition I set up. Spurred on by the discovery that I can motivate others to fly higher in life, I have undertaken little people-projects in my school. So, today, there’s a French-class student, Brian, who is making note cards for the first time; a sophomore, Shelby, who brings her homework to study halls and actually does it; and special-needs students who have a better feeling about themselves because they know I think they’re cool.
I thought I’d reach the heights of success playing the beautiful game of soccer, but shortly after my brother’s death, my dream began to plummet. A soccer-related concussion led to the second worst day of my life when I was told I had Acute Traumatic Brain Injury and should never play any competitive sport again. While that diagnosis was reversed, a sternum injury and then multiple ankle sprains, ending in surgery followed. For almost two years I went to physical therapy several times a week and lost the entire first semester of my sophomore year. Worst, however, was when I was cut from my club team that is now ranked within the top ten teams in the nation. I no longer feel certain I will play collegiate soccer which saddens me greatly, but injuries as well as an epiphysiodesis and an emergency appendectomy brought me inside the medical community, especially at UPMC Sports on the southside of Pittsburgh. Instead of being a burden to me though, these experiences have brought me into friendships with many people working in health care who have willingly shared their journeys into medicine with me and given me a vision and a certainty about where I believe my future lies.
After I had the repair of my ATFL on my right ankle, my mom asked my surgeon essentially the same question we’d asked our concussion specialist, who’d replied that my life as an athlete was over. My ankle surgeon, however, had a better answer. He told my mom he could always fix my ankle. From these two different answers, I now know both extremes of emotions: the devastation of “the end of sports” and the exhilaration of “You go for it!” I understand the heart of an athlete; I want to be a doctor who can stand down the athlete’s enemy and return him to the field of battle. I look at the Governor’s School for Health Care as the beginning of my specialized education and an opportunity to make a difference for some young athletes in my community now through my proposed project.
Character is not attained through ease of circumstances but through one’s response to the vicissitudes of life that at one minute you ride high on eagles’ wings while at the next moment you plummet and see yourself falling, falling, and dashed upon the rocky shore below. I have ridden the vicissitudes of life already and am emerging as a relentless, competitive, and yet caring person who compels others to come and fly as high as me.
Two years ago my twenty-one-year-old brother died in a hiking accident in the Alps near his military base in Aviano, Italy. Moving forward without him seemed impossible, but time passed and the deep lacerations in my heart scarred over. Toughened instead of weakened by self-pity, I rejoiced in the idea that he was climbing mountains when he died. In pondering my own response to his death, I realized I was a person who never gives up.
I see my relentless spirit as I keep at my schoolwork until I am satisfied I’ve done my best job. This past week, I had not only a difficult soccer schedule but also an enormous test in my AP US History class. I felt the need to put in extra hours studying in order to be certain I’d do well. I read over my own copious notes, took online quizzes, made my own terms list, read extra material, and also enlisted two classmates for a study/quizzing session. When I got my test back at the end of the week, I had the top score in my class! My study buddies did well too and I know they benefitted from the competition I set up. Spurred on by the discovery that I can motivate others to fly higher in life, I have undertaken little people-projects in my school. So, today, there’s a French-class student, Brian, who is making note cards for the first time; a sophomore, Shelby, who brings her homework to study halls and actually does it; and special-needs students who have a better feeling about themselves because they know I think they’re cool.
I thought I’d reach the heights of success playing the beautiful game of soccer, but shortly after my brother’s death, my dream began to plummet. A soccer-related concussion led to the second worst day of my life when I was told I had Acute Traumatic Brain Injury and should never play any competitive sport again. While that diagnosis was reversed, a sternum injury and then multiple ankle sprains, ending in surgery followed. For almost two years I went to physical therapy several times a week and lost the entire first semester of my sophomore year. Worst, however, was when I was cut from my club team that is now ranked within the top ten teams in the nation. I no longer feel certain I will play collegiate soccer which saddens me greatly, but injuries as well as an epiphysiodesis and an emergency appendectomy brought me inside the medical community, especially at UPMC Sports on the southside of Pittsburgh. Instead of being a burden to me though, these experiences have brought me into friendships with many people working in health care who have willingly shared their journeys into medicine with me and given me a vision and a certainty about where I believe my future lies.
After I had the repair of my ATFL on my right ankle, my mom asked my surgeon essentially the same question we’d asked our concussion specialist, who’d replied that my life as an athlete was over. My ankle surgeon, however, had a better answer. He told my mom he could always fix my ankle. From these two different answers, I now know both extremes of emotions: the devastation of “the end of sports” and the exhilaration of “You go for it!” I understand the heart of an athlete; I want to be a doctor who can stand down the athlete’s enemy and return him to the field of battle. I look at the Governor’s School for Health Care as the beginning of my specialized education and an opportunity to make a difference for some young athletes in my community now through my proposed project.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Conflict over States Rights Essay
John Marshal once said, “It's been a long road, but I am sure that it will be worth the effort that everyone has put in.” As a child grows into a teenager and a struggle for power ensues with his parents, so the Government of the United States was growing up and struggling to wrench power for itself at the expense of states’ rights. For the first 50 years after the ratification of the Constitution, the issue of slavery magnified the struggle for sovereignty between states and federal government.
Slavery was an increasingly hot topic within the U.S. and there was only one way to solve it: let the federal government end slavery. Otherwise the state governments were going to persist with it and the disputes would continue to fester. The slave states were dubious that the American Society could even continue if the slaves were freed. Henry Clay said that the immediate abolition of slavery would be followed by a power struggle between Blacks and Whites. He argued that one race had to rule over the other, and freeing the slaves would result in a civil war and would end with the annihilation of one of the races (Doc H).
Fire was added to the slavery controversy when states, such as South Carolina, took steps to disrupt a federal program, the United States Postal service. Part of the abolitionists’ plan for ending slavery was sending propaganda down south in the form of mail. South Carolina recognized this tactic and responded with an inexorable blockage of northern mail into the state. Anything that looked like a letter from an abolitionist was simply thrown out and not delivered. The abolitionists appealed to the national government by arguing that the postal system was under federal control and that the government should take some kind of action against South Carolina.
The power to regulate commerce was also part of the “slavery debate.” The question was whether the states or the federal government could regulate the importation of slaves. If the federal government had the power to regulate interstate commerce, it had the power to regulate the slave trade, in other words, the entire southern economy!
On March 2, 1807, Congress passed an act to prohibit the importation of slaves. This act did not make it illegal to continue to own the slaves already in the country, but it did stop new slaves from being brought into the United States (Doc B). The slave states argued that it was their right to decide whether they were allowed to import slaves or not, but this did not matter. With the new act in place, the value of a plantation increased dramatically due to the amount of slaves owned. If the states could find a way to maintain regulation over this commerce, they could continue importing slaves, maintaining authority over them, and assuring their prosperity. Eventually, the Supreme Court, who determined the constitutionality of each case brought before it, made a decision in the “Gibbons vs. Ogden” case that resulted in the strengthening of Congress’ power to regulate the interstate commerce. As the road continued, the Federal government gained more power, inch by inch or mile by mile.
The struggle and debate about states’ rights versus Federal power also delved into which would be most beneficial to the prosperity of not only the states but also the nation as a whole. The slave states stated that slavery was the backbone of the American economy because both the southern and national economies were proportional to one another -- if one failed so would the other. The southern states argued that the abolition of slavery would lead to a cessation in national progress and the impossibility of the “American System” (doc. F). Congress, eventually, had the final word on slavery when it passed the Missouri Compromise. This Compromise, temporarily, kept the country even in the amount of slave and free states, but it also drew a line saying what land would later be slave or free. This line was the 360 30’ line that prohibited slavery in the rest of the Louisiana Purchase territory north of it (a vast amount of land). Whether the Congress realized it or not, they had determined that the power fell to the Federal government, and sooner or later slavery was going to come to an end.
The battle for power between the states and the federal government had been tiring and emotional and long, and slavery had been the sore spot. In the end, though, the long journey was probably worth the walk. Focusing on one specific issue, slavery, had led to the defining of the Nation and a determination of where ultimate sovereignty lay. The Civil War still lay ahead and struggles for power and authority continue today in more subtle ways, such as through the federal grant system that rewards states programs for following federal guidelines and objectives, and the judicial system has become an even more prominent player to boot.
Slavery was an increasingly hot topic within the U.S. and there was only one way to solve it: let the federal government end slavery. Otherwise the state governments were going to persist with it and the disputes would continue to fester. The slave states were dubious that the American Society could even continue if the slaves were freed. Henry Clay said that the immediate abolition of slavery would be followed by a power struggle between Blacks and Whites. He argued that one race had to rule over the other, and freeing the slaves would result in a civil war and would end with the annihilation of one of the races (Doc H).
Fire was added to the slavery controversy when states, such as South Carolina, took steps to disrupt a federal program, the United States Postal service. Part of the abolitionists’ plan for ending slavery was sending propaganda down south in the form of mail. South Carolina recognized this tactic and responded with an inexorable blockage of northern mail into the state. Anything that looked like a letter from an abolitionist was simply thrown out and not delivered. The abolitionists appealed to the national government by arguing that the postal system was under federal control and that the government should take some kind of action against South Carolina.
The power to regulate commerce was also part of the “slavery debate.” The question was whether the states or the federal government could regulate the importation of slaves. If the federal government had the power to regulate interstate commerce, it had the power to regulate the slave trade, in other words, the entire southern economy!
On March 2, 1807, Congress passed an act to prohibit the importation of slaves. This act did not make it illegal to continue to own the slaves already in the country, but it did stop new slaves from being brought into the United States (Doc B). The slave states argued that it was their right to decide whether they were allowed to import slaves or not, but this did not matter. With the new act in place, the value of a plantation increased dramatically due to the amount of slaves owned. If the states could find a way to maintain regulation over this commerce, they could continue importing slaves, maintaining authority over them, and assuring their prosperity. Eventually, the Supreme Court, who determined the constitutionality of each case brought before it, made a decision in the “Gibbons vs. Ogden” case that resulted in the strengthening of Congress’ power to regulate the interstate commerce. As the road continued, the Federal government gained more power, inch by inch or mile by mile.
The struggle and debate about states’ rights versus Federal power also delved into which would be most beneficial to the prosperity of not only the states but also the nation as a whole. The slave states stated that slavery was the backbone of the American economy because both the southern and national economies were proportional to one another -- if one failed so would the other. The southern states argued that the abolition of slavery would lead to a cessation in national progress and the impossibility of the “American System” (doc. F). Congress, eventually, had the final word on slavery when it passed the Missouri Compromise. This Compromise, temporarily, kept the country even in the amount of slave and free states, but it also drew a line saying what land would later be slave or free. This line was the 360 30’ line that prohibited slavery in the rest of the Louisiana Purchase territory north of it (a vast amount of land). Whether the Congress realized it or not, they had determined that the power fell to the Federal government, and sooner or later slavery was going to come to an end.
The battle for power between the states and the federal government had been tiring and emotional and long, and slavery had been the sore spot. In the end, though, the long journey was probably worth the walk. Focusing on one specific issue, slavery, had led to the defining of the Nation and a determination of where ultimate sovereignty lay. The Civil War still lay ahead and struggles for power and authority continue today in more subtle ways, such as through the federal grant system that rewards states programs for following federal guidelines and objectives, and the judicial system has become an even more prominent player to boot.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Samantha - Play the Game - a short story for freshman English class FAHS
“Lacey, wake up!”
“Bahumbug! What time is it?”
“It’s 10:00 a.m. and mom made pancakes!”
“I’m not hungry, I’m tired, now go away Erin!”
