Integrity.

If I had been asked two years ago what integrity was, I wouldn’t have been able to give my inquirer a straight answer. I could have babbled on for a few minutes, created a thin answer supported by dictionary definitions and past literature I had read, but I would have crashed and burned all the same. A whole lot can change in two years though. A girl can go from boy obsessed to knowing that a good friend is better then a cute boy any day of the week. She can realize that the world doesn’t revolve around her and she can build up some life experiences from which to pull lessons from when tough questions are asked.
This “experience” I am referring to is just that. It was a time of trial in my life where I had to face opposition, challenge leadership and do so with integrity and respect. The issue began this fall, about halfway through the 2010 football cheerleading season. I felt bad to be doing so, but I had begun to question both the leadership and ethics of my coach. Was it really necessary for her to spout tremendously negative criticisms all practice with no positive comments to go along with? Was it really okay for my teammates and I to leave practice crying, angry, and with sour dispositions? Was it okay to stop sleeping the night before practice and to come up with reasons to stay home the next day? I asked myself these questions plus more and soon I found out that 11 out of the 14 girls that made up our squad were feeling the same way I was.
But what could we do? She was our coach, our leader, our teacher, and our supposed role model. At the time, it felt like nothing. I felt emotionally drained, stressed and my other relationships were suffering but my hands were tied. She was the coach and she made the rules. I have never been one to take things like such lying down though. I knew in my heart that something had to be done and I couldn’t just stand in the corner and act like nothing was happening.
What I, with my teammates right beside me, was about to do can best be illustrated with the notion of a prince going into a dragon’s den with no armor and a wooden sword. I was going to approach her. I knew I would feel better after, but it wasn’t going to be an easy moment. No one likes being told that they are in the wrong, it is human nature. She was going to be angry; there was no doubt about that. I didn’t want to poke the “dragon” with my poorly made, ill-qualified, wooden sword, but it had to be done. I was worried practices would become even more tense and horrid and that she wouldn’t change despite our pleas. Mostly though, I feared that I would fail. I wouldn’t just be taking myself down though. I would be hurting the girls that were so much more to me then just teammates. They were, and they are, my friends, my sisters.
I’m glad I wasn’t alone in my dilemma. Almost all of the girls on the squad felt the same way and most of them were willing to confront her about it. Prior to our meeting with her, the girls and I had an informal meeting at my house to get everything out in the open so that we could figure out how to approach this delicate subject. It was at that “mini meeting” that we was decided as a team to face the issue head on.
We decided to have a meeting with our coach and have our athletic director present and as we had all predicted, she was not happy. We tried our hardest to present our “case” in a respectful matter but she felt attacked. It was then that my realization of what integrity was occurred. We had the right to be treated fairly and the integrity to reclaim that right, but she had integrity of her own. She wasn’t going to let 11 teenage girls tell her that she, and her 20 plus years of experience, were wrong. We concluded the meeting with a compromise. We would work harder if she promised to help us make cheerleading fun again. Slowly but surely she did. So much so that the fans at football games begin to notice the reappearance of our smiles and the fact that we cheered with enthusiasm once again.
During the month or so after that, the “dragon” did reappear on occasion. But we needed her to tear us down so that we could build ourselves back up and that is exactly what we did. We built ourselves up so high that we placed 5th out of 12 very competitive teams at this year’s state cheerleading competition! It was the first time Van Meter Community High School had ever placed at state and I got to be a part of that. Though the future hadn’t always been so bright, our story had a happy ending after all.
To an outsider this whole experience might appear trivial, a silly tiff among cheerleaders, whose stereotype already paints us to be dramatic, but for myself and those involved, this experience was so much more. It taught me how important it is that I stand up for myself and that in order to achieve anything in life, obstacles have to be overcome. Most importantly though, this whole experience has taught me what integrity is. Two years ago I had no true sense of the word. Now I am able to come up with a definition all my own:

Integrity (n): The necessity in holding one self’s head high, the valuing of honesty, the respecting of another, the following the moral values instilled within ones self, the desire to right what has been wronged.

