Find the shape and tell it!
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 submit comments
on Canvas (for each one, include the name of the author and the title
of their piece, and then your positive, specific comment ) by Friday, November 6 on Canvas.
The light of my phone caught my attention, with the first thing I saw being the date, which was January 11, 2023. Opening my notifications to figure out what the cause of my phone turning on was, I was puzzled to discover that it was a text message from my mom. Usually I wouldn’t pay any attention to my notifications during class, but my mother doesn’t regularly text me during school, so I figured it had to be something important. The voice of my French teacher faded in the background of my mind as my eyes shifted from left to right, scanning the message my mother sent to me. It read:
Something happened to Grandma, and I drove her to the hospital with Grandpa.
After reading the vague message, worry gripped my throat, suffocating my airways, as my mind traveled to a dark place. No, no, no, it’s not her time yet. It can’t be. The school bell rang throughout my ears and my body clicked to autopilot. It took me out of the classroom and outside to walk to my next class. In the sea of students I caught sight of my friend, and she immediately knew a dark cloud had taken over my countenance. She was making her way towards me, but my body continued on its path, while my mind remained blank. She caught up to me.
“Are you okay?” her words echoed in my mind spurring me back to life. Those words, the cause of the river of tears that flooded from the depths of my eyes.
“My grandma. She has to be okay,” the only words I was able to choke out beneath the hysterical sobs escaping my mouth and finding their place in the embrace of my friend.
- - -
The rest of the school day passed as a blur, with my mind held captive by immense worry. By the time the last school bell rang, I braced myself for the bad news my mom would tell me when I would enter her car. The walk to the car always felt long, but it felt even longer today. The trees around me were as dead as a corpse, and the sky around me was a dark cloud of ash. Eventually, I arrived at the car and settled in the passenger seat.
“Grandma had a little episode earlier today, but she’s fine now. I just left the hospital not too long ago. Grandpa had said that he left her in the living room alone for a few minutes, and when he came back her body was paralyzed on the couch. He said her head was cocked back on the couch, looking up to the ceiling. He tried to shake her out of her trance, but nothing worked. He thought she was dead or possessed. Both Grandma and Grandpa are still at the hospital, and the doctors are going to have to keep Grandma overnight to run some tests and figure out exactly what happened, but they don’t think it’s anything serious,” my mother explained to me.
Relief overcame me, and I could finally breathe again. She’s okay, everything is okay.
“I have to go back to the hospital to pick up Grandpa and take him back home. Do you want to come with me and see Grandma?” my mother inquired.
“Yes,” the word escaped my mouth. Little did I know of the horrors I would soon witness at the hospital that night.
- - -
The moon illuminated the quiet hospital, as I stepped through the wide doors with my mother. The strong smell of soap and gloves attacked my senses once my feet crossed the threshold. I’ve always hated the smell of hospitals.
My mother and I consulted the front desk and, soon enough, we were traversing the hallway leading to my Grandma’s room. The sound of nurses scurrying around the building was loud in my ears. Or was that my footsteps?
We entered the cramped hospital room, and there she was. It’s difficult to put into words just how odd it felt, seeing my Grandma in that state; with different tubes and cords attached to her arms and chest. It felt like I was looking at a completely different person. Maybe I was.
“Hi mom, how are you doing? I brought Odessa with me because she wanted to see you,” my mother told Grandma as she took hold of her hand.
My Grandma studied my face and a perplexed look overcame her countenance.
“She’s your granddaughter,” my mother informed her while pointing her finger at me.
My own Grandma doesn’t remember who I am. It felt like a punch in the gut. Maybe we really have lost Grandma.
“Is she with them?” my Grandma whispered to my mom, a look of fear spreading across her features.
“With who?” my mother asked.
“The people hiding. These people are here, hiding in this room. Ask Maria, she’s the housekeeper. She knows they are trying to kill me,” my grandma uttered, fearfully glancing about the room and gripping my mother’s hand.
“Mom, there’s no one else here,” my mother reassured her.
At that point, I didn’t know how to react. I was mostly scared as I stood there in that tiny hospital room, staring at this person wearing my Grandma’s skin. What happened to Grandma? My Grandma, the sweet, caring old lady I always knew was frantically trying to rip off the cords and tubes attached to her. My mom called for doctors, and they rushed in. It took 4 doctors to hold her down. I know not where all my Grandma’s strength came from, but it seemed to be enhanced by paranoia. She kept rambling about people trying to kill her and that she needed to fight the demons holding her down. As I watched the battle between the doctors and my Grandma, I just felt desolate.
- - -
My Grandma had to stay at the hospital for two additional nights. By day, my Grandma was herself, but by night she became a different person. Each night her paranoia worsened and I was there to witness it all. When she got discharged from the hospital the Being that seemed to overtake her body faded away. My Grandma could remember who I was again. However, witnessing her episodes those nights at the hospital made me recognize the reality of aging. As my Grandma gets older, her mind only worsens. When will the time come when that Being comes back to permanently overtake her body and wear her skin? I wish it wasn’t inevitable, but she is already experiencing the onsets of dementia, and it will only proceed downhill from here. While my Grandma still recognizes me and those around her, I will go out of my way to make the most out of my time with her. I will tell her I love her everyday. I will hug her and laugh with her before the Being rips her away from me, never to return her.
