What a Gift! New Writers are Up!

 

 All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (November writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) by Tuesday, December 9, on Canvas AND the blog. 

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"Turn" by Karis G.

“Just….leave me alone, ok?”

 

Joni pushed her dad’s hand away, “Hon, are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” his patient persistence frustrated his daughter even more. “How could he possibly understand, he had the chance to participate in the Olympics, the Olympics.” Joni thought. She would never have that chance. To be in the hall of fame, to even walk down a hallway again, for goodness sakes.

 

The nurse came in, “Are you ready for your therapy session Joni?” her father nodded and placed both hands on the back of her wheelchair. Approximately one week ago. Joni would never forget the day. Nothing had been or would be clearer for the rest of her life. She remembered contemplating whether to drive to her niece Jayme’s birthday party, she had just turned two years old, but decided against it. Too far. Similarly, It was too late to join her sister Kathy and her boyfriend who had already left to go swimming at the Bay. Just as she had given up on her plans for the day, Kathy drove up – she had forgotten her handbag. She glanced at Joni smiling and called, “Want to go with us?!” Joni sprung up, grabbed a swimsuit and jumped into the back seat of her Volkswagen. It was the last time she would get into a car using her own two legs.

 

She remembered laughing as she climbed onto the raft she had swum so far out to reach, she looked out over the water, Kathy was laughing, the sunlight bounced off of her already fair hair, making it appear golden. She had only glanced down at the water in front of her…… and dived. The memory shifted, she was lying face down in the

Chesapeake Bay. Her blonde hair foated up to the surface of the water, she heard a snap, she didn't know where it had come from but as she tried to move her arms and legs to swim back up to the surface, she suddenly found she couldn’t. She lay there staring through clouds of flmy water, “How long was it going to take for someone to notice?” she thought, “did anyone see? Surely Kathy watched me dive off of the raft, she had to...” a small silver needlefsh swam by her face and continued on its way. She wanted to shout “Can you see me?” but her nasal passages began to burn, her vision slowly grew blurry and the clouds of water she had been able to see through just

seconds ago began to blacken. Had anyone seen? “Am I going to die?” was the last thought that foated Joni’s mind before the world went completely dark.

Joni felt a hand clasp her shoulder, her dad startled her out of the memory, she was grateful. As he placed a hand on Joni’s shoulder he bent down to whisper in her daughter's ear, “I know this is the last thing you want to hear this right now hon, but maybe this is part of His plan, a bigger one, one you could never have imagined.” Joni closed her eyes, she couldn’t hear that right now. Didn’t want to. How could this be part of His plan. The verse she used to hear so often as a child “...plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” those words tasted like dirt in her mouth, she would never say them again.

Joni heard a voice behind her, “How’s she going dad?” She would have recognized that voice anywhere, it was Kathy. Her vision was obstructed so she couldn’t catch a glimpse of either of them, but knew they were communicating silently with their eyes. She heard her father’s footsteps retreat as he began to back away from the chair. Kathy took his place, placing both hands on the wheelchair. She bent down and whispered in her sister's ear, “There’s something important I have to tell you, Joni.” her voice was urgent and serious. Kathy began to wheel her sister away from the Recovery Room. “What?” Joni whispered, she couldn’t talk to Kathy right now. Not because she was ungrateful, but because she could hardly face herself. “Joni, I wasn’t going to turn around.” Her sister’s tone suggested something no one had considered. Joni frowned, she didn’t understand, she knew Kathy had been the one to pull her from the river to safety, she assumed Kathy had seen her leap off of the raft. Dad had told her everything, right? “I didn’t see you.” her sister repeated “I didn’t know.” Joni frowned, “There was this sharp pinch on my toe,” she began,” and when I looked down this crab had bitten me, I turned around to warn you, but you were nowhere to be found, the last time I saw you you were swimming out to that stupid raft, but you weren’t on it, or anywhere. Something told me to go fnd you -- quickly. So I did.” Joni watched as a small smile began to form on her sister’s face. “Joni, He knew, He saved you.”

Her sister’s eyes were sincere, Joni knew she was telling the truth.The room began to spin, and she closed her eyes trying to absorb the words her sister had just spoken. She couldn’t stop the tears as they began to roll down her face and for the first time since sitting on the beach of the Delaware shore with her, mom, dad, and sisters,

hearing stories of Moses, David, and Daniel, and how God used them to do the miraculous, she began to pray.

 

Narrative based on the story of Joni Eareckson Tada

"Unbearable Displacement" by Isaiah G.