I'm Dreaming of a Guilty Christmas? :(

Christmas is exactly 23 days away. That gives me about 2.3 days to make a Christmas list and send it via text email or phone to my family. But this year I feel just too guilty to make that list. Christmas is supposed to be about spending time with family and being thankful for all the great things I have in my life but here I am making a christmas list? I am creating a list of "wants" when I really have everything that I need! I have a family who supports me in everything that I do, I have a boyfriend who makes it his business to make me happy, I have a place to call home with a furnace that I can warm my feet upon and I have an abundance of people in my life who make me happy. I am so happy and so lucky that making a list out of superficial things like a new a fuzzy black coat or a pair of dark skinny jeans seems like a slap in the face to all the things that I have. I mean is that pair of jeans going to make or break me? No, but losing someone close to would rattle me surely. Because people are what matter to me! Not things. I don't need things, I need love!

But now I am just being hypocritical. Because I am really going to open that coat and act like I am not in love? No, because knowing my stepmom's taste, I will be and I mean madly! So what do I do? Do I dedicate my Christmas to help starving kids or saving the planet? Or do I just accept my gifts knowing that people are giving them to me because they love me? Knowing myself, I will probably get past my quilt rather quickly when I stuff my feet into some boots, but until then I am just putting off the making of this list. Who knows, maybe I an come up with a bright idea by stalling. Maybe?

Choir Fest :)

Yesterday was the day of the All Conference Choir Festival, Choir Fest for short. I had begrudgingly waited for a week for the day to arrive and when it finally did I was in foul spirits. I tried everything I could to avoid it even going so far as bribery. “Mommmmmmmmm!” I whined, “Can I please just forget to set my alarm?” I asked as I crawled into bed Monday night, her answer was a less then loving eye roll and a “go to bed”. The next morning I tried again saying “If I can stay home I will clean the house!” but still, she wouldn’t take the bait. I had no choice, I had to go to Choir Fest.

Why was I dreading it so much? As far as I was concerned it was going to be boring and about as awful as visit to the dentist where you discover that you have a cavity the size of Jupiter. I had been to previous Choir Fests in the past and each and every time I had almost fallen asleep of fainted from heat stroke (400 kids in one gym equals about 400 furnaces set to high in one room). I hadn’t had any fun and why would I want to do something where I wasn’t having fun? I definitely did not. I would have rather gone to school and that says a lot.

As I said though, I had to go. My mother had revoked my constitutional rights and I was doomed to spend 8 hours of my day and night singing until my throat hurt. So I walked onto the bus, took a seat by some of my fellow choir kids and away I went. Something strange happened though between the time I got on the bus to go to Guthrie Center and when I got off back home in good ol’ Van Meter: I had actually had some fun. Not jumping around in a bouncy house sort of fun, but it still counted! I hadn’t wanted to crawl under the bleachers and take a nap more then once and I hadn’t sat frowning continuously all day like I had assumed I would. I had sung better then I ever had before and I had laughed out loud throughout the day! All in all, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had assumed it would be.

I learned an important lesson from my experience with Choir Fest. Things can surprise you. People can surprise you. Experiences can surprise you! Therefore, having a negative attitude gets you nowhere. Its better to approach whatever you do with a smile and good vibes in your belly. Something I am going to try my hardest to do from now on! ☺

Memories :)