Best friends forever we say.
Growing up I had a best friend named Maddox who lived right next door to me. Everyday afterschool we would go to each other's houses since we didn't go to the same school. We spent so much time together just having fun being right next door. We would play video games, make musicallys , go swimming and try new things together. We would even ride our scooters together and play hide n seek around the houses. We created so many memories together that I'll never forget. Like one time I had gone to his aunt's house for St Patrick's day and at the time I was not a big fan of dogs let alone big ones. Maddox's aunt had a big German shepherd and for most of the day it was put away but it ended up coming out and came straight to me. The first thing I did was scream and then I ran around the house. I then hopped over his brother who was in a wheelchair, hopped over the couch and landed in his Grandma's lap. At the moment I was shaken up but his family and friends found it so funny that I was running from the dog, but looking back at that moment I do laugh and find it funny. After that day Maddox and I laughed about that moment for a good minute. That was a core memory that we shared together and that I won't ever forget. After spending so much time together a change had come and it was me having a best friend to not having one at all. Maddox had told me that he was moving and I was so shocked and surprised since we lived so close to each other for a while. I knew that once he moved we wouldn't be as close anymore which saddened me alot. I remember just feeling so betrayed and hurt by the situation that we would not see eachother no more. Not long after he told me that he was moving he moved to a different part of vegas and my family and I moved back to california. So after he and I moved we lost connection and never spoke again. This loss made me realize and reflect on the impact Maddox had on me. I realized that friendships require growth and change, and not all of them will last forever. With that change, I grew. I grew to learn how to handle losing friendships by accepting that people will come and go in my life but will leave behind important lessons. I grew to understand that not every friendship is going to last forever, and that's just how life is. So even with the sadness and loss, I continued to be positive and started focusing on myself. Losing a best friend helped me to look forward and not only that but that I can continue to build great bonds and connections with others, but it’s important to take time to focus on personal growth. In addition to that, looking back, I realize that I had to have this experience so that I could understand the value of friendship and the significance people will have on my life. Maddox was my first real friend, and when we lost our genuine friendship and connection, I had to learn to move on and not dwell on that connection. It wasn’t easy to go through but it taught me in order to grow sometimes you have to let go. This experience has helped me know the values of friendships and also understand the essential personal-growth in times of loss. Throughout this story it shows not just the challenge and sorrow I faced but also the growth that came with losing a true and genuine friendship. I became more selective and aware about who I become friends with and who I let into my life because I realized how valuable true friendships are. What I learned from this experience and what I hope others learn is that not everyone in your life is there forever, and that’s something you have to accept. Take it and grow, don’t get stuck in the past. Instead focus on what you learned from the experience and how you can continue and grow with moving forward. It’s a part of life that everyone goes through, and it’s important to remember that change is going to happen and there's no stopping it. And knowing that, I will always remember the memories I have with Maddox, to move on but not forget.
It is September 2024, I am 17 years old, a senior in high school and I am moving from my basically childhood home. I moved here from my actual childhood home which is in Baldwin Park, I was about 9-10 so it didn’t affect me that much at the time but now I am moving out of my home that I have grown up in and found myself in. Which I would later find would be an overwhelming change but ultimately brushed this emotion away. My parents told me we were to move to a nice house that would be perfect since I would have my own room, which has always been a dream of mine since every house that we have lived in, I have always had to share my space with my two sisters. Nevertheless, they said we were moving and I was actually excited for this new chapter in my life.
Then my world came crashing down. The house we assumed we would move into actually had someone else living in it and had scammed us of hundreds of dollars. I have never felt more hopeless. It is October 2024 and my little sister and I are staying with a close family friend while my parents stay at our grandmother's house all the way in our old home town of Baldwin Park which we could not stay at since we go to school here in Rancho Cucamonga. Because of this fact, I have had to take on the challenge of taking care of my little sister all by myself really, with my parents not being able to come over all the time with work and not being able to afford gas. My sister is not an easy person to take care of when she doesn’t listen or just wants to be lazy. We haven't always gotten along which is sometimes my fault. But I believe we have gotten closer because of this but I feel miserable because of the fact that I am growing up, going to be an adult in less than a year and going to be moving out, leaving her to herself in the house of our parents. We don’t always get along with our parents the way other kids do.
It is November 2024 and having to take care of my sister, making sure she eats, showers, cleans up after herself, having to take her to practice, school and taking her to hang out with friends, all while trying to take of myself in the process really made me struggle with myself mentally, putting me in an unstable amount of stress and I found myself sinking into a deep depression feeling like a burden wherever I went, feeling like no one wanted me and having a hard time coping with the situation at hand. Even if people tried to lift my spirits, I couldn’t listen. My mind was stuck in this mindset of forever darkness. I knew I could not continue like this if it was damaging my relationships with the people closest to me, so I turned to something I have not been fully a part of since I was a child, which was my religion.
My family and I are christians, we used to go to church every wednesday and sunday but stopped going once we moved here because of the distance making it hard to keep up with this routine. So once we moved here we never found a church to join and gradually stopped going to church all together. Though I occasionally attended church, either with my friend to their church or I went with my aunt to her church but ultimately never really made time to go as often as I should’ve. I still prayed here and there but eventually lost faith little by little and the situation I am in did not help and I even began to feel anger towards God, frustrated by the situation I found myself in, as if I was being tested beyond my limits. But I ultimately decided to reconnect with my religion because I needed something to believe in and hold on to and I knew that even if I was angry with God, that he would help guide me through this. I went and bought a bible that I knew I would like and keep with me. Though it was a slow start getting into, it helped me ground myself with the fact that I am living a life that no friend of mine could imagine living. I am living the impossible.
