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Thursday, April 28, 2022

Our last group of writers!

 All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group -- April 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, May 13 on Canvas .


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!

"Running with the Wind" by Sean M

 

 

In 2008, my parents entered my siblings and me in a race which was a mile long or shorter and it wasn’t split into age categories. It was my brother who was two at the time in his stroller and my sisters who were three years older than me. It was crowded and I really didn’t understand the concept of races at the time so it was kind of weird seeing people bundled up, but the starting gun went off and I just took off. The course was a semicircle and towards the middle or the course I realized that I couldn’t see my siblings and ran back. There I learned that I wasn't supposed to run back in a race and just head straight to the finish line. I got 2nd place which didn’t mean much to me since I was new to running, but after seeing the 1st place kid I realized that there is always someone better. After that race I ended up becoming addicted to fast things like Dash from The Incredibles, Lighting Mcqueen from Cars, pretty much anything fast, I even had a nascar themed bed. Despite being introduced to running at a young age, I didn’t know it was an actual sport, I just always wanted to be the fastest in whatever running activity I did. Middle school made me more competitive since people were given t-shirts, if you ran a mile in 6 minutes you were given a white shirt and if you ran a 5 minute mile you were given a gold shirt. I received the white shirt in 6th grade and got the gold shirt in 8th grade. Despite increasing my speed by a whole minute I still didn’t understand the amount of training that running demanded, that was until I joined the cross country team in High School.

Being on the team taught me just how much time I need to put in running if I was serious about it. Running isn’t for everyone, most sports use it as a punishment and honestly it’s only fun when you choose to run. I root for anyone who runs, cause it doesn’t really matter how much you run or how fast you go, at the end of the day you’re a step closer to your goal. Everyone has their own reasons for doing things and for running, wanting to be the fastest was mine.I would do anything to make myself faster, I changed my diet, I ran with weights on, ran everyday not caring about the weather, but turns out that pushing yourself can actually break you. At the end of freshman year I was upset that I didn’t make finals for track and went out for a run by myself in 100 degree weather. The most essential tool in running is your form and if not properly executed you can injure yourself and that's what I did. In 100 degree weather I was exhausted from the heat and my form got sloppy and while running on the trail I took a right turn and as soon as my foot made the impact with the ground it felt like something in my foot collapsed, this injury ended up leading to more injuries and in present day it hurts sometimes to walk. I was kinda lost when I had to stop running. I was even planning to run abroad. My legs are still in a semi-injury state, but I have been procrastinating about seeing a specialist since the last one told me that I may have to choose another sport. Those words broke my heart, I ran my whole life and I couldn’t see myself not running. After that I reflected on my running career and decided there and then to stop running for the meantime and if my running career was to end there and then I was going accept it and leave without any regrets. I still cherish the memories I have from it and the people I’ve met. I still remember the feeling of my adrenaline rushing as the race officials gets ready to shoot the starting gun, the cramps I would randomly get in my legs, waiting for my event, cheering on my teammates and being cheered, seeing people get lapped, and the best one was feeling the wind as I ran. If after trying everything and if my legs have truly met their match I’ll accept it, but I can only wish that I get to experience all those things and more in the future.

"When We Got Old" by Dylan H

 

This would be our life when we got old. We would get a simple house, one story, something away from the city. You'd likely be tired of being in such a populated place as I would too. Small community with the same neighbors we greeted every morning. Something comfortable with a nice cozy lawn and a decent backyard where we may sit out, now and then to take in the fruits of early labor.

 

When we got old, we would likely have two cats. One boy and one girl, we would love them to death because they would be the only thing we took care of besides each other years after our children have gone into the world. We would likely sit and reminisce, talking and recounting the stories of how we first met from our points of view, just to see if there are any discrepancies since the millions of times we’d heard it.

 

When we got old, on special days where we might've felt conceited with ourselves we would sit and watch one of the many movies you so passionately acted in. I would be simultaneously reading a novel I so carefully wrote imagining things I could've done differently despite you telling me the book was perfect as is.

 

When we got old, during the time before our slumber, you would lie in the bed while I sat up and read. Much like our personalities, my side of the room would be illuminated and yours would be dimmed with the only light pressing through being that of the moon. I read aloud with just enough volume to be considered soothing. Then when I realized you were already asleep, I would silently read ahead just out of curiosity and because I would have likely recognized my stutters in some sentences.