I was displaced. Thrown from my home and because of my… state I could not return to it. For this, I would not be distraught because I tend not to miss what I had or where I’ve been, being that my eyes are mostly confined to the same sight for days before a change of scenery; however, this was different. She was something like I’d never seen before. Through years of traveling all over what I can only imagine as the entire world, never had I seen anyone of her beauty. She was just like me but so different in the best way possible. Never had our lips moved for each other to hear the sounds that would escape like how the kind walking man does ever so often, but still I knew we looked at the same things; we observed the same world, yet her eyes were much kinder than my own. I loved everything about her. Her deep, dark eyes, her soft arms, even her tummy similar in shape to mine. She was the one I wanted to sit next to, just as the birds i’d see on my windowsill, or the books on the desk, or the small red spotted beetles I’d see collecting leaf parts, or even those who were like the kind walking man, all sitting next to each other just like I longed to be sat next to her. We were close once. In the car, on a group trip to another part of this world, we were next to each other and suddenly the car hopped and we were displaced; Though no longer sitting, we were close, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up with love as I lay so close to her. We then reached our destination and were separated, leaving me longing to be sat next to her once more. We enjoyed, somewhat, the days when the man left us sitting down and we would take in the world with each other, and each time he left he would sit us closer and closer, only leaving me counting down these times until I’d be next to her. Finally, after 15 or so of these occurrences, I was next to her. I couldn’t believe it! It was just like I had imagined. That feeling of tingles going down my back was so nice to me and eventually they would go away, only to leave a sort of warm pressure in my belly and my throat, which remained closed like my lips, so we never spoke. We would just watch as the shadows moved across the great room we were in until the kind walking man came back. This happened somewhat regularly for a while and I grew attached to this feeling in my belly, and would anxiously await my next time to be sitting with her; however, one day the kind walking man left in a hurry, casting me about the great room, by accident I’m sure due to his kind nature towards me always, but nonetheless casting me away from her. This feeling came back, the one in my belly, but this time it wasn’t a warm pressure, but instead a cold stone that welled inside of me. I was so far from her I couldn’t even see her wonderful eyes. Instead, all I had was the faint outline of her features my heart had burned into my brain over the weeks, and the tingly feeling of knowing she was there, somewhere across the fluid, yet stagnant black that flooded between her and I. I felt anger and frustration at my worthless vestigial limbs for not allowing me to sit next to her. I envied the kind walking man as I never had before; he could move himself and sit next to anyone he pleased. He could go where he wanted, and more importantly, he could stay where he wanted. My awful cursed state left me vegetative so I couldn’t even travel to see the face of my love whom I adore. I was cast away, helpless like a book fallen from the shelf, stranded until the kind walking man came back to bring me home. I couldn’t bear it. My unmoving limbs only mocked me with their warmness giving the illusion that they are alive. My eyes were stagnant and cursed to only see what I had lost. I had always dreaded staying in one place for long, but for her, I would stay in one place forever. Her fuzzy snout and deep, dark eyes that looked at the same things I did. Her round tummy, the same as mine. Our vegetative state cursed us both but sitting next to each other we didn’t need to move anyways; instead I’m sitting across the room, waiting for the kind walking man to come back and announce, “oh no, I dropped my bear.”

" A Once United Nation Now Divided" by Sereya A.

 

Once upon a time, a man that would forever be remembered named December 7, 1941 “ a day which will live in infamy.” And you would think that the attack on Pearl Harbor or the atrocities of September 11, 2001 would be the worst that our country has ever seen. We would never expect the horrors that would take place in our beloved country after the 2020 election. Everyone expected more hatred and more anger than that of any war so far, but the divide between brother and sisters, the destruction, and the bloodshed would be that of nightmares. In a society where the people that claim to love all and yet hate most challenge those that claim the patriotic values that our nation was built on and fight tirelessly to uphold the morals of the USA, we would expect a war like many others. The date is November 10, 2020, the first day of the rest of the modern day civil war and yet another “day which will live in infamy.”

As of today I am 18 years old and feel like I have seen enough horrors to create enough nightmares to last someone a lifetime. My name is Serena and before this destruction, I was a normal high school girl doing my best to juggle the boy drama, college application process, and the normal senior year workload. On November 14, approximately 12 days after the election, I received a letter in the mail that would haunt me for many days to come. It read, “Dear Serena, we would like to congratulate you on your current draft into the Republicans of the United States Militia. We can expect that this may be unexpected due to the fact that in the previous draft we only recruited males of age. Due to the recent efforts of the feminist organizations across the nation and need for bodies with the physical capabilities, we have opened the draft to both sexes. Again, we would like to congratulate you on your recruitment. You will have one week to say your goodbyes and we will be expecting you at the first Recruitment Physical on November 21 at 07:00 at Etiwanda High School. Please do not forget your face mask and please be prepared to be tested for CoronaVirus. Sincerely, the Republicans of the United States Militia.” I was in complete disbelief at what I had just read. Drafted? Say my goodbyes? What was I walking into? Would I ever walk out of it? My face flushed and I felt a burning hole grow in my stomach. Small salty drops began to cool my hot cheeks and blur my vision as I looked at the family I would have to say goodbye to. I shook with fear and knew that today was the first day of the rest of my life. My mom picked up the phone and called my dad, demanding he come home from work. I sat on the couch, letter in hand and waited for him to come home. This morning when I woke up I was a normal 18 year old high school senior and I would go to sleep tonight as a soldier in the modern day civil war.

