Assignment # 20: My Christmas Story

Christmas - that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance - a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.

-Augusta E. Rundel

Life is what you make it.

I see the old man across the street with the best things anyone could ever imagine. Sometimes I sit and wish I could be his granddaughter and have anything I wished for especially around this time of year. A week from Christmas and we don’t even have enough money to buy groceries, let alone buy some presents to open up on Christmas morning. My mom keeps promising it’ll get better, that I, my brothers, and she will get out of this hell soon. Though, the only thing getting better is my assurance that things will never change. I hate this time of year. While all the other kids anxiously wait to open all their presents on Christmas morning I have to come home to cook and clean for everyone while my mom breaks her back trying to put some bread on the table and my brother tries to make a dollar out of a dime to help pay rent. Sure our family would do everything for each other no matter what, but I would still trade it all just to be able to spend money on whatever I want whenever I want.

I get up every morning; look in the refrigerator and the cabinets just to find an empty milk carton and an empty tortilla. Great what is that supposed to get me; I guess my mom hasn’t gotten enough money to go to the store yet. That old man across the street is outside again like he is every morning. He always has an ugly look on his face. It is as if he is always angry or something. What could he possibly be angry at though? I mean he has enough money to buy the world he should be the happiest person alive, shit, I know I would be. I’d give anything to be him. As much as I envy him every day I still have to go and do my responsibilities, so I just slug my way through my house until it is time for me to catch my bus.

It is the same routine every day, walkout of my house, lock the door behind me, and walk past his extravagant house. As I was locking my door I hear that old man cursing at something. I turn to see him throwing away some things for Christmas and I laugh because I guess I am not the only one who also hates Christmas. I started wondering as I go down my front steps, why the hell would a rich old man like him hate Christmas? He has enough to buy all kinds of presents. As I approached the front of his house I decided to ask him what he seemed to be so angry over the Christmas season. I guess I should have known not to ask by the look on his face but I did anyway and got an ear full of yelling; him telling me to mind my own business. So I just decided to walk away, no point in trying to explain why I asked now. Who would have thought he would be such a mean old man. I almost just to my bus stop when I hear him cursing me out, saying something about kids not knowing the real meaning of Christmas anymore and all we care about is what WE are going to get. That was all I needed to get me really pissed off, so I turned around, “What the hell is your problem old man?” I was the one yelling now. His expression turned to complete shock, then quickly back to a look that could kill. “You ungrateful little shit’s, would not even know how lucky you are even if it were to hit you straight in the face.” What was he talking about I thought to myself? I was right in front of him now, looking at him straight in the eyes, “What do I have to be grateful for? A house full of nothing, can’t even find something to eat. Should I be grateful for brothers that don’t do anything to help but one that decides to slang his way to keeping a roof over our head?” I told him almost spelling the words out lacing them with hatred. He became furious which was even more shocking to me because usually people apologize for the troubles I live with.

I think to myself kicking myself for talking back to the old man. Damn it, because I don’t know how to just walk away and keep my mouth shut I am standing here arguing with an old man I don’t even know, I shouldn’t have turned around. He starts stepping closer and closer to me, and with each step he takes I can see the fire in his eyes so clear that it almost fells like his stair is burning right through my skin. Calmed down now I tell him, “Look old man, I was just asking I didn’t think you would get so hurt.” “You know what I would give to have what you have; to have a family that works together to get by, that will make sure that everyone has everything they need, even if we couldn’t afford the luxuries?” he tells me straight in my face. “Look at me filthy rich and I am still dying lonely.” He seems as if he is holding back tears now. The fire in his eyes simmers down and he turns around to go back inside his house. Though, just before he goes in he turns around and seems to mumble something that sounded like “At least you have your family to spend time with for Christmas.” and slams the door shut, leaving me with a blank look on my face not knowing what just happened. My bus arrived so I ran to get on, but the whole day I thought in detail about what happened to me that morning, and the old man was talking some sense. I would rather have a family than to die lonely… Life is what YOU make it.

Book Report: Names Will Never Hurt Me

There's Kurt, the "freek" who listens to loud music, trying to escape the kids who bully him; Tisha, who's called "the white girl with a tan that never fades" who feels "out of place" because she's bi-racial; Ryan, the all-American football star who rules the hallways but hides a terrible secret; and Floater, who wields power over students by acting as the principal's eyes and ears.

Deftly interweaving the narratives of these four unique, vivid teenagers, this powerful novel in prose-poetry form explores the enormous repercussions of daily school teasing, racism, and ostracism.

 

Adoff's poetry has grown from the free-flowing rhythmic verse of his first collection of music poetry to a complex chorus of four voices telling the gritty back-story of high school life. Written as a novel in verse, the tale gets inside the heads of the star jock, the bullied outcast, the mixed-race girl who doesn't fit in, and the principal's self-important snitch. However, Adoff shuns standard stereotypes by creating multi-dimensional adolescents whose public personas mask their insecurities, anxieties, and longing for acceptance. The novel is divided into chapters, each panning the scene, showing the story from different angles. The setting is a typical high school during an atypical event, the first anniversary of the shooting death of a student. Periodically interrupting the plot, a hungry news reporter asks leading questions to random students hoping for an exclusive scoop. But she never gets the answers she expects. The events in each of the main characters' lives overlap until they are all brought together in a climax with an unexpected twist.

