THIS IS IT:  A COLLECTION OF FRESHMAN ESSAYS 

SEVENTH EDITION, FALL 2009

VALENCIA COMMUNITY COLLEGE, WEST CAMPUS

ORLANDO, FLORIDA

SEVENTH EDITION, FALL 2009

♥ Lovingly dedicated to our dear friends, Don Tighe and Kay Smith ♥

Foreword

In ENC 1101 (Composition I), students are asked to write various types of essays including description, narrative, process, definition, example, division/classification, cause/effect, comparison/contrast, problem/solution, argument/persuasion, analysis, and a researched paper, in order to demonstrate college-level English skills.  Some professors also ask students to write impromptu essays.  

This publication includes examples of these types, criteria for evaluation, and sample essays to demonstrate the evaluation rubrics.  In addition, it includes sample research papers using the Modern Language Association (MLA) style.  Finally, it contains spelling, usage, punctuation, and grammar pointers and exercises in diction, editing, and proofreading.  

The copyright © remains with the original authors.

Acknowledgements

Many years ago, Don Tighe, Kay Smith, and others began the work of creating a collection that would showcase excellent student writing.  Now in its 7th edition, it pays tribute to them, as well as to the professors who encouraged their students, the bookstore and word processing staff members who helped us produce it, and of course, the students whose work is celebrated here.  A special thanks also goes to Dean Kim Long, who is always supportive, and to Professors Mailin Barlow and Nicole Spottke, who submitted new essays this time.  

							Noëlle Geiger, Editor 2009 

Student:  “Is this what the professor wants?
                                            Teacher:  “This is It!” 

Table of Contents

After Life by Jessica Dudek	  1
Coffee by Mario Valdes	  4
The Cat’s Meow by Adam Rosenlund	  6
Take Me Out to the Ballgame by Cynthia Mouton	  8
Christmas in Paradise by Era Robinson	12
A Dream Vacation by Dawn Cox	14
Shishu Bhavan by Stacie Snipes	16
Nerd Olympics by Lesley Baker	18
What’s a Carnie? by Vicki Warner	20
The Catch of a Lifetime by Ashley Maloy	23
Alien vs. Invasion of the Body Snatchers by Carlos Johnson	25
Three Swedish Customs by Sara Eriksson	27
The Black Curtain by Christopher Skornika	29
The Pearl of the South by Mohamed Adnani	32
My Heroes by Nicole Caron	34
The Greatest by John Smith	36
Hitler’s Raisin in the Sun or a Nazi’s Dream Deferred by Kevin Gidusko	38
In the Archipelago by Debbie Ausen	40
Memphis: An Era of Terror by Courtney Deming	42

The Swamp by Scot McClamma	  45
Feeling of Fall by Victoria George	  47
What Could Go Wrong? By Yashera Torres	  49
The Mad, the Happy, and the Confused by Matty Allen	  51
1-2-3-4, I Love the Marine Corps by Fred Bryant	  53
Fox in the Night by Amy Splitter	  55
The Breakup by Teresa Coulter	  57
Rebirth of the New Year by Thao T. Tran	  59
Crème Brulee at Dawn by Michael May	  61
Uerukamu by Christina Coll	  64
Heart by Stacie Snipes	  66
My Secret Garden by Ashleigh Rodasta	  68
To Gossip or Not to Gossip by Melora Brannon	  70
Smokers by Sarah Bailey	  74
Fishy Fragrances, Shiny Sequins, and Tasteful Treats by Jordan Harney	  76
Something to Kick About by Chris Doe	  78
No Man is an Island by A. J. Stampas	  80
My Trip to Rome, Italy by John Bircher	  84
Research Paper Information, Plagiarism, Sample Essays	  87
Criteria for Grading, Sample Papers, Topics, Other Items	115
After Life

	In a moment, overtaken by madness, Ryan Ellis killed himself and his wife Jill.  This is the beginning of a story I am about to tell you.  This isn’t a tale for disbelievers or cowards.  It dramatizes life after death.  If you trust me, I invite you to continue and open your mind to a world beyond the one in which we live.

	On a Saturday night, Ryan Ellis broke down the door of the two-story brick house adjacent to mine.  He had been drinking Jack Daniels straight up, and even though he could barely walk, he overpowered Jill, who was only five feet, three inches, and couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred five pounds.  With his shoelaces, he tied her to a chair and beat her with his son’s baseball bat.  Covered in Jill’s blood, he staggered into the bedroom and retrieved the Magnum revolver from his nightstand and shot himself in the head.  While he died instantly, Jill was in a coma for two weeks before dying at Sand Lake Hospital.  No one contests that Ryan Ellis is dead; his body was removed and the house cleaned and painted so the stains left by the events of that gruesome night are invisible to the eye.  However, Ryan Ellis still lives next door.  Don’t you believe in ghosts?  After being a witness to increasingly spook-tacular events, I am inclined to admit I do.

	A series of drastic, unexplained climate changes occurring inside the house were the first signs that the house was haunted.  Four months after the double homicide, Debbie and John Braxton moved in.  It was winter, and every time our paths would cross (while getting the mail or pulling weeds from the garden), they would complain about the cold, and every few weeks a technician from A+ Heating and AC Repair would be at their house.  I thought the Braxtons were just a high-maintenance couple who were impossible to please–that was until one particularly warm day in May.  While I was sunbathing outside in my back yard, Debbie walked out the back door of her house, shivering, wearing long pants and a sweater.  Despite temperatures nearing ninety-five degrees outside, the windows in her house being open, and the AC unit turned off, the temperature inside was fifty-eight degrees.  By June the spastic changes in temperature became too much for the Braxtons to live with since it had become obvious that the AC or heating controls were not the source of their problems.  The Braxtons packed their belongings and moved to Altamonte Springs in August.

	The next inclination that the house was haunted was strange noises and moving shadows.  Vera and Sandra, a lesbian couple, moved into the house in 
October.  I began to regularly join them for late-night drinks and helped them install Pergo laminate flooring throughout the house.  I never noticed anything out of the ordinary, and they always laughed at the rumors which circulated through the neighborhood about their haunted domain.  However, after a few months, they began having difficulty sleeping.  They complained of hearing footsteps against the floorboards and said the shadows would shiver against the walls, even when the lights that had created them were not moving.  I believed they must be imagining illusions due to the nature of the house.  Nonetheless, one night while talking and laughing about nonsense, I saw a shadow, cast by the entertainment center, shaking.  A cold chill ran down my spine as the temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees.  Vera and Sandra jumped up with excitement at the look of horror on my face, coercing me to admit that I too had seen the evidence of their haunted house.  Feeling more than a little creepy, I laughed along with them and mockingly declared the whole room was shaking due to our intoxication, not because of anything in the afterlife, yet in the sobering moments that followed, footsteps echoed through the room, a shadow passed by the corner of my eye, and my hands became hot and clammy as I felt the presence of someone next to me–when no one was there.  Relocating to the kitchen, we spoke in hushed whispers about the experience I had felt, and I finally became a believer.  It was only a few months later that Sandra and Vera decided to move to Hunter’s Creek.  I didn’t blame them, having heard footsteps and seen shaking shadows first hand; I was surprised they stayed so long.

	It wasn’t until almost a year later that the worst happened:   Ryan Ellis possessed the body of a living being and attacked again!  Nadine and Damien had moved into the house, and they lived there for eight months without any complaints.  They were a cute couple.  They had been together almost four years, and Nadine had mentioned on more than a few occasions the hope of their getting married.  Damien was handsome, polite, and always brought my trash bins to the side of my house from the street after garbage pickup day.  I began to believe whoever or whatever the problem was with the house had gone away.  Mrs. Diaz, an excessive neighborhood watcher and busybody who lived across the street, still made the sign of the cross on her chest whenever she came outside, and children still rode their bikes more quickly and frequently shouted as they passed by, but everything else seemed fine.  Then one Saturday night, Damien broke down the front door of the two-story brick house adjacent to mine.  The sound of sirens stopped in front of my house, and blue and red lights flashed through my window.  When I walked outside onto my front lawn, I saw Nadine sitting on the curb with a police blanket around her shoulders.  Damien had grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall.  Fighting back, she managed to escape from his grasp, and after breaking a photo frame in his face, she dialed 911.  The only physical harm she had was some bruises and a bump on the back of her head.  In shock, crying, she told the night’s events to the police–events that gave Damien a persona that was opposite to anything I had ever believed he was capable of in the past.  He was put into handcuffs and placed in the back of an OPD squad car.  From there he shouted out apologies, professions of his love, and claims that he didn’t know what he was doing.  I brought two cups of tea outside, and we leaned against the hood of my gold Dodge Avenger in silence.  Almost finished with her tea, Nadine looked at me and confessed a strange detail of the night:   She said that as Damien slammed her against the wall, he called her Jill.  As I looked back at Nadine, a picture of Jill Ellis, with her blond hair and blue eyes, flashed in my mind and goose bumps rose on my arms.  In the background, from across the street, I heard Mrs. Diaz giving police the neighborhood gossip about the house, how it was possessed and how evil lived there.  Nadine moved back home with her mom and returned only once with a truck for her belongings.  Since then the house has been vacant.

	Though Ryan Ellis is a quiet neighbor, his house has fallen into disrepair.  The grass has been overtaken by weeds, garbage litters the driveway, and the windows have been boarded up since the hurricanes of 2004 came through.  If you have any doubts, or just don’t trust that what I have told you is true, I invite you to visit me, and while there is no accepted dogma about what happens after death, the residents of Eviana Avenue will tell you this:   The dead can affect the climate, their footsteps can be heard, and they have unexplained powers over the living.  Ryan Ellis was buried in Baldwin Park Cemetery over three years ago, but that doesn’t stop him from living next door.

									–Jessica Dudek

Coffee

	“Coffee is far more than a beverage.  It is an invitation to life, disguised as a cup of warm liquid….When someone invites you to get coffee, it isn’t because they’re thirsty.  It might be because they’re cold, but more likely it is because they want to spend time with you” (Johnson ix-x).

	There is a brief pattering sound of a few spilt beans hinting of what’s to come even before the crackling whir of the grinder reveals the aroma of what was once a Turkish secret.  Simple are the true pleasures in life, and one that I particularly enjoy is relaxing with my wife as we sip our cups of coffee.  There is something therapeutic about the fragrance of coffee and the mingling of souls.  Whether at Guinevere’s, Starbucks, Borders, or home, the place almost never matters as long as the point is not forgotten.  Our time spent together is not for the sake of gulping each other in like a parched athlete downing Gatorade, but rather for sipping, savoring each other’s companionship.

	Sometimes as my wife and I sit enjoying our coffee, our conversation is filled with the events of the day or week, like two friends chatting on the phone trying to catch up on all the happenings of the last few months.  We talk of the children and what cute or mischievous deeds they’ve lately accomplished.  We talk of the apartment and the furniture we would like to buy and how we would arrange it.  We talk of the house I’ve finished building or the scrapbook page she’s working on.  We talk and talk.  We talk of the band that’s playing, or the bills we’re paying, or what the president’s saying, all while sipping our coffee that’s almost too hot to taste yet.

	As the coffee cools, our conversations generally move to a level where we can drink each other in more deeply.  Sharing constructive criticism as well as genuine affirmation has really helped our marriage blossom.  We drink our coffee discussing what we like and dislike about each other, as coffee lovers might do with certain varieties of coffee, agreeing on coffee, but disagreeing on flavors.  We attempt and usually succeed in finding a “ground” we can agree on.  These times are generally pleasant, but as with any hot beverage, you can easily come away scalded if you spill your drink.

	But the best times we have together are those when we can share our hopes and dreams with each other.  This is when we dive deep and explore the potential of “we” and “I.”  It’s like two coffee beans dreaming of being more than just a mug of “regular,” but rather an intense fusion with milk and flavor and froth that leads to a White Chocolate Mocha or a Caramel Macchiato.  There’s this freedom we share as the aromas of our lives mingle like the smells of a robust Jamaican Blue Mountain roast and a light Sumatran blend, both distinct, yet inhaled singularly, impossible to separate.  We have shared many laughs and many tears over this wonderful dark brew.  

	There is an almost magical, hypnotic appeal to the aroma of fresh-ground coffee beans as they’re being brewed into that wonderful elixir of the soul.  There is also a good reason that coffee has resurged time and time again.  In a world that seems to push us ever onward to isolation, coffee seems to pull us back together.  Even people who don’t like coffee generally like the smell and the power it seems to have to bring down the barriers that separate so many of us.  At least for myself, I will always enjoy having a cup of coffee with friends, but especially with my wife.  
						--Mario Valdes

						

The Cat’s Meow

	I hung up the phone and kissed my hands, bowed, and waved them to the audience as if I were a conductor of a symphony that just finished a musical masterpiece.  The sound that came from the phone was nothing short of perfection.  It had taken three weeks of asking to hear Molly Moore say she would go on a date with me.  I had to go to great lengths, show extreme patience, and use my best dating tactics.  In the end, it paid off in a way that changed my life forever.  Alas, if Molly’s cat had never gotten involved in our date, a beautiful relationship could have developed.

	The date was set for a Friday night.  Molly told me she wanted to make a home-cooked meal.  I gladly accepted and told her I would be at her apartment at seven p.m.  When Friday came around, I was eagerly anticipating my date.  After showering, dressing, and grooming properly, I gave myself a wink in the mirror and headed out on the date I would never forget.

	I walked up to the house and smelled an aroma only a chef could truly appreciate.  I felt like Pavlov was ringing his bell with the way my mouth was salivating.  I knocked, and the door was opened.  Now my mouth was watering for two reasons.  Molly looked exquisite.  Her hair was perfectly arranged, her make-up was flawless, and her outfit seemed to be tailored specifically to complement the assets I enjoy seeing in a woman.  Her apartment had a romantic atmosphere, with candles, soft music, and dimmed lighting.  She led me to her couch and asked me to have a seat while she finished up in the kitchen.  As I sat there, I noticed a large number of cat pictures placed throughout the room.  “You must love cats,” I said in a loud voice.  She replied with an excited, “Yes, I really do.”  Molly then pulled a casserole dish out of the oven, placed it on the counter, and told me she wanted to show me something.  She left the room and came back with the creature that would eventually ruin my night.

	“This is Baby,” Molly declared with a proud look.  She sat next to me holding her cat like an infant, while stroking her fur.  Baby was a two-year-old white feline with an enormous head, flat face, and fluffy hair so big it seemed she had stuck her paw in an electrical outlet.  As Molly explained her undying love for her pet, the phone began to ring.  She placed the feline next to me and excused herself to the back bedroom to answer the call.  At that moment, her harmless house cat turned into the spawn of Satan and sunk her tiny jagged teeth into my hand.  I pushed her onto the floor and watched as she arrogantly swaggered around the room.  She peered at me with her small black beady eyes as if to say, “This is my house, and there is not enough room for both of us.”  After strutting around, the cat turned from me to the food, leaping up to the counter where the casserole was cooling.  I was in shock to see Baby poking her pink nose around the dish.  In disbelief I watched as the feline started consuming our dinner.  However, Baby did not delight in the cuisine and began to cough up some of the casserole back into the dish.  A wave of terror struck my body as the moment seemed to last for an eternity.  I ran to the counter to try to prevent any further damage.  When I looked over my soon-to-be meal, I saw the vomit Baby had spewed back into the dish.  She also blessed us with some of her own thick bodily fluids that were not a part of the original recipe.

	Molly re-entered the room and apologized for the interruption, then asked me to have a seat at the table.  I thought to myself, “Surely she will notice the damaged portion and not subject me to eating this destroyed meal.”  However, Molly was so busy telling me about the conversation she had on the phone that she did not notice and pulled a bag of cheese out of her refrigerator and dumped it onto the casserole as the finishing touch.  She placed it in front of me on the table and said with a sweet voice, “I hope you like it.  It’s a family recipe.”  I froze like a deer in headlights as she dished me up a large portion.  Never before in the history of the world has a man faced such a dilemma.  My date was ruined.  My appetite was gone, and the most beautiful girl I knew was about to eat her own cat’s vomit.

	I stared at my plate for several seconds.  As I lifted the fork to my mouth, I glanced over and saw my nemesis looking at me with her innocent kitty-like smile.  My stomach turned like a cement truck as I took bite after grotesque bite.  My vision blurred, and thoughts of spending the night in the emergency room raced through my mind after every swallow.  My conversation with Molly was almost nothing as the punishment became unbearable.  It was too much.  I finished my plate and told her in the friendliest voice I could muster, “This was great.”  After explaining to her that I was full and chatting a few more minutes, my stomach stepped in and told me it was time to go.

	I sat in front of my toilet that night hoping for the same luck Baby had.  I reflected on my dating habits and the importance of honest communication.  I do not know why I didn’t tell Molly about what happened with her cat.  As a result, her sinister cat’s plan prevailed, and nothing was able to develop between Molly and me, all because of a feline that did not like a casserole--and me.
								
                                      					--Adam Rosenlund

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

“Holy cow!”  “Cubs win!”  “Cubs win!”  When I hear those cheers from Harry Caray, the renowned voice of Wrigley Field and Chicago Cubs baseball for countless years, I am transported to a place where I spent many enjoyable afternoons in the warm Chicago sun.  Wrigley Field is a baseball stadium that is rich in history, one that has managed to carry on its abundant traditions over the course of many decades. It is a place in which I have treasured memories of baseball as we know it from the past.  Upon my return each year, I find that the authenticity of this old stadium remains unchanged, that families continue to share our national pastime together, and that the Chicago Cubs have the greatest fans on earth.

As I travel through the city of Chicago on the elevated train to Wrigley Field, I find myself full of anticipation, like a young child on a trip who cannot wait to arrive at the destination.  I watch out the window until I can see the crown jewel of all baseball stadiums drawing near, standing in the distance like a mighty patriarch.  Upon arrival, one might think the place looks meager and unpretentious in comparison to modern baseball stadiums of today.  But the appeal of Wrigley Field to me is that it is genuine.  It is baseball as it was meant to be.  As I march toward the stadium alongside the innumerable Cubs fans who have also exited the Elevated Train at the Clark and Addison Station, I am welcomed to Wrigley Field by a larger-than-life bronze statue of the late Harry Caray, as well as a gleaming red sign on the front of the stadium honorably declaring “Wrigley Field Home of the Chicago Cubs.”  Every street corner has an old sports bar like The Cubby Bear, bursting at the seams with enthusiastic Cubs fans wearing their blue pinstriped jerseys.  Down the block is the infamous fire house, where parched fans know they can stop to get a drink of water from the red fire hydrant that has been turned on for them for the duration of the game.  Continuing toward the entrance, I stroll by some young boys aroused in a raucous performance of music, so to speak, beating on buckets and garbage can lids with their drum sticks, just as they have done for as long as I can remember.  

When I arrive at the gate, I exchange my ticket for a place inside the stadium.  I eagerly trot up the stairs to my outfield bleacher seat and am greeted by the spectacular view of this historically classic and unspoiled field.  From my perch in the outfield bleachers, I watch the laborers inside the manual scoreboard, preparing to do their unique job of physically changing the score of the game by hand.  Wrigley Field is one of the few Major League ballparks without an electronic scoreboard, adding to the nostalgia of the place.  At the end of the game, these same laborers will place a white or a blue flag at the top of the scoreboard indicating a win or a loss for the Cubs, respectively.  The flag is visible outside the stadium, and it will be flown for all to see the outcome of the game.  This practice is so antiquated, yet traditionally expected.  As I continue looking around at this striking scene, I notice the ivy that has been growing and covering the outfield wall for decades.  The grass on the playing field has also just been cut.  As I smell the fresh cut grass and I taste the delectable and familiar bratwurst and the stale Old Style beer, it only takes me a moment to realize that I have once again returned to the most magnificent place that I could possibly be.

As I gaze at the crowd, it delights me to see the many families spending a day at the ballpark with each other.  Some of my fondest memories are those spent with my own family at Wrigley Field, cheering on our beloved Cubbies.  Each year as we return to this place that feels like home, we have certain traditions that we carry out.  Without fail, we must arrive three hours early to the ballpark.  By arriving this early, my family is afforded the opportunity to stand on the corner of Addison and Sheffield Streets to accost the players for autographs as they arrive to the field by taxi.  When we are finished getting those autographs, we again join the swarms of fervent fans in the bleacher section that lines the entire outfield. We are always sure to purchase bleacher tickets, as it is the rowdiest of sections with the most rabid of Cubs fans.  Once there, mainly adults and a few children race with their baseball glove in hand for a spot along the outfield wall to watch batting practice, hoping that a coveted home run ball will be hit in their direction.  If we are one of the lucky to have a ball hit close by, we must be cognizant of our surroundings, as throngs of fans come from every direction and will pounce for the victory of taking home an old used baseball.  My family is no stranger to this spectacle, as we have taken home our share of old used baseballs.  If we are lucky enough to come out of this alive, we head toward our seats.  But rather than sit on the wood bleachers, we go to sit in a place we call “The Skybox.”  The Skybox is an old and smelly concrete platform with a bird’s eye view of the field, one that we must hoist each other up in order to sit.  One time, a group of happy drunken fans wanted to barter for our seats and attempted to pay us $200 for our concrete skybox.  Rather than giving up our abode, we allowed the drunks to share access with us in exchange for food and drink for the day.  They were more than happy to oblige.  Creating traditions like this has allowed many families to link their generations.  For me, the memories I share with my son of our common love for baseball at Wrigley Field are some of my most treasured of thoughts.

Probably most synonymous with Wrigley Field and the Cubs would be the dedication and loyalty of the fans.  This is what I love most about the place.  The 
mere thought of the oddity of these masses easily brings a smile to my face.  Wrigley Field is known as “The Friendly Confines,” and not short of reason.  At Wrigley Field, we are all one, a family of close relatives, kin.  For many years we had our number-one fan,  Harry Caray, bring the fans together in song, leading us with his rendition of the old classic “Take Me out to the Ballgame” during the seventh inning stretch.   I can still see him waving his arms out of the press box window, almost as if he is directing the entire stadium like a symphony.  Since Harry’s demise, we have had other extreme fans emerge who hold a special place in the hearts of all of us.  We have “The Heckler.”  The Heckler sits directly behind the left fielder doing exactly as we would expect, heckling the opposing team’s player of that position.  It is relentless and unmerciful. However, it is such a tradition, I believe that even the opposing player being heckled actually finds the entertainment of it enjoyable.  Another adored fan known to all is one called Ronnie Woo Woo.  You can always find Ronnie Woo Woo dressed in a complete Cubs uniform, roving the stadium and exclaiming “woo woo” at each announcement of a player.  Then of course we have the Bleacher Bums, the group to which my own family belongs.  The Bleacher Bums are the happiest of Cub fans and by far the most rowdy and insane.  Then, as you look over the walls of the stadium, you will see masses of fans sitting atop the roofs of their Brownstones.  These fans have gone so far as to place entire sections of bleachers on the flat rooftops of their homes, allowing them the most spectacular view of “The Friendly Confines.”  Our fans are also steeped in tradition, joining together in support of our team by throwing any homerun ball hit into the stands by the opposing team right back on the field.  We also have a strong tradition of supporting our players.  When Pitcher Matt Clement was having an outstanding season, the congregation of Cubs fans showed encouragement by wearing a replica of Clement’s own black goatee on their chins at each game.  My teenage son was not the least bit phased that I wore a fake beard on my face that day for the entire world to see.  As fans, we have laughed, played, and cheered together, whether we were on our way to a National League Championship or when we were upholding our reputation as “The Lovable Losers.”   

I have wonderful recollections of my time spent at Wrigley Field, and I continue to build upon those memories as my family and I return each year, making new traditions with each passing visit.  A visit to Wrigley Field affords me the sights, the sounds, and the smells that are a reminder of baseball at its best.  It’s also a much anticipated visit with the fans that I consider flesh and blood.  There is something that is very right about this place called Wrigley Field.  There is a happiness that resonates throughout, and while there, life for me is exactly as it should be.  Harry Caray best sums up my feelings of Wrigley Field, as he would always announce to us fans after each game, “Win or lose, we’re in Heaven!” 

						--Cynthia Mouton

					

Christmas in Paradise

	Not many people would think about spending Christmas in Jamaica.  Jamaica has no glistening snow, no over-zealous shoppers, and no Santa impersonators; also, most people don’t have family there to spend Christmas with.  However, Jamaica always has an abundance of holiday cheer.  It can sometimes feel strange traveling to Jamaica at this time of year.  When I step off the plane, I feel as if Father Christmas has flown me through the winter clouds to a tropical paradise.  Jamaica is a good place to celebrate Christmas because of its relaxing atmosphere, its tropical weather, and its holiday get-togethers.

	Last year was the first time I didn’t go to Jamaica for Christmas, and I didn’t think that I was really that upset about it.  These days, I don’t have enough money to fill up my gas tank, let alone afford a trip to the Caribbean.  However, I began to dream of the enjoyable flight over Jamaica.  The mountains there resemble a restless sea, rising and falling like a multitude of waves.  I almost forget that I’m flying over an island.  Then off in the distance, I see the airport.  Before the airport was modernized, people had to exit the plane by walking down a steep staircase, and I always liked the feeling of walking down the stairs into paradise.  As I entered the walkway, I was wished a Merry Christmas by the flight attendants and then directed to customs.  During December in Jamaica, there are no carolers, street decorations, or Christmas trees, and that is actually what I like best:  I can celebrate Christmas without excess.  Driving through Halfway Tree, I can see the heat waves radiating off the street as if flames from the surface of the sun, and I feel my body relax.  Instead of fighting my way through a crowded mall, I come across higglers—street vendors—selling their wares; one says, “hundred dalla get a jeans,” and I laugh and enjoy strolling along the street.  Here I find a place that’s almost the complete opposite of where I live now in Orlando—no work, no school, no bills, no stress…and that’s how Christmas should be.

	Right now in Orlando, the temperature is 45 degrees, and the weatherman is issuing a freeze warning.  During the day, the cold wind picks up and blows away what little warmth I have.  Oh, how I miss spending Christmas in the nice tropical weather of Jamaica!  There the bright sun beams down from the vast blue sky.  At night in Orlando, the street lights drown out the stars; in Jamaica, the diamonds in the sky shine brighter than any I’ve seen in my life.  In this paradise, there’s no need for an air conditioner.  I can feel the ocean breeze from almost anywhere on the island.  In Orlando, not many people have mango trees.  Because these fruits need a lot of rich soil and warm sunshine year round, they are difficult to grow here.  But it is mango season in Jamaica, and the ocean breeze blows the scent of sweet nectar through the air.  That lovely rich fragrance of mango envelopes my senses, and I wonder if this is what heaven smells like. Instead of shivering in Orlando in December, I enjoy celebrating Christmas basking in the sun on the beaches of Ocho Rios.  

	In Orlando on the day before Christmas, I anticipate the upcoming activities of stuffing myself with Christmas turkey; afterwards, I might watch a movie.  In Jamaica the night before Christmas, all the parishes have “Grand Market Night”; everyone goes to the town square and participates in the activities.  Everyone is dressed to impress:  the older men are dressed to the nines, strutting around like roosters in new feathers, and their shiny black shoes click on the pavement.  Women dress in their Sunday best, with pastel cotton dresses and low-heeled black shoes.  As they parade around the square, they chat and laugh with old friends while buying gifts for the next day.  The younger men wear their best prowling outfits, dressing in white or black from head to toe and walking the streets like worthy suitors.  They flirt with all the girls.  Young girls step out in packs, giggling as their outfits draw attention.  Some wear group outfits, brightly colored, while others prefer to stand out from the crowd in custom-made pants and graphic T-shirts.  They walk the imaginary catwalk with striking hairstyles and outgoing attitudes.  The vendors are out in full force, selling everything from belts to batteries.  Sounds of music and merriment can be heard from every direction.  The bars are filled with laughter, and at the police station I can see Miss Deane upstairs flirting with officers while serving drinks.  The streets are crowded, and the aroma of roasting jerk chicken floats all the way through the town square.  On Christmas Day, everything is closed.  Everyone is at home enjoying rice and peas with curried chicken.  After dinner, everyone gathers around the radio chit-chatting and telling stories of love, life, and loss.  I always enjoy Christmas in Jamaica; it’s one of the best times of the year.

	Sometimes I wish that I didn’t have to leave and that every day was Christmas.  In Jamaica, I feel more connected to everything and have time to enjoy the scenery.  The weather is enjoyable all year round.  However, returning to reality in Orlando reminds me to cherish those special, rare moments.  I think I’ll keep my gas tank on half for a while and save up for next Christmas in Jamaica!
								--Era Robinson

A Dream Vacation

	Check in time is 4:00 p.m.  The hotel lobby is packed with people eager to get to their rooms.  Luggage racks filled to capacity crowd the corners and hug the walls.  Kids run wild chasing other kids, screaming and laughing while moms try desperately but futilely to keep everyone in line.  Finally, Dad gets their room key.  Mom herds the kids into the stuffy elevator while Dad tries to maneuver the bulky luggage rack inside before the doors close.

	Once inside the cramped, musty room, Dad tries to open the curtains covering the small window but fails.  It is supposed to be an ocean-front room, yet no one can see the ocean, much less hear it.  What they can hear, however, are the occupants of the room above making a racket.  Mom grimly vows to call the front desk later if the noise keeps up.  She eyes the two double beds dubiously, mentally squeezing each kid into tight sleeping arrangements.  Well, it will just have to do.

	Dad suggests a stroll along the beach.  The kids all clamor to be the first one out the door, the first one in the elevator, and the first one on the beach.  They are instantly lost among the sea of bodies dotting the sand.  Mom finally spies them playing hide-and-seek among the many hotel-owned loungers lined up on the shore with their garishly colored umbrellas.  As they pick their way over bodies and blankets, coolers and umbrellas, and various rental stands offering jet-ski rides and parasailing adventures, they look around them.  To their left, the ocean is cluttered with noisy ski boats, wave runners, and flotation devices.  To their right, the many hotels line the beach like sentinels, each trying to outdo the other in size and strength.

	Exhausted after just a short walk, Dad decides dinner is in order.  They wait in a long line with other families with rambunctious kids at one of the restaurants the hotel has to offer.  The waitress is so busy with her allotment of tables that she barely acknowledges them as she seats them.  They wait thirty minutes before she takes their order and forty-five more minutes before they’re served.  Dad thinks he made a smart decision in having an early meal.  They’d probably have waited longer if they had come later.  When he gets the bill, though, he wishes they had gone to McDonald’s instead.

	When they finally retire to their cubicle of a room, Dad, feeling drained and weary, stretches out on the bed, falls asleep and dreams. . .

	In his dream, he and the family have driven around the campgrounds, picking out a site they like best.  They check in at the ranger station.  The friendly park attendant points out on a map the trails that lead to the beach, the fishing areas, the playground, and the restroom facilities.  He shows them where to get firewood and offers a few safety tips.  The children’s eyes glow with excitement as they envision gooey marshmallows sizzling over an open campfire.

	Once back at the campsite, Dad and the children set up the tents while Mom unpacks the car.  There is more than enough room for everything and everyone.  The sound of the ocean not too far away fills the children’s hearts with anticipation of a fun-filled afternoon.  Everyone helps set up camp, laughing and enjoying each other’s companionship.

	Dad unloads the children’s bikes, which they ride down the sun-dappled nature trail to the beach.  Mom and Dad take their time, savoring their leisurely stroll.  The kids have found some playmates on the almost-empty sand.  To their left, a few fishing boats float lazily on the cobalt blue water.  To their right are sea oats lining the sand dunes. Beyond that is the lush, green expanse of untouched vegetation.

	After soaking up some sun, they go back to the campsite where Dad fires up the grill.  Soon the mouth-watering smells of dinner waft through the air.  The meal is an unhurried affair as the family sit around the table planning the next day’s activities.  A few squirrels bravely venture out of hiding to pick up scraps the children have thrown.  The kids giggle with delight.