Erin ran out of my room and slammed the door. “Finally peace and quite!” I thought to myself as I drifted back to sleep. I re-awoke at 2:00 p.m. and jumped into the shower. I stood there, in the shower, thinking back on the past year. So much had happened and so quickly: I had gone into high school, my older sister had gotten married and moved across the country to California, my brother had gone into the Marines and was in Iraq, and…I tried to block this part out, but it seemed to push itself through. Tears started to stream down my face, and the accident had happened. That horrible accident had ruined everything and everyone.
“Lacey! Get out of the shower! I need you to watch Erin, I have to go to work!”
“Okay, I’m coming mom.”
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I tried to clear my thoughts as I wiped the tears from my eyes and got dressed. Mom had always said after the accident that “There was a time to be upset and hurt, and a time to put those feelings away and get on with life.” Now was a time to get on with life. Suddenly Erin bolted through my bedroom door and leaped onto the bed.
“So what are you going to play with me?”
“Nothing, I have homework I have to get done, and then I have to make dinner.”
Erin sulked out the door. She walked down the hall and then sat down on the navy blue carpet and leaned against the white hallway wall. Her head was in her hands and she pretended to cry. If I didn’t know my six year old sister very well I would buy into her acting- she was actually pretty good, but not good enough to fool me. When Erin really cried you knew it – she would wail and carry on and her normal pale complexion would turn beat red.
When the accident had happened everyone cried for days, everyone except Erin. I remember one time she came into my room without knocking like she always does and saw me crying. She ran over to me and climbed into my lap and asked me why I was crying in her sweet little five year old way. Mom had told her about the accident, but she was too little to really understand. So, I had just told her I had stubbed my toe. Erin slid out of my lap, kissed my big toe, and ran out of my room like nothing had happened.
I walked out of my room over to Erin and sat down in the hallway beside her. She looked up at me, but to my surprise she didn’t say anything. We just sat there in the middle of the hallway in silence. Finally after about ten minutes she and asked me if I wanted to go outside and play soccer with her. If she had asked me to do anything other than play soccer with her I wouldn’t have done it, but something in me told me to go outside with her.
Our whole family was ardent soccer fans. We all played except my mom. My older sister Taylor had played classic soccer for 4 years and then had stopped playing when she went to college. My older brother Jason had played 2 years of classic soccer and then went into the Marines where he was a police officer, but he still plays whenever he can. Then there was Erin who plays every weekend for our local team. I had started playing soccer when I was three. I had a lot of success and was probably one of the best players in our whole family. Two weeks before the accident I made the regional Olympic Development Program (ODP) team, and was selected to try-out for the u-14 national team at the Home Depot Center in California. As soon as I got home from the regional camp my dad started training with me- we went running together, we watched games together on TV, and of course we played against each other. He was probably the coolest dad on the planet and the luckiest one too. He had a beautiful wife, four amazing children, and he was a former captain on the U.S. men’s national team. After he retired he decided to be a police officer like he had planned before he made the national team.
“Ready, Lacey?”
“Ready, Erin!”
Erin dribbled at me, did a quick cut, and shot the ball with her toe into the goal.
“Erin, remember don’t kick with your toe! Use your laces!”
“I know, I just forgot okay?”
“Okay.”
There was no point in arguing with Erin, she either won, or she ran to her room and started crying. I passed the ball back out to Erin and she started to dribble at me again.
“Honk, Honk!”
Erin stopped and looked up. A black car parked in our driveway, and a man got out.
“So did you come to your senses and decide to start playing again?”
“No, I’m just playing with Erin so she’ll leave me alone so I can do my homework.”
“You know national camp is in 6 months. If you wanted I could get you a plane ticket and a try-out.”
“No thanks, I’m not interested anymore.”
“Well if you change your mind just give me a call. The national coaches know who you are and would love for you to start playing again.”
“If I change my mind, which I won’t, I’ll give you a call.”
“Okay, great! I’ll catch you later Lacey.”
“Bye coach.”
Just as quickly as he came he left.
“Who was that Lacey?”
“That was my old coach Erin.”
“Are you going to start playing again?”
“No. Hey it’s time to go inside.”
“Nooo! I don’t want to go inside!”
“I know but I have to go make dinner and you can’t be outside by yourself.”
“Fine. Can I watch TV then when we get inside?”
“Sure, why not.”
After two weeks of intense training my dad went to work like he did any other day. At 6:00 p.m. he didn’t get home like he normally did. My mom started to get worried after he still did not return home an hour later, so she decided to call the station. They didn’t know anything. They said he had left the station on time at 5:30 like he always did. My mom decided that we should go out looking for him, so she took me and Erin in one car, and Jason and Taylor took the other car. The police also said they would send out some officers to look for him. We searched all over the neighborhood, but we couldn’t find him. After an hour of searching we all met up at home, and that’s when the phone rang. That terrible phone call changed everything. It was Mike from the police station, he was one of dad’s best friends. He talked to my mom for 10 minutes as my siblings and I sat at the kitchen table waiting. We knew something was wrong when we watched mom hang up the phone and saw the tears steaming down her face. We all got in the car and headed to the hospital, when we arrived we were informed it was to late: Dad had already died.
After the accident had happened I stopped playing. Before the accident soccer was something I enjoyed doing, it was something my dad and I had in common and something we learned to love together- it was “our” thing. Of course Dad loved everyone in our family and he loved that everyone played soccer, but none of them went as far as I did. I thought about going to national camp even after the accident happened, but it didn’t seem as great because he wasn’t at home to enjoy it with.
“I’m home!”
“Mom! How was work?”
“Good, where’s your sister Erin?”
“She’s making dinner.”
“Oh great! I’m starving.”
After dinner I volunteered to clean up while mom and Erin went into the family room to watch Blue’s Clues. Erin didn’t get much time with mom, in fact I was more of a mother to her then mom was because I spent the most time with her. Even though Erin and I were 8 years apart we had a special kind of relationship together. She, at times, could be very annoying, but most of the time we were good friends. Even though she never understood the accident and never had to deal with it like I did, she somehow seemed to understand that I needed someone to help me get through it- and that’s just what she did. She probably didn’t even realize that she did help me cope, but she did by making me play soccer with her, and making me watch soccer on TV with her. She even tried to go running with me but that ended by us running 10 yards and me giving her a piggy-back ride back to the house. Erin helped me face soccer again without really getting me to start playing. She helped fill the hole in my heart by getting me back outside with her.
I finished cleaning the kitchen and went back to my room to do my homework. I sat down at my desk and opened up my geometry book, but I didn’t do any problems. Instead, I kept thinking about the accident. After we had gotten home from the hospital mom told us what had happened: Earlier that day dad had arrested a man for murder. He took the guy back to the station, filed the paper work, and then got in his car and started home at 5:30 like he normally did. After he got out of the parking lot he headed down route 44 towards home. As he was driving down the highway his check engine light came on. He didn’t think much of the check engine light and decided that he would have it looked at tomorrow. He turned on the radio and kept on driving. A couple minutes later he noticed a black car with dark windows following close behind him. Dad didn’t think much of it, but after he got off route 44 and started on some of the back roads towards home he noticed the car was still behind him. He pulled over to let the car pass but it stopped and a man got out of the car. Dad reached for his gun, but he had accidentally left it in his office at work. He started to put the car back into Drive, but the car turned off. The man got to the window and pulled a gun. He reached to open the door but dad has locked it and was dialing 911. The man shot the door handle three times and the door unlocked. He pulled dad out of the car and told him he shouldn’t have messed with his family and then he pulled the trigger. Dad died in the hospital two minutes before we arrived. Later we found out that the man who had killed Dad was the brother of the man he had arrested earlier that day and a spark pug had blown in the car causing it to turn off.
I noticed that my geometry book was now sopping wet and I was crying. I started to think about how things were different now. My sister was probably the only one besides Erin who lived a real life after the accident. She got married and moved from our small town in North Carolina to California with her husband. My brother who was planning on going to Duke decided to go into the Marines instead and become a police officer, probably because Dad was a police officer; soon after was deployed to Iraq. With only Erin and I still at home my mom decided that a fresh start would probably be best for us all, so we moved into a large white house in a cul-de-sac in New York. Once we settled in my mom got a job and worked 6 days a week as a nurse in the local hospital, and I went to school and babysat Erin.
I got up from my desk and walked into the family room where my mom sat on the couch watching the news while Erin slept on her lap. I sat down on the couch. She smiled at me and asked me how my day was. I told her it was okay.
“Mom, I know this is kind of sudden, but I think I want to start playing again.”
“What? Really? You know Lacey, I think that’s a great idea, it’s been to long since we’ve had a real soccer player living in the house. If you don’t mind me asking, though, what brought this on?”
“Well, when Erin took me outside today to play, I guess I realized how much I miss playing, and then my old coach stopped by and he told me that national camp is six months away and how he could get me a plane ticket and a try-out.”
“Well, whatever it was I’m really glad you’ve decided to start playing again.”
“Me too. I’m going to go call coach okay? And will you tell Erin when she wakes up for me?”
“Sure.”
I got up off the couch and ran back to my room, picked up the phone, and called my coach. He was really glad I had called and he started emailing and phoning the national coaches.
After I hung up with my coach Erin bolted through the door and over to me. She jumped into my lap and we started talking about soccer. For the first time since the accident I felt happy again. Maybe stopping soccer hurt me even more than playing the game my dad and I both loved. My mom had been wrong when she had said “There was a time to be upset and hurt, and a time to put those feelings away and get on with life,” instead she should have said “You can’t stop playing the game because you’re afraid to get hurt, instead you have to face your fears and play harder.”
“Bahumbug! What time is it?”
“It’s 10:00 a.m. and mom made pancakes!”
“I’m not hungry, I’m tired, now go away Erin!”
Erin ran out of my room and slammed the door. “Finally peace and quite!” I thought to myself as I drifted back to sleep. I re-awoke at 2:00 p.m. and jumped into the shower. I stood there, in the shower, thinking back on the past year. So much had happened and so quickly: I had gone into high school, my older sister had gotten married and moved across the country to California, my brother had gone into the Marines and was in Iraq, and…I tried to block this part out, but it seemed to push itself through. Tears started to stream down my face, and the accident had happened. That horrible accident had ruined everything and everyone.
“Lacey! Get out of the shower! I need you to watch Erin, I have to go to work!”
“Okay, I’m coming mom.”
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I tried to clear my thoughts as I wiped the tears from my eyes and got dressed. Mom had always said after the accident that “There was a time to be upset and hurt, and a time to put those feelings away and get on with life.” Now was a time to get on with life. Suddenly Erin bolted through my bedroom door and leaped onto the bed.
“So what are you going to play with me?”
“Nothing, I have homework I have to get done, and then I have to make dinner.”
Erin sulked out the door. She walked down the hall and then sat down on the navy blue carpet and leaned against the white hallway wall. Her head was in her hands and she pretended to cry. If I didn’t know my six year old sister very well I would buy into her acting- she was actually pretty good, but not good enough to fool me. When Erin really cried you knew it – she would wail and carry on and her normal pale complexion would turn beat red.
When the accident had happened everyone cried for days, everyone except Erin. I remember one time she came into my room without knocking like she always does and saw me crying. She ran over to me and climbed into my lap and asked me why I was crying in her sweet little five year old way. Mom had told her about the accident, but she was too little to really understand. So, I had just told her I had stubbed my toe. Erin slid out of my lap, kissed my big toe, and ran out of my room like nothing had happened.
I walked out of my room over to Erin and sat down in the hallway beside her. She looked up at me, but to my surprise she didn’t say anything. We just sat there in the middle of the hallway in silence. Finally after about ten minutes she and asked me if I wanted to go outside and play soccer with her. If she had asked me to do anything other than play soccer with her I wouldn’t have done it, but something in me told me to go outside with her.
