For my senior project‚ I made books with my first grader girls‚ focusing on fostering both increased self esteem and positive feelings about being a girl. Each page tackled a different prompt: things they liked about themselves‚ a woman they admire‚ things the girls liked about each other‚ a job they thought would be hard to a girl to have‚ the best part of being a girl‚ what it means to be a girl‚ and that they’re strong. I tried to give the girls as much freedom as I could in answering each prompt
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I wake up sitting on a chair. The noise is unbearable! What’s going on? I look around at my surroundings. Everywhere I look there are people fighting and killing each other! I gasp. The sight is horrible! Why are they fighting? I take in a breath that feels very painful. Hopefully this will end soon. I am so distracted by this fighting that I haven’t thought to ask myself why? Why am I sitting on a chair in the middle of a war zone? There’s got to be some good reason‚ but what? Suddenly I see
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I was at Kings Island in the seventh grade wondering which ride i should ride next. I was in a group of three‚Cooper Schenk‚ Joey fields‚ and I. We were walking around and we stumbled upon a ride called the Firehawk. It was pretty early in the morning and Kings Island had just opened‚ so there was barely any line. So we decided to get on the ride. When we got to the seats‚ I hopped in one‚ wondering what was going to happen to me when I got in a seat. The workers came to me‚ Joey‚ and Coopers seats
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I am a “boot” adjusting to my new life in kilo company‚ and corporal has recently returned from a nasty deployment in iraq. He says that he is my father and that he knows what’s best. he kicks sand at me while i am timed to see how fast i can pick up all the yellow cigarette butts he dumped on the floor to “fix” my attention to detail and remind me of my ignorance‚ as he yells‚ “you are going to war soon‚ and I won’t be there to babysit you!” During the deployment workups in the states‚ we spent
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catcher’s mitt from the pitch that came in around 80 mile per hour. As well as the crack from the wood bats as the players made solid contact For our first tournament of the year we went to Memphis‚ Tennessee while there we played stiff competition. It was the first time all of us as a team have really been together and we all played together well. The first game I was behind the plate the feel of the glove being
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As I arose from my deep‚ comforting sleep‚ I was greeted by the bone chilling air of the Pacific. As I lay flat on my back staring at the moldy‚ white ceiling‚ I‚ heard a distant noise. As my ears slowly started to focus in‚ all I could hear was “This is not a drill! I repeat this is not a drill!” Scrambling to find my pants I suddenly realize‚ that i’m the only one left in my Barracks. It looks as if they had left for the raid without me‚ or maybe an early birthday surprise party? With all of these
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could see it‚ I would be starting catcher on the JV baseball team. I had made it passed the first two weeks of tryouts and I was so confident that I was going to make it. That was‚ until on that last day of tryouts when the two coaches pulled me out of a drill and told me they wanted to talk to me. My stomach sank like a rock. Was all of the hard work I had put in these past few weeks all for nothing? I knew my fate was in their hands. I really hadn’t thought that hard about what I would do if they
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ding… ding.” I woke pretending I couldn’t hear it‚ because I didn’t want to get up. My mom was yelling at my sister and me‚ “Get up girls it’s time to go school.” I didn’t understand why she was so excited. I miserably dragged myself out of bed; I just wanted to crawl and hide and the blanket. It was a cold day in March 1999‚ I was fourteen years old‚ and it was my first day of school in America. I was scared. My sister and I got ready‚ but we were not happy. We knew we had to go to school‚ and mom
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death in the poems ‘On my first Sonne’ by Ben Jonson and ‘Anne Hathaway’ by Duffy The theme of the poem ‘On my first Sonne’‚ by Ben Jonson‚ is introduced through the title‚ where we are already informed that the poem will be about the poet’s first son. The poem begins with the word‚ ‘Farewell’‚ which leads us on to understand that this is a tragic goodbye that the poet is expressing. Jonson clearly is expressing his love and pride for his son when writing‚ ‘child of my right hand and joy’‚ which
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Kierra Bazilio 9/15/13 My First Trip Back Home to California (rough draft) “Ring! Ring! Ring!” went the tune playing from my cell phone to wake me up at five thirty in the morning. It was a gloomy Monday morning when I woke up for school that day. I knew staying up socializing with my brother leondre was a bad idea‚ but I did it anyways. I was awake‚ but my bed didn’t want me to get up. I laid there for ten more minutes until I realized I really had to get up before I was late for school
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