	Everyone helps Mom clean up.  It is getting dark now.  The crickets are chirping, and a raccoon peeks out from behind a tree.  The children roast their marshmallows under a blanket of silvery stars.  A cool breeze stirs up the embers of the fire which reflects in the children’s sleepy eyes.  It’s bed- time now.

	The large tents have ample room for everyone to stretch out on the soft, down-filled sleeping bags.  Dad unzips the sky flap so they can watch the moon and stars play hide-and-seek among the tree tops.  The air that filters in is fresh and clean.  The sound of the crickets and the ocean harmonize as Dad, feeling content and fulfilled, drifts off to sleep and dreams of another fun-filled day.

									–Dawn Cox

Shishu Bhavan

	It smelled like something died in that hallway…like something had died, bled all over the floor, and then been hurriedly mopped up.  Ah, India.  My sweaty, bare feet (not bare by choice, mind) made sticky sucking sounds as I tramped up three rickety flights of stairs.  What had I gotten myself into?  Calcutta (or as the locals called it, Kolkata) was no place for a fifteen-year-old.  As I came to a stop at a big, cracked wooden door with the words Shishu Bhavan painted on it in faded orange, the thought popped into my head:  what horrors awaited me behind that door?
  
	I thought I had prepared myself for anything.  After all, I had already been attacked by a spider the size of my fist, nearly floored by a taxi, and eaten nothing but curried chicken and bread for days, not to mention been poked and prodded by every single curious native we had passed.  How much worse could it get?  I slunk in; taking a deep breath, I looked around.  It was a little like what I expected:  three rows of baby blue cribs, shiny terrazzo flooring, a few stuffed animals scattered here and there.  But from there…it was all downhill.  I found myself in the middle of twenty or thirty scantily clad Indian children, some running around, some hobbling on crutches, some crawling on the floor, some motionless in their beds.  Each one had a mental or physical handicap that had left them ill-equipped to survive on the streets.  

	Feeling completely unprepared, I stood in the center of the room and let the sick feeling in my stomach take over.  There were children with missing arms, legs.  There were girls with spina bifida and boys with cataracts so advanced that their eyes were milky white.  I saw cleft lips, club feet, and diseases so shocking that I had no scientific names to give them to make them seem more real.  A toddler collided with my legs; whereas I would normally have picked him up, I shied away in terror because he had no eyes at all, only pus-filled sockets where they once had been.  I wrung my hands together, tears brimming in my eyes.  I couldn’t handle this.

	Finally, there was one solid thing in all of this chaos for me to latch onto:  a smile.  A beautiful, irresistible (albeit, cavity-ridden) smile was coming from one of the children lying in a crib across the room.  I watched as one of the Massi (Indian women who dedicate their lives to the orphanage) yanked the child up by her heels and wrists.  My hand flew to my mouth in horror.  This…this was not a child.  This was not a person.  This…thing, with bones and ligaments gnarled in a twisted, sick-looking mess, couldn’t have been more than eighty pounds.  Her spine had bumps down it like old knots on an ancient oak tree.  As the woman flipped her, to ward off bedsores, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  “That’s Sundari,” Sister Beatina, the head nun, said behind me with a melancholy note in her soft voice.  “She does not have very long with us.”  With that, she pulled me away, saying that she had an assignment for me helping with the younger children.  

	I spent two weeks at that orphanage.  In those two weeks, I went from fearing those orphans to loving them.  But I couldn’t have done it without Sundari.  It’s funny how the little things affect us.  I had seen beggars naked and starving to death on the streets, heaps of trash and human waste piled higher than I was tall, and live chickens strung up by their feet and hung upside down from bicycles by the hundreds.  But nothing had moved me like this child.  This tiny thing, so emaciated that I could’ve counted each one of her ribs had I wanted to, still smiled.  Sundari was happy.  She had been born paralyzed, stricken with muscular dystrophy along with a slew of other diseases; she had been abandoned; she had no real future.  The hard truth was this:  Sundari would die soon.  Yet she was happy…happier than I was.  She had peace…a peace that few people in this day and age ever find.  It was in those two weeks that I learned the most important lesson I have ever been taught. The facts are these:  Happiness is not in your circumstances, but in what you make of them.  	

							--Stacie Snipes

					

Nerd Olympics

		LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, put your hands together for the BRAIN BOWL PLAYERS!”  A tremendous crowd, five thousand fans strong, erupts in a tidal wave of applause as six meekly postured college students come stumbling onto the Citrus Bowl Field, all with matching pocket protectors and horn-rimmed glasses.  At least, that is what I pictured in my mind when my friend Diana first mentioned Brain Bowl to me.  When I gave her a startled look and asked if she had started wearing her pants above her belly button, she laughed and explained that the Brain Bowl Club was nothing like the Nerd Olympics I had imagined.  It is actually a competitive sport that Valencia Community College and other colleges all over the country participate in on home, regional, state, and national levels.  Diana was convinced that I was perfect for the team and didn’t stop pressuring me until I was convinced as well.  When a Wednesday finally came along that I was free, I went to a practice session.  I soon found that my Super Nerd Bowl musings were far from the truth.  

When I first walked in the door, I was intending to sit in the back and be a quiet observer. As I reached for a chair, however, Diana grabbed my hand, pulled me to the main table, pushed me into a chair next to hers, and slapped a buzzer in my hand.  Feeling the loss of my anonymity, I stared into my buzzer’s little yellow light and tried hard not to exist.  Once the practice started, however, I realized that there was no way I could have remained a quiet observer in this fast-paced battle of wits.  Chris Borglum, a Valencia professor and team coach, read off question after question, on the death of some king or the life of some writer or the name of some historical event, and all the players dove for their buzzers. “Louis XIV!”  “Henry David Thoreau!”  “The Lisbon Treaty!” Answers were flying at maximum velocity all around me; I was lost in a daze as I tried to keep up.

Several rounds had gone by, and my head was swimming from all the facts that I had been trying to glean from the air and file away, when suddenly something sounded familiar to me.  “This composer is known for founding a music school for orphaned girls in Vienna…”  The room fell silent.  Everyone looked around to see who could answer.  All the filing going on in my head ceased.  I knew the answer, but where was it?  I felt lost in my sea of knowledge.  Various clues were floating past:  the Stradivarius, the orphaned princess, the sound of a violin playing the somber “Midnight Waltz.”  

Someone started to say something, and on instinct only, my hand hit my buzzer. “Lesley?”  Chris asked, as all eyes turned on me.  The music in my head came to an abrupt halt as I looked blankly at him and ventured, “Vivaldi?”  

“That’s ten for the yellow team,” Chris counted.  The room erupted in applause for me; I had answered my first question!  It may not have been the roar of five thousand history-hungry fans, but I was lifted to the ceiling with my sense of accomplishment and camaraderie.
	
By the end of the practice, I had answered four questions correctly, and I was told by Jamie, a long-time player, that four correct answers is more than most beginners get.  More important than the correct answers, though, was the amount of information that I had logged and filled away from everyone else’s performance.  I learned more in that one-and-a-half- hour session than I had through my entire American Government class.  Brain Bowl is the greatest way I have found to learn about history.  I can’t wait until I get another chance to flex my mental muscles, crowds cheering, at the next Nerd Olympics.
	
By Lesley Baker

What’s a Carnie?

	In 1969 I was eighteen, graduated, and had made no plans.  Connie, my best friend, was joining the carnival for the summer to earn extra money to go to college.  Her father owned a ride in the “James E. Strates Show,” and her uncle was James E. Strates.  I decided to join the carnival with her.  My mother argued, “Oh, no!  You can’t go!”  Dad grinned, “Let her go.  It’ll be good experience.  She’ll be back in six months.”  In two days, I was packed and gone.  We roomed on the train that took us from town to town, we worked in the “cookhouse” that fed all the carnies, and we got a taste of what it’s really like to travel with a carnival.

	We were roughing it.  We didn’t have electricity.  We didn’t have hot water for our shower.  There were no closets, shelves, drawers, or chairs—just a bunk bed and a sink that ran rusty water.  Our suitcases and clothes filled the top bunk, so we had to share the bottom, twin-sized bunk.  The porter had to open and close our window with a crowbar—when we could find him.  I think he purposely avoided us.  Usually we either got rained on when the window was up, smoked out when it was down, as we both smoked cigarettes, or froze or sweated to death, depending on the weather.  We were consoled by our neighbors—the strippers!  They were kind-hearted animal lovers who always had to speak their minds.  Their manager had a strict curfew on them—10:00 pm sharp!  They had to get his permission to go out on a date.  Once, when our train was moving slowly, they put on a strip show for a man waiting to cross the tracks.  He ran along the side of the train as long as he could, to get his free show!  We had good times, except we all shared one bathroom.  I remember washing my hair at 6:00 every morning and cursing the icy water all the way through it.  “Who would ever want to run away and join the carnival,” I can remember all of us saying!

	Connie and I were waitresses in the cookhouse, the big tent that served breakfast, lunch, and dinner to all the carnies and some of the people who came to see the carnival.  (We called them “straights.”)  We worked from 8:00 am to 10:00 pm for six days a week, which came out to over eighty hours a week, and received fifty dollars cash—no taxes taken out.  Our meals and room on the train were included.  We ate many meals standing up, between customers.  Everyone had a nickname, and we called our boss “No. 1.”  He was a slave driver, to put it mildly.  I remember buying saddleshoe loafers about every two weeks because I’d wear holes in the toes.  The carnival moved to a different location about once a week, and it seemed we were always busy “tearing down” or “setting up.”  The cookhouse naturally had to be the first place set up and the last one torn down in order to feed the carnies.  All the carnies worked long, hard hours in the heat, cold, rain, or snow.  We were always covered with dust, dirt, sweat, or mud, as we usually had dirt floors in most of the towns.  Still, the guys would come in and give us a hard time.  Contrary to popular belief, however, motorcycle gangs usually never bothered us.  We had Jocko if we needed him.  Black, over six feet tall, and two hundred pounds of mostly muscle, he would guarantee that no one ever messed with us!  Lots of carnies would come in to drink coffee, to trade drugs under the counter, or to sober up, as the case may be.  “Speed” was the most popular drug to wake them up for long hours of work, or after they’d been drinking—which was most of the time.

	These were the “carnies” who put the rides together and then tore them down again.  It bothered me to think of people riding rides that were put together by workers who were on drugs, drinking, or both.  I rode only one ride—the Ferris wheel.  Days later, they stopped it in the middle of a ride and had to repair it on the spot.  Only three main bolts held the double Ferris wheel together, and one of them had come loose.  People could have been injured if this had gone undetected.  I switched to the penny pitch, ring toss, and duck shoot.  These were all arranged skillfully so that very few people could beat them.  I met the carnies in charge of the booths:  “Big Chief,” the tattooed Indian, and “Little Chief,” who carried a big knife in his big pocket and rarely spoke at all.  He had been released from prison after serving his time for murder.  Some carnies were whole families who traveled in trailers, and their children had never gone to school.  Others just brought the kids along in the summer months.  But, whatever they did, they usually all stuck together.  In fact, when we met up with the carnival in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, a rough group of characters from town decided that they were going to gang up on the tough carnie guys after closing, but changed their minds when they saw the size of our group.  The carnies worked hard and played hard.  They were just common, down-to-earth people who were hard to get to know, but once we did, we knew we’d never forget them.  They all seemed jolly on the surface, but most had been through hell and back again…with stories to tell.

	In Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary, “carnie” is simply described as one who works for a carnival.  “Carnival” is defined as “a traveling enterprise offering amusements.”  I don’t think Webster or his editors knew anyone personally who had traveled in a carnival, or he couldn’t have put it in so few words.  I lasted only three months and couldn’t take it anymore.  They moved the train and didn’t bother to tell us where in New York they had moved it to, so when we got off work that night, our “house” was gone!  There was never a dull moment.  I’ll never run out of stories to tell about the time I joined the carnival.  It’s still hard for me to believe there are people who actually lived their whole lives that way.  Now, those are true carnies.  A few years ago, Connie told me that someone had shot and killed Jocko.  I’m glad I didn’t stay.

							--Vicki Warner

	

The Catch of a Lifetime

	In the summer of 2002 when my family and I visited Islamorada (“The Purple Isle”) in the Florida Keys, I never imagined the trip would be as exciting as it turned out.  Every year my sister and I bring along a friend, but this year I brought along my boyfriend Chris, a novice to deep-sea fishing.  All five of us–my mom, dad, my sister Tiffany, Chris, and I–were ecstatic knowing we had two full days of fishing planned in our four-day vacation.  I think I was the most excited of all because there is nothing I like more than non-stop fishing on the deep blue Atlantic Ocean.  The fifty-five-foot fishing charter we take out every year is called the Relentless, which was exactly what we were.  Immediately after we arrived at our hotel, we unloaded the car and went to the docks to see what had been caught that day.  Their catch was good but not great; we knew we would do better when we went out.  The next morning we caught our limit of dolphin (mahi-mahi), but the second day out proved to be the most eventful and memorable.

	Fishing on the reef for bait fish, Jimmy the mate, who had forgotten his shoes that day, accidentally threw the cast net into the ocean, letting all of the rope go with it.  We were shocked and at first did not quite realize what had happened, but we all knew what Jimmy had done when the captain yelled out from above, “Jump in, Jimmy; jump in!”  Thankfully Jimmy got the net back, and it was filled with bait fish.  At this point, we didn’t know whether to laugh or be worried about what the rest of the day would hold for us.

	After our adventures with the bait fish, we moved farther down to Tennessee Reef, well-known home to thousands of our target fish for the day: yellowtail snappers.  These delicious fish are small, but they sure put up a fight.  We set anchor around some other local charter boats that had been catching yellowtail all morning.  After chumming (baiting up the fish) for about half an hour, we had hundreds of fish behind our boat.  The snappers looked like thousands of little yellow swarming bees in the water.  We were anchored for a few hours but had caught only about fifteen fish because we were also competing with a few lemon sharks that would eat the fish as we brought them close to the boat.  This was very discouraging to see the schools of fish right behind our boat and watch the huge predators of the deep devour our dinner right before our eyes.  The water was fairly rough, and we were getting a bit frustrated with these little rascals, so we debated whether to leave the reef.  A few of us were feeling a little sick, and I was getting a tad too much sun, which was turning me a nice shade of lobster red.  We decided to break for lunch, pull anchor, and move to a better fishing location.  The captain said that the weather and seas were not quite right for catching yellowtail, so we needed to try to hook some other types of fish.
	When we got to our new location, a wreck where many large fish were known to dwell, we started catching fish faster than we could reel them into the boat.  We knew it was about an hour until our day was over, so we were a little disappointed that we had not been at the wreck all day.  We caught all types of fish, such as mutton snappers, jacks, and a king mackerel.  However, I had yet to snag anything of any size.  The captain would let us know when there was a big fish on the line so we could all take a turn with the big one, but it was now getting closer and closer to time to pull up the anchor and call it a day.  Suddenly Jimmy yelled, “Fish on!”  I knew it was my turn, so I scurried to the back of the boat and clutched the fishing pole.

	When I grabbed the pole, the mysterious fish immediately gave me a run for my money.  Soon I got tired and my biceps throbbed from being worked more than they had in almost a year.  After about fifteen intense minutes of fighting, my whole body was aching, but we saw something very encouraging.  The unidentified warrior had made its way to the surface and was glistening like a star shining in the night.  The captain ran down from above to try to spear my opponent with his ten-foot bamboo gaff, but as soon as he had a hold of the gaff, the fish torpedoed into the depths like a bullet.  All we could see was its midnight blue color; we had yet to determine the species of the adversary.

	The battle continued.  The captain thought it was a bonito (a lousy fish to eat), but the mate and I still hoped it was something greater.  After about half an hour of fighting, the fish finally gave in and came up to the side of the boat at a gaffing distance.  The mate said it looked like a black-fin tuna, a delicacy to eat and a fish that rarely frequented these waterways.  It was dead when it reached the boat, and the captain told us that tunas literally “fight to the death.”  Sure enough, it was a tuna–a twenty-three-pound torpedo.  I had caught the biggest fish of the day!

	When we arrived at the docks, all of the bystanders were shocked to see that the smallest girl on the boat had hooked the keeper, fought the battle, and defeated the invincible.  I loved the sport of fishing before I caught the tuna, but now I felt one with nature.  I had conquered the Atlantic for this year.  Who knows what would await me in the unpredictable deep blue water next summer?

		                  	–Ashley Maloy

Alien Versus Invasion of the Body Snatchers: A Comparative Analysis

	Ellen Ripley awoke from Cryosleep to discover that her ship was en route to a desolate planet from which it would recover a killer alien organism that would proceed to massacre her entire crew.  Dr. Miles Bennell found himself unable to fall asleep for fear of being turned into his doppelganger by the alien pods that sprouted up throughout his small California town.  These two heroes, and the movies they are in, might seem as if they have nothing in common, but upon closer analysis, one begins to uncover many similarities between Alien and Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  One of the major similarities is the sociological issues into which the films delve.

	Both movies deal with sociological concerns.  In Alien seven people aboard the cargo vessel Nostromo are towing mineral ore back to Earth.  The group is a motley crew of pilots and mechanics, and one gets the sense that in this distant future they represent the blue-collar working class.  There is something to be said, therefore, about the fact that the first two in the chain of command are both white males.  The captain of the ship is Dallas, played by Tom Skerritt, and the second in command is Kane, portrayed by John Hurt.  This doesn’t exactly paint a portrait of sexual and racial equality, but when Kane is the first to fall victim to the alien, and Dallas is killed shortly thereafter, we begin to see the true implications of the story.  Ripley, the third in command and one of only two women, soon becomes the leader of the group and the reluctant hero of the film.  Through an ironic turn of events, Ripley, Lambert, the other woman crew member, and Parker, the only Black crew member, are the remaining survivors.  However, in the final moments of the movie, Lambert and Parker fall victim to the alien, leaving Ripley as the sole survivor.  She is the personification of strength and intelligence while still maintaining an air of femininity.  This amalgamation of personality traits is what enables her to triumph over what appear to be insurmountable odds.  When the movie was released in 1979, these qualities were not common to women in film, and neither was a woman hero for that matter.

	When Invasion of the Body Snatchers came out in 1956, it touched on social issues of a different kind.  At the time, the concern of a communist takeover in America was at an all-time high.  World War II had ended just over ten years earlier, and the cold war with Russia had been escalating ever since.  Thus, it is easy to see how the fear held by the characters in the film of being “taken over” by pods was symbolic of America’s fear of being overrun by communism.  The main character in the movie, Dr. Miles Bennell, played by Kevin McCarthy, returns from a trip to find that a strange force has taken over the people in his small town. At first he is skeptical of the belief held by a woman and young boy that the town is being invaded by imposters, but as the plot unravels, he soon finds himself becoming a believer in the theory.  Eventually Dr. Bennell, his girlfriend Becky Driscoll, portrayed by Dana Wynter, and another couple realize that alien pods are invading the bodies of everyone in town when they are asleep.  Once people are transformed by the pod, they lose all human emotion and become drones to the alien order.  In 1956 one might have argued that those were also some characteristics Americans feared about communism.  The mere fact that people are prey to the alien pods when they are asleep was a call to the viewing audience to stay alert to the threat of a “red” invasion.  At the end of the film, help in fighting the alien pod invasion comes from, who else, the FBI.  Coincidentally this is the same organization that was doing everything in its power, and oftentimes more, to fight communism in the United States during that period.

	Both Alien and Invasion of the Body Snatchers were films that broke stereotypical molds at the time of their release.  They deal with important social issues in subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle, ways.  Regardless of what stance one takes on the issues that the films bring up, it is undeniable that both movies are classic works of sci-fi/horror that can be appreciated to this day.

								–Carlos Johnson

		

										
Three Swedish Customs

	According to the U. S. State Department’s website, the world currently has 190 independent states.  This means that the inhabitants of the earth are of 190 different nationalities and have equally as many different ways of life and varying cultural events.  Some holidays, such as Christmas or Easter, we might share with others, though we don’t celebrate them in exactly the same way.  Although probably many more or less insane examples exist of how we behave around certain holidays, the following three are unusual customs from my culture that an outsider might not understand.  It appears as if the ways of Swedes are mainly combinations of superstition, spirituality, and stupidity.
	
	On April 31st, we celebrate a kind of odd tradition called Walpurgis Night, or the Eve of May Day.  The legend of Saint Walpurgis originates in Germany, where she, the English royal daughter, became the abbess of the convent in Heidenheim, during the Anglo-Saxon missions there.  In the old days, people within the near community would all help out and gather wood and sticks to make large bonfires.  The idea was that the flames would scare the evil witches to a faraway place, known as the Brocken, where all sorceresses met to exchange recipes of magical potions and trade secrets of evil.  The average belief in witches has deteriorated since then; however, the lighting of bonfires lives on.  In my hometown Halmstad, many gather by the river Nissan to watch the largest fire in town being lit on the river, to listen to the orchestra play, and to watch the fireworks.  	

	The weird and wonderful Midsummer Night festivities always occur on the Friday between the 20th and 26th of June.  This is the longest day of the year, which has been observed since the Viking Age.  Later, when Sweden was Christianized, this holiday was also celebrated because of St. John the Baptist’s birthday, which is on June 24th.  During the afternoon, it is customary to make a May pole, originally a fertility symbol, out of a wooden cross, which is then dressed with birch twigs and flowers.  It is placed on a large lawn, and people dance around it singing songs, usually accompanied by accordions and violins.  Some of the women often wear folk costumes, and the girls have flowers garlands in their hair.  Another popular tradition is solely for young women:  jump over seven fences and pick seven different kinds of flowers and place them under the pillow before going to sleep, and the dreams dreamt that night should tell who the future husband shall be.  To regain strength from the pole dancing and to boost energy for the fence jumping, dinner is served in the late afternoon. The traditional meal consists of herring enjoyed with new potatoes, a type of potato only available in the summertime, and sour cream mixed with chives.  To drink, the ‘snaps,’ a strong, rarely pleasant shot often flavored with lemon or elder, is an  unavoidable companion of the meal and is always preceded by a drinking song.  This is one of the most time-honored traditions that we have.  It is a very festive occasion and sort of a tribute to summer with its brightness and warmth.
	
	The last of the more exotic holidays of the year is celebrated on December 13th, the Lucia Day Celebration.  Lucia was an Italian Christian maid martyred in 304 AD.  Allegedly, a young heretic fell in love with her beautiful eyes, upon which she tore them out and sent them to him on a platter.  However, she did miraculously retrieve her eyesight and is therefore also the patron saint for eye doctors.  In the early morning of the 12th, a procession, with Lucia first, followed by her maidens, slowly passes while singing beautifully of the coming Christmas and the birth of Jesus Christ. They are all dressed in long white gowns, and the maids have tinsel in their hair and are all holding candles.  The Lucia has a crown with lit candles on her head, and a red ribbon tied around her waist, to symbolize the blood from Saint Lucia’s eyes.  Especially made for this occasion are gingersnaps, cookies often made in various shapes, for example, hearts or stars, and the ’Lucia Cat,’ which is a wheat bun with a taste of saffron added to it, in the shape of a cat.  This is a very solemn occasion, revered and appreciated for the splendor of lights and song, brightening up the winter darkness with the proclamation that Christmas is soon to come.

	Certain cultural events are so deeply rooted in a person’s behavior that we act in a particular way without reflecting over why or how it might seem to others.  Foreigners, wherever they are from, may seem peculiar and sometimes almost frightening, because the meanings of their ways or rituals are not obvious to an outsider.  On occasion, they may remain strange, even after having learned more about them, but as long as we keep trying to cross the cultural gulfs that separate us, to try to understand why we are different, the world will not only be a smaller place, but a better one as well.

							--Sara Eriksson

The Black Curtain

	How many of us have ever wondered how our brand-new Samsonite luggage can end up looking as if a Bengal tiger used it as a chew toy during an airline flight?  Or how about when we leave Orlando at 3:00 p.m. with four pieces of luggage and land in New York a few hours later with only two?  These are some questions that travelers on the airlines have asked when they pick up their suitcases at their destination.  A few years ago I experienced first hand how and why these atrocities happen because I worked for a company that handled baggage at Orlando International Airport.  With the experience that I gained from this job, I can now solve the Mystery of the Mishandled Cargo.  

	Soon after passengers check their baggage for a flight, attendants place it neatly onto a conveyor belt behind them.  It takes a short, uneventful trip to a small opening in the wall covered by a black rubber curtain.  Once inside “the black hole,” the adventure begins.  This conveyor system is comprised of twisting turns and sudden drops which put some fun houses to shame.  During the luggage’s journey through this maze, many things happen to the bags.  Straps can get caught in the rollers and ripped off, suitcases can get pinched in joints and torn, leaking parts can bleed oil and grease all over luggage, and a jam in the system can crush some bags like a garbage compactor.  Once the suitcases finally reach the end of this contraption, they continue down a short slide onto another conveyor, this one surrounded by people sorting the freight according to the owner’s destination.

	The sorting area plays a crucial part of an airline’s ground operations.  If the distributers here take their time, they hold up loading the aircraft, thus causing a late take-off.  If the tardy take-off is caused by a baggage problem, people can lose their jobs.  As the bags enter the sorting area, up to twenty different people moving quickly scan the tags on the bags looking for the destination that they have been assigned to pull.  When they find the proper tag, the bag is grabbed and tossed either in or on an appropriate cart.  They have an assembly-line-type job to do and cannot slow down for anything–unless it is lunch time, of course.  They are mainly worried about speed, not if the bag is marked FRAGILE or THIS END UP.  Filling and stacking the luggage on the carts is their only concern.  They seize the luggage, usually by the handle, and slam it onto the cart behind them.  Sometimes the bag lands intact where it is supposed to go, and other times its handle is left in the sorter’s hand.  Since any given flight can have hundreds of bags, cart space is also a problem.  When sorters know that the only area left on a cart is a spot on top of a one-by-two-foot box that has GLASS marked all over it, they will fill it.  They grab and fling a bag that looks light on top of the box.  If the bag weighs eighty pounds and has just lost eight inches of girth in a loud cacophony of shattering glass, so be it.  The owners will be in London by the time they notice, so the sorters continue as if nothing unusual has happened.  About fifteen minutes before the flight takes off, someone driving a tugger–a specially designed tractor to pull large amounts of weight–comes and hooks up the carts, and the luggage heads on for the next part of the journey.
                                                                       
	Before actually pulling away, the driver is supposed to make sure everything is stacked securely.  However, because of time constraints or orders from a lead (the person one step under a supervisor), the driver generally does not check but just hooks up the carts and leaves.  Each driver is pulling four to five carts, each full of luggage stacked precariously five and six bags high.  They drive fifteen to twenty miles per hour for one to two miles over potholes and speed bumps to reach the loading zone for the flight.  On this short but eventful trip, any number of things can happen to the luggage.  With the Diesel engine of the planes roaring, jet engines screaming as they take off and land all around, and the ground shaking cart drivers to and fro, it can be a little difficult to hear or notice if a suitcase falls off a cart.  If this does occur, the best case scenario is that someone else sees it and rushes it over to the flight it belongs on, but there is always the chance that it will land in the bushes, lost until a landscaper comes across it.  By the time this happens, the passengers’ vacation in Hawaii is over, and the bathing suits, suntan lotion, and other beach attire packed inside are of no use, considering the owners are back home in Alaska.  Probably the worst possibility is a piece of luggage that falls off and gets jammed under a wheel, dragged hundreds of feet, ground against the asphalt until the bag, and everything in it has become confetti littering the runway.

	Once at the loading zone, the tugger and carts are parked out of harm’s way and covered if it happens to be raining.  When the loading process begins, a belt truck–a small, flat vehicle that looks like a conveyor belt on wheels–pulls up and raises the belt up enough so that someone can jump on and open the airliner’s cargo hatch.  After this is done, the operator lifts the belt into position at the lip of the cargo bay, and two loaders scurry up inside to stack the incoming luggage.  The tugger driver pulls the carts over, the belt starts up to the roar of the engine, and the ground loaders quickly lay the luggage on the belt to be transported to the cargo bay of the jet.  The two people at the top, however, out of the passengers’ sight, spike the luggage like volley balls.  The person at the top of the belt grabs the baggage gruffly–another way luggage can lose its handles–and throws it towards the other loader.  Since most luggage is pretty heavy, the person at the receiving end of the toss usually lets the bags slam into the floor, wall, or other bags, just as long as the object that stops the luggage is not his or her body. The loader in the back then flings the bags into a semblance of a pile, not caring how they land or what they land on.  Once all the bags are packed “neatly” into the cargo bay–and hopefully everyone is out and the doors are shut–it is time for take-off.  What luggage hasn’t bought a one-way ticket to the Twilight Zone has just made it to the midpoint of the trip.

	During the flight, while passengers wriggle in cubbyhole seats and clutch arm rests during turbulence, a suitcase below packed with someone’s weights is playing whack-a-mole with a cardboard box under it marked FRAGILE–a grandmother’s priceless china that eventually resembles a piece of modern art.  Once the jet lands, the ground process starts all over again, this time in reverse.  Loading becomes unloading.  The luggage is taken from the loading zone, and instead of being sorted, it is taken off of the carts and placed on a conveyor that brings it back through a black rubber curtain to be claimed by innocent passengers.
                                                                       
	This process is repeated hundreds of times a day at airports all over the world.  Miraculously, most of the time luggage gets where it is supposed to go without any problems.  At least now when passengers’ luggage looks the worse for wear, is shy one piece, or contains unrecognizably wrinkled colored cloth or confetti glassware, they have a sense of how it happened.  Maybe passengers should just be grateful that despite cramped seats and choppy weather, they themselves arrived intact.

									–Christopher Skornika

The Pearl of the South

	In 1960, an earthquake struck the city of Agadir, Morocco, leaving 15,000 dead.  Most of the city was demolished.  When rebuilding, the government of this newly independent country (Morocco gained its independence in 1956) decided to add a European touch to the African and Arabian heritage of the original.  The result was so fantastic that it made Agadir the number-one tourist destination in Morocco.   Agadir was a place where I spent unforgettable moments because of its beautiful beaches, bubbling nightlife, and interesting people.

	First of all, the beautiful beaches make Agadir a paradise on earth.  The beach that lies beside the city stretches along 10 miles of coastline.  This makes it perfect for horse and camel rides and dirt bike circuits.  On my last trip there, as I lay tanning on the fine golden sand, other tourists were jogging, playing soccer and volleyball, and splashing in the clear blue water.  The waves in that area are great, and the northern part of the beach is famous for international surfing competitions.  The weather is sunny, and there is no rain for most of the year.  Because of the tropical setting, the temperature rarely goes below 25º C (77 º F).  

	For insomniacs, Agadir is the best place to be all summer.  As the number-one tourist resort in Morocco, Agadir offers tremendous nightlife with the latest laser technology at the nightclubs and discos.  Well-known European and American DJ’s are regularly invited to spin the latest hits on their turntables.  Furthermore, gamblers will be spoiled in Casino Partouche in Club Valtur and Shems Casino in the Sheraton Starwood Hotel.  These casinos offer world-class service and can be compared to the finest casinos in Las Vegas and Monaco.  Every night, a famous musician or band is live onstage in one of the resorts.  While I was there, I went to two concerts.  The first time, I saw the hard-rock band Korn.  The arena was packed, and the music was so loud that it could be heard on the other side of town.  The band’s performance was phenomenal.  The second concert had a different atmosphere.  I went with my parents to see one of the greatest American/French singers of all time, Joe Dassin.  Although most of the audience was old and the venue was formal, I had a great time at that concert too.  For families with young children, the Agadir fairs are the best place to go for the carousels, Ferris wheels, popcorn, and cotton candy.  

	Finally, Agadir is a great place to meet people from all over the world.  For example, I met a very nice Swedish girl named Erika, a student at the University of Stockholm, who regularly vacations in Morocco.  We have continued to exchange emails and letters, and if all goes as planned, we will see each other this summer.    Furthermore, celebrities seem to have fallen in love with Agadir.  During my stay at the Hilton Beach Club, I saw models Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer, and Leticia Casta.  I also talked to Monica Belluci, the beautiful actress seen in Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion of Christ, and shook hands with Jamel Debbouze, a French Moroccan comedian.  When walking down the streets, I saw lots of Rolls Royces and Ferraris since Agadir attracts so many rich people, who come for its luxury, fun, and relaxation.  Famous researchers and intellectuals such as Denys Montandon, a famous Swiss plastic surgeon, also come to Agadir for a quiet place to think.