Our whole family was ardent soccer fans. We all played except my mom. My older sister Taylor had played classic soccer for 4 years and then had stopped playing when she went to college. My older brother Jason had played 2 years of classic soccer and then went into the Marines where he was a police officer, but he still plays whenever he can. Then there was Erin who plays every weekend for our local team. I had started playing soccer when I was three. I had a lot of success and was probably one of the best players in our whole family. Two weeks before the accident I made the regional Olympic Development Program (ODP) team, and was selected to try-out for the u-14 national team at the Home Depot Center in California. As soon as I got home from the regional camp my dad started training with me- we went running together, we watched games together on TV, and of course we played against each other. He was probably the coolest dad on the planet and the luckiest one too. He had a beautiful wife, four amazing children, and he was a former captain on the U.S. men’s national team. After he retired he decided to be a police officer like he had planned before he made the national team.
“Ready, Lacey?”
“Ready, Erin!”
Erin dribbled at me, did a quick cut, and shot the ball with her toe into the goal.
“Erin, remember don’t kick with your toe! Use your laces!”
“I know, I just forgot okay?”
“Okay.”
There was no point in arguing with Erin, she either won, or she ran to her room and started crying. I passed the ball back out to Erin and she started to dribble at me again.
“Honk, Honk!”
Erin stopped and looked up. A black car parked in our driveway, and a man got out.
“So did you come to your senses and decide to start playing again?”
“No, I’m just playing with Erin so she’ll leave me alone so I can do my homework.”
“You know national camp is in 6 months. If you wanted I could get you a plane ticket and a try-out.”
“No thanks, I’m not interested anymore.”
“Well if you change your mind just give me a call. The national coaches know who you are and would love for you to start playing again.”
“If I change my mind, which I won’t, I’ll give you a call.”
“Okay, great! I’ll catch you later Lacey.”
“Bye coach.”
Just as quickly as he came he left.
“Who was that Lacey?”
“That was my old coach Erin.”
“Are you going to start playing again?”
“No. Hey it’s time to go inside.”
“Nooo! I don’t want to go inside!”
“I know but I have to go make dinner and you can’t be outside by yourself.”
“Fine. Can I watch TV then when we get inside?”
“Sure, why not.”
After two weeks of intense training my dad went to work like he did any other day. At 6:00 p.m. he didn’t get home like he normally did. My mom started to get worried after he still did not return home an hour later, so she decided to call the station. They didn’t know anything. They said he had left the station on time at 5:30 like he always did. My mom decided that we should go out looking for him, so she took me and Erin in one car, and Jason and Taylor took the other car. The police also said they would send out some officers to look for him. We searched all over the neighborhood, but we couldn’t find him. After an hour of searching we all met up at home, and that’s when the phone rang. That terrible phone call changed everything. It was Mike from the police station, he was one of dad’s best friends. He talked to my mom for 10 minutes as my siblings and I sat at the kitchen table waiting. We knew something was wrong when we watched mom hang up the phone and saw the tears steaming down her face. We all got in the car and headed to the hospital, when we arrived we were informed it was to late: Dad had already died.
After the accident had happened I stopped playing. Before the accident soccer was something I enjoyed doing, it was something my dad and I had in common and something we learned to love together- it was “our” thing. Of course Dad loved everyone in our family and he loved that everyone played soccer, but none of them went as far as I did. I thought about going to national camp even after the accident happened, but it didn’t seem as great because he wasn’t at home to enjoy it with.
“I’m home!”
“Mom! How was work?”
“Good, where’s your sister Erin?”
“She’s making dinner.”
“Oh great! I’m starving.”
After dinner I volunteered to clean up while mom and Erin went into the family room to watch Blue’s Clues. Erin didn’t get much time with mom, in fact I was more of a mother to her then mom was because I spent the most time with her. Even though Erin and I were 8 years apart we had a special kind of relationship together. She, at times, could be very annoying, but most of the time we were good friends. Even though she never understood the accident and never had to deal with it like I did, she somehow seemed to understand that I needed someone to help me get through it- and that’s just what she did. She probably didn’t even realize that she did help me cope, but she did by making me play soccer with her, and making me watch soccer on TV with her. She even tried to go running with me but that ended by us running 10 yards and me giving her a piggy-back ride back to the house. Erin helped me face soccer again without really getting me to start playing. She helped fill the hole in my heart by getting me back outside with her.
I finished cleaning the kitchen and went back to my room to do my homework. I sat down at my desk and opened up my geometry book, but I didn’t do any problems. Instead, I kept thinking about the accident. After we had gotten home from the hospital mom told us what had happened: Earlier that day dad had arrested a man for murder. He took the guy back to the station, filed the paper work, and then got in his car and started home at 5:30 like he normally did. After he got out of the parking lot he headed down route 44 towards home. As he was driving down the highway his check engine light came on. He didn’t think much of the check engine light and decided that he would have it looked at tomorrow. He turned on the radio and kept on driving. A couple minutes later he noticed a black car with dark windows following close behind him. Dad didn’t think much of it, but after he got off route 44 and started on some of the back roads towards home he noticed the car was still behind him. He pulled over to let the car pass but it stopped and a man got out of the car. Dad reached for his gun, but he had accidentally left it in his office at work. He started to put the car back into Drive, but the car turned off. The man got to the window and pulled a gun. He reached to open the door but dad has locked it and was dialing 911. The man shot the door handle three times and the door unlocked. He pulled dad out of the car and told him he shouldn’t have messed with his family and then he pulled the trigger. Dad died in the hospital two minutes before we arrived. Later we found out that the man who had killed Dad was the brother of the man he had arrested earlier that day and a spark pug had blown in the car causing it to turn off.
I noticed that my geometry book was now sopping wet and I was crying. I started to think about how things were different now. My sister was probably the only one besides Erin who lived a real life after the accident. She got married and moved from our small town in North Carolina to California with her husband. My brother who was planning on going to Duke decided to go into the Marines instead and become a police officer, probably because Dad was a police officer; soon after was deployed to Iraq. With only Erin and I still at home my mom decided that a fresh start would probably be best for us all, so we moved into a large white house in a cul-de-sac in New York. Once we settled in my mom got a job and worked 6 days a week as a nurse in the local hospital, and I went to school and babysat Erin.
I got up from my desk and walked into the family room where my mom sat on the couch watching the news while Erin slept on her lap. I sat down on the couch. She smiled at me and asked me how my day was. I told her it was okay.
“Mom, I know this is kind of sudden, but I think I want to start playing again.”
“What? Really? You know Lacey, I think that’s a great idea, it’s been to long since we’ve had a real soccer player living in the house. If you don’t mind me asking, though, what brought this on?”
“Well, when Erin took me outside today to play, I guess I realized how much I miss playing, and then my old coach stopped by and he told me that national camp is six months away and how he could get me a plane ticket and a try-out.”
“Well, whatever it was I’m really glad you’ve decided to start playing again.”
“Me too. I’m going to go call coach okay? And will you tell Erin when she wakes up for me?”
“Sure.”
I got up off the couch and ran back to my room, picked up the phone, and called my coach. He was really glad I had called and he started emailing and phoning the national coaches.
After I hung up with my coach Erin bolted through the door and over to me. She jumped into my lap and we started talking about soccer. For the first time since the accident I felt happy again. Maybe stopping soccer hurt me even more than playing the game my dad and I both loved. My mom had been wrong when she had said “There was a time to be upset and hurt, and a time to put those feelings away and get on with life,” instead she should have said “You can’t stop playing the game because you’re afraid to get hurt, instead you have to face your fears and play harder.”
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Alexa - first resume - 9th grade
Alexa Weber
155 Spohn Rd.
Freeport, PA 16229
(412) 295-0628 (Home)
Education
1988 - 1998
High School Student, 9th Grade, Grace Homeschool
Awards received
1998 - Girl Scout Silver Award for doing the KTTGSC Website
1997 - Duquesne Computer Academy, Best Camper
1997 - Written and Illustrated By... “Little Sister” placed in the top 100
1997 - Homeschooler’s Art Contest, 2nd Place
1997 - Homeschooler’s Science Fair, 2nd Place for “Orbitz” project
1996 - Written and Illustrated by... “The Forsythia Bush” placed in the top 100
1995 - National Busch Gardens Physics Essay Contest, 2nd Place
Activities
Pittsburgh’s SIGGRAPH group for students, Telecommunity
College Psychology course at Transylvania Bible School
Girl Scouting (9th year)
Piano lessons (8th year)
Non-competitive Gymnastics
Duquesne University Computer Academy
Languages
French, 2 years
Latin, 1/2 year
Hobbies
Website programming and design
Graphics arts, Graphics design
Working with digital video
Drawing and art
Computer Software, Hardware
Creative and non-fiction writing
Work experience
Began 1996
SaySoSites, est. 1996
Home business
My first prestigious site was for Natl’ Christian recording artist, Point of Grace.
(http://www.nauticom.net/www/catspaw/pog/)
Designed Graffiti Showcase website (1997)
(http://www.graffiti.com)
Acme Scale and Supply Website (1997-98)
(http://www.acmescale.com)
Am currently working with Dorn Checkley on the Pittsburgh Coalition Against Pornography (PCAP) website. (Not yet online)
Computer Experience
Familiar with a number of major software programs including:
Adobe Photoshop 4.0, Microsoft Publisher, Microsoft Office, Fractal Painter 5.0, Macromedia Director 6.0, Macromedia Flash, Asymetrix DVP 4.0, HomeSite 3
(References Availible on Request)
155 Spohn Rd.
Freeport, PA 16229
(412) 295-0628 (Home)
Education
1988 - 1998
High School Student, 9th Grade, Grace Homeschool
Awards received
1998 - Girl Scout Silver Award for doing the KTTGSC Website
1997 - Duquesne Computer Academy, Best Camper
1997 - Written and Illustrated By... “Little Sister” placed in the top 100
1997 - Homeschooler’s Art Contest, 2nd Place
1997 - Homeschooler’s Science Fair, 2nd Place for “Orbitz” project
1996 - Written and Illustrated by... “The Forsythia Bush” placed in the top 100
1995 - National Busch Gardens Physics Essay Contest, 2nd Place
Activities
Pittsburgh’s SIGGRAPH group for students, Telecommunity
College Psychology course at Transylvania Bible School
Girl Scouting (9th year)
Piano lessons (8th year)
Non-competitive Gymnastics
Duquesne University Computer Academy
Languages
French, 2 years
Latin, 1/2 year
Hobbies
Website programming and design
Graphics arts, Graphics design
Working with digital video
Drawing and art
Computer Software, Hardware
Creative and non-fiction writing
Work experience
Began 1996
SaySoSites, est. 1996
Home business
My first prestigious site was for Natl’ Christian recording artist, Point of Grace.
(http://www.nauticom.net/www/catspaw/pog/)
Designed Graffiti Showcase website (1997)
(http://www.graffiti.com)
Acme Scale and Supply Website (1997-98)
(http://www.acmescale.com)
Am currently working with Dorn Checkley on the Pittsburgh Coalition Against Pornography (PCAP) website. (Not yet online)
Computer Experience
Familiar with a number of major software programs including:
Adobe Photoshop 4.0, Microsoft Publisher, Microsoft Office, Fractal Painter 5.0, Macromedia Director 6.0, Macromedia Flash, Asymetrix DVP 4.0, HomeSite 3
(References Availible on Request)
Brio Girl 2001 Contest Entry
B r i o G i r l E n t r y F o r m
Name: Alexa Nicole Weber Age: 16
Hobbies and Interests: Since my Teen Mania trips, missions and evangelism has been my biggest interest, both here and around the world. I enjoy learning American Sign Language and worshipping/leading worship through signing. I love praise and worship music, leading and participating (that’s what we were created for). Foreign language intrigues me and I’m looking at the possibility of study-abroad (or working with a missions organization) for a year after high school. I enjoy graphics arts/design and designing professional websites for businesses and for myself; past sites include the definitive Point of Grace Newsstand and my Teen Mania webpage (http://members.xoom.com/teenmaniac/). I also enjoy playing piano and keyboard, writing, non-competitive gymnastics, drama, being an encourager/counselor to my friends, ministering online, and sharing God’s love in every way that I can.