I cheered my last sporting event ever this week. It wasn’t the last time that I was to put on my uniform and adorn my hair with my bow (that will come this Saturday), but I felt the impact of that moment all the same. I didn’t cry, I didn’t make a scene, I just stood there; and remembered. I remembered how when I was a sophomore I was as pale as a ghost and as loud as a firework. I remembered how happy I was performing on the UNI Dome field as a part of Honor Squad and how excited I was to throw a basket toss with two of the funniest girls I have ever met. I remembered how cold it was last year and how Ben and Nic would turn around and make fun of my very red and very frozen nose. Most of all though, I remembered all the times spent with my favorite people: the girls I cheered with.
Sometimes we fought, sometimes we got cranky but it never lasted because more often then not someone would do something dumb and we would all start laughing as if nothing had ever torn us apart in the first place. We are the girls who made “dike” an affectionate term. I fell on my ass with these girls. I have laughed until I have cried with them and shared pretty much every boy drama I have ever had with them. Not one of them knows how much each of them mean to me. Then is when I started tearing up. Not because I was no longer a cheerleader though, but because I have made more memories as a cheerleader then during any other time in my life. I’ll always have those memories, even when the uniform is gone. :)

Ready or Not, Here Goes Nothing!

I'm a definite night owl who can hardly function before 8 am. I tend to relate math to Egyptian hieroglyphics. I was born and raised in Iowa and I love having a warm bagel with cinnamon and sugar on cold winter mornings. I also love new experiences and I long for the chance to embrace the new opportunities I am given. Like every typical teen, I live for the weekends when I can finally just relax and spend time with my friends or a nice book. Don't start picturing me as a lazy sloth just yet though. I am a hard worker who has spent all 4 of my high school years being involved in just about everything. From my failed attempts at being a basketball stud, to my performances on the school play stage, I have done it all. I am very happy to have done so too because each and everything that I tried, and at times failed at, I learned something about myself. So much so that I can now say that when it comes to math class, my calculator really is my best friend and that I write my best work when it is nearing my bedtime. I have been told that life is all about learning and accumulating new experience. Going to college in the fall of 2011 can definitely be considered a new experience and I cannot wait to jump in head first, calculator in hand and with a big smile.

No hope for Ethan...

I am officially angry at Edith Wharton. Does she not realize that love stories are supposed to end happily ever after?! Because in Ethan Frome she falls short of giving this novel a happy ending. Instead of having Ethan and Mattie (his true love!) die in their suicidal sleigh ride, or have them run away to well anywhere, she has them live and continue doing so in the house with Zeena, Ethan's soul sucking wife. If you ask me, that is just not fair! Or very creative. Wharton could have molded the book in any which way she wanted, but she settled on a miserable ending for the two loves. I'm disappointed and a little let down. Only because I am a fan of happy endings and of the hope that they contain. Ethan Frome is full of hope's exact opposite: destitution. And that breaks my literary heart!

It only gets harder...

The other day I was talking to a friend and he said, “It only gets harder.” The “it” he was referring to was life and my oh so clever response that will forever go down in history as, “Ohhhh crap.” Sure, it wasn’t clever in the least, but it was exactly on queue to what I was feeling. Everyday I juggle high school homework, online college homework, cheerleading, having a boyfriend, keeping up to date with my family, trying to keep a social life, and doing my best to keep my friends happy. And it seems like everyday a new task is thrown at me with a wink and a “Good luck!”. I am getting to be so well practiced in all this juggling of my life that the circus is bound to pick me up any day now and recruit me. Here’s the thing though. I don’t want to be this practiced at juggling. For once I just want to focus on one thing. I want to go to cheerleading practice and think about cheerleading, not the stack of books sitting on my dresser top menacingly. I don’t want to have to leave the sleepover early because I have lots of homework to do the next day. I just want to stop, drop, and rollllllll away everything that I am carrying on my shoulders everyday.

I’m not meaning to make life sound like a burden, but it starts to feel that way right around the time your writing a very overdue blog post at 12:30 am on a Monday night (Sorry Mr. Hyer!). Its only Monday, but already I feel like it’s all just a little too much. And as my future-seeing friend said, “It only gets harder.” If I think now is hard, just wait till I start college. If I think college is hard, the everyday stresses of car payments and house payments and bills is certainly to be even more stress inducing. So I have to ask when does it end? When does the world finally stop spinning at warp speed and turning my life into a blurr? When do I get to sit back, relax and just breathe?