	Overall, Agadir is a wonderful city with golden sand beaches, exciting nightlife, and friendly people.  Anyone would have a memorable experience visiting the Pearl of the South.
							--Mohamed Adnani

					

My Heroes

	The banging of the door lifted my grandmother off her dinner chair.  She looked at my grandfather as though she knew who it was.  My grandparents held my mother and uncle.  As the door flew open, men with guns grabbed my grandparents.  The men handed my mother and uncle over to the maid and took my grandparents away.  In a country taken over by a dictator, life turned from peace and freedom to controlled poverty.
In 1930 a lieutenant who had gotten a taste of power by collecting debt money for the United States took over the Dominican Republic.  Just like that, everyone’s lives changed.  Anyone opposed to him would “accidentally” die. Whether a priest, doctor, officer, or family member, it did not matter; they would be gone.  This man’s name was Rafael Leonidas Trujillo.
Trujillo would offer to buy land for ridiculous prices, and in fear of their lives, the farmers would sell it to him.  Then Trujillo would make the old owners work for poverty wages, enough only to survive.  He would take banks with the money of their depositors and create private industries, such as electric companies, tobacco companies, and hotels.  My grandmother’s uncle was found cut into tiny pieces because he did not want to sell his farm for the price Trujillo offered.  My grandfather lost land and homes because of this monster.  
This man would have fake elections in which he would run against a friend or brother just to make sure that he would always win.  He built hospitals and schools that would function for his benefit only.  Schools which had subjects like ethics were eliminated.  To Dominicans, liberty became an empty word.  Their freedom lessened each day as Trujillo restricted patriotic and religious events, even weddings.  Eventually everyone was forced to put his picture, framed in bronze, in their houses.  “In this house, Trujillo is boss,” it read. It was checked by his guards on a regular basis.
The people’s hate built groups, groups that began to plot against the deranged dictator; one such opposition force started in my grandparents’ house.  They would protest and make weapons.  My grandfather and aunt, who was only fifteen, created a mail route with trusted friends to communicate via codes.  In 1960 this underground group was ruined because a member had too many drinks and revealed some members’ identities.  That is when my grandfather got arrested, sent to prison, and tortured alongside my uncle Miguel.  Stripped of their clothes, they were whipped, beaten, shocked, and even forced into an electric chair, but they never spoke of their secret plans.  My grandmother was put in jail and tortured in different ways.  Never before had women been treated so badly in the Dominican Republic.  Along with her were the “Butterflies,” a group of women who also fought against the power-hungry beast.  My grandmother’s best friends were beaten to death while on their way home from visiting their husbands in prison.
	The Human Rights Organization along with Eleanor Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy tried to stop the bloodshed that began with Trujillo’s death.  However, the dictator’s men and the Dominicans fought, trying to gain the respect they had lost.   The man who killed Trujillo hid in my aunt’s closet, which was no bigger than a coat closet, for two years. My mother, being so young and curious, would always ask her why the closet in the bathroom was locked.

	My grandmother’s name is Dulce Maria Tijada de Alvarez and my grandfather’s is Luis Alvarez.  I am so honored to have their blood.  To know that they sacrificed everything to make a difference means so much to me. I can only pray to be as strong as they were in their twenties.  They truly are my heroes!  

							--Nicole Caron

	

The Greatest

	If a survey were taken by every golfer in the world, asking which of the four major tournaments he would want to win the most, one answer would come up more than any other:  the Masters.  The Masters is the first major tournament of the year in the golf season.  It is undoubtedly one of the most highly regarded championships in the game.  Each year the Masters is held in the springtime.  I enjoy watching this event because of the beauty, the competitors, and the fun.

	During the springtime, the Augusta National Golf Course, where the event is held, is the most beautiful course in the world.  Before a player even arrives at the clubhouse, he is welcomed onto Magnolia Lane.  This 300-yard road is lined with more than 50 magnolia trees planted from seed about 150 years ago.  Once out on the course, players and spectators find amazing displays of flowering plants.  The tee boxes, greens, and fairways are surrounded by the most beautiful azaleas, camellias, and roses in full bloom.   In fact, some of the holes have come to be known by the blossoms around them, such as Hole #2, the Pink Dogwood, or Hole #3, the Flowering Peach.  Most of the trees on the course are towering pines.  As players walk down the fairway, pine scent and floral fragrances fill the air. There’s no better place to hold the Masters than this magnificent course.  

	Along with the beauty of the course, another draw of the Masters is who plays in the tournament.  The world’s best professional and amateur golfers arrive each April to play in Augusta.  Of course, every year one name stands out, and since his emergence in the golf world, he has been favored to win.  That player is Tiger Woods.  Woods has won the tournament four times (so far!).  Though undoubtedly one of the greatest, if he happens not to be at his best, some of the world’s other great players such as Phil Mickelson or Vijay Singh are lurking behind him waiting for their chance.  Sometimes there’s a player no one has ever heard of who has some respectable rounds and creates an interesting competition.  Bobby Jones, who created this course and started the Masters tournament, was one of the greatest amateur golfers of all time and only thought it right to invite the best amateurs to play.  An amateur myself, I get really excited watching the Masters and imagining what I might shoot on such a demanding course.  Overall, for great players on a great course, the Masters is the tournament to watch.

	Lastly, the Masters is just fun to watch.  There’s always some mysterious unknown golfer who for some reason is having a great week of golf and enjoying his stay at Augusta National Country Club.  Whether he wins or not is not the exciting part; it’s whether he can keep his round going despite the pressure of the greatest players in the world coming up behind him.  Another fun part is watching all of the older legends of the game, like Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, and Gary Player.  All of these former winners of the Masters won’t win it now, but I enjoy seeing them arrive and cheer on the new players.  For many golf fans, the greatest fun is watching Tiger play.  When he’s at his best, he’s unstoppable.  His competitive nature drives him to not only win, but win by a lot.  All in all, the Masters can be filled with surprises, memories, and fun.

	For a lover of golf, nothing is better than watching the best players in the world having fun on one of the most beautiful courses ever built.  No one can say who will win the next Masters, but one thing is for sure:  it will be exciting to watch.							
--John Smith

 

Hitler’s Raisin in the Sun or a Nazi’s Dream Deferred

	Every Christmas we find ourselves watching The Nutcracker on television, my family and I.  Many share this annual viewing of the ballet, their only dose of culture for months to come, and many enjoy it immensely.  The songs heard there are known to the masses by tune if not by name and evoke images of floating fairies, twirling Russians, and that valiant soldier who is the hero of it all.  We are unable to watch this spectacle without being enthralled as the men and women perform these dances for our amusement.  The ease with which they so gently contort their bodies baffles those of us who lead a more sedentary existence.  As I watch these men and women stride across the stage, I realize that Adolf Hitler would never have made a good ballet dancer.  He just did not have what it takes.

	First and foremost, we notice the excellent physical conditioning of the ballet dancer.  Hours are spent in painful practice each day, which leads to a physique capable of performing at such a high level.  Each muscle, each sinew is visible in the ballet dancer’s body, betraying an almost superhuman strength. In contrast, Hitler was a flabby, unremarkable man.  While as a youth he was fit enough to be conscripted into the German army, pictures show him at this time to be a skinny, sickly looking individual.  Ballet dancers begin their training at a young age, so by this time it was already too late for poor Adolf.  Years of sitting and dictating orders made Hitler pudgy and out of shape.  Eventually he resorted to wearing pads under his uniform in order to look more muscular.  Ballet dancers never do this.

	The fluidity of the ballet dancer was lost on Hitler as well.  Dancers often incorporate one flowing movement after another, which creates unified, graceful choreography pleasing to behold.  Sharp, quick movements are used only as symbolic interjections which point out something tragic or immensely important.  Alas, Hitler never understood how delightful it is to watch men move gracefully as well as rhythmically.  His arm was always rigidly in front of him, bringing attention to himself and betraying his egotistical nature.  His uniformed troupe had stiff legs, stiff backs, and stiff arms as they goose-stepped in deference to their Fuhrer.  Had Hitler wanted to be a ballet dancer, he never would have understood the flexible grace required.

	Lastly, the mental acuity which ballet dancers must possess includes their being both quick thinkers and good memorizers, both of which Hitler excelled at as exemplified by his public speeches.  However, the ballet dancer must also be able to maintain a constant level of mental coherence, which Hitler would have had considerable problems doing.  Quite simply, the ballet dancer is a sane individual.  Hitler was not.  Examples of the German leader’s lunacy abound, but perhaps the best and most encompassing is World War II, which he insanely instigated.  Though ballet dancers have a strong desire to win accolades, none go to such bloody lengths as Hitler to conquer the competition–unless, of course, they are ice ballerina, Tonya Harding.  Here again we find the mindset of the ballet dancer and Hitler parting ways.
                                                                        
	So each Christmas I will continue to watch Tchaikovsky’s wonderful ballet, feeling quite content that Wagner never turned Mein Kampf into one.  Hitler would have, of course, wanted to play the lead role, and Wagner would have acquiesced.  However, someone would have to tell him eventually that he, Hitler, would never be a great ballet dancer and that he ought to seek another line of work.  Hitler would have to have realized that his pot belly would hinder his performance in the long run.  He would need to spend long hours learning to be more pliant in order to move as though he didn’t have rigor mortis.  The Fuhrer also would have to have spoken with Freud about his lack of conscience and agility–had the latter, a Jew, not been forced to flee to London to live out the rest of his years.  Yet I do not think Hitler could have ever matched Nuryev.  Hitler never would have made a good ballet dancer, and the world is the worse for it.

							–Kevin Gidusko

					

	

In the Archipelago

	Sweden is a country most Americans couldn’t say much about.  They probably are even unsure where it’s located; most confuse it with Switzerland.  Maybe the first pictures that come to mind are Saab, Volvos, or Abba, the musical group, or maybe even Bjorn Borg, the tennis player.  In fact, Sweden is a beautiful country, surrounded by water, in northern Europe.  About two hours north of the capital Stockholm lies what used to be a small fishing village called Bjorko Simpnas.  (Bjorko actually means “Birch Island.”) It is now home to a very few residents, and most of the people go there only to spend their summer vacations.  There, I spent most of my summers as a child.  Simpnas, Sweden, is a place of which I have fond memories.  When I reminisce about Simpnas, I think about scenery, family, and fishing.

	When I recall these times, I remember the magnificent scenery.  Each time I return, I am in awe, realizing as a child I didn’t fully comprehend the beauty of this treasured place.  The house was built in 1875, and my grandmother was born and raised here.  When people entered the home, the hallway was filled with fishing poles, tackle boxes, and tin coffee cans filled with earthworms for the next angling adventure.  Each room and drawer had something in it to be discovered:   There were old photographs, a postcard dated 1909–the items were endless.  Behind the house was a pathway that led down to the water; pebbles and stones made way to a small bridge.  Here lay a wooden rowboat and a small motorboat.  Each summer as I gazed upon the massive ocean, it would seem as if it rolled on forever.  Standing there, I could feel the strong winds of the Baltic Sea, and in the distance I could see an old lighthouse.  Surrounding us were woods, hills, and tall birch trees.  There were open fields of wild flowers in white, yellow, and lavender.  The houses all looked similar:  brick red with white trim.  Our home did not have running water indoors.  Instead, we had an outhouse and a wood shed for the wood-burning stove in the downstairs kitchen.  All of our clothes and dishes had to be hand washed.  One summer my father built a small stall where we could take a five-minute shower.  One funny memory I recall is getting to brush our teeth outdoors and spitting into the bushes.  Each summer there were new memories to be made and old ones to be remembered.
	 
	I can also recall spending special times with my immediate family and other Swedish relatives.  Together we would play darts, croquet, badminton and, on those long rainy days, cards indoors for hours on end.  In the afternoon I could smell strong Swedish coffee brewing and delicious cinnamon rolls baking in the oven; this was my favorite time, a time for everyone to come together.  The tradition remains today.  In the evenings we would go to the kiosk where ice cream and candy were sold.  My favorite was the salty black licorice.  Other times we would get our small baskets, put on our rubber boots and mosquito oil, and venture into the woods.  We would pick blueberries for dessert and eat them with milk and sugar.  Other berries that grew were raspberries, wild strawberries, red and black currants, and gooseberries.

	One of my favorite memories from about the age of four is fishing.  My father would wake us at 5:00 in the morning to go out in the boat.  I always liked sitting in front so I could feel the icy waves splash against my face.  At times it seemed as though the small boat had its own destination.  We would find a perfect spot and slowly lower the lures until they hit the bottom of the ocean.  It was amazing how deep it was!  Then I would pull the line up a little to get off the bottom of the ocean, wrap it around my finger and jerk it up and down.  This type of fishing is called gigging.  I can think back to how exciting it was to feel the fish bite and slowly trying to pull the enormous twenty-pound cod into the small boat, a game of tug-of-war between the fish and me.  Who would win?  I could feel the fishing line cutting into my finger and the salt water stinging as it entered my wound; still I would not give up.  As my father helped me pull the fish into the boat, there was a feeling of pride and accomplishment.  We would also go to the lakes to fish with cane poles or cast for pike.  Some of these memories are more vivid than others.  I can see my father and uncle hanging up nets they had laid the night before.  I can see seaweed entangled in the nets and flounder trying to wiggle themselves free.  I can see my grandmother sitting on the rocks near the ocean cleaning the day’s catch while seagulls hovered above, waiting for their next free meal.  A memory I’m not so fond of is eating the fish.  We would have fish and potatoes several times a week.  I remember thinking that eating fish certainly wasn’t as fun as catching them.  Even though I disliked consuming the fish, fishing actually taught me that it is good to be patient, a lesson definitely lacking in today’s society.

In sum, I have wonderful reminiscences from my childhood.  My most cherished, however, will always be my summers in Simpnas.  This was a time we came together as a family and made memories that will last a lifetime.

									–Debbie Ausen

Memphis:   An Era of Terror

	Rain pounded heavily against the window with increasing speed.  Voices rose to monumental heights and then surfaced to no more than a whisper.  Friends and associates hovered close to the “nonviolent apostle,” hoping to hear words that only a prophet could utter.  The United States government remained afraid of this man and maligned his motives.  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., emerged as the most dangerous African American who had ever lived.  In only twelve years King and his crusaders shattered the Jim Crow laws of that era and healed a nation “that was on its way to death and destruction,” as Reverend Bernice A. King once put it.  However, on this stormy evening Dr. King was not thinking of the battles that he had won but the ones he had lost.   The media had announced that nonviolence was on trial.  King had delivered one of his most impassioned and fiery statements concerning nonviolence and civil rights that morning.  He and his staff had worked around the clock on the Poor People’s Campaign.  He was tired, bone tired.  One could almost sense the frustration and fatigue in his voice.  King wanted to rest, but a speaking engagement would not permit this.  Knowing his best friend’s need for rest and relaxation, Reverend Ralph Abernathy agreed to go in his stead.  This was the Old South on April 3, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee.  I would have wanted the opportunity to be in Memphis that day to have shaken the hand of Dr. King if only for a fleeting moment.

	King picked up the phone and called his wife.  He needed to hear her voice and reassurances.  “It’s storming here, and I don’t feel too good.  Some folks have planned something over at the Masonic Temple.  I guess I’ll go on over there.  I’ll call you tomorrow,” King explained.  That was the last conversation he had with his beloved.  King had decided after all to attend that mass meeting.  He hurriedly dressed and headed over to the Masonic Temple with some of his aides in tow.  He arrived and took his seat among his disciples on the platform.  Reverend Ralph Abernathy began a thought-provoking introduction of the man whom he had stood beside for twelve years.  Deeply touched, King rose and gave his dear friend a hug at the end of his introduction.  It seemed as though time remained still as King emerged to deliver one of his most compassionate messages.  

	He began by recalling the experience of his stabbing in 1959.  While recuperating in the hospital, he had received a letter from a ninth grade white girl from White Plains.  She explained to Dr. King that she heard from television reports that if he had sneezed, he would have died instantly.  The young woman wrote that she was simply glad that he had not sneezed.  Dr. King said, “I too am 

glad that I did not sneeze.  Had I sneezed, I would not have been here to see the progress we have made.”  Then he went on to recount experiences of his life and the journey he had taken to reach this day.  Emotionally he said, “I’ve been to the mountain top.  I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the Promised Land.  I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the Promised Land.  So, I’m not worried tonight, I’m not fearing any man.  Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”  Dr. King walked back to his seat and uttered not a word to his associates.  They clamored close and embraced the man to whom they had dedicated their lives.  Reverend King, in turn, was buoyed by his speech.  It was as though another human being had stepped into his place.  He once said, “I’m mystified at my own career.”  If he was mystified, the people were awed and amazed by this legend.  He knew that tonight he would rest and tomorrow begin as a fully energized being.

	April 4, 1968, began as a regular day.  Staffers gathered to discuss plans for the impending Poor People’s Campaign.  The sanitation workers’ strike (the reason for King’s appearance in Memphis) was also discussed.  King had a subtle playfulness to him this day.  He and his brother, Reverend A.D. King, had called their mother and played practical jokes on her, pretending to be each other.  When Andrew Young arrived at the Lorraine Motel from an appointment, King pretended he was angry at Young.  Soon a pillow fight ensued with Dr. King clearly the undisputed champion.  However, the staff settled down and got back to the business of the movement.  King discussed nonviolence and its useful qualities.  He also talked about the leadership abilities and weaknesses in each one of his lieutenants.  He did this to improve their leadership and to help them better themselves.  From this moment on, his followers would remember only the love he had for them and the life he gave for the world.  King and his aides dressed for dinner at Reverend Samuel “Billy” Kyle’s home.  The chill of the air was enough to prompt Samuel Jones to remind Dr. King to get his coat.  Just as King talked to his aides on the ground floor, shots rang out.  At only thirty-nine Dr. King was destined to join the lines of martyrs who had given their lives for a cause.  One of the last things he asked was for Ben Branch to play “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.”  He was pronounced dead at 7:05 p.m. in Memphis, Tennessee.

	Some may think that it is odd to want to be at such a place at such a time in our nation’s history.  However, I would have liked to have been there to see Dr. King and to listen to his message.  Perhaps he said something that would help the country get out of the situation it is in, or maybe he provided the world with one last testimony of what a true leader should be.  Whatever the case may be, I would 
have talked to him about America.  I would have talked to him about his wife and four children and let him know that they are fine.  I would have told him that everything he did was not in vain.  The dream beckoned all of us to do more with the lives we were given.

			                                 –Courtney Deming    

The Swamp

	From the moment I arrived in Gainesville, I could tell that it was game day.  Scores of automobiles were making a mass exodus from I-75 and continued to sojourn east down Archer Road.  Their pace was slow but steady and purposeful like a flowing river of hot molten lava.  It was clear from the beginning that my first trip to a University of Florida football game would be a magical experience.

	Glancing at my watch, I concluded that I still had enough time to stop for food before kickoff.  I pulled into the parking lot of Chick-Fil-A, determined to devour my deep-fried dinner like it was a hurdle that had to be jumped on my way to football bliss.  Inside the fast-food oasis a wide spectrum of faithful Florida fans congregated to enjoy a little pre-game nourishment.  The frenetic pace at which I had entered was slowed as I gazed around the orange-and-blue-accented restaurant.  The camaraderie was amazing–people from all walks of life united by one common bond: their love for the greatest college football team ever.  A father excitedly forecasted his prediction of the game as his children eagerly listened in anticipation.  A couple of students discussed plans for a post-game victory party while two old-time Gator alumni relived the glory days of long ago.  I couldn’t help but smile.  Leaving Chick-Fil-A, I had an even greater appreciation for the team I have loved since childhood.  I proceeded with a stronger resolve than before.

	As I neared the stadium, I began to notice the makeshift parking lots along the side of the road–most of them converted front lawns.  At the entrance to each stood an individual, clad in Gator apparel, of course, with a sign displaying the going rate for temporary vehicle placement:   five dollars.  Determined that I could find a lot much closer to the stadium, I pressed on.  However, as I continued farther down the road, the five-dollar fee increased to ten.  Amazed at the price gouging, I turned into the next available lot.  Now I had to go on foot.  I joined the pilgrims parading down University Road on their way to worship at the altar of football.  Watching the parking cost inflate to fifteen dollars and then to twenty, I was glad that I had parked where I did.  I proceeded to pat myself on the back when suddenly I saw it through the trees.  As I kept walking, it began to take shape.  My pace quickened, matching the rapid beating of my heart.  I came to a clearing in the road and, finally, there it was in all its glory–Ben Hill Griffin Stadium, aptly nicknamed “The Swamp” by legendary coach, Steve Spurrier.

	I continued on, walking more slowly so I could catch my breath.  I handed my ticket to the attendant at Gate 16 and made my way up the ramp until I reached Section 51.  By then I had caught momentary glimpses, and my pulse began to swell with anticipation once more.  I followed the arrows directing me to my final destination.  In awe I stepped through the entrance to the stands as the majesty of Florida Field unfolded before my eyes.  I paused to take it all in, my senses overwhelmed.  The scent of hot dogs permeated the cool twilight air.  The ground tremored with the frantic cheers of over 85,000 Gator fanatics as the fight song echoed in the distance.  The whole stadium was a tapestry of blue and orange.  Reminded by the friendly usher to keep moving, I quickly took my place next to my friends in the south end zone.  I had made it!  I was over a hundred miles away from my house, but I felt right at home.  Just then the ball was kicked off, and I joined in the chorus of praise with my fellow Florida loyalists: “Hallelujah!”

	A pilgrimage is a journey one takes to a place of spiritual or emotional significance.  My first trip to “The Swamp” in Gainesville was such an experience.  I can only hope to see my orange and blue Mecca again someday.

									–Scot McClamma

	

					

Feeling of Fall

	Crisp, cool air gently flips brightly colored leaves across the porch.  As they cartwheel by and crunch underfoot, I sit in the grass with my ten-year-old legs sprawled out, taking in the comforting, smoky scent of lit fireplaces throughout the neighborhood.  I glance over at Mom, also sprawled out in the grass next to me.  Her body language has happy and lazy written all over it, but in her eyes I can see how wide awake and ecstatic her thoughts are.  Nearing the end of September, our small family of two shares our ideas and thoughts with each other about how we are going to enjoy our favorite time of year.  Each year we plan a special Halloween day, whether it includes just the two of us or all our friends as well.  My childhood memories of Mom and I preparing for our annual Halloween party have instilled in me an excited, yet peaceful attitude for every fall season to come.

	Before Mom and I begin transforming our cozy little house into a spooky haunted chamber, we organize our ideas in our “fun notebook” and go on a shopping hunt for all our supplies and gear.  As we lounge outdoors enjoying the autumn breeze, we sort through our Halloween storage box and scan through Martha Stewart magazines for ideas.  Our list of affordable decorations and activities grows longer and longer until we have filled an entire page.  Every year we add to the family traditions of the season, and in doing so, we look back to previous years and laugh at the silly new ideas we come up with.  

	After we complete our shopping list, we journey to the craft store, Halloween store, and vegetable market.  The baffled looks of the Halloween store workers are entertaining to watch as a young mother and her ten-year-old daughter make fun of the costumes and hide under tables, jumping out at people as they walk by.  We like to play in the store for a couple of hours before walking out having purchased only one can of green hair spray.  Most of our decorations we design and construct ourselves using household items.  Mom has taught me that this way is much more original and affordable than purchasing store items.  The last place we stop is the vegetable stand where we both pick our own carving pumpkins, pie pumpkins, decorative squash, Indian corn, and a couple of bales of hay to either sit on in the front yard or stuff a scarecrow with.  Now the car is crammed with creepy goodies and tied down tightly with hay.  We are ready to go home and start checking things off our list. 

	Now that Mom and I are home, things start to come together.  All five senses are being set off with the excitement of setting everything up.  There is the thrilling sight of all the decorations summoning a spooky Halloween mood. For example, I look up from cutting strips of black trash bags into witch curtains to see Mom hanging skeletons next to the fog machine that is smoking up the whole front yard into an eerie mist.  Cobwebs and coffee-stained cheesecloth drape all our furniture and ceiling fans.  Then there is the sound of popcorn popping and our favorite music to clean house to.  This mainly consists of Matchbox 20, Train, and most importantly, the Tarzan soundtrack.  There is no experience like standing on kitchen chairs with my mother, dancing and singing “Trashing the Camp” with wooden-spoon microphones while attempting to bake cookies.  Then, there is the variety of smells that calm me and remind me of the peacefulness of the season, like cloves stuck in oranges, and baking orange slices, and fireplaces, and cookies.  Of course, we are snacking the entire day on candy corn and trying to throw popcorn into each other’s mouth across the room.  Finally, there is the nippy, chilly air that feels so refreshing after a hot, humid summer, forcing us to bundle up in sweatshirts and blankets.  As we are preparing the house with decorations and treats, I cannot be in a happier mood.

	After all the baking, decorating, and dancing around are complete, Mom and I end the day by carving our pumpkins.  We wait until the sun starts to set when the sky melts into a pink and orange collage, and we go sit on the driveway with our jack o’ lantern sketches and pumpkins.  There is much more to carving pumpkins for the two of us than for most families.  We perfect our designs on paper and carve our masterpieces like professionals.  Next, we set them out for the world to see with little candles glowing inside them.  Then we carve up the pie pumpkins and bake the pieces and mash them up to make homemade pumpkin pies.  We roast all the seeds to munch on, with the exception of a dozen or so to plant later.  

	By the end of our adventurous and busy day, I am the happiest person alive.  Whether or not I get to show off my hard work to all of my friends, I am glad to have spent the day with Mom.  Mostly everyone’s memories of the Halloween time-of-year are of dressing up with friends, trick-or-treating, or attending Halloween parties.  Mine are just of enjoying getting ready for fall with Mom.  Therefore, I will always look forward to the exciting autumn season with a feeling of peace and security.  

						--Victoria George

What Could Go Wrong?

	According to my mother, there are three important dates in every girl’s life:  her high school graduation, her college graduation, and her wedding day.  In America, weddings are big ceremonious events.  On that day, everything has to be perfect and beautiful.  The white roses have to be arranged on the altar in a perfect way.  The white silk ribbon has to be tied on the church pews in a perfect bow.  The exquisite cuisine has to be warm and ready to serve.  Absolutely nothing can go wrong.  Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, the wedding does not turn out perfectly.  Uncle Joe has too much of the spiked punch and ends up passed out in the coatroom.  The broccoli casserole makes everyone who ate it run to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  A lot of things could and probably will go wrong.  Many Americans look forward to their wedding date with dread because of the guests, the decorations, and the reception.

	One of the causes of this dread is the guests.  A usual American wedding includes friends and families.  Once happy couples figure out who they are going to invite, they have to decide where to seat everyone.  Seating arrangements are definitely one of the most difficult parts of wedding planning, almost as bad as trying to correctly disable a bomb.  If the wrong wires are crossed, destruction occurs.  Aunt Jill can’t sit next to Aunt Sally because they are squabbling over a lime-green jet ski.  Martha can’t sit next to Steve because they recently broke off their engagement.  Couples planning a wedding need to remember a lot of little details like this.  In my opinion, called-off weddings are a direct result of unfortunate seating arrangements.  

	Another reason Americans dread the wedding date is the decorations.  Decorating for a wedding causes more stress than taking a college final.  Couples have to prowl the stores and catalogues to find what they want and then have to bargain with the seller.  If the flowers are too costly, someone has to convince the florist to knock off a few dollars or use a cheaper variety.  Setting up the decorations can be as dangerous as setting up the seating arrangements; decorators can fall off a ladder, hammer their thumbs, or catch their clothes on fire.  Perhaps one should treat decorating as if riding a bike for the first time, wearing head gear and knee and shoulder pads.  Once the decorations are in place, they must stay perfect throughout the event.  One definitely doesn’t want the bride ice sculpture to melt and look like a pig ice sculpture.  All in all, decorating is a dreaded task.

	The final cause of wedding dread is the reception.  It has to be fun but not too much fun.  Perhaps Bridesmaid Sally will drink too much and start booty dancing with the minister.  Maybe Cousin Tim will tell embarrassing stories about the groom in college.  Candles too close to the napkins may result in a small fire.  Much can go wrong during a reception.  Someone should be assigned to keep candles five inches away from napkins and lushes five feet away from the bar.  With proper planning and a fire extinguisher, a reception can be enjoyed.  

	In conclusion, many Americans dread the problems that can arise on a wedding day due to the guests, decorations, and reception, not to mention the hurricane that hits a garden wedding or an angry groom who hits an ex-boyfriend.  A wedding is supposed to be a glorious event uniting two people as one.  Everyone wants the day to be perfect, and maybe that’s the problem.  Perfection is impossible, so maybe everyone should just relax.  In fact, sometimes it’s the complications that make the wedding most memorable later.  

						--Yashera Torres

				

The Mad, the Happy, and the Confused

	Looking to my right, I see an angry driver flashing the birdie, a symbol that seems to have become our state bird.  Turning my head to my left, I see a van packed full of children yelling and screaming at one another.  The mother in the front seat turns around, waving a warning finger at her children while the vehicle behind her angrily blares its horn.  My car can move neither forward nor backward.  It is locked in side to side as well.  I roll down my window for some fresh air, but dueling radios and the colorful language of my fellow captives force me to reverse my last action, sealing my car again.  Welcome to the public event known as “commuting.”  Much of the population takes part in this event every morning.  One may not think of commuting as a public event, but in reality, it is the very definition.  The majority of the community gathers for the common interest of getting to a certain place at a precise time.  It becomes almost a contest.  Like any contest, the crowd consists of a wide variety of people revealing their true colors.

	The angry guy, who cannot get his tie on straight, reveals to all his level of intelligence as he bitterly yells what appears to be the only two words he knows.  The lady in front of him has become immune to the loud noise of his horn and the rage that spits off his lips.  She continues to reapply her mascara and any other make-up she feels needs retouching.  Little does she notice that she is doing the unforgivable: not filling in the two-and-a-half-foot gap between her and the car ahead.  A car could stick its nose in that gap.  Traffic tends to bring out the worst in people.  Some involved in this activity consist of the mad: those so venomous that if their car does not move an inch forward soon, they run the risk of becoming violent.  After all, that single inch creates the necessary illusion that the traffic before them is actually moving.  Without this pipe dream many of the people who are in desperate need of anger management would more than likely become savages, perhaps buying a Hummer so they could plow through everyone.

	Not all attending this mêlée are angry.  Some are happy.  Road rage, uproar, horns–all this is on the outside of the car, not affecting the cheerful man inside.  He sits idly in his car, listening to soothing music.  Despite the protests of the driver behind him, this jolly fellow gladly lets someone cut in front of him.  He has a smile on his face that matches the bumper sticker on the back of his car.  He loves the commute to work.  The stillness around him brings out his creative side, for he has already written two books and is working on a third.  The traffic soothes him.  In his little world, a world all his own where no one else matters, he has plenty of time to think.  This “species” is gradually becoming extinct because they are so slow they are in danger of being run over by the speed of the world which they inhabit.  If you ever see them, make sure you have your camera so you can take a picture.

	However, these rarities are not the only ones in their own private world.  Out there in the center of it all is a new breed: the confused.  They tend to move through life in a fog.  Easily identified by the seeming emptiness in their eyes, they are too asleep to know what is going on.  They tend to sit in their cars, staring blankly out their windows.  A car accident could occur right before their eyes, and they would not even know it.  When they arrive at work, they have no idea how they got there.  Nonetheless, they do have a system.  Moving like machines through life, they are the kind of people who would drive their five-year-old’s pedal car to work without realizing it if it were sitting in the driveway instead of their Mustang.  Unfortunately this group of people is growing rapidly.  Though very amusing, the confused are more dangerous than the mad.  Lost in a cloudy haze, they could easily cause accidents and fury.