Church Attending: Christ Community Fellowship Evangelical Free
Pastor’s Name: Jeff Youell Church Phone:
Favorite Scripture and Why: Psalm 37. God gives us the desires of our heart. I’ve often heard this interpreted, “God will give us what we desire” but I think that perhaps what God gives us IS the desires themselves. I find it awesome that God puts His desires in our hearts so that we might yearn for the things He yearns for -- to bring the unsaved into his arms, to see lives changed -- and that we might passionately hunger to know Him more and to worship Him. This is the heart of worship, the heart of ministry, the heart of prayer: that our thoughts might be God’s thoughts, our desires the desires that He has placed into our hearts. What an awesome promise!
School Attending: Grace Homeschool School Activities: Pennsylvania Homeschoolers “Excelsior” magazine staff, online AP US History, American Sign Language, Shakespeare Sleepover Society (Homeschoolers Shakespeare Club), French, Grand Concours National French Exam, instructing at Flo’s Gymnastics, piano lessons (10th year), Holocaust Seminar/Art Competition (4th year), American High School Math Exam (3rd year), Written and Illustrated By... creative writing/art competition (5th year), Girl Scouts (working towards Gold Award, 11th year) Much of my time and energy goes into my youth group: Leadership/Planning team, leading worship, cell group leader, prayer meeting coordinator/facilitator.
Favorite Musical Artist: Sonic Flood; because of their call to come back to the heart of worship: it’s all about Jesus. We were created to be worshippers.
Community Service Projects You’ve Participated In: Teen Mania missions trips to the Dominican Republic (‘98) and Haiti (Christmas ‘98), Youth Group mission trip to Haiti (Summer ‘99), leading/organizing “Breakout” events for my youth group (“breaking out of ourselves and into the community with random acts of kindness”), church set up and tear down team (we meet in the YMCA so we have to set up chairs and tables and so on every week), “greeter” at church, outreach and evangelism team, leading Sunday morning worship periodically, crew leader at VBS, Agape Farm’s (home of Creation CCM festival) work weekends throughout the year, volunteer staff and setup team at Creation, Carnegie Science Center teen volunteer, participating in food drives, serving meals, and putting on services at Light of Life ministries (homeless shelter), , Compassion International child sponsor, participating in Habitat for Humanity projects
Career or Domestic Ambition: I’m interested in industrial design, but after going on missions, I find it hard to pursue any career that is not fulfilling the Great Commission, and most of all I want whatever I do to somehow be a ministry.
Favorite Family Activity and Why: Going out to dinner! We have fun sharing, laughing, and eating together.
B r i o G i r l P e r s o n a l E s s a y s
If Jesus was coming to speak at your school assembly, what topic would you want Him to address and why?
“Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”[1] Far from guarding their hearts, teenagers today are anxious to give their hearts away. The media’s message is that something is terribly wrong if you don’t have a “special someone.” Even Christian magazines are filled with comfort and counsel on “how to live without a date . . . if you must.” In their quest for security, people desperately tear off pieces of their hearts and give them away, leaving them lifeless and empty.
Jesus’ request is bold: “Love the Lord your God with ALL your heart.” Essentially he is saying, “forget these other things, give your heart to me.” This requires renouncing all else, gathering up the broken pieces, dying to self, and surrendering their whole hearts to God. Only then can he consume their hearts with his love. Instead, after giving most of their hearts away, they offer God mangled scraps. And they wonder why they’re so insecure! Anything less than God alone will never produce true security. His message is radical: You don’t need anyone else! His love is sufficient! “Love God. With ALL your heart.” This is the topic Jesus died to address.
Share with us when you became a Christian and how you’ve seen God at work in your life.
Although I’ve been a Christian since I can remember, I encountered God’s grace face-to-face and truly committed my life to him on 1-1-96, when I realized that Jesus died so that I could let go of my failures and burdens.
Since then, God’s been continually revealing that even when I am faithless, he remains faithful. When I was determined NOT to go with my church to Haiti because I wanted to go with Teen Mania and because the trip seemed so disorganized, He was faithful: when we had to teach English with almost no preparation, God revealed clearly that it was His work, not ours. When I feel alone, He reminds me of my utter dependence on Him. When I’m ready to throw up my hands in frustration with my youth group, He is faithful: He says “throw them up to me -- I have a plan.”[2] His faithfulness continues to flow through my life. In homeschooling, things that once seemed impossible, from SATs to staying organized, have become perfectly possible in God’s time. As I begin my college search, I know that worrying is futile: God has already found one for me. God is always faithful to complete what He begins.[3]
__________________
[1] Proverbs 4:23
[2] Quote from Fresh Wind Fresh Fire by Jim Cymbala
[3] Philippians 1:6
Name: Alexa Nicole Weber Age: 16
Hobbies and Interests: Since my Teen Mania trips, missions and evangelism has been my biggest interest, both here and around the world. I enjoy learning American Sign Language and worshipping/leading worship through signing. I love praise and worship music, leading and participating (that’s what we were created for). Foreign language intrigues me and I’m looking at the possibility of study-abroad (or working with a missions organization) for a year after high school. I enjoy graphics arts/design and designing professional websites for businesses and for myself; past sites include the definitive Point of Grace Newsstand and my Teen Mania webpage (http://members.xoom.com/teenmaniac/). I also enjoy playing piano and keyboard, writing, non-competitive gymnastics, drama, being an encourager/counselor to my friends, ministering online, and sharing God’s love in every way that I can.
Church Attending: Christ Community Fellowship Evangelical Free
Pastor’s Name: Jeff Youell Church Phone:
Favorite Scripture and Why: Psalm 37. God gives us the desires of our heart. I’ve often heard this interpreted, “God will give us what we desire” but I think that perhaps what God gives us IS the desires themselves. I find it awesome that God puts His desires in our hearts so that we might yearn for the things He yearns for -- to bring the unsaved into his arms, to see lives changed -- and that we might passionately hunger to know Him more and to worship Him. This is the heart of worship, the heart of ministry, the heart of prayer: that our thoughts might be God’s thoughts, our desires the desires that He has placed into our hearts. What an awesome promise!
School Attending: Grace Homeschool School Activities: Pennsylvania Homeschoolers “Excelsior” magazine staff, online AP US History, American Sign Language, Shakespeare Sleepover Society (Homeschoolers Shakespeare Club), French, Grand Concours National French Exam, instructing at Flo’s Gymnastics, piano lessons (10th year), Holocaust Seminar/Art Competition (4th year), American High School Math Exam (3rd year), Written and Illustrated By... creative writing/art competition (5th year), Girl Scouts (working towards Gold Award, 11th year) Much of my time and energy goes into my youth group: Leadership/Planning team, leading worship, cell group leader, prayer meeting coordinator/facilitator.
Favorite Musical Artist: Sonic Flood; because of their call to come back to the heart of worship: it’s all about Jesus. We were created to be worshippers.
Community Service Projects You’ve Participated In: Teen Mania missions trips to the Dominican Republic (‘98) and Haiti (Christmas ‘98), Youth Group mission trip to Haiti (Summer ‘99), leading/organizing “Breakout” events for my youth group (“breaking out of ourselves and into the community with random acts of kindness”), church set up and tear down team (we meet in the YMCA so we have to set up chairs and tables and so on every week), “greeter” at church, outreach and evangelism team, leading Sunday morning worship periodically, crew leader at VBS, Agape Farm’s (home of Creation CCM festival) work weekends throughout the year, volunteer staff and setup team at Creation, Carnegie Science Center teen volunteer, participating in food drives, serving meals, and putting on services at Light of Life ministries (homeless shelter), , Compassion International child sponsor, participating in Habitat for Humanity projects
Career or Domestic Ambition: I’m interested in industrial design, but after going on missions, I find it hard to pursue any career that is not fulfilling the Great Commission, and most of all I want whatever I do to somehow be a ministry.
Favorite Family Activity and Why: Going out to dinner! We have fun sharing, laughing, and eating together.
B r i o G i r l P e r s o n a l E s s a y s
If Jesus was coming to speak at your school assembly, what topic would you want Him to address and why?
“Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”[1] Far from guarding their hearts, teenagers today are anxious to give their hearts away. The media’s message is that something is terribly wrong if you don’t have a “special someone.” Even Christian magazines are filled with comfort and counsel on “how to live without a date . . . if you must.” In their quest for security, people desperately tear off pieces of their hearts and give them away, leaving them lifeless and empty.
Jesus’ request is bold: “Love the Lord your God with ALL your heart.” Essentially he is saying, “forget these other things, give your heart to me.” This requires renouncing all else, gathering up the broken pieces, dying to self, and surrendering their whole hearts to God. Only then can he consume their hearts with his love. Instead, after giving most of their hearts away, they offer God mangled scraps. And they wonder why they’re so insecure! Anything less than God alone will never produce true security. His message is radical: You don’t need anyone else! His love is sufficient! “Love God. With ALL your heart.” This is the topic Jesus died to address.
Share with us when you became a Christian and how you’ve seen God at work in your life.
Although I’ve been a Christian since I can remember, I encountered God’s grace face-to-face and truly committed my life to him on 1-1-96, when I realized that Jesus died so that I could let go of my failures and burdens.
Since then, God’s been continually revealing that even when I am faithless, he remains faithful. When I was determined NOT to go with my church to Haiti because I wanted to go with Teen Mania and because the trip seemed so disorganized, He was faithful: when we had to teach English with almost no preparation, God revealed clearly that it was His work, not ours. When I feel alone, He reminds me of my utter dependence on Him. When I’m ready to throw up my hands in frustration with my youth group, He is faithful: He says “throw them up to me -- I have a plan.”[2] His faithfulness continues to flow through my life. In homeschooling, things that once seemed impossible, from SATs to staying organized, have become perfectly possible in God’s time. As I begin my college search, I know that worrying is futile: God has already found one for me. God is always faithful to complete what He begins.[3]
__________________
[1] Proverbs 4:23
[2] Quote from Fresh Wind Fresh Fire by Jim Cymbala
[3] Philippians 1:6
2004 Ltrs About Lit contest entry re "The Cay" by T. Taylor
November 11, 2004
Mr. Theodore Taylor
1856 Catalina Street
Laguna Beach, CA 92615
Dear Mr. Taylor:
Your book, The Cay, made me want to play. When I knew I had to write a piece for the “Letters about Literature” contest, I’d just finished your book. I thought I might need to find another book to respond to because I didn’t think the fact that the book made me want to play was very significant. When my mother read me your article, “Exploding the Literary Canon,” including “A Wish for My Grandson,” I discovered several things that made me change my mind.
First of all, I found that you value play a great deal. I don’t know if you intended The Cay to be a catalyst for children’s imaginative playtimes, but that was what it was for me. It came along at just the right time too. You see I'm 12 years old and I'm “… at the threshold of my adult life” just like your grandson was in 1981! Just as he was watching the spaceship take off and land, I was watching the 2004 presidential election coverage on TV; I was even watching Hannity and Colmes! If I wasn’t doing that, I was at soccer practice or playing computer games and talking on IM or working on school. When I finished the book, that all changed because I wanted to be Phillip, marooned on an island and having to set up my own survival camp.
We live in the country and our property is surrounded by woods. I went into the woods and cleared a place under some big maples. I had some bricks that I used to make a fireplace. For my shelter, I dug a hole – a really large hole that took a long time to dig. I gathered branches and made a roof with them over the hole. I scavenged some logs from my dad’s log pile for a table. I set them on end and then laid a part of a 2 x 4 across them and nailed it down. My survival camp looked nice, but I wasn’t done. I found an old glass jar nearby and filled it with water and set it on my newly finished table. I made a garden plot by digging up the grass from under some of the trees and planting some old pumpkin and carrot seeds I found in our basement. Then I called “Stewdog” (my large boxer-lab-shepherd dog) to get into the hole with me. As I sat there petting him, I wondered what it must have been like for Phillip to have had to try and rebuild his camp after Timothy had died.