Sometimes (like tonight as I was at play practice for example) I feel like I am just going through the motions and I don’t want to live that way. I am a senior in high school, I should be enjoying every bit of this last year among the people who I have grown up with! I just feel like I can’t sometimes. I can’t be carefree because I have so many other things that I should be doing instead. So what do I do? Do I just stop caring and let all my responsibilities fall to the way side? That doesn’t seem like a good idea. Or do I just keep going through the motions? I am not a fan of that option either. I need some advice. Some legit, possibly tell your children someday, advice. Afterall, it only gets harder.

The Wage Gap.

For the longest time problems in the "real world" didn't seem to affect me. I was just a seventh or eighth grader who was going to be in high school forever! But Graduation is around the corner and I'll be starting college soon, so the problems that affect my parents will soon be affecting me! One of these problems is the wage gap between men and women. Not only is it unfair, it is also illogical and it affects practically every working woman in today's society!

I think it is gender bias that causes the pay difference between men and women. Women have more opportunities in today’s society, but they still do not have equality. Sixty years ago it was believed that a woman’s “place” was in the home. Her main priority in life was to get married, have a family and care for that family. She was supposed to cook meals, take care of the house, and manage the kids. Today though, a woman can do whatever she wants with her life. She can soar amongst the stars as an astronaut, speed around the track as a racecar driver and climb political ladders to become well-respected leaders! More than likely, she won’t get paid as much as her male counterparts. As a matter of fact, a woman makes 77 cents for every dollar that a man does for doing the same job.

This pay gap is a result of the “glass ceiling” that exists in the workplace. This term is used to describe the unfair treatment of women. They can perform their jobs just as efficiently, sometimes more so, then men yet they still are not paid as much or as likely to advance in a company. Ceiling refers to the way that women are blocked from moving up in the ranks of their companies and in their careers while the glass part entails that the reasons are not always reasonable.

Some publications declare that the reason women are paid and promoted less is because of their desire to do it all. Women want to be good mothers, good friends, and good businesswomen. Because of that desire they are less likely to accept higher risk (and higher paid) jobs whereas men tend to focus on their careers more. But women need those higher paying jobs. Especially those that are single mothers. A woman has a family support! A men does as well, but if we are to be honest, in most families, Momma is the BOSS!

I believe that it is unfair to hold a woman back merely because she wants more out of her life then a stack of spread sheets to go over by 5 o’clock. Just because they want a family to go home to doesn’t mean that they are less competent then the men they work with. The wage gap needs to be closed, and with it the double standard that follows close behind.

Elementary Insight from a 12th Grader.

Everyday I come to school and learn something. Last year I learned math formulas that might as well been Egyptian hieroglyphics and chemistry problems that made my head want to self-combust. So far his year I have learned that I really don’t have a personal philosophy, but I am getting genuinely close to finding one. I have learned that I really do rock at using Google translator in Spanish and that sooner or later my entire Adult Living class is going to get “the talk” but with much much more detail. I have also learned that people can call me conceited or fake or an airhead or annoying or boring, but what really matters are the words I choose to describe myself. Four weeks into my senior year, and I have already learned so so much. But some of the most important lessons I have learned haven’t come from my teachers, they came from my fifth graders.

As a senior cadet for Mrs. Merical’s 5th grade classroom, I spend at least 45 minutes with some of the coolest 5th graders I have ever met each and everyday. I walk through the classroom door and the class immediately stops paying attention to the science lesson in front of them just so that they can give me smiles and “hello!”s. I’m sure you can imagine how special that makes me feel. But it only makes sense for me to feel that way because each and every one of them is special too. One boy draws awesome dragons. Another loves sour candy. One girl does some of the best scrapbooking I have ever seen! While her friend loves telling me stories about her baby niece. As for the class as a whole, they all LOVE fungus. I squirm and say “ew ew ew” in my mind while helping them write down their data about their individual fungus biospheres residing happily in empty jumbo size peanut butter jars under Mrs. Merical and Mrs. Sieler’s desk, but not the fifth graders. They are full of “Cool”s and “Wow”s and “That’s gross… but Awesome!”s. Lucky for me, the fifth graders are the ones learning about fungus. I am learning a different lesson all of my own.