 

When we got old, I would read to you beautiful love stories. Ones that would give you vivid and sweet dreams, ones you wish you could experience yet again. Now and then, I might read you a horror story because they're your favorite. Despite my consistent protest that they’re the cause of nightmares. I’d secretly love when you would wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me all about your crazy dream.


When we got old, we would be there for another. Helping one another see yet another sunrise and another sunset. We would be proud of the lives we lived and wish we could experience it all over again. We would be grateful every day because we got to share the most beautiful and tragic moments together, knowing that every step of the way it was with each other.

 

If we got old, our house wouldn’t be so empty. I wouldn't have to read alone. I wouldn't have to worry so much about the what ifs. Maybe I'd have better dreams and fewer frights. If we got old, maybe I wouldn't have to wish that I'd never have to say I got old, and you did not.

 

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" A Woman of My Own" by Angelissa A


All I ever wanted was for my parents to be proud of me. And by parents, I mean my dad. My dad is a rockstar. Immigrating from Michoacán, Mexico as a kid he had nothing, no roots in America, and little guidance from his parents on how to make it in this new country, as it was even newer to them. He started working on fields and tending to livestock with his father at the age of 12. He was the first to graduate from highschool in his family. He was also the first in his family to gain his citizenship in 2008. A couple years before that, he started working as a car salesman. One of my favorite stories of his is when he walked into his first interview at a dealership in his cowboy boots, and since the interviewer just-so-happened to be Mexican as well, he wanted to give him a chance and hired him. He worked a decade of early mornings and long nights to make it to where he is now. He escaped his family’s generational curses of poverty, addiction, alcoholism, and organized crime. Like I said, rockstar. I used to always tell him I wanted to be like him, and he’d tell me he wanted me to be better than him. That’d leave me dumbstruck, because to me, being just like him was already a challenge, how could I ever be better?

Throughout elementary and middle school, I’d rush to show my dad every one of my report cards, academic awards, and test grades. Nothing could beat that warm feeling of approval that would rush through my heart when he’d smile and tell me he was proud of me. In the 5th grade, I declared to him and my mom that I wanted to be a neurosurgeon. I knew nothing about neurosurgery or the medical field, I just watched a lot of Grey’s Anatomy. After a couple of google searches, I knew that the medical field, much less the high stress that comes with being a neurosurgeon, was not for me. I didn’t tell him, though, because I loved how his face lit up with joy at the thought of his daughter going to medical school and becoming a surgeon. And just like so many parents do, he told the entire family that I wanted to be a neurosurgeon, and they made a huge deal about it as if I was already in medical school. Eventually, everyone forgot about it, except for one of my uncles who still asks me if I want to be a neurosurgeon everytime he sees me.

I didn’t realize how backwards my mentality was until I lost my dad’s stamp-of-approval. The school year of 2019-2020, my sophomore year, everything collapsed. I didn’t know why then, and I still don’t fully know why now, but my straight A’s went to nothing but D’s and F’s. I stopped turning in assignments, stopped studying, and almost stopped caring completely. Emphasis on the “almost”. I dreaded coming home from school each day, and looking my dad in the eye knowing he wasn’t proud of me anymore, that he no longer had any achievements of mine to tell our family about, and that he was disappointed in who I’d become. This was a devastating time for us both, as I believe we both realized how much our relationship as father and daughter relied on my academic achievements. Even if it was not true, I felt his love for me  went up and down along with the percentages on my report cards. I wouldn’t be in school forever, so what would happen when I was an adult? Where would my dad and I stand if we didn’t have my grades to tell us where we should stand? I knew this couldn’t go on.

I picked myself up. I went to summer school to remediate my D’s and F’s, and earned passing grades in my junior year. Eventually, I got myself back on track, as if sophomore year never happened. But it did. And in a weird way, I’m grateful for it. I decided to fix my past grades and work hard toward my current ones for my own satisfaction and future, not my father’s approval. After some long conversations, my dad and I agreed that I need to follow the path that makes me happy and proud of myself. We’ve gotten closer, and have branched out our conversations and interactions beyond the subject of my latest math test. Of course I still want my dad to be proud of me, but now it’s become a bonus that will come with me being true to who I am and proud of whatever I decide to achieve.