I thought that if I’d been Phillip I would have been incredibly sad, depressed, and guilty. Maybe I would have died because I wouldn’t have tried to save myself, but what would have made the difference would be the fact that Timothy’s dying had given my life value. Personally, I know my life has value because the Bible says so. It says the Son of God died for me. How much more value can there be than that? And, wasn’t Timothy being just like Jesus! By making this connection I think I’m doing what you wanted your grandson to do with relating the ghetto to the slave ship and connecting what he read in books with social issues.
I read in your article that you were criticized for having Timothy die in The Cay. I would like you to know that I am very pleased that you didn’t change that for the people who wanted your book to be “politically correct.” As I sat in the hole with “Stewdog,” I thought about how much respect I have for Timothy because he sacrificed his life for a selfish, prejudiced, white boy who was blind. Today, many adults can hardly be bothered with children. For example, I know so many children, younger than I am, who watch horror movies and I think they watch these because there’s no one to stop them. I don’t think Timothy would have let Phillip watch horror movies. Then there are all the abortions. I’m encouraged to know that there was a patient, loyal adult that gave his life for a young person; Timothy is a hero to me.
Reading The Cay has changed me in many different ways: like realizing the value of life, thinking about sacrifices people make and don’t make, making connections between books and life, and, of course, having the joy of pretend play again even though I am almost 13! Thank you Mr. Taylor for making me think about all of these important issues NOW before I go "blind" like Philip did
Sincerely yours,
Samantha Weber
Mr. Theodore Taylor
1856 Catalina Street
Laguna Beach, CA 92615
Dear Mr. Taylor:
Your book, The Cay, made me want to play. When I knew I had to write a piece for the “Letters about Literature” contest, I’d just finished your book. I thought I might need to find another book to respond to because I didn’t think the fact that the book made me want to play was very significant. When my mother read me your article, “Exploding the Literary Canon,” including “A Wish for My Grandson,” I discovered several things that made me change my mind.
First of all, I found that you value play a great deal. I don’t know if you intended The Cay to be a catalyst for children’s imaginative playtimes, but that was what it was for me. It came along at just the right time too. You see I'm 12 years old and I'm “… at the threshold of my adult life” just like your grandson was in 1981! Just as he was watching the spaceship take off and land, I was watching the 2004 presidential election coverage on TV; I was even watching Hannity and Colmes! If I wasn’t doing that, I was at soccer practice or playing computer games and talking on IM or working on school. When I finished the book, that all changed because I wanted to be Phillip, marooned on an island and having to set up my own survival camp.
We live in the country and our property is surrounded by woods. I went into the woods and cleared a place under some big maples. I had some bricks that I used to make a fireplace. For my shelter, I dug a hole – a really large hole that took a long time to dig. I gathered branches and made a roof with them over the hole. I scavenged some logs from my dad’s log pile for a table. I set them on end and then laid a part of a 2 x 4 across them and nailed it down. My survival camp looked nice, but I wasn’t done. I found an old glass jar nearby and filled it with water and set it on my newly finished table. I made a garden plot by digging up the grass from under some of the trees and planting some old pumpkin and carrot seeds I found in our basement. Then I called “Stewdog” (my large boxer-lab-shepherd dog) to get into the hole with me. As I sat there petting him, I wondered what it must have been like for Phillip to have had to try and rebuild his camp after Timothy had died.
I thought that if I’d been Phillip I would have been incredibly sad, depressed, and guilty. Maybe I would have died because I wouldn’t have tried to save myself, but what would have made the difference would be the fact that Timothy’s dying had given my life value. Personally, I know my life has value because the Bible says so. It says the Son of God died for me. How much more value can there be than that? And, wasn’t Timothy being just like Jesus! By making this connection I think I’m doing what you wanted your grandson to do with relating the ghetto to the slave ship and connecting what he read in books with social issues.
I read in your article that you were criticized for having Timothy die in The Cay. I would like you to know that I am very pleased that you didn’t change that for the people who wanted your book to be “politically correct.” As I sat in the hole with “Stewdog,” I thought about how much respect I have for Timothy because he sacrificed his life for a selfish, prejudiced, white boy who was blind. Today, many adults can hardly be bothered with children. For example, I know so many children, younger than I am, who watch horror movies and I think they watch these because there’s no one to stop them. I don’t think Timothy would have let Phillip watch horror movies. Then there are all the abortions. I’m encouraged to know that there was a patient, loyal adult that gave his life for a young person; Timothy is a hero to me.
Reading The Cay has changed me in many different ways: like realizing the value of life, thinking about sacrifices people make and don’t make, making connections between books and life, and, of course, having the joy of pretend play again even though I am almost 13! Thank you Mr. Taylor for making me think about all of these important issues NOW before I go "blind" like Philip did
Sincerely yours,
Samantha Weber
Name: Alexa Nicole Weber
Hobbies and Interests:
Besides working as a professional web designer (SaySoSites), I am a Contemporary Christian Music enthusiast and maintain the definitive web site for my role-models, Point of Grace. I also enjoy graphics arts/design, drawing and sketching, non-fiction writing, especially Christian articles, gymnastics, being an encourager/counselor to my friends, and just soaking up the little things that life is made of
Church Attending:
Christ Community Evangelical Free in Natrona Heights
Pastor’s Name: Jeff Youell
Phone: (724) 226-8082
Favorite Scripture and Why: Philipians 3:12-15
So many times I find myself looking back over all the times I fail at being mature in Christ and become discouraged or looking back and seeing how “good” I’ve been doing and become proud. This scripture reminds me to stop looking back and dwelling in the past, but to start pressing on towards what is ahead. No matter how weary I may be, I’ve got to press on and on with my eyes fixed on the goal. Let us run with perserverance.
School Attending: Homeschool
School Activities: College-level Intro to Psychology course at Transylvania Bible School, Young Life, Girl Scouts (9th year), Written and Illustrated By... competion (4th year), Holocaust Seminar/Art Competition (2nd year), American High School Math Exam, Alle-Kiski Science Show (3rd year), Telecommunity (SIGGRAPH students group), Duquesne University Multicultural Computer Academy, PA Homeschooler’s Writing Club (4th year), I am currently preparing for a Teen Mania mission trip I am taking this summer to the Dominican Republic.
Favorite Musical Artist: Carolyn Arends because her lyrics are so down-to-earth and real; it really speaks to me in the everyday troubles and triumphs of life. “I’m not afraid to live this life, you see it’s not like you’re rolling dice, it’s in the hands of God.”
Community Service Projects You’ve Participated In:
Goodwill clothing drive, creating favors residents of a local Hospice Care center, writing and directing the church’s Christmas and Easter plays, sending postcards for the American Cancer Society, organizing and directing Kiski Valley PCA’s sponsorship of a child through Compassion International
Career or Domestic Ambition:
I would love to work as an art director or in some other field of Christian music graphics design/video production, as a Christian counselor, or wherever God has in mind for me.
Favorite Family Activity and Why:
Going to Christian concerts with my entire family, including my little sister Samantha. It is so much fun just to be there all together worshipping God, watching my sis dancing and going nuts, meeting the artists, and talking about the concert all the way home.
As a Christian teen, what is one thing you’d change about today’s youths and why?
“Hope and love make life worth living, lack thereof makes a man grow old.” Without hope, what is there to live for? Without hope, life is meaningless. Without hope, there is no future. Today hosts a generation without purpose, without anything to hope in. Today hosts a generation that has strayed from God. After all, without God, there is nothing to hope for, no reason to live. There is a void in every person that can only be filled with God. Teens today are constantly searching for something to fill that void, but often look in all the wrong places, trying to fill it with drugs, alcohol, or "love" at any cost. The truth is that these things only sink them deeper into hopelessness and despair which often leads to tragic suicide and violent behavior. If I could change one thing about today's youths, it would be that they would find hope. Even if it is simply a hope that comes from knowing that there IS something REAL that can fill that void, and that they might someday, somehow, find it.
What’s been a significant moment in your personal walk with Christ?
God isn’t looking for “dead” Christians. He is looking for Christians who are passionate and serious, those with FIRE in their eyes. When I returned from Teen Mania’s “Acquire the Fire” (ATF) youth conference, my eyes were opened to realize what it means to be MATURE in Christ. A lot of times I have been a dedicated but “passive” Christian, simply “letting go and letting God.” It is true that salvation is all God’s work and that I can not earn it or deserve it, but I now know that MATURITY is something I’ve got to work for and perservere at. I’m not perfect, but by relying on God’s strength I want to start fighting in a way to win the prize. Fighting against temptation in my life, fighting against my selfish will, fighting to “take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” (Phil. 3:12) I now want to be “infatuated with God” and to live every little aspect of my life for Him. ATF challenged me to dedicate myself more completely to striving towards perfection til the day that He returns.
Hobbies and Interests:
Besides working as a professional web designer (SaySoSites), I am a Contemporary Christian Music enthusiast and maintain the definitive web site for my role-models, Point of Grace. I also enjoy graphics arts/design, drawing and sketching, non-fiction writing, especially Christian articles, gymnastics, being an encourager/counselor to my friends, and just soaking up the little things that life is made of
Church Attending:
Christ Community Evangelical Free in Natrona Heights
Pastor’s Name: Jeff Youell
Phone: (724) 226-8082
Favorite Scripture and Why: Philipians 3:12-15
So many times I find myself looking back over all the times I fail at being mature in Christ and become discouraged or looking back and seeing how “good” I’ve been doing and become proud. This scripture reminds me to stop looking back and dwelling in the past, but to start pressing on towards what is ahead. No matter how weary I may be, I’ve got to press on and on with my eyes fixed on the goal. Let us run with perserverance.
School Attending: Homeschool
School Activities: College-level Intro to Psychology course at Transylvania Bible School, Young Life, Girl Scouts (9th year), Written and Illustrated By... competion (4th year), Holocaust Seminar/Art Competition (2nd year), American High School Math Exam, Alle-Kiski Science Show (3rd year), Telecommunity (SIGGRAPH students group), Duquesne University Multicultural Computer Academy, PA Homeschooler’s Writing Club (4th year), I am currently preparing for a Teen Mania mission trip I am taking this summer to the Dominican Republic.
Favorite Musical Artist: Carolyn Arends because her lyrics are so down-to-earth and real; it really speaks to me in the everyday troubles and triumphs of life. “I’m not afraid to live this life, you see it’s not like you’re rolling dice, it’s in the hands of God.”
Community Service Projects You’ve Participated In:
Goodwill clothing drive, creating favors residents of a local Hospice Care center, writing and directing the church’s Christmas and Easter plays, sending postcards for the American Cancer Society, organizing and directing Kiski Valley PCA’s sponsorship of a child through Compassion International
Career or Domestic Ambition:
I would love to work as an art director or in some other field of Christian music graphics design/video production, as a Christian counselor, or wherever God has in mind for me.
Favorite Family Activity and Why:
Going to Christian concerts with my entire family, including my little sister Samantha. It is so much fun just to be there all together worshipping God, watching my sis dancing and going nuts, meeting the artists, and talking about the concert all the way home.
As a Christian teen, what is one thing you’d change about today’s youths and why?