This situation that I had and am still going through is a very complicated one. It has ultimately taught me many things and even though I am not out of it, it has taught me that the real world is a very scary place, especially the adult world. Having most of the responsibilities of an adult without being an adult is a very confusing line, not knowing if what I am doing is crossing that line or not. I have also learned that I have to be more responsible, that my time as a kid is coming to an end. One of the most important lessons I have learned is that life can feel like a repetitive, dull cycle without something to believe in. If I didn’t find something to hold on to, like religion or friends, it would be hard to see the meaning in everyday struggles and changes. Through it all, I have realized that no matter how difficult life may seem, having something to believe in makes the life I am living just a little bit more bearable and occasionally hopeful for the future.
There was once a time that I didn’t care for nature, in fact I utterly despised it. When I was a child I often got hurt, whether it was falling on the rough gravel that left me with scars or the irritating stains from wet grass. I never once looked at nature with whimsy, only petty annoyance. During quarantine my family would force me to do these hikes on a hill, I suppose to get some fresh air since we were only ever indoors. However, this only entertained my displeasure with nature as I would often get lightheaded (almost passing out) from these trips and the scenery was, to put it kindly, bland. Once I grew older I stayed indoors more and I was more pleased with a cityscape than a landscape. I often dreamt of living in a busy city, and whenever I visited Los Angeles my eyes would sparkle with the city lights. Until one day, me and my friend were walking, trees clapping their hands and a slight breeze that made everything feel perfect. My friend always saw the beauty in nature, she would often take pictures on her phone to capture a scene and I would wait for her impatiently. “Why don’t you be more whimsical?” She told me. “I don’t really care for nature.” I would say, but there was doubt in my answer. I too saw the beauty of the evergreen before me and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’ve ignored the beauty of nature for so long, not once did I look back on the colored leaves on the ground or the way the rock glistens with sparkling water. It only served as a backdrop to me, like a painted scene of a play. Not once did I admire the details of the world. I’ve always liked the extreme parts of nature, like forest and beaches but I never appreciated the everyday trees and grass I walked by each day. My friends help me pause and admire the small things in life. We would walk out to a field just to look at the evening sky or a gazebo and pick at the white roses or furthermore, go to the park during the night and prance around the dewy grass and trees. No longer do I mind the grass stains nor the scars from the gravel that have faded long ago. Whilst I walk upon the cracked sidewalk I admire the bright vigorous flowers, the cracked leaves that crunch whenever I step on them, the blue mountains that stare at me wherever I go. I can’t shake the feeling of the simple pleasure of nature, like nothing else matters in the world. Nature is something that brings unity, peace and restoration of the soul. If ever I have a bad day or something bothers me, I would now go outside and appreciate the things around me instead of dwelling in my gray room. The light breeze hitting the long grass calms me, the flowers growing on the vines give a faint reminder of growth and life and the sunlight that shines through the leaves gives me a sense of hope, a truly inspiring home we live in. I learned to appreciate everything around me, even if it wasn’t the prettiest, the smallest thing would be beautiful to me. Whether it’ll be a simple meadow to an enchanting forest I see the beauty of it all. One day my father gave me a small red flower, normally I would leave it out by my window and watch it slowly die cruelly but I had a strange ambition to keep it alive. I would water it, talk to it and leave it in the sun in order for it to grow and after some time the once small flower grew into multiple. I never knew nature could be so rewarding, it even gave me a sense of pride and it only furthered my wonder and engrossment of nature. The cityscapes that I once adored seemed to be missing something, although I still find the beauty in the skyscrapers and the shining city lights, it didn’t always capture a certain charm that nature carries. Nature is something that we are always familiar with and once we see the resemblance of the simple evergreen of the Earth, it is comforting to us. I now see the world more differently than I ever have before. Once oblivious to the face of nature and I would pass on by without a care, unaware of the significance and wonders of the Earth I now have opened my eyes to the enchanting beauty of our world.
“Although it’s difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, may looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”
August 14th, 2024, the day my beloved pet rabbit, James, passed away. Ever since I was in 4th grade, we had a pet rabbit by the name of James. Around the time we had gotten him, our family was going through a lot of issues. My parents had just recently gotten divorced and we were struggling. My father wasn’t a very good guy, I never really knew this until my Senior year. I had always seeked validation from him without knowing the things he had done. Senior year summer he had told me over the phone that he would rather have me go to parties, smoke, drink, etc instead of being a nerd and a loser; so you can tell what type of guy he is. Anyway, because of my parents divorce we had to move from Pico Rivera to Fontana; I had moved a few weeks before the end of 5th grade. James was with us the entire time as well, we moved houses 3 times and he was still the amazing little guy we all loved.