Lesson number one: Patience. I am learning a lot of that. Mrs. Merical and Mrs. Sieler have more patience then the Titanic had people. When one student refuses to do their assignment and has a million and one excuses as to why they can’t, my patience starts to wear off. But I have learned that it’s important not to let it do so. As soon as you get flustered, the student gets flustered. Or like a bear, they sense your “fear” and become even more disagreeable. You just have to stay calm and sensible and not loose your sense of humor about it.

Lesson number 2: Fart jokes are funny. If you ever spend any amount of time in a room full of fifth graders you will soon learn that they laugh about everything. Sometimes it’s a funny video clip that Mrs. Merical is showing to the class but most of the time they are giggling about something completely random. And… I love it! Between 5th and 12th grade I have kind of forgotten how to laugh about nothing. Between people being mean and teachers calling for my focus and attention all the time, I finally gave in and just stopped laughing as much or as often. According to the fifth graders, that’s not cool. And science agrees. According to studies, laughter reduces the level of stress hormones, and increases the good hormones like endorphins (natural painkillers) and neurotransmitters. So next time your walking past Mrs. Merical’s room and hear them laughing, its safe to say that a good fart joke has been told and that I am laughing right along with them.

Lesson number 3: 5th graders are people too. Baby talk is okay when a child is still in the “gogo gaga” stage, but to talk down to a 5th grader (or a 1st grader for that matter) is not right or recommended. Why? Because they are brilliant! It’s my biggest pet peeve to be spoken to like I am an idiot and it surely annoys them too. Instead of talking down to them since they are younger than me, I choose to talk to them like they are my age. Because even in 5th grade, they know what drama is and what working hard entails. No one should ever make them feel as if they don’t. One of them might be the next President of the United States one day!

Lesson number 4: Do things with Gusto! They plant flowers like it’s up to them to save the environment. They decorate the lunchroom with posters and streamers and banners and even blue Christmas lights just to get everybody excited for Homecoming week. They make colorful signs promoting healthy habits that are to be up through out the elementary. These three things have one very important thing in common: Gusto. Mrs. Merical’s fifth graders don’t approach things with a frown and whine “Do we haveeee to?”. Instead they go all out. All the time. With EVERYTHING they do. And I think, “Why don’t I do that?!” Why don’t I sit down in front of my lap top and think “I’m going to make this the better paper on poetry EVER READ!” Because I should! The bigger I dream, the more I will achieve. I can’t possibly make my dreams come true without a lot of that 5th grade gusto! So thank you, my gusto-loving fifth grade friends, for teaching me how it’s done.

You don’t have to be in a classroom to learn and you don’t always gain knowledge from a book. Sometimes you find yourself learning in the most unexpected places and from the most unexpected people. Thank you boys and girls for teaching me how to be patient, how to laugh about nothing, how to treat others as my equals and how to live my life with gusto. I never thought I would learn so much in a classroom where my legs can’t even fit under the desks and from kid’s who don’t think that fungus is gross.

XOXO,
Katie :)

My Almost Personal Philosophy

To me, a personal philosophy is something a person lives by and bases all their decisions upon. Its what defines them and the way they see the world around them. After thinking long and hard, I have come to the conclusion that I don’t have a personal philosophy. At 17 years old I am still learning about myself, maturing and realizing my dreams. I am not ready to have a set in stone personal philosophy. I’m still shopping around, perusing the produce, not quite ready to check out. But that doesn’t mean the shelves are empty. As a matter of fact, there is an abundance of possibilities for me to consider.

I see passionate people everywhere I look. From the artist selling his sculptures at the local farmers market, to the teacher standing affront her classroom teaching grammar and cracking jokes with her students. These people got me thinking. So much so that I have found myself a personal philosophy possibility worthy of the name possibility number one. Its simple: do something because you want to, not because you have to. There are a million things in this world that we as people have to do. Breathing, for one, but also the more tiresome musts like earning a living and taking out the trash every Monday morning. These things have to be done, so why not do them happily? Why not do them passionately? It just seems like such a waste to me go through life dragging my feet. I’d rather be skipping and twirling!