“Hope and love make life worth living, lack thereof makes a man grow old.” Without hope, what is there to live for? Without hope, life is meaningless. Without hope, there is no future. Today hosts a generation without purpose, without anything to hope in. Today hosts a generation that has strayed from God. After all, without God, there is nothing to hope for, no reason to live. There is a void in every person that can only be filled with God. Teens today are constantly searching for something to fill that void, but often look in all the wrong places, trying to fill it with drugs, alcohol, or "love" at any cost. The truth is that these things only sink them deeper into hopelessness and despair which often leads to tragic suicide and violent behavior. If I could change one thing about today's youths, it would be that they would find hope. Even if it is simply a hope that comes from knowing that there IS something REAL that can fill that void, and that they might someday, somehow, find it.
What’s been a significant moment in your personal walk with Christ?
God isn’t looking for “dead” Christians. He is looking for Christians who are passionate and serious, those with FIRE in their eyes. When I returned from Teen Mania’s “Acquire the Fire” (ATF) youth conference, my eyes were opened to realize what it means to be MATURE in Christ. A lot of times I have been a dedicated but “passive” Christian, simply “letting go and letting God.” It is true that salvation is all God’s work and that I can not earn it or deserve it, but I now know that MATURITY is something I’ve got to work for and perservere at. I’m not perfect, but by relying on God’s strength I want to start fighting in a way to win the prize. Fighting against temptation in my life, fighting against my selfish will, fighting to “take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” (Phil. 3:12) I now want to be “infatuated with God” and to live every little aspect of my life for Him. ATF challenged me to dedicate myself more completely to striving towards perfection til the day that He returns.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Brio Girl Contest 2000
B r i o G i r l E n t r y F o r m 2000
Name: Alexa Nicole Weber Age: 15 Birth Date: 11/20/83
Address: 155 Spohn Rd. City: Freeport State: PA Zip: 16229
Phone: (724) 295-0628
Hobbies and Interests: Since this past summer when I went to the Dominican Republic with Teen Mania, I’ve been turned on to missions and world cultures. Evangelism and the following the Great Commission is my biggest interest, both here and around the world. I enjoy graphics arts/design and designing professional websites for buisnesses and for myself, past sites include the definitive Point of Grace Newsstand and my Teen Mania webpage (http://members.xoom.com/teenmaniac/). I love to worship God and I love praise and worship music. I also enjoy drawing and sketching, playing piano and keyboard, writing Christian articles, non-competitive gymnastics, drama, being an encourager/counselor to my friends and ministering online, and sharing God’s love in every way that I can.
Church Attending: Christ Community Evangelical Free
Pastor’s Name: Jeff Youell
Favorite Scripture and Why: 2 Corinthians 4:7
Although I am nothing but a simple clay vessel, fragile and easily broken, God has chosen to put His great treasure in me, which is so humbling. This verse reminds me that my life should be a reflection of GOD’S power and GOD’S glory, that when people look at me they do not see ME, a cracked up pot, but they should see God in all His glory. I should not seek my own glory in anything that I do, but rather let Christ shine through me.
School Attending: Homeschool School Activities: Youth Group Leadership/Planning team, accountability/discipleship group mentor in Sunday AM youth, writing for our church newsletter, “The Sower,” ThinkQuest web design competition project entitled “Culture Shock - an interactive Exploration of World Cultures,” Written and Illustrated By... creative writing/art competition (5th year), Holocaust Seminar/Art Competition (4th year), American High School Math Exam (2nd year), PA Homeschooler’s Writing Club (5th year), Girl Scouts (working towards Gold Award, 10th year), Homeschoolers French Club. Although I have resigned from my Point of Grace website after realizing that I needed to refocus more completely on God, I still write Bible studies for Grace Notes, my Point of Grace Unofficial Email Newsletter, sharing with over 1,000 subscribers insights on “living as points of God’s grace.”
Favorite Musical Artist: the Newsboys because they challenge teens to get serious for God and their music serves as a reminder to me to “look up, cause the world looks on”
Community Service Projects You’ve Participated In: Teen Mania missions trips to the Dominican Republic (‘98) and Haiti (Christmas ‘98), Agape Farm’s (home of Creation festival) work weekends throughout the year as well as setup and teardown at Creation CCM festival, Compassion International child sponsor, Carnegie Science Center teen voulenteer, church set up and tear down team (we meet in the YMCA and set up chairs and tables and so on every week), leading Sunday morning worship, food drives for Light of Life ministries, Sunday School teen assistant, Random Acts of Kindness “Blitz” day,
Career or Domestic Ambition: I’d like to work in some field of graphics arts, but God knows the plans He has for me and my desire is to go wherever He leads and do whatever He calls me to do.
Favorite Family Activity and Why:
As a Christian teen, what is one thing you’d change about today’s youths and why?
Everything was created for a reason. As the Sunday School song says, “God made birds to fill the skies . . . but we were made to love the Lord.” Today hosts a generation of young people who have lost their purpose and their vision. This generation has even been termed, “Generation X,” a generation that doesn’t stand for anything. They have turned away from Jesus and have lost sight of the Savior. Until you find a cause worth dying for, you’re not really living. Life without purpose is more tragic than death. Everyone hungers to find the meaning of life. Teens try to quench their purpose- hunger with drugs, alcohol, “love” at any cost, sinking them deeper into despair which often leads to tragic suicide and violent behavior. After all, without purpose, life loses the precious, priceless worth that God made it to have; life becomes cheap. If I could change one thing about today’s youths, it would be that they would once again find hope, purpose and meaning in life. Ultimately, it would be that they would find Jesus. We were made to love the Lord.
What’s been a significant moment in your personal walk with Christ?
Love the Lord Your God with ALL your HEART, SOUL, MIND and STRENGTH. A year ago, I was really into Christian music. I talked about it, did websites about it, thought about it, read about it -- you get the idea. I was in over my head, yet I did not want to admit it. Following an Acquire the Fire youth conference, my youth group got together and had a bonfire. On this fire we were to lay down a symbol of anything that captured our hearts more than God, as if laying it down for God to consume. I lay down my love for CCM. Little did I know that I was preparing my heart for a radical life-change. When I surrended my heart COMPLETELY to God, He filled my life like never before. The day after laying down my heart on that “alter,” I felt renewed. I realized what it meant to give God my WHOLE heart. Now, God’s love has become everything to me, He is my life. My time, my all belongs to Him and I want to commit everything to Him -- all my heart, strength, mind, and soul. My heart belongs to Jesus.
If Jesus was coming to speak at your school assembly, what topic would you want Him to address and why?
Having been homeschooled my entire life, I don’t exactly HAVE a school assembly and have been somewhat sheltered from seeing the struggles that my peers face. Yet there is one thing that I do see in the eyes of my peers, in myself, and in everyone. We all want to be loved. We all want to feel like we belong.
Share with us when you became a Christian and how you’ve seen God at work in your life.
Though I asked Jesus into my heart when I was 3, it was not until I entered my teen years that what Jesus did became a reality to me. We had just moved and I was lonely and worn out by school and somewhat visionless. Then, I read in Brio’s “God said, I said” that God wants “even ONE girl” who is willing to follow Him no matter what the cost. I wanted to be that girl! I tried hard to obey God in everything, but the harder I tried, the more I realized how often I failed. Desparation set in. One evening, while sitting on my bed crying, the song, “I’ll Lead You Home” came on my radio. “Let it go and turn it over to the One who chose to give His life for you.” I suddenly realized that Jesus didn’t want me to hold onto my sins and burdens. HE DIED SO THAT I COULD LET THEM GO. I felt as though a burden had been lifted right off of my shoulders. I was free. God has blessed me so much and has become my life’s foundation. I see a little more of Him day by day.
“We are taking every thought captive to the obedience of God - 2 Cor. 10:5
Grace Homeschool (since 1989)
TRANSCRIPT FOR 1997-98 SCHOOL YEAR
STUDENT: Alexa Weber GRADE: 9th
GPA (estimate based on records): 3.98
Name: Alexa Nicole Weber Age: 15 Birth Date: 11/20/83
Address: 155 Spohn Rd. City: Freeport State: PA Zip: 16229
Phone: (724) 295-0628
Hobbies and Interests: Since this past summer when I went to the Dominican Republic with Teen Mania, I’ve been turned on to missions and world cultures. Evangelism and the following the Great Commission is my biggest interest, both here and around the world. I enjoy graphics arts/design and designing professional websites for buisnesses and for myself, past sites include the definitive Point of Grace Newsstand and my Teen Mania webpage (http://members.xoom.com/teenmaniac/). I love to worship God and I love praise and worship music. I also enjoy drawing and sketching, playing piano and keyboard, writing Christian articles, non-competitive gymnastics, drama, being an encourager/counselor to my friends and ministering online, and sharing God’s love in every way that I can.
Church Attending: Christ Community Evangelical Free
Pastor’s Name: Jeff Youell
Favorite Scripture and Why: 2 Corinthians 4:7
Although I am nothing but a simple clay vessel, fragile and easily broken, God has chosen to put His great treasure in me, which is so humbling. This verse reminds me that my life should be a reflection of GOD’S power and GOD’S glory, that when people look at me they do not see ME, a cracked up pot, but they should see God in all His glory. I should not seek my own glory in anything that I do, but rather let Christ shine through me.
School Attending: Homeschool School Activities: Youth Group Leadership/Planning team, accountability/discipleship group mentor in Sunday AM youth, writing for our church newsletter, “The Sower,” ThinkQuest web design competition project entitled “Culture Shock - an interactive Exploration of World Cultures,” Written and Illustrated By... creative writing/art competition (5th year), Holocaust Seminar/Art Competition (4th year), American High School Math Exam (2nd year), PA Homeschooler’s Writing Club (5th year), Girl Scouts (working towards Gold Award, 10th year), Homeschoolers French Club. Although I have resigned from my Point of Grace website after realizing that I needed to refocus more completely on God, I still write Bible studies for Grace Notes, my Point of Grace Unofficial Email Newsletter, sharing with over 1,000 subscribers insights on “living as points of God’s grace.”
Favorite Musical Artist: the Newsboys because they challenge teens to get serious for God and their music serves as a reminder to me to “look up, cause the world looks on”
Community Service Projects You’ve Participated In: Teen Mania missions trips to the Dominican Republic (‘98) and Haiti (Christmas ‘98), Agape Farm’s (home of Creation festival) work weekends throughout the year as well as setup and teardown at Creation CCM festival, Compassion International child sponsor, Carnegie Science Center teen voulenteer, church set up and tear down team (we meet in the YMCA and set up chairs and tables and so on every week), leading Sunday morning worship, food drives for Light of Life ministries, Sunday School teen assistant, Random Acts of Kindness “Blitz” day,
Career or Domestic Ambition: I’d like to work in some field of graphics arts, but God knows the plans He has for me and my desire is to go wherever He leads and do whatever He calls me to do.
Favorite Family Activity and Why:
As a Christian teen, what is one thing you’d change about today’s youths and why?
Everything was created for a reason. As the Sunday School song says, “God made birds to fill the skies . . . but we were made to love the Lord.” Today hosts a generation of young people who have lost their purpose and their vision. This generation has even been termed, “Generation X,” a generation that doesn’t stand for anything. They have turned away from Jesus and have lost sight of the Savior. Until you find a cause worth dying for, you’re not really living. Life without purpose is more tragic than death. Everyone hungers to find the meaning of life. Teens try to quench their purpose- hunger with drugs, alcohol, “love” at any cost, sinking them deeper into despair which often leads to tragic suicide and violent behavior. After all, without purpose, life loses the precious, priceless worth that God made it to have; life becomes cheap. If I could change one thing about today’s youths, it would be that they would once again find hope, purpose and meaning in life. Ultimately, it would be that they would find Jesus. We were made to love the Lord.
What’s been a significant moment in your personal walk with Christ?