On August 14th 2024, I had gotten out early from school. I don’t remember why but I just remember not being at school that day, at around 1:30pm I heard my mom yell across the house. I ran over to see what happened and I saw her standing by my rabits cage screaming “James is dead” repeatedly. It was just her and I, and I had to do something so I tried to do what I could. He was laying behind his cage, not moving. I grabbed gloves and tried to pick him up, this is when he had started frantically moving. He was hurt and I wasn’t sure what to do, I had to support his neck with my other hand, he was really floppy. Eventually I would sit him in my arms outside, where he was slowly closing his eyes. My mom and I decided to take him to the vet to put him down, we didn’t want to see him suffer any longer. Before that, we took him to my older sister's work so she could see him one final time. The tears and sound of my sister's voice had caused me to begin to cry, the entire time I wanted to be there for my mom and make sure she was ok. The scene of the entire scenario was so heartbreaking that I don’t want to describe it anymore. Eventually we took him to the vet, to put him down, his breathing slowing, and his eyes closing. The veterinarian had eventually come in, and as we were saying goodbye, she had said “Good job buddy”, to my rabbit, for living and fighting for so long. It was at that moment, where I began to sob. I have only cried like that twice in my life, once when he had passed and the other around the end of September. Even though the entire situation was haunting, I felt it could’ve been worse. Thankfully I was randomly at home that day, thankfully my mom was checking on him, thankfully he didn’t suffer for long. There are a lot worse things that could have happened, but thankfully I was there to give our little guy a proper goodbye.
We were given the opportunity to cremate our beloved bunny. We had accepted it and chose the nicer option. Upon waiting a few weeks, we had gotten our rabbit's ashes and can finally say, he was home again. We were also given a farewell poem, the poem had read, “Although it’s difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, may looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”
This poem had made me reminisce on our experiences with James, and what eras of our lives he has lived through. I had realized that he had been there for me through all my changes. Once I had gotten to a point in my life where I was happy with who I was, he had passed away. Me and my family like to think he was there to help us heal from the dark times, like an angel…because, once my entire family and I were all happy for once, he had passed away.
August of this year was a special time for me, there were a lot of ups and downs, but if it weren’t for the people who were with me at the time, I’m not sure where I would be today. His death was really hard on us, however, it was his death that had reminded all of us of the people we had become today.
I write and tell this experience because mourning is a really hard thing to go through. However, it isn’t the idea of them being gone we should remember them for, instead we should remember them for the happy moments we had with them.
I had once heard that, only things you had cared for can make you sad or upset, but it was those same things that made us once happy. It is a really nice saying that I remember and think of often, because even though we miss someone or something, those same things had once made us happy.
It is because of that, I remember those who had passed or had gone out of my life, with only love instead of bitter and hate. Love those who are in your life, love those who aren’t in your life. Forgive those who hurt, forgive those who hate, and most importantly, live everyday with love, respect, and gratitude. Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I hope you had something to take away from it, stay blessed. <3
♡ Rest In Peace James the Rabbit, August 14th, 2024 ♡
My Heart is beating out of my chest as I prepare for one of the biggest games of my life at stake: Division Four CIF championship for Etiwanda High school. Something that has never been accomplished before in school history and my team and I have the opportunity to rewrite the script and prove everyone wrong. Little did we know that at the beginning of the 2023- 2024 Boys Varsity soccer season we would go on to accomplish everything we set our minds to.
At the start of the season skepticism would arise how the strength of our squad would be this season from losing eight seniors last year to having a very young squad full of juniors and two seniors. With that being said, our boys varsity program isn´t very well acknowledged and known for their success throughout the season and throughout CIF if they qualified. Year by year always falling short to qualify for CIF and to compete for Baseline league championship.
Desperate for a change we all came together as a unit and set our goals and ambitions for the 2023-2024 season and set our plan of attack in order to achieve these goals and ambitions. We all came to the conclusion that we wanted to win Baseline League for the first time since 1998 and go on to compete for a spot in CIF little did we know we would go on to exceed these expectations. With our goals in mind we knew we needed to roll up our sleeves and put our heads down and get to work. We knew coming into season it wasn't going to be easy. We knew we had to put in the extra work to see the results we wanted. This lit up a fire in the team creating a competitive, disciplined, accountable environment where we all pushed each other to get better overall creating a stronger bond amongst brothers that we knew that could not be broken even when challenged with adversity. I still remember that cold January night with a slight breeze in the air. Our first league game was against former Baseline league champions Chino Hills, a great match up for us to test our team discipline and work rate offensively and defensively. Tension filled the air and the atmosphere as we kicked off the start of the season. At the end of the full 90 minutes against Chino Hills we were tied at 0-0 our bodies were fatigued and sore as sweat ran down our faces as we prepared for the next twenty minutes of overtime mentally and physically fatigue. The team and I searched deep down and remembered what we are working towards. In the last five minutes of overtime our team scored in golden goal to deliver us the win over former Baseline league champions. As excitement and joy overfilled our emotions we knew this was only the beginning of something great.