When was the last time I did something for purely unselfish reasons? I could say tonight when I offered to help my mom cook dinner, but to be truthful; I was mostly in it for the taste testing. This makes me wonder: Do people ever do anything truly selfless? I think it’s about to time I start, leading me to philosophy possibility number two: help others to help others, not to benefit from it. I think in today’s “cut throat” society where everyone’s competing against each other for jobs and possible mates and practically everything else, people forget about empathy. And unfortunately, I have to say the same about myself. I don’t like having to admit that either. This may sound silly, but I want to channel my inner Mother Teresa. I want to try and be selfless, and empathetic, and just a really great friend.

Everyone knows one person in their life who intentionally makes other people feel bad about themselves. They can be a girl or a boy, spotted or stripped, rotund or irregular, but no matter what fancy words you use to describe them, they are a bully. They purposely make a person feel ashamed about them self and have no qualms about it. They hurt others because to them its either a) its fun, b) it makes them feel better or c) both. Either way, I don’t ever want to be that person. I don’t want to be that bully who attacks the innocent (and the not so innocent) just because I can. Which is precisely why I am making that my third and last personal philosophy possibility to consider. There are so many uncontrollable factors in this world that can dampen a person’s day, I refuse to be one of them.

I have thought long and hard over the course of this essay, but am still nowhere near settling on my personal philosophy. I am getting closer but l still can’t decide. For now though, I am happy just having an abundance of ideas and possibilities. They are kind of like my almost personal philosophy and that’s enough if you ask me.

Something to Share.

I recently read The Story of an Hour by Kate Chopin for my online Introduction to Literature class. Although it was only about 2 pages long, I found it to be an AMAZING story. The main character is Mrs. Mallard. She has just recieved, via a loyal friend to her husband, the news that he was killed in an explosion along the train tracks he worked. While everyone else assumed she locked herself in her room because of her heart wrenching despair, the exact opposite was happening. Instead of her world collapsing, she felt reborn. For she was now a woman living for herself and not the needs of her husband. I hate to give away the ending, but this short story had quite the twist! i highly suggest it to any and every girl who has ever felt claustrophobic in a relationship. The following is why! :)

Written during the late 1800s, I think this story describes a feeling that many women harbored, but few would admit to. During that time, it was believed that a woman's life revolved solely around her husband. It was her life's purpose to make sure that he was happy and well fed and cared for. From the age a woman reached "adulthood" she was immediately supposed to find a husband and start a family. There were no other options for her. So of course some women resented their husbands. How could they not?

As a very independent young woman I can relate to Mrs. Mallard and other women of her time. With no independence of their own they ached for freedom. They ached to go out and garden because they wanted to, not because it was super time and tomatoes were needed. They longed to read a book on a quiet sunday instead of spending hours doing the house's laundry. All they wanted was some "me" time and they were deprived of that. I can't even imagine myself in their position; I like having my own hobbies and I love the fact that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. Sure, a part of them did it for love, but another part of them had no other choice.

That being said, I think Mrs. Mallard was right to embrace her new found freedom, new found strength. She had been living for another and now it was time that she live for herself. The quote, "Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday that she had thought with a shudder that life might be long," (40-41) describes Mrs. Mallard's new life perfectly. She was at a crossroads in her life, and she was choosing the brightest path.

I got my scuba gear! Do you?

As we get older more and more we are asked to think deeper and dream bigger. I am all for the dreaming bigger, but this week the thinking deeper has got me stumped. Its not because the questions are too hard or the words are too large, its because I, Katie Brown, have found myself with a sinus infection the second week of school! (I have a talent for acquiring bad luck, truly.) So when posed with questions regarding the deeper meaning of a story (and over life in general) instead of being able to use a surging supply of brain power like usual, I am left with a sputtering stream of "Sayyy whattt?". Whats a girl to do?!