Love the Lord Your God with ALL your HEART, SOUL, MIND and STRENGTH. A year ago, I was really into Christian music. I talked about it, did websites about it, thought about it, read about it -- you get the idea. I was in over my head, yet I did not want to admit it. Following an Acquire the Fire youth conference, my youth group got together and had a bonfire. On this fire we were to lay down a symbol of anything that captured our hearts more than God, as if laying it down for God to consume. I lay down my love for CCM. Little did I know that I was preparing my heart for a radical life-change. When I surrended my heart COMPLETELY to God, He filled my life like never before. The day after laying down my heart on that “alter,” I felt renewed. I realized what it meant to give God my WHOLE heart. Now, God’s love has become everything to me, He is my life. My time, my all belongs to Him and I want to commit everything to Him -- all my heart, strength, mind, and soul. My heart belongs to Jesus.
If Jesus was coming to speak at your school assembly, what topic would you want Him to address and why?
Having been homeschooled my entire life, I don’t exactly HAVE a school assembly and have been somewhat sheltered from seeing the struggles that my peers face. Yet there is one thing that I do see in the eyes of my peers, in myself, and in everyone. We all want to be loved. We all want to feel like we belong.
Share with us when you became a Christian and how you’ve seen God at work in your life.
Though I asked Jesus into my heart when I was 3, it was not until I entered my teen years that what Jesus did became a reality to me. We had just moved and I was lonely and worn out by school and somewhat visionless. Then, I read in Brio’s “God said, I said” that God wants “even ONE girl” who is willing to follow Him no matter what the cost. I wanted to be that girl! I tried hard to obey God in everything, but the harder I tried, the more I realized how often I failed. Desparation set in. One evening, while sitting on my bed crying, the song, “I’ll Lead You Home” came on my radio. “Let it go and turn it over to the One who chose to give His life for you.” I suddenly realized that Jesus didn’t want me to hold onto my sins and burdens. HE DIED SO THAT I COULD LET THEM GO. I felt as though a burden had been lifted right off of my shoulders. I was free. God has blessed me so much and has become my life’s foundation. I see a little more of Him day by day.
“We are taking every thought captive to the obedience of God - 2 Cor. 10:5
Grace Homeschool (since 1989)
TRANSCRIPT FOR 1997-98 SCHOOL YEAR
STUDENT: Alexa Weber GRADE: 9th
GPA (estimate based on records): 3.98
Friday, May 2, 2008
Reverse Psychology
A Writing Club Assignment from Winter 2004. The assignment was to retell in the first person a personal story involving one of your parents.
By Samantha Weber
"Is that all you want?" the clerk asked.
"Yes, that will be all," I calmly answered (although on 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. Being only 12 years old, we both knew that what we were doing what was against the law and our parents would definitely not approve either; so we hid the package of cigarettes in a Q-Tip box and put that in the deepest pocket of our identical, 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 ,how the clerk was so clueless, and, of course, how we acted like 18 year olds. When we reached her house I said goodbye so I could go home and watch my favorite shows, Pinky Lee, I Love Lucy, and Jackie Gleason, on TV. Once I was finished watching TV, I ate a quick dinner and went upstairs 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, out the door, 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 about loving your neighbors, we walked back with our black purses hanging on our shoulders. We both went inside her house to listen to a new 45 of You Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog on Jerri Lee's new pink High Fi. On the way upstairs we heard her mother doing dishes in the kitchen as we unthinkingly dropped our purses on her couch. Jerri Lee's little sister, Darlene, out of the clear blue, grabbed my purse, stuck her chubby little hand down in it, and pulled out the Q-Tip box and ran and gave it to her mother. Her mother was shocked to find: Cigarettes! Angrily, she chased me out of the house and told me that I better "hot-foot it get home" and tell my mother that I was smoking before the phone rang and she told her!. Huffing and puffing, I ran up my stairs, flung open my mother's bedroom door, jumped onto the bed, woke her up, and told her the sad truth: I smoked cigarettes! Much to my surprise, she calmly answered that if I wanted to smoke, that was fine, and to just stay away from Mary Janes (marijuana). 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 on 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. Being only 12 years old, we both knew that what we were doing what was against the law and our parents would definitely not approve either; so we hid the package of cigarettes in a Q-Tip box and put that in the deepest pocket of our identical, 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 ,how the clerk was so clueless, and, of course, how we acted like 18 year olds. When we reached her house I said goodbye so I could go home and watch my favorite shows, Pinky Lee, I Love Lucy, and Jackie Gleason, on TV. Once I was finished watching TV, I ate a quick dinner and went upstairs 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, out the door, 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 about loving your neighbors, we walked back with our black purses hanging on our shoulders. We both went inside her house to listen to a new 45 of You Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog on Jerri Lee's new pink High Fi. On the way upstairs we heard her mother doing dishes in the kitchen as we unthinkingly dropped our purses on her couch. Jerri Lee's little sister, Darlene, out of the clear blue, grabbed my purse, stuck her chubby little hand down in it, and pulled out the Q-Tip box and ran and gave it to her mother. Her mother was shocked to find: Cigarettes! Angrily, she chased me out of the house and told me that I better "hot-foot it get home" and tell my mother that I was smoking before the phone rang and she told her!. Huffing and puffing, I ran up my stairs, flung open my mother's bedroom door, jumped onto the bed, woke her up, and told her the sad truth: I smoked cigarettes! Much to my surprise, she calmly answered that if I wanted to smoke, that was fine, and to just stay away from Mary Janes (marijuana). Although I had the approval of my mother, I never smoked again! That was when I was first introduced to reverse psychology.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Are You Normal? by Alexa Weber
Did you know that one in five women confess to sleeping regularly with a stuffed animal (as do five percent of men), that 27.1 percent of Americans regularly chew on pens and pencils, and that if you DON’T set your clock ahead of the actual time, you’re part of a minority that makes up only 1/3 of the population? So says this humorous little book I picked up at Barnes and Noble the other day entitled, “Are You Normal?” (by Bernice Kanner). Now obviously this book resulted from an intense, nationally-conducted, professional study, but it left me wanting to find out for myself: What IS normal homeschool behavior, and am I normal? I drew up a survey of questions ranging from “What do you wear to ‘school’?” to “Describe your portfolio-keeping skills” and sent it all over Pennsylvania. At first I was delighted when responses came flowing back. Then I was terrified. “HOW WAS I GOING TO COMPILE STATISTICS FROM ALL OF THESE?!” It took me a day and a half just to READ them all! Even more intimidating was the extreme variety of answers. How could I tell what was NORMAL homeschool behavior? And finally, the most alarming was the response to my random question, “Are you normal?” I may have gotten three, at most, responses from people claiming to be normal! At this point I shook my head and kissed my statistical quest goodbye. The best I could do was observe, quote, and laugh with the 55 responses, and I pray you’ll do the same as I relate my absolutely unofficial observations and quotes from a large batch of people who refuse to be labeled . . . NORMAL!
Going to School = Going to Bed: Where and How Homeschoolers Study
Although almost every response contained a check by the option, “While Sleeping,” I was not surprised to find that most did claim that in bed, locked in a bedroom, with a pile of cats and dogs on top (“My dog LOVES to listen to me yell at my frustrating math book!” –Karah C), was the favorite position for education. (After all, that’s what *I* do. My classroom system: Mom’s Bed = Physics, English and Math class; My Bed = Economics and Literature reading; etcetera):
“I usually curl up in bed and study/read as little as possible. Just kidding. I do almost all my work in my bed. It keeps me comfortable and quiet and lets me focus.” –Audrey N
“In the early morning (and sometimes late morning if I'm feeling particularly lazy) I like to study snuggled under my bedcovers… although I have to admit that I don't get a whole lot of studying done as for some strange reason my eyes don't want to stay open...” –Rachel S
“I try to avoid the desk and the kitchen table; they make work seem too much like work.” -Mark G
“I usually start on my school work before I even get out of bed in the morning.” –April H
“I alternate between lying on my back and propping the book on my knees, and lying on my side with one elbow supporting me, laying across the bed with my head over the edge and the book on the floor, and laying on my stomach with both elbows propping me up, changing positions whenever I get cramped” -Matthias Hess
“I read with my little angelic teddy bear. I'll have you know that it inspires me that I'm not the only one reading the book, especially if it is boring.” –Sarah T
Homeschoolers are skilled at making almost anywhere into a ”school,” however, and responses included, “On my porch swing” (Amber Ross), “In my car in a parking lot” (Kate Deely), and “Sitting in my chair backwards with my legs hanging over the side, and periodically practicing ballet in between concurring and dissenting Supreme Court opinions” (Sarah A). (An alternative to practicing ballet to keep awake would be to look out of the window at your sheep. At least that’s what William E claims to do. Personally, I always associated sheep-watching with going to sleep, but hey, whatever floats your boat.) Anna Megill has even developed a helpful scale for determining where it is “safe” to study:
If the book is.....
VERY VERY BORING: Read aloud and walk in circles around the room to keep myself awake.
VERY BORING: Sit on an extremely uncomfortable coffee table, or lie on the table and put the book on the floor
BORING: Sit on one of my mom's comfortable (but upright) Aerochairs.
IN BETWEEN: Sit on my comfy chair in my own room (but not too comfortable)
INTERESTING: If the weather is nice I will read in the hammock out in the backyard or else I will lay on my bed.
VERY INTERESTING: Read on my mom's bed with her back rest and the covers over me
VERY VERY INTERESTING: cuddle down in the corner of my favorite couch with my favorite blanket and enjoy!
Shopping for School Clothes? Head for the PJ section!
About half of those surveyed expressed surprise that the most commonly asked question encountered is, “Can you do school in your PJ’s?”. Sarah T commented, “This one always cracks me up because I never EVER did that; it never even OCCURRED to me to do that!”, while Annie B mused, “I’m amazed how many people ask that one. I wonder if THEY would if they could!” Well, for the sake of Sarah (and others’) enlightenment, about half of those surveyed (the other half; the ones who did NOT express such shock), admitted that they DO INDEED study in their PJ’s:
“One question, why get dressed? Tell me why, and maybe I'll consider it!” –Kate Z
“Oh, yeah! PJ's all the way! Cow print and satin lizard print pants with big t-shirts!” –Shannon B
“PJs are the greatest, especially during winter months (the majority of the school year) when it gets really cold. I like to make a cup of Hot Chocolate and settle in my bed with my pajamas, to read or study.” –Audrey N
“I usually wear my PJ's. Whatever is comfortable really. I find that having to dress as if I was going to "real school" is a drag and I never do it even if I'm "told" to so who cares.” –Audrey N
“Pajamas, or sometimes terribly ugly clothes that I would absolutely die of embarrassment if anyone saw me wearing them!” –Marilee G
For the rest of us, “whatever's at the top of my drawer” (girls?) and “whatever I find on my bedroom floor” (guys?) made up the bulk of the responses, leaving the average homeschooler wearing something like “jeans and a t-shirt that is either ancient or the design is just ugly” (Esther P). A few people admitted to wearing “real” clothes, because, as Meghan C put it, “When I feel good about what I am wearing I am more likely to feel good about my work.” Although a few of the normal-clothes-people admitted to staying in their PJ’s till early afternoon, explaining that “by afternoon, [they’ll] take a shower and change into regular clothes cause it just feels better” (Rachel S), quite a few claimed (myself included) they’d never wear their PJ’s to school. Kelly C explained it, “I don't feel awake until I'm dressed for the day” and Anna M insightfully considered both the question and the PJ’s in her response:
“The question that I get most often is, "Do you get to wear your pajamas all day?" I have often wondered why people care so much about this, but I think it's because every day they have to dress respectably in order to go to school and since this is very trying they are eager to avoid it when they can. I, on-the-other-hand, only have to wear comfortable clothes that I like. I usually tell them that it doesn't actually work to wear your pajamas all day because, if you do, you feel like you have never woken up.”
