How to Tell a True War Story Project
Dear Mr. Bunkoff,
I am sitting by the fireplace and just thinking about life in general when memories from elementary school come flooding back. I am writing this letter to you, because I feel very guilty when thoughts of your son cross my mind. To this day I wish I knew better and stood up for your son when I needed to, because I could have saved an innocent life. Not trying to make excuses, but when I was in elementary school I knew nothing better, except the fact that, you go with the flow or else you become an outcast. I could still clearly remember the first day Matthew started going to my elementary school, and just because he looked different all of us decided he did not belong. He would come to the kids and ask them in such a nice and polite way if they wanted to play with him, and in response kids would say something nasty, no elementary kid should ever say. I remember boys throwing rocks at him during recess, and a bunch of girls standing by and laughing. Yes, I also did stand by and watched, but I never encouraged the boys on or laughed, because I was thought better by my parents. My parents tell me all the time no matter how the person you come in contact with acts, you show your best side to them, because at the end of the day were all the same and no one person is better than another. One day in particular, I remember Matthew needed to go to the bathroom during recess, and the immature boys decided to take advantage of this situation. They ran to the bathroom, and blocked him from going in. He begged so much, I can still hear his voice so clearly in my head to let him go. Not being able to hold it in any longer he did it his pants, and the situation became even worse. There...
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