First I think its necessary to determine what thinking deeper really is and what it involves. By definition critical thinking is: "An essential tool of inquiry; purposeful, self-regulatory judgment that results in interpretation, analysis, evaluation, and inference, as well as explanation of the evidential, conceptual, methodological, criteriological, or contextual considerations upon which that judgment is based." (www.netnet.org/students/student%20glossary.htm) In simpler terms, I think to critical think is to look beyond the facts and given information to delve deeper into the essay or topic at hand. Like a scuba diver in the coral reef searching for a new coral species, critical thinkers are diving deeper to gain something from the story that others may not. As a "story scuba diver" its my job to find the less obvious meaning of the story. And if I am able to build a connection, even better!


Scuba gear on and oxygen pumping, I dive into this week's essay. Titled Beauty When the other Dancer is the Self, by Alice Walker, this narrative essay is based on Walker's life. Specifically, how her life changed after "the accident". While the bulk of the story revolves around Walker coming to term with the loss of sight and visible scaring in one of her eyes, there is so much more that she hints at but doesn't necessarily tell us readers. Through out her essay she hints at the racism she faced growing up and at the bond she had with her mother, but I believe that the main underlying theme of this essay is anger. Not fury, just anger. The type of anger you feel when someone steals your favorite bicycle or beloved dog. And despite her never saying so, Alice was angry.

Calling the day of her injury "the accident" is hint number one. By putting "the accident" into quote marks she is implying that it wasn't really an accident to begin with. Her brothers probably weren't aiming specifically for her eye, but more then likely they were aiming for her. I also get a sense that Alice's brothers never really apologized to her for all the harm they caused. In her essay she says, "So what, if my brothers grew up to buy even more powerful pellet guns for their sons and to carry real guns themselves," with a tinge of resentment. Not only did they steal her her ability to see the world out of both eyes, but they also stole the confident way in which she saw herself. Their irresponsible actions changed her life yet they still didn't seem to learn their lesson.

I also think that Alice was upset with her family for not realizing how much anguish "the accident" caused her. She was tormented by both her peers and by herself and not a single person in her family reached out to help her. Instead of showing Alice the beauty of her eye, they swept it under the rug and left her to be tormented by her peers. As if that wasn't enough they sent her away to live with her grandmother in her old town. Can you doubt her for feeling the way she did? If only they knew the extent of her pain... "That night, as I do almost every night, I abuse my eye. I rant and rave at it, in front of the mirror. I plead with it to clear up before morning. I tell it I hate and despise it. I do not pray for sight. I pray for beauty," If or when her family members read this, I wonder if they felt any guilt or remorse? I would have. I do now even.

New year, New Mentality.

I have always been a fan of the first day of school! As a munchkin piling out of my mom's car, I always was full of butterflies and bursting with excitment! Armed with my sparkly backpacks and "First Day of School" outfit, I was fearless! Heck yes I was going to pass my colors quiz! You bet I was going to remember all of my vocabulary words! On the first day I was unstoppable!

Roughly 12 years later, I still get that same excited feeling! Especially on my Last First Day of high school. But this year, everything is different. Its a whole new ballgame ladies and gentlemen. The fact that this is my very last year of high school means I have to make every moment count. Whether its remembering the laughs I shared with my lunch table or cherishing the times spent in my royal blue cheer uniform, this is a year of lasts and I don't want to take for granted any of it.

Senior year isn't easy though. As seniors, my 57 classmates and I have lots of decisions to make. Were looking at colleges and contemplating majors and trying to figure out how to curb our ever growing senioritis. Instead of talking about that football hunk named Johnny, were now discussing what were going to do with our lives come may. Reality has set in and we now have to push past our fears and think hard about the future.

Back during those early first days, everybody always asked me "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and I always answered "Britney Spears, duhhhh!". Now when people ask that exact same question, I always answer with a smile and say "I want to major in communications!" I feel like thats a good enough answer for now. :)