Over the next few days, I would call every family member in my contacts and say hopeless goodbyes to each of them. I barely slept the night before 21st and would wake up numb with fear of what I would be walking into. I got up and showered and dressed in workout clothes that I had once worn to cross country practice. I got in the car silently and my mom drove to the school where I had begun a much happier journey. There were generals dressed in military green uniforms with half of their faces covered by face masks. I reluctantly put mine on with shaking hands and kissed my mom’s cheek once more before I opened the car door slowly. Immediately, a small woman dressed in a hazmat suit walked towards me and held up a thermometer to my forehead. She asked me a series of questions that I could barely hear over the sound of my racing heartbeat in my ears. I walked to the football field and checked in. I was instructed to line up with the other girls and that I would need to undress to a bra and underwear

for my physical. As I walked towards the line of girls, I saw the goosebumps on their semi naked bodies and I recognized the fear in their eyes. It was the same fear that I had seen in my own eyes this morning in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. I got to my assigned place and began taking my clothes off. Soon after, a doctor came by and did my physical and then handed me a uniform. I dressed myself and was then instructed to board a bus that would take me to what they called the ruins.

The drive was allegedly 15 minutes but it felt as if every passing mile had aged me by years. We could smell the smoke from our destination before we could see it. The bus stopped in front of a pile of ash that was once a building that some of us had shopped at regularly. We got off in a single file line. We were then assigned to groups and our groups were assigned a task. I was assigned to a group of 4 boys and 3 other girls besides myself and we were in charge of controlling the mobs. We were warned that our enemies would stop at nothing to “convey their message.” We were handed rifles and given quick instructions on how to operate our weapons. We walked to the front lines and on our walk we would see things that I would not soon forget. Women, children, and men of all races sobbed over the remains of both their loved ones and the ashes of their businesses. I looked at the faces of my new comrades and they all looked numb. Would that be how we survived this? Would we have to shut off all emotions? After, would we remember how it felt to love? To be happy? We arrived at what was best known as the “front lines” or better known to the recruits as the “beginning of the end.” All I saw before me was hate and anger motivated destruction. How was I going to be expected to defend something that was going to be attacked by a group that had disregarded all empathy, all love, and all sense to convey a message that they so strongly believed to be right? One of the girls next to me grabbed my hand and prayed. I bowed my head and joined her. My group and I stood arm in arm, a united front defending a now divided nation. Would our nation ever return to the “one nation, under god, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,” or from today on would we be known as the fallen nation, divisible, with destruction and hate raining supreme?

"Ricotta Cheese Recipe" by Alexander S

 

I have always loved cooking and I'm very passionate about learning new recipes or deciding what I should add to my own recipe. I’ve been inspired by a lot of famous chefs and people related to the culinary arts and it's my dream to open up my own restaurant in the future and serve the best food possible. Since quarantine I’ve been working on my Italian food skills. It started out as me making my own sauce, then homemade noodles and it got to the point where I decided to make homemade ricotta cheese. You’d actually be surprised how easy it is to make. This recipe is from Bon Appetit, more specifically from Brad Leone’s recipe. Fun Fact: Most people pronounce Ricotta as (Ri-Kaw-Ta) but in Italy it's pronounced as (Ri-Còt-ta) or just say it in an Italian accent and it will probably be close enough.

 

 

 

 

(Read Steps before acquiring ingredients or starting to cook)

 

Ingredients -

 

-       7 cups whole milk

 

-       1 cup heavy cream

 

-       3 Tsp of Salt

 

-       5 Tbsp of white vinegar (or most acids will work like lemon)

 

 

 

Steps

 

1.    Add all the milk and heavy cream to a large pot.

 

2.    Turn onto medium heat and slowly stir constantly until a thermometer reads 200 Degrees Fahrenheit

 

3.    Make sure to have your ingredients prepped and ready.

 

4.    as soon as the temperature is 200 Degrees, turn off the heat source and add your salt and vinegar and stir for a couple of seconds until you notice milk solids at the top of the liquid, it will look like dissolving particles.

5.    At that point stop stirring and let it sit uncovered, off heat for 10-15 minutes.

 

6.    Put some cheesecloth or a thin towel of some sort in a strainer so it's being covered and make sure it's secured to the strainer.

 

7.    Squeeze out excess liquid (make sure to save a quart or so of the remaining liquid, it's called whey and adding this to your pasta water while cooking it will further season your spaghetti or italian noodle of choice) and set inside a lidded container.

That's it! The Ricotta has a shelf life of only a week,