	Every public event has an effect on people, revealing their true colors.  Every type of person takes part in this event, whether he wants to or not.  If people wish to see the true character of others, they have only to drive to work.  Such a commute brings out the enraged mad man, the little happy guy, and the confused fellow in the pedal car.

									–Matty Allen

	

	

1-2-3-4, I Love the Marine Corps

	As the chartered bus cruised over the bridge into Beaufort, South Carolina, all the talking aboard came to a stop.  I could hear everyone taking a deep swallow as their heartbeats thumped faster.  At the front gate was a sign that read, “Welcome to Parris Island,” with a picture of a bulldog wearing a Smokey the Bear hat. Guarding the gate was a man who stood about six feet, five inches tall, with a face to match that of the dog on the sign.  He had on camouflage with black leather boots.  His arms were the size of a python.  This was my first time seeing a drill instructor (D.I.).  He looked at me the way a lion looks at its prey before pouncing.  Then he waved us through the gate.  I knew right then I would never forget this experience of going through boot camp to become a U.S. Marine.

	First we had to finish up some paperwork in receiving and visit the military clothing issue point.  The following day another D.I. took us to meet the main Men in Charge.  This is what is known as the drop.  There were three gargantuan D.I.’s waiting for us in a room which is called a squad bay.  In this area were about twenty bunk beds, ten on each side of the room.  Two people stood in front of each bed–or as the military would say, rack.  The next thing I knew, right after our D.I.’s introduced themselves, they started running frantically throughout the squad bay yelling in our faces and slamming tin garbage can lids on the floor.  We were all culture shocked.  Later that day inside the squad bay, we were taught the correct position of attention.  This took at least an hour.  Next they demonstrated to us the proper way to march and carry our rifles.  It’s amazing how many people don’t know their right foot from their left.  We practiced this almost every day until we were nearly perfect.

	In the second phase my platoon went to the rifle range.  Most of the recruits had never fired a weapon before.  Our weapons instructor showed us the proper way to hold a rifle, taught us safety procedures, and educated us on how to aim and fire the M-16 service rifle.  That first day firing was a doozy.  Everyone was missing the target.  But at least we didn’t have any accidents…except the one by Recruit Findley.  We were taught to ask permission to use the bathroom, but there was no one around to ask at the time we were on the range.  Recruit Findley couldn’t hold it anymore.  His pants were all wet.  But anyway, when qualification day came, everyone shot well.  The following week we went to water survival class.  Our instructor made us jump in a pool and swim with fifty-pound packs on our backs.  It wasn’t as hard as it sounds.  I caught a cramp in my right calf muscle, but I still qualified.  “Only one more phase to go until graduation” was all I kept thinking.

	In the third phase we went through Basic Warrior Training (B.W.T). We were taught how to set up an ambush, take over a building, and feel for trip wires, booby traps, and mines.  This was very rigorous, but I’ll never forget the trouble I had trying to rappel off of a fifty-foot wall. I was so afraid I was going to fall, but I made it.  With only one week to go until graduation, everyone was anxious.  Strangely, I found myself reluctant to leave Parris Island, for I had become so accustomed to having someone tell me what to do and how to do it.  However, thirteen weeks was long enough.  We practiced the graduation ceremony, two days straight, all day long.  There were going to be a lot of parents there, so we had to be perfect.  We gave the crowd a demonstration of the rifle movements and marching drills we had learned during boot camp.  It was quite an extraordinary ceremony.

	After it was over, my parents drove me home, but as we left the island, I felt a chill from the guard standing at the gate.  I’m not sure whether it was his size or whether it was the Smokey hat.  All I know is I’ll never forget my experience at Parris Island.  OOH-RAH!

									–Fred Bryant

Fox in the Night
	
	I was thirteen when we visited Tennessee in mid August of 2004.  Nearly all my family on my mother’s side went.  The drive was long, especially when sharing a back seat with a nine-year-old, who had to make a pit stop every thirty minutes.  Driving up into the mountains was a little frightening, and quite an adventure.  My Uncle Devery was driving his white Denali over a pitch-black road at ten o’clock at night.  It felt as if we were flying around the hairpin turns with a wall of trees on one side and a ten-foot drop on the other.  We climbed higher and higher.  Fortunately, though the ride was terrifying, it was well-worth the comfortable cabin beds rather than some hard mattress in a hotel.  As we pulled into the drive that night, it was hard to see much of the cabin, but when morning came, we saw how beautiful it was.  It was two and a half stories consisting of a basement, main floor, and a half upstairs.  My fondest memories were made when we were all together in the cabin.  We had the best of times sitting in the main floor living room, eating around the kitchen table, and hanging out in the room where my two brothers and cousin slept.

	The outside of the cabin had an old log façade and steps that led up into a wrap-around porch.  The large front door opened up to a huge beautiful foyer.  Directly in front was a staircase leading to the upstairs from one side and to the basement from another, and around the staircase was the main floor living room.  The first time I walked into it, I was startled by the six-foot antlers hanging over the massive brick fireplace.  I can still see Uncle Dick sitting in the armchair under the grizzly bear rug hanging on the wall.   The smell of wood polish and fresh pine filled my nostrils as I sat at his feet listening to him exchange stories with Grandpa about hunting and fishing and growing up on the farm.  The fact that they had to drive nearly an hour to the nearest town amazed me.

	Off to the left of the living room was the kitchen.  It was a perfect size for my enormous family.  The table was at least ten feet long and still didn’t run the length of the kitchen.  I remember waking up in the mornings to the aroma of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and Great-Aunt Barb’s famous cinnamon buns, smothered in icing that seemed to evanesce as soon as they were cool enough to eat.  The tantalizing smells filled the entire cabin, and since everyone always seemed to wake up at the same time, it was a race to the kitchen to be first in line.  In fact, if we didn’t wake up to the savory smells or the rustling sounds of others rising, we had no guarantee of getting breakfast:  more than once, the sleepy-headed boys found themselves eating cold cereal.  The milk, apple juice, and orange juice were passed around as we ate and discussed the day’s game plan.  Most days there were family members going in all different directions, but we always met back at the cabin for dinner.  Dinner preparation time was so much fun.  Just imagine eight people all trying to fix a different dish, and at least a half a dozen children running around trying to get a taste of whatever they could.  I would have loved to fix the salad, but everyone found out the first night that it was not a good job for me—I put more into my stomach than into the bowl.

	After dinner was my favorite time.  I spent the majority of my evenings down in the basement living room where my older and younger brothers, Landon and Aaron, and my little cousin Dylan slept.  Countless hours were lost in front of the 43” flat-screen TV playing the X-box or watching shows of painful and sometimes deadly accidents.  Around midnight, Landon (who was 15 at the time) would begin telling stories so scary that afterwards I always dreaded the endless walk up the two flights of stairs to my own safe bed.  Often during his story, a lone fox would howl in the night, and many times it seemed as if the sound had been planned, as it was timed perfectly with the tale.  

	From time to time, I think about the cabin and all the fun my family had, and I wish that I could go back.  Although we will not likely return, I keep the memories close to my heart:  memories of sitting on the living room floor, hearing the crackling of the fire while the adults talked, of eating the warm cinnamon buns in the early morning, of listening to scary stories in the dark night so that my brothers wouldn’t think I was a wimp.  Memories can be made in a million different ways, some good and some bad; but the best memories are made when family and loved ones are close by.

						--Amy Splitter

		

The Breakup

	I stared intently at the large, inanimate object far in front of me.  As I lifted myself onto my toes, I went through the motions for the hundredth time in my head.  Sprinting down the runway, I was oblivious to everything except the blue springboard dead in front of me.  My knees rose as my arms circled, reaching for the vault.  My hands left the surface almost as soon as they had hit it, and my arms fell to the right, propelling my body into a tight spinning motion.  I landed right on the edge of the mat, promptly causing my right ankle to roll off the edge and emit a sickening cracking noise.  Clutching my ankle, I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling of the Champion Athletic Center.  I was fighting a losing battle with my tear ducts as my coach Amy ran for ice.  It was December 16th, 2007, my eleventh year of doing gymnastics.  I had always had a love-hate relationship with this popular yet incredibly dangerous activity, but until now, love had conquered.  The three fruits of gymnastics are apparent:  reward, glory, and scarring.

	Skilled gymnasts are amazing.  They can make their bodies do things that nature undoubtedly never intended.  They are a baffling mixture of rock and noodle:  strong and immovable, yet flexible and fluid.  They have calves the size of softballs, rough, calloused hands, and more abs than most men.  Yet while their biceps bulge underneath their shirts, they prance prettily down the hall.  On one hand, gymnasts reap the ultimate physical reward:  strength and flexibility.  However, the other hand, later discussed, is not nearly as pretty.

	Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson are names recognized around the United States, perhaps even around the world.  The all-around gold medalist and the balance beam gold medalist, respectively, are girls who have devoted their lives to gymnastics.  Now, what they have undoubtedly been dreaming about for years is finally theirs.  Yet these two are just that:  two.  Out of the tens of thousands of gymnasts in this country, only six make the Olympic team.  Devoting your life to something that has an incredibly miniscule chance of bringing you glory seems more than slightly ludicrous, if glory is the main thing you’re after.  The Olympics, however, are not the only source of glory.  There are the World Championships (in which, interestingly, only U. S. gymnasts compete), Nationals, State Meets, and even just having your friends come watch you.  If this is the kind of glory you’re after, you’ll be happy in the sport of gymnastics.

	Gymnasts are beautiful:  their sparkly, bobby-pinned hair, their exciting floor music, their smooth, fluid movements.  Yet there is a terrifying side of gymnastics, hidden behind the sweet smiles and colorful leotards.  Broken arms, fractured ankles, bruised ribs are all common.  If a wrist pops, it is wrapped tightly with tape, and its owner continues her workout.  My coach would tell stories of injuries, such as a beam trick gone wrong and teeth completely piercing the bottom lip.  Once, she told us a story of her competition days, at a state meet.  As she was dismounting her bar routine with a double back, she severely over-rotated and stuck her arms out in an attempt to break her fall.  The only thing she succeeded in, however, was hyper-extending both her elbows.  Yet she continued to compete with two arms that wouldn’t fully straighten and ended up winning the meet.

	“I wonder,” she reminisced, “if I was that good, or if everyone else was just that bad?  The judges probably scored me higher out of pity.”  At this, we all laughed, although this story is truly heartbreaking.  Imagine the physical handicaps that this could have caused her, though thankfully did not.  Her coach and her parents sat back and watched, choosing a gymnastics meet over the gymnast’s well-being.  Here lies the problem of gymnastics:  the sport itself becomes more important than anything, including the athlete.  

	In March of 2008, it seemed as if I was always at the gym.  In reality, it was only about twelve hours a week, but compared to what I had been doing, twelve was a lot.  My hands constantly had large, painful blisters, and my ankles cringed with pain at any pressure.  Yet I continued, ignoring the pain.  It felt good to sometimes just let the tears flow after a hard practice.  Then April came, my state meet with it, which I knew was going to be my last.  I looked forward to this meet, knowing how hard I had worked, hoping I could leave gymnastics triumphant and satisfied.  It was a huge disappointment.  I fell on the bars and even the beam, my strongest event.  I knew that I would have to put gymnastics behind me then, as with other things of the past.  Granted, it is still one of my passions—gymnastics is one of my favorite sports to watch.  Someday I’ll go back to that gym to see old coaches and teammates, but I’ll do no more than casually play on the equipment.  Gymnastics and I could be looked upon as two old lovers:  the feelings are still there, as they always will be, but neither will ever, ever go back.

						--Teresa Coulter

				

Rebirth of the New Year

	Schools close in Vietnam.  Stores close in Japan.  Restaurants close in China.  Everything closes for the biggest celebration of the year:  the celebration that brings everyone together, lasts for three days, and delivers good feelings to Asian families all around the globe.  It is the Lunar New Year—also known as the Chinese New Year—that everyone looks forward to.  This festive event sets off a flood of traditions, entertainment, and family gatherings.

	The traditions are the basis of the Lunar New Year.  Weeks before the awaited celebration, people decorate their homes lavishly.  They start by placing fruits (such as apples, bananas, grapes, and oranges), a palatable meal, a bowl of rice, a cup of tea, and incense on their ancestors’ altar.  Covering the altar is a sheet of scarlet red cloth, and on top of the cloth are two lights with a red bulb and a gold stick, which look like electrical candles.  To top it off, the altar has pictures of the family’s ancestors.  In the middle of the dining room are treats for guests. They include powdered dry strips of coconut in various colors, dried watermelon seeds, peanut brittle, and durian fruit candy.  What the guests do not eat, the family consumes on New Year’s.

	Right before the celebration, little red envelopes are bought in the Asian marketplace.  Money is placed inside the envelopes and given to children as a gesture of good luck.  Sometimes adults will get them too if their elders are generous enough to hand them out.  But before taking the envelope, one must verbally wish the giver luck and prosperity for the coming year.

	People aren’t the only ones receiving envelopes.  Dragons are also recipients.  They use the envelopes as food; at least that is what the folktale says.  It is also traditional to have a performance of the Dragon Dance every year.  In Orlando, the dance is held on the strip where most of the Vietnamese stores are located.  In front of each store hangs a red envelope.  It is believed that when the dragon comes to the store and eats the envelope, luck is given to the business throughout the year.  Of course, people portray the creature by wearing a hand-made dragon costume of red, green, blue, yellow, orange, and white.  Tiny beads and pieces of animal fur are sewn onto the back of the elaborate design.  The Dragon Dance is also performed as the initiation of this holiday.  

	For modern Asian Americans, entertainment is a key element for enjoying the Lunar New Year, and traditional dances are one of the most admired amusements.  Dressed in cultural attire and accompanied by beautiful folk music, the men and women dance with colorful fans, traditional umbrellas, delicate leaf hats, and fanciful scarves.  These dances require great elegance, charm, and grace that mesmerize the audience.  Other entertainment includes live music, sporting games, and carnival booths.  

	In addition, plays are performed to enact history, folk tales, and modern times.  One such play involves the three kitchen gods.  These gods are believed to have control over the luck and prosperity of the house’s owners.  In the skit, because the owners have been so preoccupied with their business, they do not bring the customary new clothes to the gods.  The gods become angry and tamper with the business so much that the owners lose all of their customers.  Realizing their neglect, the owners present the gods with royal attire fit for kings and queens and glistening shoes made of silk; thus, there is a happy ending.   

	The best part of the Lunar New Year is the family gathering.  It brings the largest reunion and the most festive of holidays.  Each family member brings a unique dish, red envelopes, and crisp dollar bills.  At dinner, everyone forgets about dieting and feasts on roast duck.  The aroma is so sweet and delicious.  On the outside, the skin is a crispy, shiny red, and on the inside, the meat is tender and juicy.  Once a little soy sauce is added, the taste buds will sing with delight.  After dinner, the children are anxious to say their good wishes and get money for their piggy banks.  The adults are ready to get some money too.  A deck of cards is brought out, and everyone plays games such as Black Jack and an Asian version of Spades.  The games can go on until dawn.

	Overall, the Lunar New Year is one of the most anticipated events for Asians.  Everyone prepares for weeks in advance and enjoys the traditions, entertainment, and gatherings.  Next time, join in the fun and have a prosperous new year!  
									--Thao T. Tran

Creme Brulee at Dawn

	“I know what it means to miss New Orleans,” crooned jazz legend Louis Armstrong, and I agree wholeheartedly.  As a recent transplant from the Big Easy, I find myself reminiscing often of its world-renowned music and culinary venues.  Without a doubt, New Orleans has a flavor all its own.  Sucking crawfish in a supper club while a phenomenal jazz band raises the roof is definitely something I miss.  Having eaten at every mom-and-pop, hole-in-the-wall, seedy juke joint in the French Quarter, I was elated when I learned that I would be celebrating my twenty-first birthday at Commander’s Palace, the crown jewel of the New Orleans culinary scene.  Actually, turning twenty-one didn’t have that much of an impact in regards to being legal; I lived in a city where the drinking age was eighteen, and there is no such thing as Last Call.  The bars are always open.  No, the dinner party was more revelatory because I believe afterwards I began to behave more like an adult.  It was a pivotal moment, a coming-of-age experience when I left adolescence behind.

	When my best friend Melissa called to wish me a Happy Birthday and to inform me that my party wasn’t going to be celebrated over a keg in someone’s back courtyard but at Commander’s Palace, I was ecstatic.  Dinner at the finest restaurant in town with my friends Melissa, Kerry, Michael, Kelly and Robin promised to be a sophisticated affair.  

	My motley crew arrived fashionably late.  Presuming they were rushed, I immediately corralled them back into Melissa’s Volkswagon Beetle, no easy feat considering we all had to navigate over the rusted-out hole in the floorboard.  The traffic was horrendous.  We inched our way towards the Garden District, where the restaurant was located.  I was a little embarrassed to be driving in the most exclusive neighborhood in New Orleans in a beat-up rattletrap as my friends honked and waved at the upper echelon of society.  However, my facial expression wasn’t nearly so distinct as the valet’s grimace as we backfired up the driveway to the restaurant.  I still remember the dismayed look on his face as he opened the door of the Bug to let all six of us out.  We looked like the Clampetts comin’ fer some viddles.  I don’t think that Melissa’s tipping him a dollar helped matters much.  There we were, staring in awe at this imposing structure with its intimidating, white-gloved sentinels standing at attention ready to open the doors for US!

	As we entered the establishment, I suddenly felt my excitement turn to stark horror.  We were stared down by a hooked-nosed harpy gaping at us from the reservation podium like a vulture eyes road kill.  “And the name was. . .?” she asked snidely.  I managed to stammer out my name and felt the nervousness intensify as she slowly turned her beak down at the Book of Life.  After reading for a couple of days, she cloyingly announced that she didn’t have a “Michael May” listed.  My eyes darted furiously at Melissa as I was overcome with angst.  “Oh, here you are–at 8:00,” the shrew laughed.  Ms. Crabtree escorted us to our table and informed us that Armando, Etienne, and John were at our service.  “Bon appetit,” she hissed as she flew back to her perch to give the new arrivals an equally warm reception.
                                                                 
	Armando introduced himself and inquired if we would like a drink to start.  “Hell, yeah,” Melissa screamed enthusiastically, followed by “It’s Michael’s birthday!”  I cringed as she pointed her Lee Press-on Nail my way.  Armando then popped the cork of the Moet White Star champagne, making all of us salivate uncontrollably.  My friend Kerry raised a toast to me, and I felt genuine adoration.  Then the spectacle began.                                                   

	Etienne came over to take the order and, of course, started with the guest of honor.  Since I hadn’t really perused the menu, I hurriedly ordered the most expensive things.  When the appetizers came, I was wary of what was put before me.  It looked like a big brown piece of gelatinous flesh.  I poked the thing with my fork and watched fat ooze out.  Then I cut a piece of the meat and delicately put it in my mouth.  Then I indelicately spat it into my linen napkin and disposed of it on the floor.  Etienne asked how I enjoyed the goose liver.  “Delicious,” I lied.  Next we were served martini glasses filled with scoops of what appeared to be yellow Slurpee.  Melissa informed our server that we hadn’t ordered our dessert yet.  “Oh, non, non,” replied Etienne, “ziss is zee lemon sorbet to cleanse zee palate.” 

	Armando then presented the main course.  I thanked God that my veal didn’t look anything like the foie gras–though that would prove to be the least of my worries.  The wine finally took its toll, for Kerry and Michael began a silly argument.  The latter suddenly stood up, announced to the dining room he was leaving, and then did an about-face, falling into the table behind us.  The Asian family seemed a little perplexed, but the best part was watching Michael attempt to fumble an apology to the father as he sat in his lap.  The commotion attracted the harpy, who swooped over to threaten us with expulsion unless we settled down.  We drunkenly apologized and quieted down until she was out of earshot.  Dessert was a little more uneventful since we were all too liquored up to finish it.  So with a mountain of doggie bags piled on the table, Melissa asked for the check.  I tried to prop myself up as she grandly pulled out her American Express card and handed it to Armando.  The intoxication lifted when Armando came back to inform her that her card had been declined.  I was mortified as I choked on the unpaid-for champagne.  When I looked around the table at my friends as they stared at the floor, I begrudgingly pulled out my Visa.  “Happy Birthday,” Armando wished as he mockingly handed me my voucher to sign.  “Yeah, Happy Birthday to me,” I muttered as I signed the check.

	My friends promised to make it up to me at the bar.  We walked into OZ nightclub and were inundated by pounding music, blinding laser lights, and every drunken bar fly in town.  I numbed myself with cocktails until I felt my six hundred dollars’ worth of gourmet food attempt to re-emerge.  I stumbled to the bathroom and hugged the toilet.  As I bowed my head over the bowl, a stranger pinned me down and pulled my wallet out of my pocket.  It was time to call it a night.

	After bidding my friends adieu, I trudged home to console myself with the evening’s leftovers.  As I spooned out the last of the creme brulee and watched the sun rise, I suddenly realized the impermanence of time.  Adolescence was over.  I needed to put away childish things.  

			                                                       –Michael May

					

                                               

Uerukamu (Welcome)

	In today’s day and age, people are no longer satisfied with going to the Grand Canyon for their vacation.  Most people cringe at the thought of going to Mt. Yawns-More.  Where is all the excitement?  Where are the exotic locations with modern-day conveniences?  If the masses want “full bang for their buck,” they should set their sights on Tokyo, Japan.  It has come a long way from the wreckage of post-World War II into a stunning metropolis that rivals its Western counterparts.  Tokyo offers a place where travelers can enjoy unique fashion, traditional activities, and delicious food.  Truly, Tokyo is a delight for the senses as well as the mind.

	To begin, Tokyo offers a place to enjoy unique fashion.  For vacationers with a taste for the bizarre, the Shinjuku district offers exotic “eye candy.”  Teenagers and young adults dress in a fashion known as Dead Gothic Lolita.  This style takes clothes usually reserved for children (frilly dresses, bonnets, and school-girl outfits) and combines them with the overuse of black from the goth style.  Practioners of this style put on tons of white makeup and, with the clever use of black eyeliner, appear to be dead.  Other styles unique to Shinjuku are cyber style (futuristic clothing a la Jetsons), baby doll (little girls’ dresses and toys to appear as young as possible), and J-rock (boys wearing as much makeup as possible to appear super feminine).  For vacationers with less extreme taste, there are vintage kimono shops.  Kimonos are traditional silk or satin robes of various colors and elaborate designs.  The vintage shops sell old robes in prime condition without the expense of new kimonos, allowing visitors to take home a unique Japanese souvenir.  

	In addition, Tokyo offers traditional Japanese activities.  For example, during the spring, Japan’s national tree, the Sakura, sprouts its flowers for all the world to see.   The Japanese picnic under these trees, watching the whitish-pinkish blossoms gently fall.  Vacationers can also enjoy a tradition going back to the Samurai era and feel as though they are a part of the past.  First, vacationers must pick a tree ahead of time (competition is fierce), next plop themselves underneath, and finally drink sake (Japanese rice wine) as the flowers begin to fall.  Traditional teahouses are also available in Tokyo.  What makes these so wonderful is that some employ geishas to entertain the visitors.  Geishas are the protectors of Japanese tradition.  They train to master in dance, song, and samisen (a type of 3-stringed guitar).  To see a geisha perform a dance that emperors have seen is truly a rich experience.  Geisha dance moves include graceful hand gestures, posturing, and head movements to suggest ancient stories of love.  All of these traditional activities help vacationers feel as though they are a part of the Japanese culture.

	Lastly, Tokyo offers a place where vacationers can enjoy delicious food.  Everyone has probably heard of sushi before, and where else to get the best sushi than Japan?  Cuts of rich tuna imported right from New Zealand can be found in the sushi bars.  Vacationers wanting to try something different from the usual California rolls (rice, avocado, and crabmeat wrapped in nori) can try the eel sushi; far from being disgusting, eel meat is very sweet, almost to the point of seeming like candy.  Those wanting to skip the sushi experience can dive into Japanese snacks.  By far, the most addictive is Pocky.  Pocky is a thin biscuit stick dipped in anything from chocolate to strawberry to green tea.  It is sometimes called Asian crack, and few can resist the sweet treat.  To quench the thirst, vacationers can drink Ramune.   This beverage is just fruit-flavored soda, but its uniquely shaped bottle allows the fizz to shoot straight up in the air.  All one has to do is press down on the marble that serves to cover the bottle’s opening, and a fountain of fizz shoots straight up into someone’s face.  If vacationers don’t fall in love with the sights of Japan, they will love its food and drink.

	In conclusion, Tokyo, Japan, offers a place where people can enjoy unique fashion, traditional activities, and delicious food.  Vacationers will have a truly enriching experience worth a thousand lifetimes.  

									--Christina Coll

Heart

	About six months ago, my grandmother died.  A mixture of a severe allergic reaction to Lamisil (medication for a fungal infection that was supposed to be harmless), dementia, Alzheimer’s, and negligent nursing home care took away my grandma three days before her seventy-third birthday.  I avoided my family in the days following and sought refuge in my friends.  It’s ironic how the worst of times can bring out the best in people.  These worst of times for me showed me that not all friends are created equal.

	It was the night after my grandma’s death.  It was sometime after two o’clock in the morning, and for me, the world was ending.  I was curled up in my bed in a frumpy oversized sweater, clutching Viggo, my favorite stuffed doggie.  I was the epitome of teenaged misery, with my hair stringy and my body wracked to exhaustion from sobbing.  Every time I looked at my father’s grief-lined face, I only hurt more, so I had been locked in my room all day, away from family, away from memories.  My thoughts drifted to the toughest, strongest person I knew, and my fingers dialed the number.  I pictured Shane in my head:  baggy jeans, a wife-beater that showed off his toned biceps, and the word “king” inked across his knuckles in a shade of unsteady green.  

	Shane picked up the phone, and his voice brought to mind the sound of water crashing down on rocks.  “What’s up, girlie?” he distractedly drawled (Shane never called me by name, just girlie).  “I need someone to talk to,” I sniffed.  “My gramma just died.”  A pause.  “That blows.”  I blinked.  Maybe he didn’t get it.  “I just don’t know what to do and--“  I didn’t get to finish my sentence.  “Yeah, well, I don’t like talkin’ on the phone, so I’ll hit ya up later, chica.”  As I heard the crisp click of the line going dead, my cell phone slipped out of my hand before the hollow drone of an empty dial tone could start.  Alone again in my grief, I buried my face back into Viggo’s damp fur. 

	Feeling like the walking dead, I trudged through my unbearably long shift the next day at work.  I completed my tasks in silence (bagging orders, filling drinks, filling buckets of ice for the front line), and my fellow Chick-Fil-A workers could only offer sympathetic smiles.  I found Mikey, my favorite manager (he always had a joke to crack) standing in the hall near the back of the store.  Normally, I would have been excited to see him (he was also one of my best friends outside of work), but today I couldn’t even muster a smile.  Before I could even ask him how many vats of lemonade needed to be mixed, he opened his arms and pulled me into a hug I was pretending I didn’t want.  As he cradled me in his arms (something tough-guy Shane wouldn’t dream of), I finally felt some semblance of peace.  I buried my head in his baby-blue shirt, savoring the familiar aromas of fried chicken and Hollister cologne.

	As the hug ended, he didn’t let go of me all at once.  His soft white hands (no “king” tattoo here) moved to firmly cup my face.  “Stacie, it’s gonna be okay.”  His voice was like a brook trickling on its merry way to nowhere: soothing and gentle and everything that Shane’s was not.  I managed my first smile in days and nodded.  Mikey cracked one of his signature grins.  “Now, about that lemonade.…”   I rolled my eyes as he went on, “Yes, I’m a psychic.  Moving on…--” he turned and began walking farther back into the restaurant and I followed, each step taking me closer to a place called peace.

	I don’t hold it against Shane for refusing to comfort me that night.  I was trying to make him into someone he will never be.  I was trying to mold his strength and his bad-boy style into a white knight of sorts.  Shane is a friend: but he is far from the friend that I can call up at 2 AM bawling. Mikey, however, is the type of friend who can see my hurt before I can say it, who anticipates my needs and is more than ready to confront them with a big bear hug.  Granted, he would probably get his butt handed to him in a fight with someone like Shane, but I don’t care.  Mikey is the kind of friend who is still going to be at my side at the end of the day.  And that’s important in life:  having friends whom you can count on, who will still be there.  

					--Stacie Snipes

				

My Secret Garden

	The Secret Garden, a classic novel by Frances Burnett, tells of one little girl’s discovery of a key that eventually leads her to uncover a hidden garden.  The child, Mary Lennox, opens the gate to the hideaway and, in turn, unlocks her past as well.  The story goes on to show that through nurturing the garden, she learns things about herself that she never knew.  Like Mary, I, too, had a secret garden as a child.  However, whereas Mary’s was tucked away in the English countryside, my garden was located, surprisingly, in Brooklyn, New York.

	As an adolescent, I made a weekly visit to my grandmother’s house.  Ever since I could remember, Saturdays in the summer time were looked upon with great anticipation because I would venture over the Brooklyn Bridge to see my Grandma Loretta in Bensonhurst.  I can still recall in picturesque memory pulling up to her house after the car ride from Staten Island.  Grandma’s home looked no different from the other red brick and concrete structures that lined her block.  All along Eighty-First Street, neighborhood kids played hopscotch, doodled with sidewalk chalk, and chatted on the stoops of their residences.  The July humidity made the air thick and sticky, and although I looked forward to Grandma’s hug, I looked even more forward to a glass of her cold lemonade.  Since she didn’t like guests entering through her front door because she felt it was too formal, Grandma Loretta requested that I use the back door.  I skipped past the side of the building, and there it was, hidden from the noise and commotion of the busy street.  Upon my arrival, Grandma’s garden greeted me even before she did: the gold and violet pansies, the chrysanthemums, the sprays of deep pink daisies, the clusters of cream-white geraniums.  It seemed like each week the colors became more vibrant and the flowers grew to be more beautiful.  My grandmother’s garden was more than just a collection of eye-pleasing perennials, however.  Not only did it provide a backdrop for bonding with my Grandma Loretta, but the garden also contained memories from my family’s past and a place for me to grow.

	Some of the best times of my life took place with my grandmother in her back yard.  Even in her seventies she was spirited and very energetic.  I recall dancing barefoot with her in the dewy garden grass to old big band era records, giggling with delight.  Amongst the bellflowers and the black-eyed Susans, she and I would share picnics in the warmth of the sun.  Though our conversations may have been interrupted by the jingle of the passing ice cream truck, we would retreat back to her garden, vanilla cones in hand, to continue our bonding.  At night Grandma Loretta and I would catch twinkling fireflies in our hands and release them into the starry sky.  I will remember and cherish those times forever.
	My grandmother’s garden could also tell the history of my family’s past.  Grandma lived in that same house for over forty years.  There she raised my mother, aunt, and uncle, lost her husband, and gained many grandchildren.  Although my grandfather died before I was born, the fig tree that he planted in the corner of the garden provided me with shade on many hazy summer days.  The rose bush that my mother planted as a teenager seemed to blush a deeper shade of mauve as I viewed it with admiration.  My great-grandmother from Italy prided herself on her famous red sauce, which she made from scratch using tomatoes and basil that she grew in her own back yard.  To honor this tradition, my grandmother also grew her own tomato and basil plants in her garden.

	The time that I spent in Grandma’s garden as a girl has made me into the woman that I have blossomed into today.  I have a great appreciation for nature and the simple pleasures in life.  I also recognize the importance of family tradition and the value of relationships.  I hope someday in the distant future to own a home where I can plant a garden for my grandchildren to play in as I once did.

	These days, visits to see my grandmother are much different.  Four years ago Grandma finally sold her house and decided to move to Florida to be closer to her family.  A serious heart attack greatly changed the condition of her life.  The array of bright floral colors is now replaced by muted pastel walls, and the fragrance of fresh flowers no longer wafts through the air.  Instead, the stale smell of the nursing home has taken its place.  When I go to see her, I bring Grandma flowers to remind her of the times that we spent outdoors in Brooklyn.  Looking back I realize that my grandmother’s inner beauty far outshone the brilliant colors of the assorted flower petals that graced her garden.