Coming off a dramatic win this would only set the tone for the rest of the season. Sticking to our roots and our plan we would go undefeated in league with an 8-0-2 record something that hasn't been accomplished since 1998. We knew our job wasn't finished coming into CIF. We spent countless hours on and off the pitch studying game analysis of our opponent and preparing for what to expect. We would win our first round of CIF 4-0 against Canyon High school, then go on to beat Troy High School 1-0. Pumped up after this victory we collected our heads and remained diligent because our next opponent was Jurupa Hills High school. We would go on to beat them 1-0 as well. Having never gone so far into CIF nerves and anxiety filled my body knowing that one loss could end our season. I knew I had to control myself and not worry because I´ve been playing this beautiful game my whole life. Coming into the semifinals against Paramount I turned my nerves into excitement which turned out to be amazing. I was buzzing all around the pitch and that excitement and joy radiated off to my teammates. Once again we would go on to win our game against Paramount 1-0. Something that has never been done before in school history was about to go down Etiwanda vs Lakewood in the CIF finals. A tense game was understating fans at the edge of their seats as we prepared to go into CIF final penalties after a scoreless 120 minutes of competitive soccer .The beams of the headlights shining down on the pitch onto the pitch as both teams sent out their five to take penalties. Etiwanda first up to take the penalty we score 1-0, Lakewood makes their way to the spot and they score 1-1 tied penalty shoot out. Etiwanda up at the spot and cool as like we slotted it away making it 2-1 on penalties. Lakewood made their way back to the PK spot and slotted it home making it 2- 2 on penalties. I was the third pk taker as I made the long walk to the pk spot . I felt my heart beating out of my chest as I heard both sides of the fans booing and cheering at the sametime. I felt the pressure of the situation arise as I made my way to the penalty spot. I take a deep breath and relax my body remembering my technique three steps back and two steps to the left as I run up to the ball and feel my foot make contact with the ball. I knew it was a great hit. With the keeper diving in the right direction the ball was placed perfectly in the bottom left corner where the keeper had no chance of reaching it. As I raised my arms in the air pumping and hyping up the crowd while walking back to greet my teammates I could only wait and have complete trust in my teammates to finish the job. Lakewood responded and scored their PK making it 3-3. Etiwanda back up at the Pk spot and scored once again 4-3 Lakewood not giving into the pressure would respond right back making 4-4. As my teammate Thevan was stepping up to take the fifth penalty he was cool as can be feeling no pressure like it was another shot at training and slots it bottom right corner. As Lakewood prepared to send their fifth penalty taker to the spot I could tell the pressure had got to them the player was shaking while walking up to the spot. As he went to strike the ball he hit the crossbar and went out of bounce. Surrounded by my brothers at that moment tears of joy streamed down my eyes as I celebrated not only our success but our discipline, workrate , and attitude along the way. For the first time in Etiwanda Boys Soccer History we accomplished the unthinkable becoming Division Four CIF champions.
This season is so memorable in my life because I learned so much throughout the process and the season but my main take away from this season is when you truly put your mind towards something you can achieve it through relentless hard work, diligence, and discipline. As well as having a support system that lifts you up during the highs and especially lows of your journey, whoever that may be yourself,friends, or family. I will carry what I learned from this season for the rest of my life and apply it to whatever goal or task is ahead of me. Having this mindset will allow me to achieve my goals whatever they may be at the moment. As well as teaching this lesson to my fellow peers and being their support system if they are struggling. Just remember if you truly want something or want to change for the better, fully commit yourself towards that task or goal while also applying hard work, diligence , and discipline.
My extended book review is on “Holes” by Louis Sachar published in 1998 by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. The book begins by introducing a boy named Stanley Yelnats III who lives in Texas with his mother, father, and grandpa. The family lives in a small apartment which is cluttered with his dads inventions to try and cure foot odor, Stanley's grandpa believes the dad will never solve the cure due to his “no-good, dirty-rotten, pig-stealing great-great-grandfather” which brought the family misfortune for generations. The story goes on to explain how the curse was placed on the family and is because of Elya Yelnats, Stanley's great-great-grandfather who promised to carry Madame Zeroni up a mountain in order to obtain a pig. Unfortunately he didn't keep his promise, leaving Madame Zeroni behind which caused her to curse the Yelnats family for multiple generations. Nonetheless, one day Stanley gets into trouble and is sent to Camp Green Lake for stealing a pair of shoes which is for a crime he did not commit and was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. As he arrives at camp which is ironically in the middle of nowhere with no lake near, the camp is also surrounded by five feet wide and deep holes stretching for miles. Stanley meets the Warden as well as the staff which the boys refer to as Mr.Sir and Mom and the next day he is then sent to dig a hole accompanied by the other boys at that camp in order to “build character”. After digging holes consistently everyday Stanley soon discovers that the Warden and staff members have their own hidden agenda and the point of digging is part of a larger search for buried treasure. As Stanley deals with the rough conditions of the camp he meets Hector Zeroni who goes by Zero, Zero is a quite troubled boy who is picked on by the kids as well as the staff. Eventually he and Stanley run off from camp where there is no food or water and begin to unravel the mysteries of the buried treasure which is tied to Stanley’s family curse. Throughout the boys' tough journey they not only overcome the injustices of the camp but their own struggles with their identity. The book takes on the theme of justice and injustice which is seen through Stanley's unfair trial which sends him to camp green lake.