The Non-Feline Classmates: Siblings (Or “the other pets”)
With a few exceptions, most of the responders said that they really don’t teach their siblings, except for lessons like “how to behave” (Annie B), and that they and their siblings, for the most part, have their separate spheres. The most common image conveyed involved a sibling “popping” in the door and “asking random and unrelated questions”—I was surprised by how many people conveyed this same image in their response! Other notorious antics included “singing or screaming while doing homework” (Sarah R), “bursting into the bedroom at the most inopportune moments” (Mark G), “threatening to put guinea pigs on their big siblings heads” (Kelly C) and “tickling in the middle of Algebra or Geometry” (Audrey N), Sarah C did admit that little siblings are “so cute when they sleep.” Just kidding. One must not confuse “distracting” with “annoying”—Most homeschoolers found their little siblings quite distracting, but not necessarily annoying. April S summed it up well: “My siblings are very special to me. When you think about it, your brothers and sisters are probably the people you will know longer than anyone else in your life. Yes, they can be distracting, but can’t any good friend become a distraction?”
Sung Or Spoken: Good Morning Homeschoolers!!!
Getting up in the morning is a special challenge faced by homeschoolers. You would be surprised what you are able to do when you absolutely have to—at Taylor last summer I could stay up till 3 and get up at 7 for nights in a row! At home, however, with no bus to catch, we must fight to roll out of bed on an average morning. Although these statistics are not calculated or official, and while wake-up times varied from a few 5am waker-uppers to our 11am friends, the most common getting-up time was, relative to those of our public schooled friends, leaning towards the late side, generally around 8-9. And what wakes them up?
“Mother. ARGH! She makes me want to stay in bed.” –Gwen U
“Sometimes the cat wakes me up by ‘cleaning’ my hair” –Dane Hl
“Singing. Yeah you heard right. My family is notorious for singing… No, it’s more like screeching. It’s never a, ‘Hi sweetie, time to get up” in a soft whisper. It’s more like, “TIME TO GET UUUUPPPP, LALALALALA!” in a national anthem pitch” –Kate Z
“Alarm – It’s supposed to but you know how that goes. / Mother – She sends dad up to get me. / Singing – Yeah, my brother in the shower. / Other – Cold water normally works pretty well.” –Mark G
Although homeschoolers require several means at a time to pry them out of their beds (even though they’ll return to it shortly for school), I was surprised to find that most all of the responders go to bed on their own, when they feel like it. Despite this liberty, and despite a few who admit to staying up somewhere between 12 and 2 every night, the most common bed-time seemed to be between 10 and 11.
Some Thoughts on Portfolio and Log-Keeping Skills
Christi B: “AAAAUUUGGGHHH!” That sums up just about everyone’s responses well. Kudos to Christi. No further remarks necessary.
So, Are YOU Normal?
So there you have it: My best attempt to compile the responses which, if printed, would add up to almost 250 pages of anecdotes, stories, and schedules, into an article that would not fill the entire Excelsior. This is your life. Or maybe it’s not. But I hope as you’ve read and laughed a little at these aspects of homeschool life, you’ll take a moment to celebrate—celebrate sleeping in, portfolios, siblings, felines, your bed—celebrate whatever homeschooling is to you . . . but above all, celebrate the fact that you, as a homeschooler, are NOT normal! Repeat this a few times as you celebrate homeschooling: “’Normal is conforming to a standard; typical; of average intelligence or development’ (Webster). As a rule, homeschoolers are NOT normal. Perhaps, however, I am a normal homeschooler because I conform to the standard of abnormality. I am not, however, a normal person!” (Mark G).
Going to School = Going to Bed: Where and How Homeschoolers Study
Although almost every response contained a check by the option, “While Sleeping,” I was not surprised to find that most did claim that in bed, locked in a bedroom, with a pile of cats and dogs on top (“My dog LOVES to listen to me yell at my frustrating math book!” –Karah C), was the favorite position for education. (After all, that’s what *I* do. My classroom system: Mom’s Bed = Physics, English and Math class; My Bed = Economics and Literature reading; etcetera):
“I usually curl up in bed and study/read as little as possible. Just kidding. I do almost all my work in my bed. It keeps me comfortable and quiet and lets me focus.” –Audrey N
“In the early morning (and sometimes late morning if I'm feeling particularly lazy) I like to study snuggled under my bedcovers… although I have to admit that I don't get a whole lot of studying done as for some strange reason my eyes don't want to stay open...” –Rachel S
“I try to avoid the desk and the kitchen table; they make work seem too much like work.” -Mark G
“I usually start on my school work before I even get out of bed in the morning.” –April H
“I alternate between lying on my back and propping the book on my knees, and lying on my side with one elbow supporting me, laying across the bed with my head over the edge and the book on the floor, and laying on my stomach with both elbows propping me up, changing positions whenever I get cramped” -Matthias Hess
“I read with my little angelic teddy bear. I'll have you know that it inspires me that I'm not the only one reading the book, especially if it is boring.” –Sarah T
Homeschoolers are skilled at making almost anywhere into a ”school,” however, and responses included, “On my porch swing” (Amber Ross), “In my car in a parking lot” (Kate Deely), and “Sitting in my chair backwards with my legs hanging over the side, and periodically practicing ballet in between concurring and dissenting Supreme Court opinions” (Sarah A). (An alternative to practicing ballet to keep awake would be to look out of the window at your sheep. At least that’s what William E claims to do. Personally, I always associated sheep-watching with going to sleep, but hey, whatever floats your boat.) Anna Megill has even developed a helpful scale for determining where it is “safe” to study:
If the book is.....
VERY VERY BORING: Read aloud and walk in circles around the room to keep myself awake.
VERY BORING: Sit on an extremely uncomfortable coffee table, or lie on the table and put the book on the floor
BORING: Sit on one of my mom's comfortable (but upright) Aerochairs.
IN BETWEEN: Sit on my comfy chair in my own room (but not too comfortable)
INTERESTING: If the weather is nice I will read in the hammock out in the backyard or else I will lay on my bed.
VERY INTERESTING: Read on my mom's bed with her back rest and the covers over me
VERY VERY INTERESTING: cuddle down in the corner of my favorite couch with my favorite blanket and enjoy!
Shopping for School Clothes? Head for the PJ section!
About half of those surveyed expressed surprise that the most commonly asked question encountered is, “Can you do school in your PJ’s?”. Sarah T commented, “This one always cracks me up because I never EVER did that; it never even OCCURRED to me to do that!”, while Annie B mused, “I’m amazed how many people ask that one. I wonder if THEY would if they could!” Well, for the sake of Sarah (and others’) enlightenment, about half of those surveyed (the other half; the ones who did NOT express such shock), admitted that they DO INDEED study in their PJ’s:
“One question, why get dressed? Tell me why, and maybe I'll consider it!” –Kate Z
“Oh, yeah! PJ's all the way! Cow print and satin lizard print pants with big t-shirts!” –Shannon B
“PJs are the greatest, especially during winter months (the majority of the school year) when it gets really cold. I like to make a cup of Hot Chocolate and settle in my bed with my pajamas, to read or study.” –Audrey N
“I usually wear my PJ's. Whatever is comfortable really. I find that having to dress as if I was going to "real school" is a drag and I never do it even if I'm "told" to so who cares.” –Audrey N
“Pajamas, or sometimes terribly ugly clothes that I would absolutely die of embarrassment if anyone saw me wearing them!” –Marilee G
For the rest of us, “whatever's at the top of my drawer” (girls?) and “whatever I find on my bedroom floor” (guys?) made up the bulk of the responses, leaving the average homeschooler wearing something like “jeans and a t-shirt that is either ancient or the design is just ugly” (Esther P). A few people admitted to wearing “real” clothes, because, as Meghan C put it, “When I feel good about what I am wearing I am more likely to feel good about my work.” Although a few of the normal-clothes-people admitted to staying in their PJ’s till early afternoon, explaining that “by afternoon, [they’ll] take a shower and change into regular clothes cause it just feels better” (Rachel S), quite a few claimed (myself included) they’d never wear their PJ’s to school. Kelly C explained it, “I don't feel awake until I'm dressed for the day” and Anna M insightfully considered both the question and the PJ’s in her response:
“The question that I get most often is, "Do you get to wear your pajamas all day?" I have often wondered why people care so much about this, but I think it's because every day they have to dress respectably in order to go to school and since this is very trying they are eager to avoid it when they can. I, on-the-other-hand, only have to wear comfortable clothes that I like. I usually tell them that it doesn't actually work to wear your pajamas all day because, if you do, you feel like you have never woken up.”
The Non-Feline Classmates: Siblings (Or “the other pets”)
With a few exceptions, most of the responders said that they really don’t teach their siblings, except for lessons like “how to behave” (Annie B), and that they and their siblings, for the most part, have their separate spheres. The most common image conveyed involved a sibling “popping” in the door and “asking random and unrelated questions”—I was surprised by how many people conveyed this same image in their response! Other notorious antics included “singing or screaming while doing homework” (Sarah R), “bursting into the bedroom at the most inopportune moments” (Mark G), “threatening to put guinea pigs on their big siblings heads” (Kelly C) and “tickling in the middle of Algebra or Geometry” (Audrey N), Sarah C did admit that little siblings are “so cute when they sleep.” Just kidding. One must not confuse “distracting” with “annoying”—Most homeschoolers found their little siblings quite distracting, but not necessarily annoying. April S summed it up well: “My siblings are very special to me. When you think about it, your brothers and sisters are probably the people you will know longer than anyone else in your life. Yes, they can be distracting, but can’t any good friend become a distraction?”
Sung Or Spoken: Good Morning Homeschoolers!!!
Getting up in the morning is a special challenge faced by homeschoolers. You would be surprised what you are able to do when you absolutely have to—at Taylor last summer I could stay up till 3 and get up at 7 for nights in a row! At home, however, with no bus to catch, we must fight to roll out of bed on an average morning. Although these statistics are not calculated or official, and while wake-up times varied from a few 5am waker-uppers to our 11am friends, the most common getting-up time was, relative to those of our public schooled friends, leaning towards the late side, generally around 8-9. And what wakes them up?
“Mother. ARGH! She makes me want to stay in bed.” –Gwen U
“Sometimes the cat wakes me up by ‘cleaning’ my hair” –Dane Hl
“Singing. Yeah you heard right. My family is notorious for singing… No, it’s more like screeching. It’s never a, ‘Hi sweetie, time to get up” in a soft whisper. It’s more like, “TIME TO GET UUUUPPPP, LALALALALA!” in a national anthem pitch” –Kate Z
“Alarm – It’s supposed to but you know how that goes. / Mother – She sends dad up to get me. / Singing – Yeah, my brother in the shower. / Other – Cold water normally works pretty well.” –Mark G
Although homeschoolers require several means at a time to pry them out of their beds (even though they’ll return to it shortly for school), I was surprised to find that most all of the responders go to bed on their own, when they feel like it. Despite this liberty, and despite a few who admit to staying up somewhere between 12 and 2 every night, the most common bed-time seemed to be between 10 and 11.
Some Thoughts on Portfolio and Log-Keeping Skills
Christi B: “AAAAUUUGGGHHH!” That sums up just about everyone’s responses well. Kudos to Christi. No further remarks necessary.
So, Are YOU Normal?
So there you have it: My best attempt to compile the responses which, if printed, would add up to almost 250 pages of anecdotes, stories, and schedules, into an article that would not fill the entire Excelsior. This is your life. Or maybe it’s not. But I hope as you’ve read and laughed a little at these aspects of homeschool life, you’ll take a moment to celebrate—celebrate sleeping in, portfolios, siblings, felines, your bed—celebrate whatever homeschooling is to you . . . but above all, celebrate the fact that you, as a homeschooler, are NOT normal! Repeat this a few times as you celebrate homeschooling: “’Normal is conforming to a standard; typical; of average intelligence or development’ (Webster). As a rule, homeschoolers are NOT normal. Perhaps, however, I am a normal homeschooler because I conform to the standard of abnormality. I am not, however, a normal person!” (Mark G).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