Adoff addresses issues of social exclusion, sex and violence honestly and in the authentic voices of his high school students. He reminds people that, in fact, names always hurt, and being labeled in adolescence can lead to self-loathing and unforeseen consequences reaching well beyond the school walls.

Book Report: Twisted

In TWISTED, Laurie Halse Anderson presents Tyler Miller, whose transformation from a meek, social Mr. Cellophane to a chiseled, admired "tough guy" sets his world on end. As someone who spends his days unnoticed, Tyler finds himself with more attention than he wanted after he vandalizes school property and, to pay for his crime, takes a summer job doing landscaping. The unforeseen side effect is that he returns the next school year with a brand new body that's turning heads, most notably the head of Bethany Milbury.

But not everything, even Bethany's advances, works out well for Tyler. As he struggles to contend with his angry father, a mistrustful faculty and the aftermath of a drunken party, Tyler comes to the painful realization that there's a substantial price tag for his newfound popularity, and juggling the consequences lead him to thoughts of suicide.

While the overall story tackles weighty issues such as identity, family and suicide, Anderson masterfully interjects wry humor that always seems to find its mark. There's something very genuine in the portrayal of Tyler's struggle, both as he seeks attention and as he seeks to banish it. His volatile family situation, especially his relationship with his father, is familiar without bowing to a stereotypical, dysfunctional family. Despite times when Bethany's brother comes across a little cartoonish in his machinations, the characterizations ring true.

TWISTED, does what all good cautionary tales should do: leaves the reader with the certainty that something would be missing in their life without it.

Assignment # 19: My Very Short Story

The best present in the world for him on his birthday was just a homemade card, a huge kiss, and a tight hug from his daughter. She was his life, and had been since she was an unborn child. Learning the true meaning of love and what it means to live, the day she was brought into this world. He knew that not anybody could be more perfect than his daughter, his beautiful little girl. Promising to never let anything or anyone hurt her, promising to always be there, to always provide for her, and to give her anything that she needs, forever being his little princess.

Before he knew it he was her hero. She followed him around like a duckling follows its mother, never missing a step. She watched his every action and every reaction, making him laugh as she tried to be exactly like him. Sure her mother’s yell was scary but her dad’s disappointment was heart breaking. Her dad was the greatest. He was the only man that she would ever need in her life. In her eyes she always kept her dad on the top of any empire.

They built things together, learned things together, and especially fought with each other on who was right about how some new project went together. Sure she enjoyed to go shopping with her mom but she could never wait to go back home with her dad and watch a football game, find something to fix around the house , and she especially could not wait to get back home and play fight with her dad, getting better every time as she learned to doge his tricks.

Their relationship never changed as she grew up. Of course guys came in and out of her life but none of them could ever come close to even meaning what her dad meant to her. He was the best. He was unstoppable, invincible, the strongest man she could ever meet. Always including her father in every thought she had before every single action she made. He was her king and he was always going to be there. Besides nothing bad could ever happen to her father, he was superman.

Then one day he got sick. It was only the flu he assured her and with some rest he would be feeling better in no time. Of course it was, she knew her dad was fine, and she kept picking on him as she always did. Soon enough her dad went from only supposed to be sick with the flu for about a week to having it for a whole month. He couldn’t let her know though as he went to the doctor somewhat nervous about what it could be. What a relief, its only pneumonia which can be treated right? As he thought he was successfully hiding his worry from his daughter she knew everything that was happening. Night after night she prayed to god to heal her hero.

After about a year they diagnosed him with a lung disease. Pulling away to hide his stress about what he was going to do she could hear him crying in his room by himself. She soon filled up with anger blaming everyone and everything for why her dad was sick. Starting to slack and slowly give up on everything she did to make her dad proud. How could he do this to her how could he get sick?

She watches him pass around the house back and forth. He hasn’t slept and is now starting to slowly slip away from his mind. Now she is the one pulling away, not knowing what to do to help her king get better. Not being able to handle it at her house she finds herself doing anything not to be home. Soon enough she finds herself crying all alone in her room always asking god what she did wrong to have all of this to her father, and promising whatever it takes to get her hero back, to get the only man she needs in her life healthy again.

Assignment # 18: My Poem

Again fooled by another imposter.

Promising you have the power to heal and that hurt is far from your mind,
when in fact actions speak louder than words.

Giving everything I had, I lowered my barriers just to, blindly, have my heart taken out.

Thought of you as my best friend.

Slowly losing the only man I look up to as his mind slips away,

I gave you his place, just to be disappointed again.

I guess there really isn’t a perfect man.

Too bad hurting is the only way to find out.

When I was a little girl I would sit and dream.

Hoping I would find, find the perfect man.

Now that I can see, true reality tear drops fill my eyes,

Because there is no such thing as a perfect man.