Throughout the book the author combines humor as we see from the boys at camp as well as suspense that makes the book even more engaging. His language is straightforward while being complex which attracts young and older audiences as I read this book as a kid and still enjoy it while being in high school. He makes sure to add depth to the story as towards the end we see plot twists connecting present day Stanley with his family's past history. When it comes to believability of the characters they are accurately portrayed, Stanley is a relatable character going from a poor and unlucky family to breaking his family's curse and living a life he never expected. The supporting characters are also well developed as were given their backstory as to why they are the way they are such as the warden who has been looking for this treasure since she was a little girl with her grandpa, she continues to make it her mission to find this treasure as her grandpa never found it. This overall ties into the central message of the book and how it could be interpreted as fate and destiny as we follow Stanley and his family go through struggles. We may see fate as a cycle of misfortune, the book shows how fate can be challenged and in this case altered.
Holes can be evaluated in terms of its literary values as the author weaves between storylines such as Kissin’ Kate Barlow origin story, Stanley at camp, and his family's past. In addition, Sachar's usage of comic relief in serious moments such as when we think it's the end for Stanley and Zero make this book enjoyable and relatable to many readers. His dialogue is sharp, with the characters speaking in ways that reflect their backgrounds, for instance Zero, who is a shy boy that doesn't speak to anyone but Stanley who grew up in a group home with no parents. The intriguing ending as we see how the storylines connect to each other keeps the readers wanting to read and emphasizes the ability to engage them . As someone who read this book when I was 10 years old I enjoyed it, it makes sense how it can appeal to any age as they decided to make a movie out of the book which brings the plot and characters to life more.
As a little girl, I always believed that my worst heartbreak would be inflicted upon me by a boy in my teenage years; my anticipations could not be further from the truth. Who would have thought that a sport that I could not live without would cause me such pain. My greatest fear had come to life, my softball career was practically over, and I tore my ACL.
As an athlete, my worst fear was being injured and stepping away from the sport into which I poured so much time, effort, and passion. I tore my ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) in early May of this year. When this injury occurred I was completing a simple workout with my team, or so I thought it was simple. Who would have thought that the slightest wrong movement would cause such destruction. Initially, when I injured my knee it did not occur to me that I had been hurt so badly. The same night I tore my ACL, I took a visit to urgent care just to make sure everything was okay, and to ensure that I would be able to play in the upcoming summer season -- the most crucial time of college recruitment season. My doctors, coaches, and trainers all told me that my knee was fine, that I had just strained it, and needed to take some time to rest. I did exactly that, I rested for about two weeks and was on crutches for about two days; I refused to walk around school with any sign that my knee was hurt. With recruitment season in full swing and my plans to hopefully play in college, I was eager to get back on the field with my team. After resting, I began practicing again, but every cutting move caused my knee to pop out of place and give out on me. I knew something was wrong, but my primary care physician refused to allow me to receive an MRI. It was not until I paid a visit to an orthopedic surgeon, that he took a look at my knee and instantly felt something was wrong. He was worried that my ACL was torn, and as soon as he expressed his concerns I felt an instant feeling of sadness and grief. Tears rushed to my eyes as the possibility of having to take time away from my sport crossed my mind. I quickly wiped them away, I tried my best to conceal my worries. I did what I knew best -- to toughen up and wipe away my tears. I did not want to believe that there was a great chance that his suspicions were true.
After a few days, it was finally time for me to receive an MRI and find out if there was truly anything wrong with my knee. I arrived at the hospital and I checked in for my appointment, after waiting some time I was taken back to change into a gown. I put my belongings into a small locker and put on a blue gown. I was now alone in a small cold room waiting to be called back into a scan room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the radiologist assisted me into the large scary scanning machine. I was not too worried, I truly believed my injury would not be as serious as it seemed. The scan took about twenty-five minutes, the machine was extremely loud but that did not stop me from inevitably falling asleep. As my scan came to an end, the radiologist helped me off the large cold machine and asked me “Does your knee feel like it pops out of place?” Instantly I knew that the radiologist had seen something concerning in my scan. Worries began to flood my head, the whole ride home I played out numerous scenarios of what would happen if I had torn my ACL. For the next week or so, I practically lived in the inbox of my emails waiting to receive my results.
A week passed by, and my mom rushed into my room one summer morning. She shouted my name, waking me up to show me my results. As she reads me the findings of my MRI, she is confident that my ACL was not torn. She said “There is a high-grade tear in the anterior cruciate ligament,” she wrongly interpreted what it meant and thought it was another part of my knee. My mind went blank, I was speechless and had no idea how to feel or even react. I quickly grabbed her phone to see the results for myself. My nightmare came to life and my ACL was done for. Once again I bottled up my emotions and pretended I was fine. My mind could not grasp the idea that I would now be sidelined for almost a year, or possibly forever. What was supposed to be one of my last summers playing alongside my favorite people, was now to be spent cheering them on from inside the dugout. How could I not feel anything but sadness.
I now had to figure out what to do with all my extra time. Practicing and working out every single day was engraved into my lifestyle, how was I supposed to just learn to move on in a blink of an eye. Softball was everything to me, it blessed me with the greatest lessons and the best friends I could ever ask for. Even though my love for this sport was great, that was not preventative enough for my injury. My coaches and teammates provided me with love, support, and hope, but that was still too small to heal the gaping wound. Even with my sorrow, I still did my very best to look on the bright side. I realized that this blessed me with an opportunity to learn who I was as a person. I had no choice but to look forward and plan my surgery and recovery.