–Ashleigh Rodasta

To Gossip or Not to Gossip

	People do it all the time.  They do it at home and at work.  They do it with friends and strangers.  They do it over lunch, on the phone, and through the Internet.  They do it in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening.  They do it without knowing they do it.  However, very few people will ever admit they do it, and most will argue that it’s a very bad thing to do.  This activity that we engage in almost every day of our lives is gossip.  Gossip is a form of human interaction that has both positive and negative aspects.

	Understanding what constitutes gossip requires recognizing what it is not.  Gossip is not news, though many newspapers and TV news shows include segments devoted to celebrity gossip.  A report on the devastation of Hurricane Katrina would be considered news.  A report on Brad and Jen or Brad and Angelina would be considered gossip.  Similarly, gossip does not include all human conversation between individuals.  A husband and wife discussing their finances, for example, would not be considered gossip.  A husband and wife discussing a friend’s finances, on the other hand, might be.  Gossip is not limited to spoken language.  It can be written as well, as can be seen in the frequent ‘gossip columns’ found in most newspapers.  Nor is gossip only rumors.  Facts can be just as much a part of gossip (The Mysteries of Gossip). 

	Most definitions claim that there are two essential characteristics necessary for human conversation to be considered gossip:  the communication must be intimate and trivial (The Mysteries of Gossip).  The need for intimacy likely dates back to the original meaning of the word.  The word “gossip” comes from the word “god-sib, the godparent of one’s child or parent of one’s godchildren” (“Gossip”).  While today we can find gossip occurring even among strangers sitting on a bus, there is still an intimacy about it.  The subject of the conversation is usually something personal about another person, like someone getting pregnant, divorced, or sick.  While none of these matters are insignificant to the persons involved, they are certainly not the business of the people talking about them.  The subjects are trivial because they have no impact on the lives of the gossipers. 
 
	The reasons why people are so interested in matters that don’t concern them have been a subject of great interest to psychologists.  According to Nigel Nicholson, “gossip is more than just idle chitchat; it’s also how we arrange our world as social animals.”  He goes on to explain that

As social animals we are status-conscious, and for good reason.  Navigating the social pathways of the tribe requires a good understanding of its complexity…. [Among] humans, as in other primate species, being of high rank confers an array of benefits:  health, wealth, and happiness.  (Nicholson)

Through gossip, we can learn what is important in our society, and we can adjust our “ideas and fashions” to provide us with what we need to be happy (Nicholson).

	Others find that gossip can help us even further.  It can help establish moral boundaries for a society, create a feeling of community among participants, and “build structures of social accountability” (“Gossip”).  From a practical and political standpoint, gossip can provide entertainment, as well as revealing “unvarnished and spontaneous public opinion, of interest to marketers, to opinion polls, and to secret policemen” (“Gossip”).  An early American use of the word “gossip” comes from a story about how politicians sent their assistants to “go sip” with people in bars in order to learn about public opinions (“Gossip”).

	More often than not, however, gossip is viewed as a negative force in human society.  Nicholson points out that while “gossip can strengthen the bonds within a community, sometimes it becomes a covert contest between winners and losers.”  Malicious rumors can do more than hurt someone’s reputation.  They can destroy careers and relationships.  They can even destroy lives.  I saw evidence of this firsthand when I was in high school.  Someone started a rumor that a super-religious girl named Gilly had had an abortion.  Shortly afterward, Gilly stopped coming to school.  The rumor then became that Gilly had tried to commit suicide because of her humiliation.  To this day, I don’t know if any of it was true.  I do know that Gilly was not among the seniors who graduated with us.

	I wish I could say that I learned my lesson about the dangers of gossip in high school. I have to admit that I still enjoy having a good gossip with my friends.  I’m not alone.  Everyone gossips—both men and women.  Statistics show that “gossip accounts for 55% of men’s conversation time, and 67% of women’s” (The Mysteries of Gossip).  The difference between the genders is not whether they gossip.  It’s what they gossip about.  According to Nicholson, “men are much more interested in who is up and who is down (hence sports-page obsession, as befits their predilection for competitive game-playing.  Women tend to gossip more about social inclusion and moral alignment—who’s in and who’s out.”  The old clichés about locker-room talk and beauty-parlor chat turn out to be true.  

	Perhaps the most important source of gossip’s appeal is the storytelling.  Human beings from childhood to old age love telling and hearing stories especially when the stories are about people we know.  While we will never get rid of this impulse in human nature, we should perhaps be more careful about the stories we choose to share, and the audience we choose to share them with.  

							By Melora Brannon

	

	

Works Cited

“Gossip.”  Answers.com. 11 Nov. 2005 http://www.answers.com/topic/gossip.

The Mysteries of Gossip.  22 Nov. 2005 

	http://iml.jou.ufl.edu/projects/Fall04/Fernandez/index.html.
Nicholson, Nigel.  “The New Word on Gossip:  Role of Gossip in Evolutionary 
	Psychology.”  Psychology Today May 2001:  n. pag.  Findarticles.com. 
	11 Nov. 2005
	http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1175/is_3_+34/ai/7353749.

												

Smokers

	A few weeks ago The Orlando Sentinel printed an article in which several doctors stated that smoking was an addiction as strong as heroin.  As a “recovering” smoker myself, I could only respond with a loud “NO KIDDING!”  One thing the doctors did not seem to realize, however, was that quitting is easier for some people than for others.  In my experience I have found three types of cigarette addicts: the Ultra Light Addict, the Regular Addict, and the Unfiltered Addict.

	My Aunt Lina is a prime example of the first type of addict, the Ultra Light.  (Her brand of choice is Virginia Slims Ultra Light.)  People who visit Aunt Lina’s house might never know she smokes.  The only clues are the clean, shiny crystal ashtrays carefully placed around her home.  Even though it’s her home, she always asks permission of a visitor before lighting up.  When she does smoke around a nonsmoker, she holds the cigarette well away from her companion and blows the smoke behind her.  Aunt Lina smokes like Barbara Stanwyck used to smoke in old movies: elegantly, daintily, thoughtfully.  Sometimes I wonder, though.  I mean, I just know that as soon as her visitor leaves, Aunt Lina hauls out a huge plastic ashtray from beneath the kitchen sink and starts puffing away, one cigarette after the other, stopping only to spray Lysol to disguise the smell.

	The second type of addict–the Regular–doesn’t bother with Lysol (although he will lower a car window if asked).  I know this because my father is a Regular.  His brand of choice is Marlboro, but he’ll make do with Winstons if necessary–just so long as they’re not menthol.  Dad is not a heavy smoker.  He’s just kind of medium, a pack to a pack and a half a day.  He’s perfectly willing to work in his now smoke-free office as long as he can zip down to the break room every two hours.  The only time Dad’s smoking gets out of hand is when he’s under a lot of stress. For example, when my mother had to have emergency surgery last year, Dad spent the entire three hours pacing outside the hospital chain-smoking.  He didn’t seem to understand the irony.

	The way my dad smokes under stress is the norm for the third type of smoking addict–the Unfiltered.  My grandfather was this type.  Believe it or not, the man smoked unfiltered Camels–two to three packs a day.  He always had a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, and he was always squinting from the smoke.  He had a cough that rumbled like thunder and a car that smelled like an ashtray.  Sometimes I thought the cigarette was an eleventh finger for him.  Unfortunately, it was a finger that (like a trigger finger) ended up killing him.

	I think it was watching my grandfather in his hospital room, gasping for enough breath to ask for a cigarette, that motivated me to overcome my own addiction.  It hasn’t been easy.  Even now, writing this paper, I’m itching for a cigarette.  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about all the different types of addicts, it’s that they all have one thing in common.  All of them could eventually end up the same type: dead.

									–Sarah Bailey

Fishy Fragrances, Shiny Sequins, and Tasteful Treats

	As stated in the popular television show, The Wonder Years, “Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.”  The scent, the sight, even the taste of a particular place can trigger memories imprisoned in the back of the mind.  After regular visits to the Florida Keys, my family and I finally decided to make it our permanent residence.  Although I was only five years old when I moved there, and stayed only a brief time, the Keys unleash pleasant memories from my past.

	Everyone has a unique smell, from fragrant perfume to the stench of body odor.  Like a person, the Keys give off a familiar scent.  While cruising down US-1 on my annual visit there, I inhale the increasing saltiness of the air, an indicator that I’m back.  The local fish market, E-Fish, with its popular slogan, “If you don’t smell like fish, you ain’t makin’ no money,” reeks of fish that remind me of days spent trolling with my dad.  To the left of the E-Fish is the little Sugarloaf Key marina.  The unnatural stench of gasoline in the air determines how the fishing has been.  On a good day the strong smell of fuel can be detected from a mile away.

	Memory of a place can be jogged not only by the scent but also by sight.  The smallest things remind me of my childhood years, such as the vision of the Key West Montessori School.  The old wooden swing set in the playground takes me back to days spent with my friends searching desperately for the shiny specks of silver and gold sequins burrowed in the sand to contribute to our vast collection of treasures.  Located in the heart of Key West, on Duval Street, is my favorite store, Fast Buck Freddie’s, but it wasn’t always a favorite.  The first time I walked in the crazy commodity of a store, I almost dropped dead at the sight of a squirming rat caught in a trap.  As it flopped around frantically on the ground, I winced.  It took me some time to realize the rodent wasn’t real.  To this day, the phony critter remains in the exact corner of the store as it did twelve years ago.  I can’t help but smile every time I see it flop.

	While revisiting the Keys, familiar tastes also contribute to this “blast from the past.”  Home to my all-time favorite dish is Origami, a most amazing sushi restaurant.  Its special, the Key West roll, is a concoction of cooked grouper with avocado, cream cheese, asparagus, and rice rolled together in seaweed that will rob one’s wallet and then leave one begging for more.  Another familiar flavor of the 
Keys is, without a doubt, coconuts.  I would search daily for these giant fallen bowling balls and giddily bring them home for my dad to thwack open with his machete.  The sweet milk with a little ice on a humid day would quench all thirst and soothingly splash down into my stomach.  Not only was the milk delicious but the rind of the coconut was also a tasty treat.
	
In closing, I will always be reminded of the Keys by the fishy fragrances, the shiny sequins, and the familiar flavors of my past.  Revisiting brings it all back.  My memories of living there are something I love, something I am, and something I will never lose.

									–Jordan Harney

	

Something to Kick About

	If you are a jogger who is starting to get interested in competitive running, you may have heard the word “kick” used in a discussion of racing strategy.  When a racer kicks, he does not try to trip up his opponents.  Kicking is a non-violent activity, though it is certainly not a passive one.  When a racer kicks, he does not try to win by punting a baton across the finish line ahead of another runner.  No, a kick is the spurt of speed a runner puts on at the end of a long-distance race.
	
	A kick works by effectively blending the psychological and the physical.  As a runner approaches the end of a long race, his emotions (excitement, fear, or perhaps just plain relief) often cause a shot of adrenaline to squirt into the bloodstream.  This powerful secretion immediately enables the body to go beyond its normal limits.  The heartbeat increases, and the nearly exhausted runner suddenly clenches his fists, pumps his arms, lifts his knees, lengthens his stride, and lands on the balls of his feet—all of which result in a burst of speed.  Although his body is already far into oxygen depletion (the painful effect of using more oxygen than the lungs take in), the discomfort suddenly vanishes, and the runner experiences a strange feeling of effortless floating.  Time seems to slow down, and the only sound is the pounding of the pulse in the eardrums.

	That’s how a kick works; the result is supposed to be that the runner wins the race, or at least passes a person or two.  But such is not always the case.  When a runner “kicks” on an opponent, the opponent all too often answers with a kick of his own.  While these high-speed finishes are exciting for the spectators, they are nerve-wracking for the athletes involved.  If a runner starts a kick too early, the effects of the adrenaline wear off before the end of the race, and a sort of agonizing rigor mortis sets in.  When this depletion occurs in two competitors, the finish is a duel in slow motion that may be amusing to watch, but is less than amusing to participate in.  Kicking can even be dangerous.  If a hamstring (the big muscle that runs up the back of the thigh) is a little slow in getting the adrenaline’s message, it will pull, causing an injury that is to a runner what a flat tire is to a car.  Another danger is fainting.  Runners have kicked across the finish line only to crumble to the track, unconscious.  

	I’ve experience many of these negative effects of kicking, but when a kick works like it’s supposed to, it is sweet.  When I was a junior in high school, I won the conference championship in the half mile with a kick.  I was running second going into the final turn behind a senior whom it appeared I couldn’t beat.  Suddenly an upstart freshman pulled up beside me.  Well, that just set me off.  I barely noticed that I passed the senior; I was still accelerating away from that darn freshman.  As I came out of the turn and caught sight of the finish line, I was in the lead and pulling away.  I never looked back.  I could not imagine anyone running better than I was at that moment.  

	When you decide to compete, I hope you will be so far ahead of the pack at the end of the race that you won’t have to rely on that final spurt of speed that runners call a kick.  But if it just so happens that you don’t set a world record on the first time out, remember that your adrenal glands are waiting for your command, and kick away.  
					
By Chris Doe 

No Man is an Island
	
	John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men is a story replete with the notions of companionship, fulfillment of dreams, and brotherhood, but is pockmarked and riddled with despair and desolation.  These ominous feelings, widespread across the body of the novella, gradually devour the plot and leave nothing behind for the characters but memories of what could have been.  All of this is experienced from the viewpoints of George and Lennie, an unlikely pair, who illustrate the human condition.  Most importantly, sentient beings with freedom of will are in fact all relegated to a natural state of loneliness.  However, the state of one’s mind can lead to a difference in how this feeling is perceived.  For instance, the loneliness can be received positively as solitude, “the fact of being sole or unique” (def. 1b), or viewed negatively as alienation, “[…] a state of estrangement in feeling or affection” (def. 1a).  Although the characters try to do everything they can do to escape this inevitable and foreseeable dread, their attempts are futile, and loneliness becomes their only avenue.
	
On the ranch Steinbeck depicts for us, a stone cannot be thrown in any direction without hitting a person afflicted with loneliness.  This is not because the ranch life of the novella is so farfetched, but because loneliness is as natural a human experience as hunger.  Everybody experiences this feeling, deserving or not.  For instance, Crooks understands his isolation is dictated by race; “Why ain’t you wanted?” Lennie asks Crooks innocently.  “Cause I’m black” is his immediate response (Steinbeck 68).  His segregation is an obvious one, but loneliness strikes all in the novella, even the affluent.  For instance, Curly’s wife, whose position on the farm as wife of the boss’ son is a lonely one, says, “Why can’t I talk to you?  I never get to talk to nobody.  I get awful lonely” (Steinbeck 86).  These two particular instances stem from the period’s issues of race and sex, but as Robert Trotter states, “almost every individual has experienced the forlornness that comes from feeling truly separated from the world” (140).  Loneliness is a part of nature; therefore, it does not care about race, sex, or creed.  The emotion does not discriminate; it only tries to consume.  On the ranch, a lot of characters come to terms with and battle their own loneliness in varying ways.  Loneliness, “the feeling of being alone; the sense of solitude; dejection arising from want of companionship or society” (def. 3), like all emotions can be compelling and inspiring, or depressing and inescapable.  Often mistakenly linked to a physical sense of proximity, loneliness may seem a foreign concept to some, particularly in a day and age where technologies like text messaging and Facebook render time and distance non-factors in communication.  However, as in Steinbeck’s masterful work, loneliness is a consistent theme, and life is spent trying to put off or cope with it.  

The most alarming side effect of isolation can be the alienation one feels as a result.  Like most other things that cause severe emotional distress (abuse, addiction, etc.), awareness does not equal prevention.  For instance, Crooks, the black stable hand, is well aware of his segregation from the others on the farm, but his awareness does not lessen the blow of isolation.  This is evident when Crooks is talking to Lennie:  “S’pose you didn’t have nobody.  […] A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody.  […] I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick” (Steinbeck 72-73).  Crooks confides in Lennie not because he is trying to give Lennie advice, but because he knows Lennie is simple and does not understand what he is telling him.  Like a monologue, this provides a window into Crooks’ personal battle with loneliness.  Unfortunately, the picture of his isolation is a disturbing one of dark colors and steep contrasts, awareness that does not forestall despair.  Crooks is not the only one whose loneliness places him on the path of despair.  Early in the novella, we are introduced to Candy, an old swamper, who lost his hand working on the ranch.  Candy undergoes some dramatic changes in his demeanor during the story due to the loss of his dog, his best friend and companion.  The death of his pet sends him into a brief stint of depression.  “Once he does not have his dog to look after anymore, Candy realizes the precariousness of his own position on the ranch:  he is without one hand and therefore only able to ‘swamp out’ bunkhouses, and he is fast approaching senility” (Cardullo 19).  Candy comes to this conclusion, although nothing has changed but the loneliness that has found him through the loss of his companion.  Candy’s spirit is only lifted at the thought of inclusion in George and Lennie’s plans of tending their dream farm.  Like Crooks, loneliness begins to take control of Candy’s life, and only when he finds the means to escape it through George and Lennie does his depression end.  Exampled by these two, whether the characters or the readers realize it or not, loneliness is a recurrent theme in the book with serious negative implications.  

However, people’s demeanor and the manner in which their loneliness is perceived can lead to a different effect.  For instance, in the story, Slim, the jerkline skinner, is just as devoid of companionship as the others, yet he remains dramatically unaffected.  He understands his lot on the ranch, takes it in stride, and remains a calm, collected visage of confidence and adequacy.  What is so different about Slim?  Slim represents the population capable of translating loneliness into solitude.  Slim takes his understanding of ranch life and uses it in his favor as he builds a metaphorical house with bricks of strong mental discipline and self-awareness.  Those capable of translating the emotion in this way are not truly alone because they remain at peace within themselves, basking in the glory of being alone.  Slim is fully aware of what happens to those who let their isolation truly alienate them.  This consciousness is evident when he is talking to George about the ranchers who travel alone:  “’Yeah, they get mean,’ Slim agreed.  ‘They get so they don’t want to talk to nobody’” (Steinbeck 41).  Slim does not remain willfully ignorant of his own position but embraces and masters it.  Of course, solitude is still a form of loneliness, and although it may be “[…] relaxing and peaceful, […] too much of it can produce boredom and lethargy” (Trotter 140).   No matter what form it comes in, loneliness can and often does lead to changes in the individual.  The sensation will at some point reach all of us, but its individual reception will ultimately decide whether it is inherently positive or negative.  

Without a doubt, loneliness propels the plot of this story.  On every page of the novella, the classic idiom rings true:  no man is an island.  Although the characters try to escape the inevitable and foreseeable dread, their attempts are futile and loneliness consumes.  Through life on the ranch, the feeling haunts George and Lennie’s partnership until eventually they too must submit in the novella’s denouement.  When all is said and done, loneliness remains the most prominent and lasting of all the themes.  Cardulla says it best:  “In the end, Steinbeck touched some deep American themes in Of Mice and Men […] enhanced by the seeming loneliness of all Americans during the Great Depression” (n. pag.).  However, the emotions and hardships are not dependent solely on the Great Depression but on the journey of life, so Steinbeck’s novella serves as a timeless piece on the human condition.  Just like the characters on the ranch, loneliness envelops the real world, and the manner in which it is perceived and dealt with is dependent on the individual.  

							--A. J. Stampas

Works Cited

Cardullo, Bert.  “On the Road to Tragedy:  Mice, Candy, and Land in Of Mice and Men.”  American Drama 16.1 (Winter 2007): 19.  Literature Resources from Gale.  Gale.  16 Mar. 2009 http://go.galegroup.com.
Oxford English Dictionary.  2006.  Oxford UP.  16 Mar. 2009 http://www.lincweb.org.
Steinbeck, John.  Of Mice and Men.  New York:  Penguin, 1993.
Trotter, Robert J.  “The Biological Depths of Loneliness.”   Science News 103.9 (Mar. 1973):  140-142.  JSTOR.  26 Mar. 2009 http://www.linccweb.org.

			

My Trip to Rome, Italy

	This past summer I went on a trip of a lifetime.  I visited Rome, Italy, for four days, and I was stunned to find that even though it is a modern city, it has maintained its history for all to see.  During the fall, I had taken a humanities course here at Valencia and considered myself well-versed on Rome’s history and all it has to offer.  I was surprised to find that Rome is a place that one has to see to believe.  While it has stood for countless centuries, its magic and beauty remain.  Rome is a place where old-world history blends with a modern city to create a once-in-a-lifetime visit.  Rome blends the old and new with its ancient architectural structures, its modern amenities, and its amazing churches.

	Walking through the streets of Rome, I noticed that the architecture really made the past come alive.  I saw one example of this on my second morning there.  My friend Chris and I decided to go see the Coliseum, one of the most famous Roman landmarks.  As we walked along the road, we could see it rise up and dominate the skyline.  As I drew nearer, I saw a stone-and- marble structure that had withstood not only the test of time, but also that of humans.  Its surface was pockmarked due to the thefts of marble throughout the centuries, yet that did little to diminish this marvel that would eventually be the basis for our modern-day stadiums.  Inside the coliseum was equally stunning.  I climbed to the upper decks and could see down into the pits where the slaves, gladiators, and lions were kept.  I closed my eyes, and I could feel myself being transported back in time as the drama unfolded before me.  The gladiators were marched to the center of the arena while the lions roared from behind a gate.  Upon their release, sixty thousand people stood and cheered as the gladiators began a fight for their very lives against the lions. 

	Later that day, we discovered another amazing piece of architecture, the Pantheon.  The Pantheon was built some time between 300 and 400 BC.  It is the oldest structure still standing in Rome and was originally built as a temple for the Romans’ many gods and goddesses.  The inside is round, and toward the top are wooden boxes that circle the structure.  This is where the statues of the deities used to be.  As I looked straight up, I noticed a round hole in the center of the ceiling open to all the elements.  The floors are made of the original tiles and are slightly slanted to allow rain water to drain easily from the structure.  The Pantheon has now been converted to a Catholic church with many paintings adorning the walls.  There were paintings of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus and another of an adult Jesus sitting in a chair and Mary standing next to him.  Above them three angels floated overhead.  It was very inspiring to see this piece of architecture and quite amazing that it could have been built with only crude tools to work with.  Steel had not yet been invented, so men used stone tools to build this structure.  As we walked through the streets of Rome, we noticed that there were statues and fountains on nearly every street corner as well as many buildings being restored to what they originally looked like in the ancient world.  Roma is truly a city that embraces the past and maintains it for all to see.

	Even with these ancient structures at every turn, I discovered that Rome is also a very modern city.  One of its modern innovations is the Termini.  This is a transportation hub with an underground train system that links all parts of the city and the Vatican.  It made going from one part of the city to another very quick.  However, one time when we took it, walking might have been the better choice.  As we approached the train station, it was announced overhead that this was the last call for the train that night.  Suddenly, hundreds of people came out of nowhere to cram aboard the subway car.  I now know what a sardine feels like!  I don’t think that I have ever been that tightly packed into anything before.  

	The traffic in Rome is very heavy, and gas prices are very expensive, so the residents have had to downsize their vehicles.  Many men in suits and ties rode Vespa scooters to work in the morning.  Those a little more affluent drove the two-seated Smart cars.  Crossing the street was very daunting.  Pedestrians never seem to have the right of way, and we often had to dash across the street.  It is nice to see that in a city known for its ancient landmarks, there were some modern touches that spared us from feeling as if we had stepped off into a third-world country.

	Finally, one of the most beautiful and fascinating elements of Rome is the abundance of churches.  On our third day there, Chris and I went on a tour of the Vatican.  Though not technically part of Rome, it was close enough for walking distance.  I was not exactly sure what to expect when we arrived at the Vatican Museum.  As we walked inside, I was surprised to see many long hallways with not only statues but also tapestries on the walls.  One tapestry, in particular, was unforgettable.  It was a picture of Jesus coming out of the tomb and standing on a long rectangular stone.  As I approached the tapestry from the right, Jesus’ eyes were staring right at me and the stone he was standing on was pointed towards me.  When I walked past it, his eyes followed me all the way to the left side.  Not only that, but the stone he was standing on shifted and was now pointed towards me on the left-hand side of the tapestry.  We were told by our guide that this was only an optical illusion, but it looked very real to me.  Trying to write about it doesn’t convey the awe I felt being inside the museum.  I must have walked quite a ways before I realized that I had my camera in my hand and that I hadn’t taken any pictures yet!  I had been standing around with my mouth hanging open trying to take in all that I was seeing.  The tour ended at perhaps one of the most remarkable sites there, the Sistine Chapel.  As I walked inside, I stared in amazement at this ceiling depicting scenes of angels hovering around the baby Jesus and other scenes from the Bible.  In my mind I could picture Michelangelo hanging upside down from the ceiling ten to twelve hours a day to paint his masterpiece.  We were told that it took him over twelve years to complete.  This work of art truly left me breathless.

	Later that day, we decided to walk to the Spanish Steps. 	This structure is a steep slope of 138 steps built sometime between 1723 and 1725 for the Spanish embassy.  It is considered the widest and longest staircase in Europe.  Today it is mostly a tourist attraction and a place where people go to set and eat lunch.  As we reached the top, I noticed hundreds of round basilicas dotting the skyline.  I hadn’t realized before then just how many churches there were in the city.  After climbing the steps a couple of times, we were heading back to the hotel when we noticed some people coming out of an ordinary-looking building.  Peeking inside, we realized that it was anything but ordinary.  We had walked into the Basilica of St. Andrea, the inside of which was an explosion of very vivid colors.  It was mainly adorned with golds and blues with a number of exquisite wood carvings throughout the church.  There was also a huge stained-glass window behind the altar that allowed light to come through, washing a parade of colors across the floor.  What had appeared to be an unassuming building turned out to be a very pleasant surprise.  The many churches just added to the charm and beauty of this wonderful and bright city.

	Rome is one of those cities that, once visitors have been there, they will not soon forget. To walk through the crumbling ruins at the Forum and then explore the Coliseum left me with a strong sense of wonder at how this civilization over two thousand years ago could accomplish so much with so little.  Even today, the city’s attempts to rebuild its fallen history is a credit to its greatness.  The people of Rome have successfully melded the past and the present by blending their many relics and ruins with the very modern transportation, electricity, and other amenities that we enjoy in our own country.  The many churches show a deeply religious people.  My trip to Rome was one of the highlights of my life.  I felt as if I had stepped back into the past and watched history unfold before my eyes.  This is a memory that I will carry with me always.  	

						--John Bircher

Information About and Topics for a Researched Essay

A researched essay is required for all students taking ENC 1101.  Some professors will assign informative topics while others will require a persuasion paper.  Some may ask you to do research and react to your findings.  In any case, follow your instructor’s rules.  

1.	Research the topic/issue.  Suggested data bases for a two-sided persuasion essay include Opposing Viewpoints and google.com. advanced search.  Do not use general home pages as sources.  You are looking for the ideas of experts who have studied the issue thoroughly.  

2.	Unless your professor says differently, the essay must follow Modern Language Association (MLA) guidelines.  Some instructors require a title page and a complete sentence outline; others do not.  All require a Works Cited page at the end of the essay.

3.	Important: Sources used in the essay MUST be put in the body of the paper exactly where they are used, in parentheses.  Put the last name of the author(s), then the page number if a source other than one from the Internet is used.  For an Internet source, put the last name of the author(s), then n. pag., which stands for “no page,” since Internet page sources cannot be determined.  If no author is given, put the title of the article (in quotation marks) then the page number or n. pag.  Not to give sources credit in the paper constitutes plagiarism, a very serious offense, which could cause the paper to fail.  SEE THE VALENCIA POLICY ON ACADEMIC HONESTY ON PAGE 90.

4.	Use direct quotations sparingly, no more than four lines at once.  MLA says no more than 25% of a researched essay should be quoted directly.  Most of the paper will be put in your own words (paraphrased).  However, you still must give the source credit.  (See #3.)

5.	Open and close well.  SEE PAGE 93 ABOUT WRITING A THESIS.

6.	Use appropriate transitions between ideas.  SEE PAGE 146 FOR A LIST.

7.	Do not open a paragraph with a direct quotation or use side-by-side direct quotes.  Rather, work direct quotes in smoothly, perhaps into your own sentences.

  8.	This is a formal essay, not a personal experience paper, so do not use first person I, in my opinion, etc., or the pronoun you.
  
  9.	In an essay that examines both sides of a controversial issue, if you think one side’s arguments are stronger than the other’s, put that viewpoint last and emphasize it more in the thesis.  However, NEVER begin a research assignment with your mind already made up.  This is, remember, a learning experience.  If you already have your mind made up, you may tend to ignore evidence that contradicts your preconceived notions.  In that case, what have you learned?

10.	Use varied vocabulary, especially verbs.  Vary sentence types.  SEE PAGE 171.

11.	Use twelve-point font size and double space throughout the essay.

12.	Be sure all sources used in the paper are in the Works Cited and vice versa.

13.	Double check all spelling, mechanics, grammar and usage for accuracy.  

14.	This type of essay can vary in length–probably from 500 to 1,500 words.  The number of sources depends on what the instructor requires.  

Possible Topics  (Underlined parts are informative topics; questions are persuasive)

 1.	Are curfew laws fair and/or enforceable?
 2.	Do drug tests on student athletes violate the right to privacy?
 3.	Is corporal punishment (spanking) an effective disciplinary tool?
 4.	Is there a danger in eating too much red meat?
 5.	Are zoos harmful to animals?
 6.	Is global warming a serious problem?
 7.	Can juvenile boot camps effectively address teenage misbehavior?
 8.	Is Botox a harmful treatment?
 9.	Is the Endangered Species Act effective?
10.	Can domestic violence be lessened?
11.	Can eating disorders (such as anorexia/bulimia) be lessened?
12.	Are harsh punishments for juveniles justified?
13.	Is home schooling preferable to public schooling?
14.	Do violent song lyrics contribute to teen violence?

15.	Is physician-assisted suicide beneficial?
16.	Have civil liberties been compromised by the Patriot Act?
17.	Can bullying in schools be controlled?
18.	Are animal-to-human transplants beneficial?
19.	Is stem cell research ethical?
20.	Can violence in schools be controlled?

Valencia’s Policy on Academic Honesty

VALENCIA COMMUNITY COLLEGE DISTRICT BOARD OF TRUSTEES 
POLICY AND PROCEDURE		Number 6Hx28:10-16
	All forms of academic dishonesty are prohibited at Valencia Community College. Academic dishonesty includes, but is not limited to, plagiarism, cheating, furnishing false information, forgery, alteration or misuse of documents, misconduct during a testing situation, and misuse of identification with intent to defraud or deceive. 
	All work submitted by students is expected to be the result of the students' individual thoughts, research, and self-expression. Whenever a student uses ideas, wording, or organization from another source, the source shall be appropriately acknowledged. 
	Students shall take special notice that the assignments of course grades is the responsibility of the students' individual professor. When the professor has reason to believe that an act of academic dishonesty has occurred, and before sanctions are imposed, the student shall be given informal notice and an opportunity to be heard by the professor. Any student determined by the professor to have been guilty of engaging in an act of academic dishonesty shall be liable to a range of academic penalties as determined by the professor which may include, but not be limited to, one or more of the following: loss of credit for an assignment, examination, or project; a reduction in the course grade; or a grade of "F" in the course. At the option of the professor, the campus provost may be furnished with written notification of the occurrence and the action taken. If such written notice is given, a copy shall be provided to the student.   
	Students guilty of engaging in a gross or flagrant act of academic dishonesty or repeated instances of academic dishonesty shall also be subject to administrative and /or disciplinary penalties which may include warning, probation, suspension ,and / or expulsion from the College. 
The student may appeal action taken by the professor under the provisions of either Policy 6Hx28:10-13 or 6Hx28:10-15 as determined by the nature of the action taken. 
History:  Adopted 4-24-85; Amended: 11-18-92

Specific Authority:  240.319 FS., 6A-14.0247 FAC.