 

"El Alfajor Peruano" by Andrea R

 

Peruvian delicacies:

 

Alfajor!

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

Ever since I was little, my grandma would always make alfajores for our family. Peruvian cuisine has always been a hit in the culinary world. Ranked as number 4 on the World’s 50 Best List, peruvian food hasn’t failed to satisfy people that try their delicacy. Today, I want to share with you one of their best and most traditional desserts, El Alfajor.

 

El Alfajor consists of two basic recipes,”El Manjar” and “La Galleta. “El Manjar” is the filling and “La Galleta” is the cookie.

 

The overall ingredients you will need are:

 

-       Store bought dulce de leche (1 can)

 

-       Ground cinnamon (¼ teaspoon)

 

-       Pinch of salt

 

-       1 ¾ cups of all purpose flour

 

-       ½ cup corn starch

 

-       ½ cup powdered sugar

 

-       ¼ teaspoon salt

 

-       1 cup of unsalted butter (room temperature)

 

-       2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

 

-       1 large egg yolk

 

-       Cookie cutter

 

*make sure all the dry ingredients except for the salt are sifted for easier mix*

 

Instructions:

 

-       In a medium sized bowl, mix the first three ingredients together until smooth, this is the filling.

-       Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and prepare a cookie sheet.


-       In a medium sized bowl, the flour, corn starch, sugar, and salt will be mixed together and set aside for a little.

-       Slowly mix together all of the dry ingredients until combined

 

-       Once it is all combined, form dough into a ball and wrap with plastic wrap.

 

-       Place the wrapped ball into a fridge to chill for about an hour.

 

-       After an hour passes, remove plastic wrap and prepare the dough to roll it out gently.

 

-       Roll into a thin layer but not too thin, about ½ inch thick

 

-       Once dough is rolled, get a cookie cutter and stamp out as many bases as u can.

 

-       Place all cut out cookies into the cookie sheet.

 

-       Place in the oven for about 11-13 minutes until the cookies are golden but still pale.

 

-       Allow the cookies to cool for 10-15 minutes before filling them.

 

-       When filling the cookies, make sure you are being super gentle with the cookie since they are very delicate.

-       Finally, sift powdered sugar on top of cookies for the final detail of the alfajor.

 

-       Once the cookies are all laid out and filled, you may add coconut shavings to the sides, trust me, it's a game changer.

 

And that’s it! You’ve now made one of Peru’s most famous and delicious pastry cookies! Hope you enjoyed it and make sure to share this recipe with your friends and family so that they can also have a peruvian culinary experience.

Friday, April 1, 2022

"Change?" by Kai S

 When I turned twelve my world was shaken up, turned upside down, and shattered into amillion pieces! Years after my dad and my mom divorced, mom had found love and remarried.Suddenly I had a stepfather and two new brothers.
I was perfectly happy with it just being my mom, my brother, and I. I felt that my life was being invaded by outsiders. Quickly I realized that my mom loved Tony and that he and my stepbrothers were here to stay. Because my mother started nursing school and Tony worked night shifts, I was put in charge of watching my little brothers after school and on the weekends.We were all scared and unsure of this new situation. At first, I and my brother and I constantly fought with our stepbrothers. We did not get along at all and we were divided. Whether I liked it or not, I knew that they all looked up to me for leadership and guidance in this new chapter of our lives. I realized that it was my responsibility to be the best role model I could be for all my
brothers and if I started making an effort to bring us together we could all get along. I learned how to lead by example, by doing do my best to show how much fun we could have just hanging out together after school and on weekends. We all began to get along and soon we accepted each other as family. I began to teach my brothers about other things I knew. I tried harder than ever to point them in the right direction and in doing so I also bettered myself. I taught them the importance of being honest and being on time, how and why it is important to do your best in school, and many other things. Leading my brothers taught me how important role models were
in everybody's life. I learned how important the people who led me in my life were. I had a new appreciation for people like my mother, stepfather, and grandparents. I learned just how muchour leaders and role models shape the world we live in by sharing what they know.