I began my senior year excited, I could not help but feel anxious as the countdown to my surgery began. I was worried out of my mind, I had never had surgery before, but with the nerves came relief that I was finally able to begin my recovery process. The morning of my surgery finally arrived and I was ready to get it over with. I arrived at the hospital with my parents at eight in the morning. I checked in, and I was quickly taken to the pre-op center; I was asked a million questions while the nurse painfully inserted my IV. I spoke with my surgeon, and he signed my knee he was going to be operating on and we were good to go. The nurses quickly put the bed railings up and wheeled me to the operating room. I was lying in the cold room and all I remember was the anesthesiologist asking me a couple of questions and dozing off. In the blink of an eye, it was all over, I was awake and had no idea what was going on as my parents were greeting me. After fully waking up I was quickly discharged from the surgery center. I had just overcome the easiest part of my journey.
As I am currently about three months post-operative, I realized that the physical recovery from my injury has not been the hardest part to overcome. The mental side of my recovery is what has greatly taken a toll on me. Even though I try my absolute hardest to remain positive, I still have times when I struggle with my mental health. As time has passed, I have learned to let my emotions come to life because that has been my only way to overcome the toughest time of my life. Despite softball causing me my absolute worst heartbreak, I will forever be blessed with amazing memories, the greatest friendships, and the most meaningful life lessons.
As I peer out the window through the thunderstorm, I see the city—a dark and gray jungle, like most others in the country today. The cab stops in front of the building, and the robot driver turns to look at me with its soulless eyes, holding out its wrist to request payment. I swipe my wrist over his, and the payment goes through. I get out of the car and stare at the ominous building in front of me, its geometric shape illuminated only by the thousands of corporate billboards around the city.
I walk up the steps quickly as the rain pours over the city, as it usually does most of the year. Up ahead, I see the robotic security guards that have replaced most of our human workers in “Old America.” They stop me, as expected, and ask, without a hint of emotion, “Business here?”
I reply, “I'm part of the new class. I'm here for my application for New America and their school.” The robots stare at me, running some sort of facial recognition, as the rain patters on their hard metallic surfaces.
They beep, “GPA please” I lift the sleeve of my coat and roll up the sleeve of my suit underneath, revealing a tattoo-like number burned into the skin of my wrist: 3.8, glowing a fluorescent blue. Swiping their wrist with mine, they beep and seem to ponder for a moment before blurting out, “Application fee will be $97.”
I take the charge; I am one of the lucky few who can afford basic necessities such as good clean food and water, based on my GPA—nonetheless, an application fee for a school in New America. The robotic guards buzz me in, and I walk through the dark geometric building, my shadow illuminated by the various billboards outside and the lightning striking.
I find a door marked “New Applicants Here.” I open it with the GPA engraved on my wrist and walk in. I look into the massive room and see thousands of applicants in front of me. Some are interacting and chatting, while others sit alone, pondering what lies ahead. We all have one thing in common: we look almost identical, wearing the same clothes, exhibiting the same mannerisms, and even sharing similar heights, eye colors, and voices. The marvel of genetic engineering has allowed the government to mold the next generation of Americans into their ideal image—applicants whose sole goal is to accomplish enough to get into New America.
Regardless, we still have to endure hours of rigorous examination, grueling work hours, and finally the “Application” to even have a shot at a school in New America. I sit down and look around; the screens in the room display the names of those called, and each walks in for a discussion with “the officer.” Only after the interview do you find out your fate. Those accepted to a school in New America leave immediately, while no one is quite sure what happens to those who are not.
As names pass by, time seems to move slower and slower. Anticipation builds in my stomach. I think, *I believe I've done enough… I hope I have, at least. After all, nobody is quite sure if they have, in the eyes of these people.* Finally, my name is called. I walk up to the huge doors, greeted by the assistant of the officer, who leads me through the massive doors that slam shut with a thunderous thud.
We walk down a hallway, make a left, and stop at a door. The secretary knocks, and the door buzzes open. We enter, and the secretary turns to leave. Sitting at the desk in front of me is the officer. He is pale, with jet-black hair slicked back; his age is hard to tell—maybe mid-30s or 40s. He wears glasses that reflect the light, making it impossible to see his eyes. His features are mundane yet mysterious.
I can't ascertain much about him, besides the fact that he is a stranger. He motions for me to come over, and I think, *Is it not odd that I know nothing about this person, while they know so much about me and yet determine my entire fate?*
I sit in the chair as he types on his thick, sleek, gray computer, presumably bringing up my accomplishments and history. He finally speaks.
“Well, let’s get this done fast, as I have to see thousands more of you applicants.”
I nod in agreement as he continues.
“Well, as you know, your GPA is the basis of your life. Everything you have ever done or accomplished in Old America is summed up in one number. Anything below a 3.5 is unacceptable for New America. It's your currency, your way of life. You paid for this entrance fee with that GPA, and it determines if you can even be considered for a good life. After all, it allows us to separate the top-tier applicants from those that the new government does not deem worthy. So let us hope, for your sake, that you have done enough.”
“Yes, sir, I hope I have done enough. I know my GPA is above a 3.5.”
“You and everyone else. Just remember, the ultimate goal for attending these schools is to serve one of the hundreds of companies that make up America now. At school, you will learn to become a perfect member of the corporate new world. So tell me, applicant, why should we let you in?”
“Well, I have worked hard. I have served my community and my nation—”
“Oh, please. Don’t you think I’ve heard this a hundred times? Grab my attention with something.”