Law Implemented:  240.319, 240.3215 FS.; 6A-14.0247, 6A-14.262 FAC.

Is it Plagiarism if …

•	I find this really good article (for free!) on the Internet on the very subject I’m writing about, so I just print off a copy and submit it as my own (of course, having removed the original author’s name)?   YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I had to PAY FOR the above material?    YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I use the above article, change some words, and basically follow the same organization pattern but not give the source credit?    YES   NO   MAYBE

•	A friend, roommate, or anyone else I know has already written a paper on my subject, so I just “borrow” that essay (with permission!) to submit as mine?
	YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I don’t know the answer to a homework question, so I ask another student to “see” his answer, then copy it down on my homework paper?    
YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I copy answers from another student while taking a test?   YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I have written the essay myself but have turned it in to another class as a graded assignment?  (Perhaps I’ve changed a couple of things.)    YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I take the direct words from the source and forget to put quotation marks around the exact words (silly me!) but have given the source credit in parentheses?  
YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I take the direct words from the source, use quotation marks, and forget (lunkhead me!) to give the source credit in parentheses after the quoted material?  
YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I paraphrase source material and forget to give the original source credit in the essay?   YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I paraphrase most of the source material, using only five or six original words and using no quotation marks at all but give the source credit?  
YES   NO   MAYBE
•	
I have heard the statistics I’m using in my paper, but I forget where I heard them, so I cannot give any source credit?    YES   NO   MAYBE

•	I use key terms, definitions, or phrases from a source and not give credit to the original source?    YES   NO   MAYBE

Two-sided Persuasion Research Paper:   Thesis Statement

In order to get BOTH sides of the argument in the essay’s thesis statement, you may begin with one of these words: while, even though, although or granted that.  If you do not wish to use any of these, you still need to reflect BOTH sides in your thesis in some way.  Here are some examples.

Thesis statement:	While some people believe that curfew laws are unfair and unenforceable, others see them as beneficial.

Thesis statement:	Although some claim that DNA “fingerprinting” is reliable, others see it as untrustworthy and dangerous.

Thesis statement:	Granted that the jury system has been a valuable American institution for generations, some say it has viable alternatives.

Thesis statement:	Proponents of Melatonin see its infinite possibilities in several areas.  However, opponents warn of the drug’s detrimental effects on the human body.

Thesis statement:	Even though Botox seems miraculous in making wrinkles and sweat disappear, it is costly and can be harmful to the human body.

NOTE:  If, in your research, you find one side’s arguments stronger than the other’s, put that argument LAST.  There is never any need to use first person (I think, I agree, in my opinion) in a formal researched essay.

Thesis statement:	While drug testing in the workplace may be an invasion of privacy, evidence strongly suggests it is necessary for our nation’s safety.

Thesis statement:	Even though drug testing in the workplace provides us with a sense of safety, clearly it is a violation of our privacy.

NOTE:  If your professor asks that you examine only one side of an issue or you are writing an informative paper, you should still write the main idea clearly and carefully.

Thesis statement:	Today’s zoos provide a safe haven for endangered animals, a lush, natural habitat for species, and educational facilities for the public.

Thesis statement:	Dangers in eating too much red meat include possible cancers, heart attacks and stokes from cholesterol, and sicknesses resulting from bacterial contamination.

School Uniforms:   An Encumbrance or a Help?

						

by
					
Kaley R. Hubbard

					

ENC 1101, W29

Professor Smith

11 December 2003

Outline

Thesis statement:	Though some experts claim that uniforms are not

responsible for positive changes in the school system, others say uniforms 

do, in fact, benefit children and adults.

  I.	Opponents provide arguments against school uniforms.
	
	A.	Students cannot express their individuality.

	  	1.	Uniforms violate the First Amendment.

		2. 	Children cannot be unique.

	B.	Uniforms are not constructive.

II.	Proponents offer their viewpoints.

	A.	Violence decreases with uniforms in schools.

  		1.	Economic distinctions among students are erased.
	
		2.	The school is safer.

	B.	Student behavior and attendance improve with uniforms.

					

School Uniforms:   An Encumbrance or a Help?

   	Are uniforms beneficial in schools?  This question has had varied responses over the years.  Opponents claim that uniforms do not allow children to express their individuality.  In addition, children need good teachers, not a dress code, to help solve problems.  In contrast, uniform proponents insist that school is a place to learn, not a fashion show.  Proponents also argue that in schools where uniforms are required, violence decreases, and behavior and attendance improve.  Thus, though some experts claim that uniforms are not responsible for positive changes, others say uniforms do, in fact, benefit children and adults.
	One argument provided by uniform naysayers is that children cannot show who they are by wearing uniforms, which can be dangerous.  According to Kathleen L. Paliokas and Ray C. Rist, “Student dress serves as a barometer of what is going on with the student” (n. pag.).  Clothing children wear signals problems like drugs, sex abuse, or gang membership (n. pag.).  For example, gangs have certain attire and symbols that show what gangs they are from, so uniforms would hide such affiliations.
	In addition, opponents of school uniform policies say such requirements 
violate the First Amendment, which guarantees the rights to freedom of 

2
speech and expression.  According to Loren Siegel, “It’s axiomatic that adolescence is a time when young people strive to express their uniqueness. . . especially through fashion” (n. pag.).  Younger children may be persuaded easily and might even enjoy uniforms, but teenagers are different.  Some might say teens are already in uniform.  For girls it’s the tight pants, midriffs showing, and for boys it’s baggy pants, T-shirts, and backwards hats.  But these “uniforms” teenagers choose are “not fashion dictated” (n. pag.) through the school board.  Norman Isaacs, a principal in Sherman Oaks, California, says, “Students need to learn to make choices based on values, rather than with arbitrary rules that set limits” (n. pag.).
	Another argument offered by those against school uniforms is that they are not constructive.  Small class sizes, more teachers, up-to-date electronics, and nice, safe-looking schools produce positive and long-lasting improvements in student attendance and behavior.  Wearing uniforms does not produce such dramatic results; it’s just a “Band-Aid solution to a set of serious problems” (n. pag.).
	On the other hand, uniform advocates disagree with these observations.  Violence in schools has become an increasing problem throughout the years.  In schools there is a variety of “upper-class” and “lower-class” children, 

3
which tends to create problems among students.  Not every child can afford name-brand clothing and keep up with the latest fashion trends.  Uniforms provide a solution, allowing equality among students and reduce violence in and around schools.  According to “School Uniforms,” in 1995 a seventeen-year-old student was killed at a bus stop because another student wanted to get his jacket.  Uniforms help “curb violence by eliminating the competitive atmosphere. . . over the latest clothing” (n. pag.).  Also the presence of gangs has encouraged certain schools to consider uniforms.  Gang members sometimes identify a particular color or piece of clothing as their symbol, and therefore it is easy to spot them.  Uniforms have a dress code that helps eliminate gang issues because every child wears the same color clothing.  Moreover, intruders are more noticeable, making schools safer (n. pag.).
	Proponents agree that student behavior and attendance improve with uniforms.  Students feel productive because they are dressed like they are going to work and have a job.  David Brown, a fifth grader, says, “The students look more intelligent” (n. pag.).  By eliminating the latest fashion trends, kids no longer get ridiculed, making them feel better about themselves.  When students feel better about themselves, they do better in school.  Students can focus on their work and not on what other people are wearing.  While 

4
some students complain that the uniforms create a monotonous look, Nick Duran, an eighth grader, says, “It’s easier to choose what to put on in the morning” (Portner n. pag.).
	In sum, opponents and proponents concur that school violence needs to decrease, and student behavior and attendance need to reform.  Anti-uniform forces say the best way to do this is to allow students to be unique, not burden them with dress codes.  Conversely, pro-uniform forces emphasize that dress codes in schools benefit the children’s safety and lessen other adverse issues schools face.

					

Works Cited

Paliokas, Kathleen L., and Ray C. Rist.  “School Uniforms:   Do They Reduce Violence or Just Make Us Feel Better?”  Eric/Cass Virtual Library 3 Apr. 1996: n. pag.  27 Nov. 2003 <.
Portner, Jessica.  “Uniforms Get Credit for Decrease in Discipline Problem.”   Teacher Magazine 10 Jan. 1998: n. pag.  Ed. Bryan J. Grapes.  San Diego: Greenhaven, 2001.  Opposing Viewpoints Resource Center.  Gale Group.  20 Nov. 2003 <
“School Uniforms.”  Issues and Controversies   Aug. 2000: n. pag.  Abstract.  FactSearch.  FirstSearch.   27 Nov. 2003   <
Siegel, Loren.  “Point of View: School Uniforms.”   American Civil
	Liberties Union 1 Mar. 1996: n. pag.  25 Nov. 2003.
	<http://www.aclu.org/congress/uniform.html>. 

Samuel Cloward
Professor Barlow
ENC 1101, W12
28 April 2005	
Sample in a Cup

	After years of schooling and preparation, the average person is ready to enter the work force to become a productive member of society.  However, with over 300 million people living in the United States, getting a job is not always a simple task.  Having written a résumé, the prospective employee embarks on a journey that will include interviews, background checks, aptitude tests, and the often-considered drug test (Smith n. pag.).
	Drug testing is a common practice among numerous large companies for their current and future employees.  Many states have laws on the books that advocate this practice.  For example,
The Drug and Alcohol Testing Act allows Utah employers to test employees as a condition of being hired and for continual employment. [They must] have written drug testing policies and ensure samples are collected and tested under “reasonable and sanitary” conditions with “due regard” to the privacy of the individual being tested.  (“Judge” n. pag.)
2
In addition, employers must ensure that the samples are collected properly “to prevent substitutions or interference” and that results are not tampered with (n. pag.).
	In order to conduct any type of background test legally, the possible employee must authorize the test and also have the right to know any results.  Employers can use drug testing to find out a lot about a possible employee, and while urine testing is the norm for the pre-employment selection process, the use of hair for such a test is becoming more common.  Hair testing is considered more accurate than urine testing and has yet to be proven as an inaccurate means of drug testing in legal cases (Smith n. pag.).
	Despite the current laws, drug testing can be viewed as an invasion of privacy that employers should abandon as part of the hiring process.  In administering a routine urine test, it is common practice to have a witness present to make sure the test is legitimate.  According to the American Civil Liberties Union of Florida, “Urine tests are body searches, and they are an unprecedented invasion of privacy” (“Drug Testing” n. pag.).  The ACLU further argues that finding out if a person uses drugs doesn’t accurately predict job performance, and a positive drug test “provides no evidence of present intoxication or impairment; it merely indicates that a person may have taken a drug at some time in the past” (n. pag.).
3
	Besides privacy issues, accuracy of drug tests is a factor.  To be denied a job due to an inaccurate test is unfair.  A government agency, the National Institute of Drug Abuse, conducted a survey that concluded that
		. . . 20 percent of the labs surveyed mistakenly reported the presence of illegal drugs in drug free urine samples.  Unreliability also stems from the tendency of drug screens to confuse similar chemical compounds.  For example, codeine and Vicks Formula 44M have been known to produce positive results for heroin,  Advil for marijuana, and Nyquil for amphetamines. (n. pag.)
	Despite the fact that some drug tests are unreliable, some people feel that an employer has the right not to hire a person if his or her drug test is positive, even if later the test results are inaccurate.  Such an action is not illegal (Smith n. pag.).  Proponents of drug testing say American companies have a right to protect themselves and their consumers and should, therefore, be allowed to continue their screening as a prerequisite for employment.  The cost of replacing workers can be high, so why not select the best possible employees, ones that are drug free (Stafford n. pag.)?  By selecting better job candidates, companies can save money, which can be good for the consumer, especially if the company is the federal government.  
4
One study compared pre-employment drug tests with attendance and work performance records for postal service workers, showing that “applicants testing positive were 66% more likely to be absent and 77% more likely to be discharged within 3 years of hire than applicants testing negative for illicit drugs” (“Drugs in the Workplace” n. pag.).  Had those with positive drug tests been eliminated for postal employment, “approximately $52 million” would have been saved (n. pag.).
	Moreover, employers have been able to tie poor productivity to drug use.  According to a 1999 study, employees who have worked for three or more employers quit in the last year or missed one or more days of work within the past month also reported being current illicit drug users (n. pag.). Clearly, by screening up front to detect drug users, companies can prevent high turnover rates due to drug use.  
	In addition, drug testing potential employees can benefit society.  Some drugs can affect a person’s coordination and concentration skills.  One study that covered a two-year period of railroad occupational accident investigations determined that positive drug use tests were linked to more fatal accidents than nonfatal ones.  The same study found that “in approximately one-third of the accidents associated with positive drug test results, alcohol and/or drug use was determined to be related to accidents causation” (n. pag.).
5
Furthermore, safety in the workplace could be at risk if a user comes to the job under the influence of drugs such as methamphetamine, which could cause a person to become irritated and sometimes violent from the effects of the drug (Jones n. pag.).
	In conclusion, while some see drug testing as invasive and unreliable, its benefits by far outweigh its drawbacks.   Employers should be able to use drug testing as part of their screening of current and new employees.  By doing so, they can prevent high turnover rates and poor productivity to save themselves money, which can then be passed on to consumers.  Safety is also less likely to be compromised, and accidents that occur due to drug use can be eliminated.  This is especially important in the travel, medical, and construction fields.  All in all, drug testing benefits society.

Works Cited

“Drug Testing in the Workplace.”  American Civil Liberties Union of Florida 24 Apr. 2005   <http://www.aclufl.org>.
“Drugs in the Workplace:   A Summary of Research and Survey Findings.”   Drug-Free Workplace:   Office of National Drug Control Policy   24 Apr. 2005   <
Jones, Del. “Amphetamine Use Rises in the Workplace.”   USA Today 26 May 2003: n. pag.  SIRS Researcher.  ProQuest Information and Learning Company.  20 Apr. 2005   <
“Judge Throws Out Suit Challenging Drug Testing of Worker.”  The Associated 	Press.  26 Oct. 2004: n. pag.  LexisNexis Academic Universe.  Reed Elsevier.  20 Apr. 2005: n. pag. <http://linccweb.org>.
Smith, Erica D.  “In Depth Applicant Background Checks Can Save Companies Later.”  Akron Beacon Journal 16 Nov. 2004: n. pag.  LexisNexis Academic Universe.  Reed Elsevier.  20 Apr. 2005   <
Stafford, Diane.  “A Poor Credit History Isn’t Always a Detriment.”  Miami Herald   13 Dec. 2004: n. pag.  America’s Newspapers Newsbank.  27 Apr. 2005   <http://www.linccweb.org>.

							

Video Games:   Detrimental or Beneficial?

						

by
					Gregg Heinkel

ENC 1101, W03

Professor Smith

29 November 2006

Outline

Thesis statement: Those in opposition to video games warn of their nocuous effects on children’s behavior.  However, proponents point out the seemingly endless educational and medical potential of these games.
  I.	Opponents of video games are detrimental.
	A.	Violent video games increase physiological arousal.
		1.	Exposure to violent video games increases aggressive thoughts.
		2.	Exposure to violent video games increases aggressive emotions.
		3.	Exposure to violent video games increases aggressive actions.
	B.	Video games also decrease positive pro-social actions.
	C.	Video games may become addicting.
II.	Proponents of video games are doing what they can to open the eyes of the world to seeing their many benefits.
	A.	Video games create an interactive learning environment.
	B.	A thorough knowledge of technology can also be learned from video games.
	C.	Video games develop coordination and can even improve vision.

Video Games:   Detrimental or Beneficial?

	The question of whether video games are detrimental has been a point of argument since they were first created.  While some people believe that video games are horrendously harmful, others see them as beneficial.  There are facts to support both sides of the debate, but the validity of these notions themselves has become the subject of much research and dispute.  Those who oppose video games warn of their nocuous effects of children’s behavior.  However, proponents point out the seemingly endless educational and medical potential that these games may provide.
	Opponents of video games have done extensive research in an attempt to show that they are detrimental.  Exposure to and use of violent video and computer games create an increase in physiological arousal, often intensifying aggressive thoughts, emotions, and actions.  Researchers have found that the “heart rate, systolic blood pressure, and diastolic blood pressure all increase when playing violent video games” (Walsh n. pag.).  These opponents also believe that the games are the reason why young people are bringing weapons to school and killing their fellow students.  Many times when someone is killed at a school, video games and movies are blamed.  “Parents are 
concerned that the fantasy violence in video games could lead their children to real-world violence”  (“Media Violence Causes Youth Violence” n. pag.).  
	Another one of the many concerns of those who side against video games is the decrease in positive pro-social images and themes that are shown through many games.  A recent study of seventh and eighth grade students has shown that positive attitudes and behavior toward other people decrease after playing violent (compared to non-violent) video games (Walsh n. pag.).  Opponents argue that these negative images of age, race, and religion that are created by video games cause children to lose their respect for their elders and each other, essentially becoming “social misfits.”
	The final aspect that opponents note is these video and computer games become very addictive, causing detrimental tendencies to become accentuated.  From a child playing Frogger to a rebellious teenager blowing the heads off of his friends in an online HALO game, the act of playing video games is hard to give up once players get started.  Addiction, especially to violent games, is incredibly dangerous to children who have not yet learned to distinguish between right and wrong.
	On the other hand, proponents of video games are doing what they can to open the eyes of the world to the many benefits of video games.  The interactive environment that is created by video and computer games has the ability to hold children’s attention and even teach them things school cannot.  Even a young boy with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) who cannot keep his focus on virtually anything can play a video or computer game for hours on end and remember almost everything that he just played (Sohn n. pag.).  Playing video games creates a window of opportunity to teach children cognitive thinking and eye-hand coordination in a relatively controlled environment that the children actually enjoy.
	Another example of how video games have been used for educating is in the U.S. Marine Corps, which adopted a modified version of the hit video game Doom to use as an interactive environment to train its soldiers in teamwork and decision making under fire (Szivos n. pag.).  The U.S. military also uses aircraft simulators to train its pilots how to fly specific aircraft without ever leaving the ground.  “It is a lot cheaper to crash a hundred-million-dollar plane in a simulator than in real life” (n. pag.).
	Moreover, through the use of video and computer games, a person’s knowledge of current technology is drastically enhanced.  An example of this is Microsoft’s Xbox and Xbox 360 consoles, which can be reprogrammed to play any selected or downloaded music in the place of the tracks that a game has preprogrammed on its disk.  This and even more complex adaptations to video game consoles and hardware tend to spark an interest in young people to know what causes their machine to work, so they can, in turn, make them work better and faster, all the while increasing their knowledge of technology.
	Finally, video games may help improve vision.  For instance, 
A recent study in Nature, the weekly scientific journal, suggests that playing video games can be good for your vision.  Researchers at the University of Rochester say that action game players react to fast-moving objects more efficiently and can tack 30% more objects than non-gamers (Berger n. pag.).
This would be especially useful for those recovering from a cerebrovascular accident or cataract surgery (n. pag.).
	In summary, the one thing that those both for and against video games agree on is that video games have changed our culture.  Though most of the negative aspects of video games have been proven to be true, other features can be looked at as advantageous.  Whether video games are detrimental or beneficial, the best option, as with everything else, is to use them in moderation.

					

Works Cited

Berger, Sandy.  “Video Games Improve Vision.”   Computer News.  7 Nov. 
	2006	<
“Media Violence Causes Youth Violence.”   Mass Media.  Ed. William 
	Dudley. San Diego: Greenhaven Press, 2005.  Opposing Viewpoints Resource Center.  Gale Group.   9 Nov. 2006 <
Sohn, Emily.   “Video Games–Good or Bad?”  Science News for Kids.  
	7 Nov. 2006 <
Szivos, Ryan.  “Probing Question:   Is Playing Video Games Detrimental?”  
	Research/Penn State.  9 Nov. 2006 <http://live.psu.edu>.
Walsh, David.  “National Institute on Media and the Family.”  Video
	Game Violence and Public Policy. 7 Nov. 2006 <http://culturalpolicy.uchicago.edu>.

Composition Grades for ENC 1101 at Valencia Community College West Campus*

Grades on written work range from A to F.  They are based on both content and form.  The criteria for each grade are listed below.  Your instructor assumes that you will do the assignment as instructed and that when you choose your own topic, you will select one appropriate to exposition.

The A Composition

1.	has a clearly stated thesis, accurately written topic sentences that support the thesis, and sufficient fresh detail to support the topic sentences;

2.	is logical and generally thought provoking;
3.	has clear and effective organization and appropriate transitional devices between paragraphs and between and within sentences;
4.	employs variety in length and structure of sentences;
1.	
5.	uses words correctly and avoids wordiness, jargon, pretentious diction, and slang;
6.	is virtually free of errors in grammar, sentence structure, punctuation and spelling as well as common weaknesses in writing (overuse of passive voice, shifts in focus, awkward phrasing, and other errors listed under “Weaknesses” below).

The B Composition

1.	has a clearly stated thesis, topic sentences that support the thesis, and adequate details to support each topic sentence;
2.	is logical and occasionally thought provoking;
3.	has clear organization and appropriate transitional devices between paragraphs and sentences;
4.	uses words acceptably without awkwardness or wordiness;
5.	uses appropriate coordination and subordination;
6.	is relatively free of errors in grammar (See #6 under A Composition.)

The C Composition

1.	has a passable thesis, topic sentences that relate to the thesis, and some detail to support each topic sentence;
2.	is logical but rarely thought provoking;
3.	has a recognizable organizational pattern and overall coherence;
4.	lacks accurate word choice and tends to be awkward or wordy;
5.	lacks sentence variety;
1.	
6.	contains occasional errors in grammar.  (See #6 under A Composition.)
The D Composition

1.	lacks a clear thesis or fails to develop the thesis it does have;
2.	is frequently illogical;
3.	lacks organization beyond an elementary level
4.	uses monotonous sentence structure and phrasing;
5.	tends to prefer general to specific words;
6.	contains frequent errors in grammar.  (See #6 under A Composition.)

The F Composition

1.	lacks a clear thesis, organization, and/or development;
2.	is illogical;
3.	fails to use specific words; frequently uses wrong words;
4.	uses elementary sentence structure;
5.	has frequent errors in grammar.  (See #6 under A Composition.)

Weaknesses Characteristic of D and F Writing:

1.	inaccurate word choice
2.	obscure or ambiguous phrasing
3.	unjustifiable sentence fragments
4.	comma splices
5.	fused sentences
6.	lack of subject/verb agreement
7.	unconventional manuscript form
8.	lack of pronoun/antecedent 	agreement	 9.	inappropriate shifts in tense,
	voice, mood, tone, etc.
10.	misplaced modifiers
11.	misuse of common punctuation
12.	inappropriate capitalization
13.	inconsistent numbering system
14.	excessive misspellings
15.	illegible handwriting or careless
	typing, not proofreading	

The next few pages contain essays that have been graded A, B, C, D, and F.

*Adapted from an Eastern Illinois University document

The A Composition:  Something society would be better off without

	It’s Friday night, and I’m trying desperately to coax my boyfriend out for dinner and a movie.  I’ve pleaded, cajoled, threatened, and sulked.  I’ve curled my hair and worn high heels, but each feminine guile goes unnoticed.  My boyfriend, who shows remarkable resistance to my powers of persuasion, is preoccupied by the same thing that possesses thousands of boys across the nation: Everquest, a computer game that has single-handedly dismantled my relationship.  The world of dating, and the world in general, would be a better place without this game.  It’s an addictive activity, a poor substitution for real human interaction, and as far as I can tell, it offers no real benefit to those held in its powerful grip.

	Although I’ve never played Everquest, I’ve watched the game from a safe distance, and I’ve seen how addictive it is.  If I could log the hours my boyfriend has spent playing it, I might find myself calculating days, maybe months, that could have been spent more productively.  I’ve been able to discern a reason for why this game holds as much power over my boyfriend as a cigarette over a nicotine addict.  Each player has a defined role, with his own status, skill level, monetary base, and artillery of weapons.  Before quitting the game, the player must “put away” his weapons, which takes several minutes.  After that, he has to go through a series of windows that pop up on the screen, offering more chances to play and further refuge from his girlfriend.  The screen will read, “Are you sure you want to quit?” as if the player is really kidding himself about stopping.  I can’t undo the invention of this game, but if I could, I’d at least change the screen to read, “Congratulations.  You have the power to quit.”

	Another reason behind the game’s addictive power is the strange interaction it offers with other players.  Across the country, thousands of young men are playing Everquest, and somehow this mysterious communion forges a bond between them all that girfriends everywhere plot daily to break down.  Apparently, one can use the game as a role-playing device, and I believe that over time, this substituttion for real human interaction could lead to a mild case of delusion.  This may sound dramatic, but when a boy named Theo in Columbus, Ohio, spends six hours a day as “Legolas, the prince of darkness,” therapy might be in order.

	Finally, even in cases where a player narrowly avoids dementia or a nasty break-up with his girlfriend, he still stands to gain nothing positive from this game.  Simply staring at a computer screen for hours at a time will cause eye strain, and the prolonged use of a mouse can lead to carpal tunnel syndrome.  Men from my grandfather’s generation boast that their grandsons will never know the physical pain that comes from a lifetime of toil on the railroad.  Unfortunately, I think men in my generation will still know pain, just of a different kind.

	Ever vigilant and longing for excitement and escape, young men might turn to this game only to find their quest is never ending.  Perhaps that’s why it’s called “Everquest.”  To me, it is an inane, time-consuming habit and a threat to old fashioned values.  It leaves me no choice but to take my purse in hand, and bravely venture into the world of roller-skating, movie-watching, and dinner-eating alone.

The B Composition:   A place to visit or revisit

A Place of Beauty

	When people are asked to pick a place that they would like to visit, many answers spring to mind.  Among the most popular responses would be, Disney World, Paris, Las Vegas, or Hawaii.  Although for me, I would choose Maggie Valley, North Carolina.  A small town on the western side of North Carolina, Maggie Valley is an unusual place to visit, but well worth the trip.  Because of its beautiful setting, friendly surrounding and fun opportunities, Maggie Valley is truly a place worth seeing.

	Surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains, Maggie Valley is indeed a beautiful place to live.  When visiting North Carolina with my family, we prefer to stay in a cabin on the mountain in order to better appreciate our surroundings.  From our elevated position, we are able to enjoy the mountain range as well as the cooler weather.  As an amatuer photographer, my dad enjoys taking pictures of the bubbling streams, lushly covered mountains and rustic barns.  Though,  because of his barn obsession he is the target of much teasing from my sister and I.

	Because of its small size, Maggie Valley has a very friendly atmosphere.  Citizens are genuinely kind and outgoing, unlike those from Florida.  In Florida, we like to wall ourselves away from our neighbors by hiding behind our privacy fences and hedges that protect us from the outside world.  I can relate to this because I do not know the first names of my neighbors nor have I met them.  Although, in Maggie, things are different.  When visiting a local church for the first time, people will come up to you, introduce themselves, and make you feel as if you have lived there all your life.  They might even invite you to join them for lunch at “Granny’s Chicken Palace.”

	Though Maggie Valley is a beautiful and friendly place it is not without its fun and games.  There are an assortment of things to do for entertainment.  In our family, we enjoy whitewater rafting.  It is always exciting to row down the river bulging with rocks and hissing with the current, but it is best to go down with a guide.  There are also places to go horseback riding up the mountains or play putt-putt golf on one of the many courses.  For those who don’t seek the thrill of adventure there are hundreds of souvenir shops that are very enjoyable.

	Though Maggie Valley would not come in on the top ten places to visit, it is a place worth seeing.  Wether you are looking for a place to relax and enjoy the view or just to get away from the drudgery of work, Maggie Valley is fun for everyone.  Therefore, next time spring break comes around grab the family and a map and head to Maggie Valley, North Carolina.

The C Composition:   A worthwhile activity or game

Exploring the Enternet

	Open your eyes to a vast new world by just typing, pointing, and clicking.  With the amazing techological advances on computers this can easily be done by using the enternet.  The enternet is comprised of millions of web-pages in which people have put together for learning purposes or just to view for one’s own leisure.  I believe, that using the enternet is an activity that everyone should find time to do if they have excess to the enternet.

	To begin with, the enternet is an extremely helpful tool for school.  At times I am sure that everyone has found out that when trying to use resources to help with school work it maybe scarce and hard to find.  The enternet can help with this problem because it offers information on just about any topic you need to find.  For instance, if a student needs to write a research paper about a specific president, they could go under the search engine and type in the presidents name.  Then they could find information like where the president grew up and how many family members he has.  Finding important information on the enternet is just as easy or easier than looking in a book.

	In addition, the net is great to use for communication purposes.  It allows people to talking to eachother and chat just like a telephone does.  To explain, they have chat rooms where someone can go into and communicate with people on a topic that may be of the same intrest of both people.  Also, it allows one to send messages to another person via e-mail, that may be of importance.  It is another alternitive from going to the post office and mailing a letter.  Communicating with different countries is a very appealing aspect that can be of use, also.

	Last of all,  exploring the enternet is a better way to spend free time.  By using the enternet a person may find interesting material that they might have not even known existed.  Instead of watching television the enternet c an provide knowledge about other subjects in life.  Becoming bored is very easy at times and people can then tend to do things like sleep, eat, get into trouble or other activities that are not helping them receive knowledge.  By using the enternet it is a better leisurely activity.

	In conclusion, I would venture to say that the enternet is like using a hammer to build a house.  The hammer is a very important tool like the enternet in order to build a house or receive knowledge.  This amazing resource can help someone do school work, can be a better alternitive than reading a book, using the telephone, ore watching TV.  With these reasons I believe that using the enternet is an activity that everyone should find the time to do.

Another C Composition:   A place people would enjoy visiting

In America

	Americans should visit Cocoa Beach.  I know it seems as if everyone has been to the beach once in their life, bit there is probably one person in American that hasn’t visited Cocoa Beach.  Cocoa Beach is the location every American should visit, for its soothing, clean, and good exercise.

	First, everyone needs quiet time.  Cocoa Beach is soothing, so everyone can go and relax.  Unlike Daytona Beach, people are loud and drunk.  People party there and get way out of control.  For example, during Spring Break or some other celebration.  Cocoa Beach is where I like to go and just lay out and enjoy the ice cold, and to extent crystal clear water.  Also, at cocoa Beach I don’t have to worry about loud drunks coming near me.  When I want to be in a soothing place outside, for I go to Cocoa Beach.

	Next, it is a clean place.  Cocoa Beach is a very clean place compared to Daytona.  For example, Daytona Beach has beer bottles scattered everywhere, and people don’t throw their trash away.  At Cocoa Beach, people pick up after themselves.  Also, at Daytona Beach people drive their vehicles on the beach, for that is dirty.  For example, oil and other fluids from peoples cars gets in the sand.  Cocoa Beach don’t allow cars on beach.  Cocoa is not spotless, but compared to Daytona it is.  I hate going places that are dirty.

	Finally, I can exercise at Cocoa.  I can walk, run, or ride a bike at Cocoa.  Exercising at Daytona is dangerous.  For example, people drive their cars on the beach, so people exercising may get hit by a car.  If they went to Cocoa Beach they wouldn’t had to worry about getting hit by vehicles.  Cocoa is a better location to exercise at.

	In short, Cocoa Beach is the location every American should visit.  Most people have already been, but there is one person the probably hasn’t been.  Cocoa Beach is soothing clean, and a good location to exercise outdoors.  To me Cocoa Beach is the best beach to go to near Orlando.

The D Composition:   A college course that should or should not be eliminated

	A college course that is currently required that should be eliminated is Math 24, Pre-Algebra.  I think, it should only be mandatory for Accounts and Maths courses, not health related coursed like nursing.  It requires a lot of time, to do especially with all the labs requirements and it’s a mandatroy course to pass because of The State Competency Test.

	I think making Pre-Algebra a requirement is time consuming for heath studies students.  For one thing, a student may not do well in math and do pre-algebra and totally failed it both in class and state competency but want to continue doing it just to get into his/her career courses, but by the constant failing of Pre-algebra, that individual might get frustrated and quit college.  Some might choose a different career that don’t require book work, but mental skills like construction.  And maybe that person excel in that field.