I feel my hands go clammy as a lump forms in my stomach. I realize that we, as applicants, are just another name on a sheet. Everything I have done pales in comparison to what others have achieved in much more impressive ways. In their eyes, we as applicants are truly nothing.
“Surely you can tell me about yourself in, let’s say, 350 words or less? Come on now. Just answer four questions. I need your essence captured in this application; otherwise, I can’t decide your future for you. What is one way you have made your community better? Come on now.”
“I mean, I have served so much. I’ve clothed children, helped repair robots, built entire learning centers—I’ve been everything New America would want and more. How would you expect me to tell my life story in 350 words or less?”
He snaps back, “It’s easy, applicant. You just need to be concise and original. After all, I have to make a decision that will determine your future after just learning about you. It is easy.”
“What's so easy about any of this? You've taken my whole life and put it into a single paper. Somehow, with everything I have to deal with on a daily basis—all the sleepless nights I’ve given to this place—my personality and accomplishments all get compressed and put under a microscope.”
“Yes, it is. To be honest, we could care less about you as a person. We just need to get new workers for New America in our schools. After all, the whole point of the GPA determining your life is to make you compliant, to just be another cog in the corporate machine.”
I stand up from my seat. “This is so unfair! How do you expect me to be perfect for New America? All we applicants do is work and work and work, and the harder we work, the more you raise your expectations along with your prices. It’s unfair.”
“Nothing in our lives is fair, applicant. It’s a business; we need to raise prices to keep these schools functioning. Besides, it’s going to take a while to find out if you’ve made it.”
I scoff and say, “You’re telling me my future is based on a singular, one-dimensional view from a complete stranger who I don’t even know, and all that I am is compressed into one singular application?”
“Yes, I am telling you that. Now I would hurry up and work on those responses; you still have to revise them, and the deadline for your future is soon.”
Time had no effect on me in my more formative years, it almost felt like I would be forever young. I was happy, complacent with what my life was before and honestly, I never wanted anything to change, being happy gave me that idea. As I got older, time always seemed to be escaping and there was no longer time for anything other than school and friends. Looking back I wish I had enjoyed everything more than I did, especially the smaller things because now it’s as though time is moving faster than ever. I heavily reminisce back to my childhood and remember how I felt in those moments attempting not to forget the pleasant memories/feelings when the most prominent feelings and memories were needed. I need more, I need better grades, I need this, I need that, I need more time…
A crucial quantity of time has passed since then, but there has only been a sparse amount of things that have changed throughout the course of 11 years, 365 more days than a decade. Living in a two story house, with the same neighbors, the same people, the same routine, the same everything can be a repetitive and unchanging cycle until the cycle breaks, my cycle broke on September 4th, 2024. A forever date which is unforgettable that preoccupies your life because that person preoccupied your life. I say that they occupied my life but that is not entirely true because although his role was placed on him the day I was born, my relationship with him is(was) complex, a very on and off relationship. I knew that his love was unconditional but his involvement was very conditional. I also knew that there were other factors and influences throughout my life that made him inconsistent even if it was his fault or not; with that being said growing up was different.
As I mentioned previously growing up was different, but going out of order for the purpose of the point, middle school was a prime example of challenges and obstacles, like anyone else of course middle school is where changes and important parts of your personality and character develop. I was truly not ready for the amount of development and change that occurred in middle school. The three years of middle school that I endured was like no other due to the fact that my mom was deployed for a year, she was then deployed two more times (like many times before) whilst my mom was deployed my dad was constantly working therefore, leaving me in a state of complete solitude. During her deployment I called my mom for just an ounce of communication and relief to know that I had one more day with her is an inexplicable feeling, especially so young, while I was also fighting to keep up the communication with my other parent that I felt fade so quickly over a long period of time, and just like that we suddenly became people living in the same house. Although, I have heavily focused on the bad there have most definitely been good, with that being said I understand that he was not a terrible person, he continuously chose to make continent decisions that ultimately lead his closest relationships to be rocky and trivial. The good memories I hold to my heart more closely than I did before, there are no more do-overs or creating more and all I have are the memories I try to never forget. In his unknowingly last months I connected with him like I hadn’t before, now that I was older we would talk about a lot of things that slowly bonded us together but not like the other times we had bonded, this time I thought that I could finally have a relationship with my father and finally have a father daughter bond but that was so quickly taken away from me as quickly as it came.
I wanted more time, I should’ve had more time, I crave more time. There is a great deal that I regret not doing, now that I cannot go back and do them, all I have are the memories. I was going to delve into happier memories but I just simply don’t have the time, that seems to be a recurring theme. In the beginning of this narration I was full of resent and curiosity but at this point of the narration I still am curious of who my father was, not the man that I knew relatively but who he actually was because I saw glimpses in his last few months and now I will never truly know. This piece didn’t feel right to now say that he was the best person and the best father but it also felt wrong to disregard the good that did happen too, he has made mistakes like anyone else and I would like to move, not necessarily forgive and forget but be at peace with everything. Although he was not a man of many words to me one of the last or maybe the last conversation I had with him is “Not a lot of people give people their flowers while their still alive”, that has stuck with me ever since he said it and I now regret not giving him his flowers while he was still alive. This personal narrative is my homage to him and I am giving his his flowers now even though if it is already to late.