	Like me I am presently taking courses to get into the nursing program.  I took Pre-Algebra last semester, were doing well in class, but when I took the State Competency test I failed it, so I eventually failed the class.  I am frustrated because I know it’s mandatory and I have to take it over.  And on the other hand instead of me doing a new subject, I have to retake Prealgebra to finish the requirement to get into my nursing.

	The requirement for Pre algebra should be eliminated for sciences courses.  Science related careers only requires little match skills, not a full course.  The most important maths should be the conversion table.  One should be able to convert from kilograms to pounds and vise versa, because it is very important to know a person weight, so that proper medication can be prescribe for that person.  All the other match are required by the doctor.  They do the calculations, give the nurse the order and then the nurse follow it.

	Only courses I think should be mandatroy in the place of Pre algebra and English, speech and writing.  To be a nurse requires a lot of reading and writing english, making those a requirement would allow more students to choose their right career.  Some one who is not good in math wouldn’t have problem doing a course that requires English, because they may enjoy English more and do very good in it.

	By allowing a mandatory course for a career not pertaining to that course is money wasting and time consuming.  College Officials should evaluate each courses and place the proper subjects requirements to them.  Thus helping students from getting stuck doing a course and getting to hate college because they fail the subject.  Instead cause them to love the course required for each subjects and they will love college more.  I think it’s a way that the college make money, by making a subject mandatroy.  But on the whole college is fun, so mandatory courses or not everyone should be given the opportunity to enroll in a college course.

The  F composition:   A person that helped you in troubled times

	I can never forget the bad time that I spent when my Ex-husband who left my daughter and I.  I was very sad at that time due the problem that I had.  Thanks to the positive peer evaluation from my best friend Amina, witch it made the changes in my life from a worst to a better life, she made me stronger with her beautiful advises, she gave me back my confident that I lost during my 6 years of marriage, she made me feel very warmed and secured because I had some to talk to inspite my loleness.  

	My best friend Amino made changes in my life, because she was very patient by listening to me, by responding to my emails, and, giving me advises that I needed at that hard time that I spent.

	Because she knew me for twenty years, she beleived any words that came from my mouth, she felt any tears that came from my eyes, she heard me via my E-mails despite our distance.

	In addition, she gave me self-confident because she knew who I am, she reminded me how great person I was and I still that I am her Angel.  How I like to help people, she thought me that I did my best to keep that mariage, and it is not the end of the world.  She evaluated me always with positive results, that made me strong and changed my life to a better.

	Her advises made me not o quit my school, keep my dreams and work hard to be a teacher, so I will teach my students to evaluate their peer with a positive evaluation because it gave a great results.

	Thanks to my best friend I still strong.

Description of Criteria in Evaluating ENC 1101 Essays:  6-Point Scale, Holistic Scoring
						
Sometimes professors evaluate essays by using a holistic approach, which means the paper is read from beginning to end but not marked analytically.  It is given a score as a whole, based on the following criteria. The scores are from the highest to the lowest.

Score of 6:	The 6 paper presents or implies a thesis that is developed with noticeable coherence.  The writer’s ideas are usually substantive, sophisticated, and carefully elaborated.  The writer’s choice of language and structure is precise and purposeful, often to the point of being polished.  Control of sentence structure, usage and mechanics, despite an occasional flaw, contributes to the writer’s ability to communicate the purpose.

Score of 5:	The 5 paper presents or implies a thesis and provides convincing, specific support.  The writer’s ideas are usually fresh, mature, and extensively developed.  The writer demonstrates a command of language and uses a variety of structures.  Control of sentence structure, usage and mechanics, despite an occasional flaw, contributes to the writer’s ability to communicate the purpose.

Score of 4:	The 4 paper presents a thesis and often suggests a plan of development, which is usually carried out.  The writer provides enough supporting detail to accomplish the purpose of the paper.  The writer makes competent use of language and sometimes varies the sentence structure.  Occasional errors in sentence structure, usage, and mechanics do not interfere with the writer’s ability to communicate the purpose.

A score of 6, 5, or 4 is considered an “upper half” paper.   üüüüüüüüüüüüüüü

Score of 3:	The 3 paper presents a thesis and often suggests a plan of development, which is usually carried out.  The writer provides support that tends towards general statements or lists.  In general, the support in a 3 paper is neither sufficient nor clear enough to be convincing.  Sentence structure tends to be pedestrian and often repetitious.  Errors in sentence structure, usage, and mechanics sometimes interfere with the writer’s ability to communicate the purpose.
									
A score of 3 is an average paper.     øøøøøø

Score of 2:	The 2 paper usually presents a thesis.  The writer provides support that tends to be sketchy and/or illogical.  Sentence structure may be simplistic and disjointed.  Errors in sentence structure, usage, and mechanics frequently interfere with the writer’s ability to communicate the purpose.

Score of 1:	The 1 paper generally presents a thesis that is vaguely worded or weakly asserted.  Support, if any, tends to be rambling and/or superficial.  The writer uses language that often becomes tangled, incoherent, and thus confusing.  Errors in sentence structure, usage, and mechanics are often pervasive.

Papers scored 2 or 1 do not pass.    úúúúúúúúúúúúúúú

The following pages present topics and six impromptu essays which were scored holistically.  Note how they conform to the criteria descriptions.

Some Essay Topics

  1.	A fictional character (not a real person) from a novel, movie, story, TV show, or play who is or is not a good role model
  
  2.	A way that people unite in a crisis situation

  3.	A person now living whose actions have significantly affected many people

  4.	An entertainment personality, politician, business person, or sports figure (or team) that is overrated

  5.	A characteristic of an effective boss or employee

  6.	An important quality for a leader of a nation or organization

  7.	A person from your childhood who had a positive or negative influence on you

  8.	One person or place that has changed for the better or the worse

  9.	An historical figure that you’d like to be for a short time

10.	A place you would like to visit or revisit

11.	A place you go in order to reduce stress

12.	A place that might appeal to you but not to others

13.	A way to spend a weekend evening

14.	A place that recalls pleasant or unpleasant memories

15.	Why Orlando is such a popular vacation destination

16.	A place about which people draw wrong conclusions

17.	An invention or discovery made since 1900 that has significantly affected society

18.	A reason to live or not to live to be one hundred years old

19.	A relative or friend who is your opposite
20.	A type of animal, real or imaginary, that has admirable qualities

21.	A simple invention that is vital to society

22.	A specific childhood hobby or interest that lasts into adulthood

23.	A product that should be taken off the market

24.	A social or political organization that has benefited or harmed humankind

25.	A chore or job that you hate or love

26.	A problem people face from which they ultimately benefit

27.	A tradition that should be handed down to children

28.	A personality trait that virtually assures success in school, business, or a profession

29.	A local issue that is cause for worry or celebration

30.	An advantage or disadvantage of shopping online

31.	A modern invention that we would be better off without

32.	An event that people either dread or look forward to

33.	One movement, cause, or organization that people should support

34.	An activity you were encouraged or forced to do as a child that has had positive results

35.	An aspect of college that has been surprising, disappointing, or enjoyable

36.	An advantage or disadvantage of being an only child (or the youngest or middle)

37.	A quality of an effective friend, partner, or mate

38.	The best age for a person to get married

The 6 essay:   Something learned in childhood that is valuable through adulthood

Little Bookworm

	“The sun was up.”   I can still partially see the illustrated page of my school book, but the sentence is burned into my brain, each typed letter clear as day.  The room was flushed with sunlight that day.  My teacher was kind.  The world was a wonderful place, my problems as insignificant as ants.  I was learning to read.  Those four words marked the beginning of a pastime I would engage in for decades to come.  I couldn’t foresee the hours in the future I would spend curled like a purring cat around tattered copies of Nabokov and Edith Wharton, stuffing chocolates into my mouth.  No, at the moment I knew only one thing:   I was going to have to crack at those books on my parents’ shelves at home and see if I could come across any dirty words.

	I did go home and, after informing my little sister of my plan, select and begin to peruse one of the hard-cover books that belonged to my parents.  Chapter One was a great disappointment, as I uncovered no foul language, and could not read the remainder of them.  I decided then to take an easier approach with a book geared more towards my age group and elected one with a pig and a spider on the cover.  Difficult going, I nonetheless took great pride in concluding each chapter, often pausing to count the number of pages left before I reached the end and could boast that I had finished the book.

	The next several years were spent with freckled snub-nose buried deep in horse novels.  No black stallion, black beauty, bay, dun roan, or Palomino was neglected in my prodigious appetite for the equine tale.  I disappeared into a world where I won steeplechases and famous horse races, and collected blue ribbons by the armload.  Tears dropped over the cruel bit, protruding horse ribs, the heavy cart, and the cracking whip.  Who could ever forget the story about Perry the pony, who placed first despite the handicap of being blind?

	My wish for a ten-thousand-dollar Arabian horse went unfulfilled, and the interest in ponies then disappeared altogether.  The teenage me picked up supermarket horror and trash novels, to my mother’s distaste and voiced disapproval.  I swapped the opuses of Stephen King and V. C. Andrews with my girlfriends.  We agreed that they were fabulous and the best things we’d ever read.  Their bright, glittery paperback covers graced the same white bookshelf that had once housed my beloved Berenstein Bears books and, later, the entire Black Stallion series.

	I finally outgrew adolescence and the gruesome, incestuous plots of V. C. Andrews, and moved on to The Catcher in the Rye, The Color Purple and Fried Green Tomatoes.  I was often able to puff that I had read the book, and could assure everyone that it was much better than the movie.  A brief fling with poetry accompanied my unfiltered-cigarette phase, as an even briefer encounter with Bukowski escorted my whiskey-on-the-rocks phase.  I eventually outgrew those, too.

	During a string of difficult events in my life recently, I turned to reading anything that made me laugh.  My favorite books brought me comfort.  I look back on the timeline of my life and see how books marked each turn, each phase.  Reading has shaped my life, and it all started when the sun rose on those four little words: “The sun was up.”

The 5 essay:   An advantage or disadvantage to living in Orlando

The Happiest Place on Earth

	Where else would someone be more cheerful than “the happiest place on Earth?”  The lifestyle someone leads while living next to Disney World and Universal is one of utmost happiness.  Being near the two corporate giants has many advantages but the best one has to be going to the attractions whenever you want!

	Disney World has many thrilling rides and exciting adventures.  The first place someone thinks of when they hear the word “Disney” is Cinderella’s illustrious castle in the Magic Kingdom.  The Magic Kingdom is home to the pillaging and drunken Pirates of the Caribbean, the magnificent flying wonder Dumbo, and, of course, everyones favorite mouse, Mickey.  MGM Studios has attractions that provide movie goers with intense action and adventure.  Any day of the week we can go visit the brave Indiana Jones, the evil Darth Vader, or the horrifying Tower of Terror!  Animal Kingdom is like Noah’s ark except without the ark!  Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!  The futuristic Epcot has always provided us with great entertainment and delicious foreign foods throughout the years.  It’s fast rides such as the high-octane Test Track or the back-to-the-seat thriller Mission: Space are second to none.  The many cultures assembled around the Showcase Lagoon make Epcot one of the most enjoyable places to be.

	Let’s not forget the wild and crazy Universal!  Universal Studios has given us classic rides and thrills that always send you back wanting more.  Unforgettable faces such as the adorable E.T., the terrifying Jaws, and the invincible Terminator make it an awesome place to spend a weekend day.  Islands of Adventure has given kids and adults a place to get away from magical pink fairies and cute little rodents.  The super heroes like the web-slinging Spiderman, the big mean and green Hulk and many more give adventure a new meaning.

	Being able to ago to the attractions whenever one wants also gives something of unparalleled satisfaction. . . bragging rights!  Watching friends and family squirm as they hear tales of seeing Mickey or riding crazy rides every weekend just makes it all worthwhile.  Also, making fun of the bumbling tourists never gets old.  The ones that actually dress as tourists (the Mickey T-shirt, the phanny pack, and the camera) are just ripe for the picking!

	Orlando is one of the greatest places to live.  Whether it’s the pretty pick fairies or the thrilling rides, theres something for everyone in this cheerful and magical city.

The 4 essay:   An advantage or disadvantage of peer pressure

Daily Influences

	Peer pressure has become a major, if not number one, influence in our society.  It is often used in a negative connotation.  Yet, this is not always the case.  Who says it can’t be positively used?  Through places such as church, home, and sometimes school, peer pressure is making a differences.

	I have attended church ever since I was born.  My morals and beliefs have matured through my friends and role models that also attend church.  I recive a weekly dose of encouragement in faith and school, at church.  Sometimes it’s what gets me through the week.  I would consider that to be positive peer pressure.

	Family plays a major role in positive peer pressure.  They are considered to be my peers or friends, in my mind.  Their influence on me has made me the person I am today.  My parents have taught me never to give up on anything.  They have pushed me to do things I thought were impossible for me to do.  During middle school, I tried out for the volleyball team. My sixth grade year, I didn’t make the team.  I was devistated.  I didn’t want to have anything to do with volleyball.  The next year my mom made me try out again.  After what seemed to be a never ending argument, I consented to try out.  Yet again, I didn’t make the team.  It wasn’t until my eighth grade year, that I made the cut.  Had it not been for my mother’s positive peer pressure, I would have never played middle school volleyball.

	My friends at school have also been an influence in my life.  Especially, my friend Caitlin.  I had been struggling in my algebra class in ninth grade.  My grade was a seventy-eight percent, almost a B.  I was determined to bring my grade up with my final exam.  Caitlin, the math wizard, helped me study during the entire weekend previous to the exam.  In turn, I aced the test, and brought my grade up to an eighty-five percent.  Caitlin’s positive peer pressure helped me succeed in my Algebra class.

	In summary, through positive peer pressure, I have been able to succeed in life.  Thanks to my influences at church, home, and school.  As a result, peer pressure really does pay off.

Another 4 essay:   A habit that should be broken

	I”m late!  I’m late!  Honk!  Honk!  Get out of my way.  Don’t people know how to drive around here?  We hear this just about everyday from careless drivers speeding down the interstate.  Driving is a privilege because when a driver gets behind the wheel of a car, the driver is not only responsible for their life but the lives of the others on the roads.  Speeding is a useless and dangerous, it causes stress on the roadways, endangers others around the speeder, and it is the cause of many accidents.

	We see this type of thing day after day on the roads.  Carless drivers speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, speeding up, slowing down all this just to get around other cars.  Does the eager driver not realize he is not only putting stress on himself, but the other drivers as well.  Now the other drivers are paying more attention to the crazy driver than their own driving.  The thoughtless driver then cuts a car off so he does not miss his exit.  He leaves the other driver screaming, cussing, and banging on the steering wheel because he almost hit him.

	Then the lunatic driver races down the exit ramp, through the intersection and almost strikes a bicyclist riding on the side of the road.  The crazy driver has now increased the stress level and jeopardized the safety of people around him.  As he speeds on, not even realizing what he has just done.  He comes upon his last turn before his destination.  He rolls up to the light not even looking before he turns and he almost hits a pedistrian trying to cross the street.  “Get out of the way, can’t people see I’m in a hurry” the driver yells.

	The crazy driver could care less about anyone else at this point.  “I’m almost there” the driver says as he runs a red light.  SMACK!  CRASH!  SHATTER!  CRUNCH!  All the driver hears now is the constant blaring of his horn where his head hit the steering wheel.  The crazy driver has caused an even bigger hazard, an accident.	   

	People don’t seem to understand that when someone is driving a two ton piece of metal that any move they make sends off a dominion effect.  One car does something and every other car reacts.  So for the safety of everyone on the roads, please don’t speed.

The 3 essay:   Something that could preserve or ruin a relationship

A Healthy Relationship.

	A good relationship is hard to find.  It is very difficult to find two people that are compatible.  Sometimes a relationship is mainly sexual, other times a relationship is based only on intellect.  When one does find a good relationship, one should not ruin their relationship by distrusting their significant other, cheating on their significant other and acting out violently against their significant other.

	The first action that could ruin a relationship is violence.  Violence does not solve anything.  A relationship is based on two people who love and support each other.  Arguments and disagreements are part of a healthy relationship.  Physical or mental abuse is not part of a healthy relationship.  With violence there is a certain amount of fear in the relationship.  There should be no fear in a loving relationship.  Violence can ruin any stable relationship.

	The second action that could ruin any good relationship is cheating.  While violence could bring fear into a relationship, cheating could bring hurt.  Trust is the foundation for a good relationship.  Without trust there is no love.  In a relationship a commitment is made between two people.  If a commitment is broken, the trust is broken as well.  With no trust between two people, the relationship will suffer.

	The third action that could ruin a relationship is distrust.  While cheating and violence could ruin a relationship almost immediately, distrust could slowly break down a relationship over time.  In a healthy relationship, people must trust each other.  Accusations will lead to bitterness.  When people are not trusted and they do not know why, they may get angry or confused.  Over time a person will not want to be in a relationship with someone who does not trust them.

	In a good relationship there will be many ups and downs.  There will be some good times and some bad times.  If one maintains a healthy relationship and does not distrust their significant other, cheat on their significant other and act out violently against their significant other one should have a good relationship for a very long time.

The 2 essay:   A good or bad influence of video games

Habitual Games

	Which one of our lives has been ruined due to bad practice?  Or know someone whose loves to play video games over and over again?  According to the Orlando Sentinal, majority of Americans youth start playing video games at early age.  And majority of them continue in their adulthood.  As my father said, “The more you play games; the more its become habitual.”

	First of all, video games keep us from doing other positive things that will make us to be all around individual.

	For example, my cousin Daniel spend numerous hours playing video games.  As soon as he gets home from school, he starts to play video games.  He will not do his assignments or any other social activities.  As a result, he had two Fs and two Ds last semester.  Playing video games also keep kids from engaging in other activities that will enhance their health.  For instance, Daniel dosen’t do any fisical or social activities as a result, he is now over 200 lbs at age sixteen.

	Secondly, video games has some violence impact on our youth today.  For example, many kids play game that teach them how to shot someone.  Imagaine your kids playing video games that teach them to kill.  According to investigaters in the Colorado’s school massacre, the two suspects had their own web site.  This web site taught them who to take cover in a building and it also taught them how to conceal weapons for an attack.

	Thirdly, video games keep kids from developing other vidal habbits.  For instance, my friend John’s started playing video games when he was five years old.  Now John is a college student, who is finding it difficult in his courses do to the lot of study skill.

	In short, in order to improve all aspect of life, people need to do other things instead of doing one thing over and over.

The 1 essay:   A mistake from which you learned a valuable lesson

The Worst Week of My Life

	Everyone makes mistakes and every mistake that someone makes has a valuable lesson, which that person can learned from.  For me if asked for a mistake that I learned a valuabe lesson I will have to answer the time I grab my parents car key without asking.

	Three year ago, I was a junior in high school where I was always had to get a ride from my parent, while all my friends received their car when they turn sixteen.  My behavior toward my parents was changed because they was not able to gave me a car right after I got my driver licence.  I remembered doing things they had told me not to do, such as going out when they say no, or worn clothes they don’t want me to.  After complaint so many times to my friends about how I need to drive and I don’t have a car, my friend Rachelle came up with an Idea.  she had told me that before she had her she used to grabbed her parents car keys and drove around while they were sleeping.  I taught that was a great Idea and decided to start doing the same thing.  I had done that for my whole junior and senior year before my parents figured out what has been going on.

	In my senior year I drove my dad car every night until one night I got in big trouble, That was my birthday, May 15 which was my 18 birthday I woke up started preparing for a nite out with my friends, I picked my dress and shoes that I was going to wear, When the phone ring, it was Rachelle telling me that she was not able to brought out because her car was not working.  At that moment; I was a little down because I was looking forward to that nite.  After a while I call all my friends and told them that will be able to drive.  In the afternoon I went and I asked my parents to borrow their car  The refused, so did not say anything, I just left and waited for nite.  Around 6 pm my parents went to bed because they had to wakeup early in the morning to go to work.  As I always do I grab the car key and left.  While we were driving to City Walk, a red Honda that was full of guys who was just come from a party and they were also drunk, they hit our car on the drive side.  After waiting for so long, the police came.  They arrested the guys and called my parents.  My father was extreemly mad.  He came talked to the officer, brough all my friends home and we headed home.  When I got, I found out that my parents were already bought my car and they were just waiting on my graduation day to gave it to me.  Now they say, “We are going to return the car that we bought you to pay for the damage of our car.”  

	In conclusion one mistake from which I learned a variable lesson was to grabbed my parents without asking, and also not to know how to be patient.  After that time ,I became a change person.

Items to Avoid in Writing Compositions

#1	Misspelled words – especially at the beginning and ending of the essay and in very important words (example: If you are writing about how you intend to be a business major, spell BUSINESS correctly.)  SEE LIST, PAGES 143-144.

	Correct these errors: 	I am greatful that I have a sell phone.
					The personel computer is wonderfull.
					Your on your own now?
					I have taken an intrest in arobics.
					Everbody should study a fourign langage.
					Its to bad she doesn’t have insurrance.

#2	Gross grammar errors

	Correct these errors:	The child blowed up the balloon.
					I could of went to the concert.
					Their gonna leave now.
					We saw are grandma at a auction recently.
					Karl use to date Nadine.
					Don’t you have no sense?
					Trisha done good on the algebra test.
					Problems seems to happen more often then not.
					Zachary like to play video game.
					A student should make good use of their time.
					Every thursday I work at the grocery store.
					He labeled hisself a fool for love.
					Jackson left early.  Because of the heavy traffic.
					Florida has insect pests.  Such as fire ants.
					Mom bought me a shirt.  Since it was my birthday.
					She left at dawn, she returned at dusk.
					Mom is the most specialist women in my life.
					
#3	Fuzzy openings and closings–especially an unclear thesis

	Correct these errors:	Mentally in your mind and physically you should have a positive self-image of yourself.
There are positive and negative advantages to not doing too much exercise.
  	
	SEE INFORMATION ABOUT THESIS, PAGES 93, 146-148.
#4	General statements without specific, picturable details of support  

Note the vague, redundant wording: Working out is good for the body and mind.  It makes the body feel good and helps you mentally, too.  When you work out, the body feels a lot better.  So does your mind.  So, it’s great to exercise both the body and the mind.  You’ll feel better if you do.  SEE EXERCISES, PAGES 160-165.

#5	So-so, ho-hum vocabulary or slang–especially overuse of these words:
and, but, then, go, get, make, do, things, nice, good, great–plus any form of the TO BE verb family: is, are, was, were, etc. 

Here are some slang words/phrases which we sometimes say but which are too informal to use in writing, unless there is a specific reason to use them:

	I screwed up.		I messed up.	He conned her.	It was OK (or okay).
	She was ticked off.		What a hassle!	Life sucks.	My sis is laid back.
	She’s cool.			I freaked out.	What a blast!	I hang out with Flo.
	He’s into computers.			I bugged my parents.    Just chill (out).
	I know where you’re coming from.	It was awesome.     . . . or whatever

#6	Overuse of repetitive structures, especially the subject + verb construction at the beginning of numerous sentences in a row, which sounds choppy.

Example: My best friend and I went camping last weekend.  We went to the Ocala National Forest.  We walked a trail for two hours.  We saw three deer.  It was all of a sudden.  The deer wagged their tails.  Their tails were fluffy white.  We laughed.  They saw us.  They ran away. 

#7	Leaving out words/endings or writing the same word twice in a row

	Correct the errors:	I was total upset.
				I means the world to her.
				Eloise is sister.
				Don’t ask Dad go with you.
				A friend of mines owes me twenty dollars.
				She seem happy.
				I couldn’t believe what happen.
				I go the the park when I’m sad.

#8	Errors that will cause the reader to laugh rather than take your ideas seriously

	Examples:	She had a missed conception.
			We shouldn’t put actors on peddle stools.
			They purchased chester drawers for their bedroom.
			Who will play in the Super Bowel next year?
			Grandma suffered from Old Timer’s Disease.
							
#9	In any composition, never use information from a source without giving that source credit in the essay.  If you don’t give credit, you are plagiarizing.  SEE VALENCIA’S POLICY ON ACADEMIC HONESTY, PAGE 91-92.

$	Think before you write, double check spelling and grammar (using the dictionary and a handbook), use varied vocabulary (a thesaurus will help), and PROOFREAD carefully before submitting assignments.  SEE EXERCISES, PAGES 174-175.

Words Commonly Misspelled or Confused

a lot				believe			criticism		finally
absence			beneficial		criticize		foreign
accept				benefit			decided		forty
accidental			breath			decision		fourth
accidentally			breathe			defendant		fulfill
accommodate		business		definite		general
acquaintance			calculator		definitely		generally
acquire			calendar		definition		government
actually			capital			describe		governor
adapt				capitol			description		grammar
address			category		desirable		grandparents
adolescent			ceiling			despair		guidance
adopt				cemetery		desperate		harass
advice				channel			destroy		height
advise				choose			different		heroes
affect				chose			disastrous		hilarious
aisle				clothes			disease		hindrance
alcohol			cloths			distress		history
all ready			coarse			dormitory		hoping
already			commitment		echoes		hundred
all right			committee		ecstasy		hungry
amateur			comparative		eighth		hypocrisy
ambitious			complement		embarrass		imaginary
among				compliment		environment	imagination
analysis			conceited		equipment		imagine
analyze			concentrate		equipped		imitate
annihilate			conscience		escape		immediate
answer			conscientious		especially		immediately
apiece				consciousness		exaggerate		impressionable
apparent			consistency		exceed		incident
appear				consistent		excellence		incidentally
appearance			control			excellent		independence
arguing			controlled		except		indict
argument			controlling		exhilarated		initial
assassination			controversial		exist			integrate
athlete				controversy		existence		intelligence
bargain			coolly			existent		intelligent
begin				convenience		experience		interest
beginner			council			explanation	interpret
beginning			counsel			familiar		interpretation
belief				course			fascinate		irrelevant

	island				past			recommendation		temperature

isle				pastime			referring			tendency
knowledge			perform		rehearsal			tobacco
laboratory			performance		remembrance		than
lead				permissible		repetition			their
led				personal		repetitious			then
leisure				personnel		responsible		there
length				physical		restaurant			therefore
liable				playwright		right				thorough
library				possess			rite				though
license			possession		roommate			thought
listen				practical		rhyme			through
loneliness			precede			rhythm			to
lonely				prefer			safety				too
loose				preferred		saxophone			tomorrow
lose				prejudice		schedule			tragedy
losing				preparation		seminar			tried
magnificent			presence		sense				truly
maintenance			present(s)		separate			tyranny
marriage			prevalent		separation		unnecessary
marshmallow			principal		sergeant			until
medicine			privilege		seize				usage
millennia			probably		shining			useful
millionaire			procedure		useless			useless
miniature			proceed		similar			using
minute			profession		since				usual
miscellaneous		professor		sincerely			valuable
mischievous			prominent		skiing			various
naive				pronunciation		sophomore			vengeance
necessary			psychology		sponsor			vertical
niece				pumpkin		stationary			vicious
noticeable			quantity		stationery			villain
noticing			questionnaire		strategy			weather
occasion			quiet			stubbornness		weird
occur				quit			studying			whether
occurred			quite			success			woman
occurrence			realize			successful			women
occurring			really			summary			write
opportunity			receive			surprise			writer
origin				receiving		syllabi			writing
parallel			receipt			syllabus			yield
passed				recommend		tattoo				yogurt

A Word About Composition Titles

The title creates a first impression of the essay.  Since you want to pique your readers’ curiosity and interest from the start, take time to think of a solid title for your paper.

C	Capitalize the first word, the last word, and all important words in between in an essay title.

C	DO NOT underline or put the title in quotation marks or bold print.

C	Make the title interesting and clever.  Keep in mind that the topic you might be given is very general. YOU make the essay more specific with your own title.

	Examples:	Dull – My Job
			More interesting – The Stress of UPS or
		     	     			Don’t Make it a Blockbusters Night	 					
			Dull – My Summer Vacation		
			More interesting – Complete Chaos at Camp or
        						Telemarketing Nightmares

         			Dull – Learning How to Swim
       			More interesting – Take a Deep Breath

			Too general – An Admirable Animal
			More specific – Harold the Happy Hamster or
					     With the Speed of a Cheetah

 			Too general – My Childhood
			More specific – Rebel at Age Six or
 					     What’s so Great About Being an Only Child?

			Too general – A Household Chore
 			More specific – Flushing Away the Grime or
					     Mow, Mow, Mow the Lawn 

C	All words MUST be spelled correctly.  Misspellings create a strong negative impression from the start.

Activity:   Examine the titles of the essays in This is it! on pages 1-90.  List the three that sound the most interesting and the two that seem the least interesting.
Writing an Effective Thesis

An effective thesis (that is, the essay’s main idea) is

C	an attitude toward a subject, not just an announcement of the topic being discussed

	NO:	In this paper I will discuss computers.  OR  My essay is about computers.
	YES:	Unlike the desktop computer, the laptop is more portable and convenient.
		OR   Computers save us time, money, and frustration.

C	narrowed down to fit the constraints of time and length of assignment, focused on one idea–not many topics too extensive to deal with in a single essay.

	TOO BROAD:			Problems in America include violence, abuse,
						and drugs.
	MORE MANAGEABLE:	Abuse of animals is becoming more and more prevalent in Florida.

C	clearly and specifically stated–not general or vague

	TOO GENERAL:		Violence in society needs to be addressed.
	MORE SPECIFIC:		Some public schools have reduced violence by having police officers in the hallways, making everyone pass through X-ray machines, and requiring students to wear uniforms.

C	supportable with solid details, evidence, reputable sources, and/or individual thought–not based solely on the writer’s personal opinion or beliefs without reason

	STUDENT X:		How do you feel about women being priests?
	STUDENT Y:		I’m against it.
	STUDENT X:		Why?
	STUDENT Y:		Because I am.
	STUDENT X:		But what do you base your opinion on?
	STUDENT Y:		Everyone is welcome to his or her opinion.  You 
					have yours and I have mine.

C	generally a declarative sentence, not a phrase or question

	NOT A THESIS:		How to care for a horse
	NOT A THESIS:		Is caring for a horse difficult?
	THESIS:			Caring for a horse is time consuming but worthwhile.

C	not trite or obvious

	TRITE/OBVIOUS:	Love makes the world go ’round.
					In the summer it’s hot in Florida.
					Some people read books.
					Terrorism is bad.

C	free of slang
	
	SLANG:			Playing tennis is cool.
					Last week I basically screwed up when I hassled my 
					parents about buying me a new car.  Okay, I should 
					have been, like, more laid back and tried to con them.
					Life sucks for three reasons.

C	accurate, forceful, dynamic–but not fanatical or irresponsible

	INACCURATE:		Being irresponsible causes pregnancy.
					Obesity is not directly related to overeating.
	FANATICAL:		That gubernatorial candidate is a communist redneck 	cowboy.

C	tempered down, without generalizations about people (culture, race, age, gender, occupation), places, or events

	STEREOTYPES/			All women like to shop.
	GENERALIZATIONS:		People past the age of forty are bad drivers.
						African Americans all like rap music.
						Divorces are caused by too many working
						mothers.
						All teenagers have tried drugs.
						Everyone living in New York City is rude.
						Marriages never last.
						All men are uncaring louts.

C	grammatically correct

	ERRORS:		We don’t seem to do nothing about identity theft.
				Morality has went out the window these days.

Note: A thesis can be either explicit, which means stated directly–usually at the end of the introduction, or implicit, which means strongly suggested or hinted at.  If the thesis is implied, the writer must be so clear that anyone reading the essay can draw the intended inference.

Outlining an Essay

The purpose of outlining is to organize the essay so each paragraph is unified and coherently connected to the next.  An informal or “scratch” outline gives a sense of the paper’s plan in “main ideas” blocks.  A more formal outline uses a particular format and can be written in either all brief words or phrases (called a topic outline) or all in sentences (called a sentence outline).  The two types should not be mixed.

Pointers about outlining include the following:

•	The thesis statement must be written in a complete sentence, never a phrase or question.  SEE OTHER COMPONENTS/EXAMPLES OF THESIS STATEMENTS ON PAGES 142-143.

•	A topic outline begins with a capital letter but has no period at the end of each word/phrase.

•	IMPORTANT:  A topic outline must be written using the same part of speech for each section.  The best choice would be ALL NOUNS.

•	A sentence outline begins with a capital letter and ends with a period.

•	In a three-level outline, levels go from general (level 1), to more specific (level 2) to specific examples (level 3).

•	Level 1 is written in Roman numerals.  (I., II., III., etc.)

•	Level 2 is written in capital letters.  (A., B., C., etc.)

•	Level 3 is written in numbers.  (1., 2., 3., etc.)

•	IMPORTANT:  Everything comes in at least pairs in each level.  That is, if there is a I., there must be a II.  If there is an A., there must be a B.  If there is a 1., there must be a 2.

•	Periods should line up in each level.

•	Misspelling in an outline is unacceptable.

•	The outline should be proofread carefully
•	

Sample Outline

This is a sample outline of a student essay.  On the left is a sentence outline; on the right, a topic outline.

Outline

Thesis statement:	Getting a tattoo made me feel more grown up.

  I.	I got the idea from my friend Denise.	
	   I.	The idea	
 II.	I watched members of the football team 
	choose their tattoos.
	A.	The tattoos would cost sixty dollars.
	B.	Denise received her tattoo before I did.
	 II.	Watching others
       A.	Cost
      	B.	Denise’s tattoo

III.	My turn
	
III.	 It was now my turn.	
	A.	The tattoo artist prepared me for the 
		occasion
		1.	He folded down my pants.
		2.	He patted the area with alcohol.
		3.	He readied the needle.

	B.	The procedure began.
		1.	He jabbed me with the needle.
		2.	I saw yellow, greens, purples, 
			and blues.
		3.	The design included six stars 
			and a sliver of a moon.		A.	Preparation
		1.	Pants
		2.	Alcohol
		3.	Needle

	B.	Procedure
		1.	Quick jabs
		2.	Colors
		3.	Design	

Writing an Effective Essay:   Organization Plan

		Paragraph #1 (introduction)
				
		attention-getter

		THESIS

		Paragraph #2 (body ¶ 1)

		Topic sentence (transition)
		6-10 sentences
		Clincher

		Paragraph #3 (body ¶ 2)

		Topic sentence (transition)
		6-10 sentences
		Clincher

		Paragraph #4 (body ¶ 3)
	
		Topic sentence (transition)
		6-10 sentences
		Clincher

		Paragraph #5 (conclusion)
				
		Thesis (reaffirmed)
		3-4 sentences

	

Paragraph  #1  – Introduction

Do’s							Do Not’s

Get reader’s attention				Ramble
	How?						Apologize
Ask a question					Make a broad, unsupportable remark
Use a bold or startling statement		Be confusing
Give an anecdote (tell story)			Begin in a blunt way, such as
Give background information				“In this paper I’ll discuss–” or
Use description (senses)				“My essay is about–”
Go from general to specific			
Set the tone
State the thesis/central idea (and if you use a three-part thesis, you’ll be setting up the
	essay’s organization plan)

Paragraph  #2, 3 and 4

Do’s							Do Not’s

Have an organization plan before you		Ramble
	begin						Mention an idea without support
Make all ideas relate (unity)			Use “so-so” vocabulary
Give a main point (topic sentence),		Use fabricated statistics
	then specific supporting details
Paint pictures with words by using 
	some of the five senses:
	sight, sound, taste, touch, smell
Use strong, non-repetitive words
Use varied sentence patterns (rather than
	beginning every sentence with the
	subject + verb structure)
Check for basic grammar/spelling errors
Use transitions between ¶’s (See list.)

Paragraph  #5

Do’s							Do Not’s

Bring paper to a logical end			Ramble
Restate thesis (in different words)		End abruptly
Mention broader implications/applications
End with question, quotation, anecdote,
	or a witty, insightful remark   

Sample Introductions

Begin your essay well.  Some methods to do so include using a question, a direct quotation, a bold or startling statement or statistic, an anecdote, background information, definition, brief examples, a general statement that leads to a more specific one, description, analogy, or contrast.  These methods can be used in combination.  Here are some samples.  What techniques are used?  Find other effective introductions from the essays on pages 1-90.

	When I was a little girl driving through the Midwest with my family, I would see horse-drawn carriages moving down the road.  I said to Mom, “Look at that.  Who are those people?”  The Amish people, as I later learned they were called, were a religious group.  I was extremely curious about their history and where they came from.  What beliefs did they have, and why didn’t they drive cars?  The Amish seemed to be stuck in history.  Why didn’t they accept modern ideas and innovations?

						–“The Plain People”
						  Deanna Bearden

	Babysitting, or I believe the proper term is “dogsitting,” for my neighbor’s two Malteses was not the greatest job in the world, but I was courteous and stupid enough to do it anyway.  While my neighbor was out enjoying the sunny beaches of Hawaii, I devoted my time to her two measly mutts.  She listened to the peaceful ocean.  I listened to screeching barks.  She breathed in the fresh ocean air.  I smelled the musty odor of pooch.  She had the trip of a lifetime.  I had a scary, unpleasant encounter with her dogs.

						–“Two Bucks and Almost a Bite”
						  Michael Wolf

	As I meandered through the quaint shops lining the square, the shocking pinks and vibrant purples of petunia blossoms captured my attention.  I bent to inspect a particularly stunning magenta petal, and its delicate scent wafted through the air.  However, a more demanding aroma invaded my nostrils, one I just could not ignore.  The scent drew me towards it, and I felt almost powerless as I followed this hypnotic smell to its origin.  When I looked up, I found myself under a sign which read, “Betty’s Bakery.”		
						–“Shopping With Cents?  No, With Senses”
						  Caroline Kline

	History is filled with stories of legendary men and women who appear in times of national crisis.  By precept and example, they teach others what it means to love their country, to right a wrong, to fight for the oppressed, to protect the downtrodden and, above all and if need be, to die for their country.  Philippine history is no exception.  The many crises this country has gone through have given birth to people who served as great models and worthy sources of unending inspiration.  One such man was the late President José P. Laurel, the man who led the Philippines during the darkest era of the Japanese invasion in World War II.  Revered as one of the greatest leaders in the annals of the country’s history, he was a man of many talents: a jurist as well as an educator, statesman, nationalist, patriot, and authentic leader of his people.  Without a doubt, Dr. José P. Laurel’s legacy is the epitome of what it means to love, serve, and lead one’s country and its people.

						–“Dr. José P. Laurel: A Leader for All Seasons
						  Jason Arcamo

Sample Conclusions

End your essay well.  Some methods to do so include many of those listed on the previous page for introductions.  Also, you can use a call to action or awareness, offer a solution to a problem or a warning, look to the future (make a prediction), mention broader implications, suggest how the reader can apply what has been discussed, make a final, insightful remark, or summarize the paper’s main ideas.  As in introductions, these methods can be used in combination.  Here are some samples.  What techniques are used?  Find other effective conclusions from the essays on pages 1-90.

	Ultimately, we must all take a hard look at ourselves in the mirror and make every effort not to be participants in this [road rage] madness.  Only when we realize the harmful repercussions that can result to us personally, and to the community overall, and drive responsibly and respectfully, will we begin to see a turn toward a more kind and gentle nation and begin to eliminate this distressing plight from our roadways.
						–“A Leisurely Sunday Drive?”
						  Lisa Karimipour

	The fire ant colony can inspire just as much awe and dread as some larger predators when we consider that ants were used in ancient times to torture and kill humans, just as lions were, according to the Discovery Channel.  “How can one small animal terrify me so?” one may ask.  I respond by asking, “Have you ever fallen into a fire ant colony?”  It is not the one small critter that brings a sense of trepidation.  It is thousands of individuals that act as one.  Tread lightly, my friends; there is fire in those mounds.
						–“Fire in the Mound”
						  Christian Brown

	As we reached the ranch, all I wanted was to go home and never see a horse again.  Returning to my car, I looked back at my horse and shouted, “You stink!”  I cannot believe that my first horse riding experience ended in such a horrible way. 	
						–“Fallen”
						  Samer Kader

	Valentine’s night has to be the worst for the partnerless.  Everyone else within a twenty-mile radius is out with their loved one having a romantic evening.  However, the solo soul is at home sobbing over William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet or Gone With the Wind or listening to Jimmy Buffett sing “If the Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.”  What could be worse?

					–“Love, Hearts and Flowers, aka Valentine’s Day”
					  Kimberly Brown

	In sum, if money is not an object and computer consumers are constantly on the move, the laptop is a convenience they probably need and will certainly enjoy.  However, with its affordability and user-friendly features, the desktop would suit many other people’s needs.  In any case, both tools of technology offer consumers vital links to the information highway–whether they take the high road or the low road.
					–“Will It Be the Laptop or the Desktop Computer?”
					  William Davis

Transitions

Transitions are connecting words which help the reader follow a writer’s ideas.  First, consider the kind of signal you need.  Then use the word that fits the context of your sentences.

Time signals–				First, then, next, before, after, while, now, 
						during, in the meantime, today, yesterday, 
						tomorrow, finally

Addition signals–				First, second, third, also, next, another, and, in 
						addition, moreover, furthermore, too, besides

Illustration signals–			For example, for instance, specifically, as an 
						illustration, in particular, such as, among 
						them, especially, including

Spacial signals–				Above, below, around, under, nearby, adjacent 
						to, beside, to the left/right, in the foreground/
						background, through

Emphasis signals–				Most important, remember that, recall that, 
						keep in mind, the main reason, indeed, the best 
						thing, the chief factor, the biggest advantage/
						disadvantage, especially significant, to repeat, 
						a major concern, a key feature

Concession signals–			While it may be true, granted that, although, 
						even though, in spite of, given the fact that, 
						conceding the point that

Contrast/opposition signals–		But, however, yet, in contrast, still, on the 
						contrary, otherwise, nevertheless, on the other 
						hand

Conclusion signals–			Therefore, thus, as a result, in short, in 
						summary, in brief, to conclude, last of all, as 
						we have seen, consequently, finally, hence, 
						ultimately

Exercise on General to Specific

In writing we want to SHOW, not just TELL.  Try to be specific rather than general in describing people, places, and events.

Example:	General – An accident happened.
		Specific – Last Thursday as I was leaving Valencia, my cherry-red 			Nissan Sentra slid out of control on the slippery pavement, spun 			around, and hit a guard rail.

Now, make each of the following general statements into more specific ones.  Help the reader “picture” the person, place, or occurrence.

  1.	Mary Ann was nervous.

  2.	My little brother is spoiled.

  3.	That was a scary movie.

  4.	The singer sang a song.

  5.	The thief stole some things.

  6.	The little dog was cute.

  7.	The crowd did not like the referee’s call.

  8.  	That is the ideal car.

  9.	The beach is a peaceful place.

10.	Now, come up with a general statement of your own—then its specific 	counterpart.

Vocabulary Replacement Exercise

To constantly use “ho-hum” words in writing can make even the most interesting topic dull.  Try to vary your vocabulary to bring life to your writing.

  I.	Verbs are a very important part of the English language.  Replace the verb walked in the following sentence by a more specific and colorful verb which one might apply to

	1.	a drunk person
	
	2.	a two-year-old child

	3.	a bicycle rider

	4.	a chipmunk

	5.	a tin can

	6.	a huge bear

	7.	a breeze

Basic sentence:   He, she, or it walked down the street.

 II.	Using adverbs sometimes to tell how something is done adds variety to sentences and paragraphs.  In each of the following sentences, add an adverb to tell how the action was done.  (Hint: Many adverbs end in -ly.)

	1.	Swerving down the road, she drove the car _____________________.

	2.	The animal attacked the boy ______________________________.

	3.	The enraged girl replied ___________________________.

	4.	Near the mountains the free stallion galloped ___________________.

	5.	The teenager waited ___________________ in the dentist’s office.

	6.  	____________________ I realized I was too late for the game.

	7.  	Sam ___________________ had to break his date with Pat.

III.	Adjectives are yet another means of making writing come to life.  Use them to describe, but don’t go overboard with them.  Replace each underlined adjective with a synonym that is more specific and descriptive.

	1.	an old lady 		3.	a dirty car		5.	a funny movie

	2.	a smelly attic		4.	a small gym		6.	a red sunset		

IV.	Replace each of the underlined verbs with one of your own which is more vivid.

	1.	We gave him the book.

	2.	The hour went by.

  	3.	The mechanic worked on the car.

	4.	Chris sang in the shower.

	5.	Terry talked with friends.

 V.	Clichés or trite expressions are words that have been overused in the language to the point of being boring and unoriginal.  Fill in the blank below with the “usual” cliché.  Then come up with a phrase of your own that means the same thing as the cliché but that is original and fresh.  Be sure you do not replace the cliché with another cliché.

	1.	My car’s battery was as dead as a _____________________.

	2.	Matt was as cool as a ________________________________.

3.	My mom slaved over a hot __________________ all day to make my birthday meal.

	4.	I can’t believe it’s been raining _____________ and _____________ all day.

	5.	After I kept falling down on the sidewalk, I decided that roller blading
		was just not my cup of _________________.

	6.	Because she was not paying attention when the professor called on
		her, her face became as red as a ____________________.

Your replacements:
	1.				3.				5.
	2.  				4.				6.

Wordiness

In writing it is not “the more words, the better.”  Effective writers choose diction carefully, being aware that to use unneeded words can lead to redundancy.

Exercise 1.	Eliminate unnecessary words or replace words in the following:

  1.	due to the fact that				12.	at this point in time

  2.	advance ahead				13.	at 9:00 a.m. in the morning

  3.	dead corpse					14.	during the year of 2008

  4.	green in color				15.	in the state of Florida

  5.	very unique					16.	Tom is the man who is my dad’s 
								best buddy and friend.
  6.	refer back to my notes			
							17.	The point I am trying to make is to
  7.	I personally feel					try to be more confident.
							 
  8.	to repeat again				18.	She is a fair kind of person.

  9.	circle around				19. 	That car is the same exact color as 
								mine!
10.	absolutely complete
							20.	I was astonished and surprised.
11.	round in shape

When possible, eliminate these phrases, called expletives: It is/was, There is/are/was/were.

Examples:	It is clear that there are two bicycle riders in front of that car.
		Clearly two bicycle riders are in front of that car.		

		There were five rules that the committee made.
		The committee made five rules.

Do not overuse TO BE verbs (is/are/was/were, etc.).  You can sometimes combine sentences to get rid of unneeded forms:

Examples:	Wordy:  It was on a Saturday when I was about to leave the house that I was overcome with dizziness.  I was also pale.
Concise:  Saturday as I was about to leave the house, I became dizzy and pale.

Exercise 2.	Make these wordy sentences concise.

  1.	In this current, modern-day world we live in today, a place of employment is difficult and hard to encounter.

  2.	Due to the inclement weather conditions outside, we have decided not to proceed ahead with the athletic competition about to take place on the baseball diamond.

  3.	The fire that destroyed my apartment also destroyed my books and research notes.  At this point in time with my research for my research paper destroyed, I’ll have to start all over again from the beginning.

  4.	There are many people who like video games.

  5.	It was a Sunday afternoon.  I was at the beach.  I built a sand castle.

  6.	It is obvious that the state of Florida’s outside climate is ideal–when there are no hurricanes.

  7.	The Titanic, which was supposedly an unsinkable ship, went down in 1912.

  8.	Each and every person had a laugh, and they were joking.

  9.	The man that was sad was beginning to cry and sob.

10.	At this point in time there are seven pelicans that are flying over the ocean of water.

11.	It seems that construction workers have arrived for the purpose of repairing the highway.

12. 	The doctor spoke in a kind manner.

13.	My dog has pretty brown eyes.  His name is Rufus.  He is a German shepherd dog.

14.	The point I am trying to make is that writing should be concise.

15.	Aunt Bea was of the opinion that the mall was crowded with people.

16.	The house had the appearance of having been destroyed by the tornado.

17.	We arranged for the establishment of a new student council.

18.	Astonished, the rider circled around the barn in amazement.

19.	I loaned Jim a hundred dollars due to the fact that he is my brother.

20.	The two twins played in the mud.

Now write a wordy sentence of your own; then write it more concisely.

Exercise 3.  Edit the following paragraphs, tightening up the writing by getting rid of unnecessary or repetitive words and phrases and/or combining ideas so there are not so many subject-verb constructions in a row.  Feel free to turn sentence parts around or change forms of words (such as changing unlatched to unlatching or standing to stood)–just so the gist of the paragraphs remain intact.

	It was nearing midnight.  It was a Saturday night.  Sandra was driving her car.  It was on a country road.  The road was dark and winding.  One tire exploded.  It was all of a sudden.  Sandra slammed on the brakes.  Sandra’s car swerved.  It went into a ditch.  The ditch was muddy.  It has been raining steadily for the past two days.  Sandra’s heart was beating fast.  She was not hurt.  She unlatched her seat belt.  She reached inside the glove compartment of the car.  There was a cell phone in the glove compartment usually.  There was no cell phone in the glove compartment now.  Sandra took a deep breath.  She opened the car door.  Sandra stepped ankle-deep in the mud.  She sighed.  She was wearing her new Nikes.  They cost $130.00.  She started walking down the deserted road.  There was no sign of life anywhere.  “Why me?” she said.  She screamed this aloud.

ADD A LAST SENTENCE OR TWO OF YOUR OWN TO THIS PARAGRAPH.

Exercise 4.

	It was 7:30 p.m.  It was a Friday night.  I was studying.  There was a knock at my door.  I opened it.  I was stunned.  I saw several ghoulish figures in front of me.  There was creature with an orange face.  This creature shouted, “Boo!”  There was also a witch.  She had an oversized nose.  It was slimy green.  She was sticking out her tongue at me.  There were two others.  They were standing behind the witch.  One was a little fellow who was wearing a devil’s costume.  It was red.  He said, “Twick or tweat!”  He was holding out a bag.  The bag was almost as big as he was.  The final munchkin was a ghost.  It was wearing a sheet.  I could see that there were tennis shoes on his feet.  The shoes were blue.  They were also unlaced.  I chuckled.  I handed them all candy bars.  They were Snickers candy bars.  The four monsters yelled, “Thanks!”  They hurried off.

Fragments

In general, a fragment is a piece of something, not a whole.  In writing, a fragment is a group of words that do not make up a sentence.  A sentence must contain a subject, a complete verb, and a complete thought.

Exercise 1.	If the word group is a fragment, put F and make it into a sentence.  If the word group is a sentence, put S.  Put a question mark by those about which you are unsure.

_____ 1.	Lake.
_____ 2.	Jogs.
_____ 3.	Go away!
_____ 4.	Fishing from the pier.
_____ 5.	Such as fire ants and love bugs.
_____ 6.	While I was eating lunch.
_____ 7.	Because I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.
_____ 8.	For example, math, English and science.
_____ 9.	Especially spaghetti and lasagna.
____ 10.	Having been there before.
____ 11.	Which was why I was late.
____ 12.	Like football, baseball and soccer.
____ 13.	But didn’t have any luck.
____ 14.	Last night after the intermission between the acts of the play in Orlando.
____ 15.	In order to lose weight.
____ 16	You’re right.
____ 17.	Glad to have a three-day vacation.
____ 18.	Was late for the appointment.
____ 19.	Starved for attention.
____ 20.	As the ambulance driver raced down the street at top speed.

Exercise 2.   Write a paragraph containing five fragments.   Then make corrections.

Exercise 3.	If the word group is a fragment, put F and make it into a sentence.  If the word group is a sentence, put S.  Put a question mark by those about which you are unsure.
						
_____ 1.	Including pies, cakes and brownies.
_____ 2.	Unless each person brings his own dishes.
_____ 3.	The prize went to the youngster that nobody thought would win.
_____ 4.	Who knows?
_____ 5.	How to care for a horse.
_____ 6.	Where he left the book, no one knew.
_____ 7.	And was very proud of his new hobby.
_____ 8.	The same thing over and over, day after day, week after week.
_____ 9.	Although he felt like screaming.
____ 10.	Tell her I’ll meet her at noon.
____ 11.	Never had a hundred dollars before.
____ 12.	Mr. Milan, the laziest journalism professor I know.
____ 13.	The basketball team which will begin practicing soon.
____ 14. 	I don’t like cooking, yet I can make a passable meal.
____ 15.	Whether it was from exhaustion or from frustration.
____ 16.	A worker whom I had always envied.
____ 17.	First the horse trotted then broke into a gallop.
____ 18.	Stamp collecting can be very expensive.
____ 19	Taking notes helps one review for tests more easily.
____ 20.	When I was twelve years old.

Exercise 4.	Underline the ten fragments in the paragraph below.  Correct them.

	He had first set eyes on her as she gently swayed into his math class.  On the first day of school.  He couldn’t help but stare at her.  Because she was so pretty.  It was her big brown eyes that made him melt.  And her glistening smile.  That day he did not hear a word the instructor said.  The lovely girl’s name was Felicia Merritt.  When he found this out.  He quickly jotted it down in his notebook.  All during the class he watched her.  As she madly took notes.  The hands on the classroom clock seemed to crawl in slow motion.  Would the professor ever stop chattering?  Or just go on babbling forever?  As the class ended, he inched his way toward the girl.  He wanted to find some way to get her attention without being obvious.  He waltzed up to her.  Trying to appear “cool.”  Just when he opened his mouth to speak, another student smashed into him from the back.  Everything went flying into the air.  Including his books, pens, pencils and notebooks.  He was mortified!  Beautiful Felicia turned around, and her big brown eyes met his.  “Do you need some help?” she asked him in an angelic voice.  Hypnotized, he nodded his head.  But was speechless.  It was the beginning of a romance.  Which would go on for years.

Comma Splices and Fused Sentences

If two complete thoughts are joined with only a comma, the result is a comma splice.  If they are joined with no punctuation, the result is a fused sentence (sometimes called a run on).  To correct either error, do the following: (A) Use a semicolon between the complete parts, (B) Insert a comma with an appropriate coordinate conjunction (for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so), or (C).  Revise the sentence so one part is dependent.   

Comma splice:	Garrett ran five miles today, he is tired.
Fused sentence:	Garrett ran five miles today he is tired.
Corrections:		Garrett ran five miles today; he is tired.   OR
			Garrett ran five miles today, so he is tired.  OR
			Because Garrett ran five miles today, he is tired.

Exercise 1. 	Underline the comma splices in the following paragraph.  Be sure to underline the whole thing.  There are five.  Correct the errors.	

	Because the little boy was attending a new school, he was very frightened.  He didn’t know if he would fit in with this set of strangers.  He approached the classroom door and stopped, he hesitated.  Finally he knocked lightly, and a huge fellow opened the door.  In a gruff voice the man said, “Come in.”  The child knew that the man was irritated at him for interrupting the class.  Stammering out of control, the boy told the teacher he was new in school and that his name was Charles.  The gruff man told him to sit down in the back seat, the boy obeyed.  Unfortunately as the newcomer hurried to the back, another boy stuck out his foot.  Charles tripped, and he fell to the floor.  The entire class grew hysterical; they howled with laughter.  Poor Charles quickly stood up, tears poured from his eyes.  “That’s enough, class,” the gruff man cried.  There was a short silence, then the entire class burst out laughing once more.  Humiliated little Charles knew he should sit down, however, he just couldn’t bear the childish taunts.  Out of the room he ran, vowing never to return.  The next day he could be found standing hesitantly outside that door again.							

Exercise 2.   Write three comma splices and two fused sentences.  Correct them.

Subject-Verb Agreement

Singular subjects must match up with singular verbs; plural subjects must match up with plural verbs.

Some verbs are REGULAR, meaning they have particular pattern when it comes to their endings.  Many verbs in the language fit this pattern, such as STOP, PLAY, LEAVE.

Other verbs are IRREGULAR, which means their unusual patterns must be memorized.  Some of these include GO, DO, BE, GET, HAVE, and many others.

Exercise 1.	Fill in the blank with the correct form of the present tense of the verb. 			STOP.  Then do the same for its past tense forms.

Singular	Plural	
I __________ the car.	We _________ the car.	
You  _________ the car.	You _________ the car.	
He, she _________ the car.	They _________ the car.	

Exercise 2.	Fill in the blank with the correct form of the PRESENT TENSE of the verb.
(leave)	  1.	We _________ at seven o’clock in the morning.	
(get)	  2.	Sally and Mary Ann _________ to go to New York in June.	
(stop)	  3.	The bus driver _________ near my house every day.	
(see)	  4.	My witchlike sister _________ into the future.	
(be)	  5.	The two baseball players _________ good friends.	
(do)	  6.	Clarissa _________ a good job training her new dog.	
(say)	  7.	Melanie _________ learning to drive is easy.	
(play)	  8.	My brother Sam _________ video games for hours.	
(work)	  9.	The children and their parents _________ in the back yard on 
	Saturdays.	
(happen)	10.	What _________ when children are not disciplined?	
(be)	11.	I normally _________ on time for work.	
(run)	12.	The little rabbit always _________ away when I approach him.	
(go)	13.	Manny _________ out clubbing every weekend.	
(wash)	14.	Mom _________ the car every Saturday.	
(study)	15.	To get an A in algebra, Corrine _________ with her group every
	 night.	

Varying Sentence Types

To always use the same sentence structure, especially subject + verb sentences, sounds monotonous.  Try varying sentence openings.  Here are some ways to do so:

Basic sentences:	I encountered a hairy purple monster.  I screamed.

(Add a clause and combine sentences.)  Because (or After)  I encountered a hairy purple monster, I screamed.

(Add a prepositional phrase.)  At midnight I encountered a hairy purple monster.  I screamed.

(Add an adverb.)  Suddenly I encountered a hairy purple monster.  I screamed.

(Add a transition.)  Then I encountered a hairy purple monster.  I screamed!

(Add an –ing form.)  Encountering a hairy purple monster, I screamed.

(Add a THAT clause.)  That I screamed when I encountered a hairy purple monster goes without saying.

(Add an infinitive.)  To scream after encountering a hairy purple monster is a natural reaction.

(Add a past participle.)  Frightened when I encountered a hairy purple monster, I screamed. 

(Add an effective repetition.)  “No, no, no – it can’t be a hairy purple monster!”  I screamed.

(Add a question.)  Wouldn’t anyone who encountered a hairy purple monster scream?

Practice 1:	Use some of the above forms to write sentences from these:	

Basic Sentences:	Jason slipped on the wet pavement.  He fell on his face.  
			Leslie tried to start her car.  She heard a clicking sound.

Practice 2:	Now, write two basic sentences of your own and try some of the 			above methods to begin sentences in various ways.

Descriptive Writing:  People

Construct a paragraph using ONE of the lists below.  Try to bring out a specific IMPRESSION the reader should feel toward the person.  SHOW rather than TELL when you can.  You can combine items, put them in a different order and use different vocabulary.

1.	eight months old
	girl
	in crib
	bubbles around mouth
	tight fists
	little hair/brown
	very warm in room
	dirt in baby fat around neck and chin
	tearful eyes
	pink sleeper
	dimples on elbows

2.	eighty-five years old
	man
	in alley
	drinking
	hands shaky
	not much hair
	no teeth	
	weather cold
	dirt under fingernails
	eyes red
	old coat
	pants too large
	shoes nearly all worn out

For a challenge, write a list of characteristics; then construct a descriptive paragraph from that list.

Practice Writing About Places and Time Periods

Directions:  Write a paragraph about ONE of the situations below.  Bring this PLACE/TIME to life by creating a mood/feeling about it.  Try to SHOW rather than just TELL.  (For example, don’t just say someone is afraid--SHOW the fear.)

  1.	a child lost in the mall at Christmas

  2.	a person alone, without a cell phone, having car trouble at midnight on a lonely country road

  3.	someone at the beach enjoying spring break

  4.	a person sitting in the waiting room at a dentist’s office

  5.	an audience member in the front row at the best concert imaginable

  6.	a participant in a pie-eating contest at a county fair

  7.	a patient getting ready to go under anesthesia for an important operation in a hospital

  8.	a participant in a wedding ceremony

  9.	someone who looks across a crowed room, sees a stranger–and immediately falls in love

10.	a person who wakes up to find him/herself in a very different time period in history

Usage, Editing and Proofreading

Choose the correct form for the sentences and edit/proofread the paragraphs.

  1.	I did (A) good (B) well on the algebra test.
  2.	The twins will arrive (A) tomorrow (B) tommorrow (C) tommorow.
  3.	What (A) affect (B) effect does the crime have on the community?
  4.  	Divide the pie (A) among (B) between the six children.
  5.	(A) Being that (B) Because I was late too often, the professor lowered my grade.
  6.	Was she (A) conscience (B) conscious of her beauty?
  7.	I (A) could (B) couldn’t care less about your problems.
  8.	The media (A) brings (B) bring us the daily news.
  9.	The beverage contains (A) fewer (B) less than five calories.
10.	Because of this bad headache, I need to (A) lie (B) lay down.
11.	(A) Almost (B) Most all people in that family suffer from arrogance.
12.	What (A) amount (B) number of people will attend the graduation?
13.	Theresa’s (A) roomate (B) roommate is quite nice.
14.	Don’t ever (A) lose (B) loose your sense of humor.
15.	The teacher had to (A) separate (B) separate the fighting children.
16.	Was that comment (A) necessary (B) neccesary?
17.	That is a (A) vicious (B) viscious (C) visious lie!
18.	What an (A) excellant (B) excelent (C) excellent (D) exellent idea!
19.	Mickey Mouse (A) lead (B) led the parade.
20.	This computer will (A) accomodate (B) accommodate (C) acommodate my needs quite well.
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	Shopping online sucks.  It is not the convience people think it is.  Last December at the last minuet I sent for some presents for me family for christmas; a sweater for my Mom, a stripped shirt for Dad and a cool video game for my bother.  When they arrive at my house.  I was suprised and depress.  The sweat was to large a army could of worn it.  The shirt was to small, the video game look as if a elephant step on it. After I payed big bucks to ship it back.  I had to zoom out to the Mall; face crowd of last minute shopers and waited in line forever.  And I don’t have no patients what soever.  What a hassle!  I’ve learned my lesson thought you shouldn’t not shop in the internet, you should probally by gifts earlyer in the yr.  I gonna remeber that form now on.

	Hamlet by William Shakespear concerns a young man who’s father have been murder by his uncle and is now King.  When a ghost tell Hamlet this the young dane freaks out.  He feel he must avenge this outrage.  But at the same time he can not prove it.  Instead of quickly killing his uncle claudius Hamlet just chills out.  Some times he thinks about taking his own live, the famous words “to be or to be show this dilema.  He stage a awesome play in which he hope’s will force Claudius to confess to the crime.  The king angerly stop the play.  But he knows where he’s coming from.  But he don’t confess to what happen.  Later in a cemetary hamlet sees his sweetie pie Ophelia been burried.  Ultimatly hamlet kills Claudio but died hisself.  His freind Horatio who he hangs out with a lot sayed; “Good nite sweet prince and flights of angles sing thee to thy rest.
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	When all of the sudden the hurricaine occured me and my family was definately luckier then most of the other in the neighborhood.  There was two trees that fell in are front yard, however they fell away from the house.  We loss about a hunderd singles from the roof.  Although others lost thier entire rooves and had to cover it with blue tarp.  Sam and Kelly our nieghbors next door to us they had a giant tree fell on there car a brand new ford mustang.  My cousins acrost town Mark miller and his fambly had not electricity for two weeks’.  When they got hungary they cooked some food on there grill.  But suffered a lot due to the fact that they didn’t have no air conditioning.  We help them as best we could, for example, we let them come over for showers, etc.  They were very greatful.
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“Whoso neglects learning in his youth, / Loses the past and is dead for the future.”            –Euripides
 		
“Learning is not attained by chance; it must be sought for with ardor and attended to with diligence.”    –Abigail Adams

“Training is everything.  The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.”	  –Mark Twain