“I’ll have practice SAT’s every Saturday, a vocab quiz everyday for four weeks!” my sister, Anica, kept whining as she stuffed another piece of clothing into her suitcase that already had loose t-shirts hanging out from the sides.
On the day after my birthday, June 22nd, my sister was already heading out the door, her journey to camp just starting. I did not think one month was going to be a long time, so I just gave her a sweet hug, compliments, and good luck wishes at the airport.
The first few days I didn’t feel Anica’s absence that much. We were allowed to call her at night, so I could talk to her. She seemed to be having an intense time studying so hard. I started to reflect on my own summer. Most days I just lied around on my bed until it was time to eat lunch. After lunch I watched TV, and ate junk food. My sister was at camp studying all day and learning palates. That was my first lesson learnt. Be more efficient with time.
As time went by and the second week came along, I found myself bored much more often. When I talked to my sister that week, she was tired, but she told us she was getting the hang of it. It was hard work, but because she did it every day, she got into a schedule. There was my second lesson learnt. Find a system that works.
Another source of communication from families to campers were notes that the people at the camp could bring to my sister. I wrote often and called every night. At night they had to study in the study hall until 11:00 and then go to their dormitories. Even if you were tired, you still had to study. There was my third lesson learnt. If you want to be a good student, you also have to exercise and be fit enough to study through the evening.
By the fourth week, I was so excited that Anica was coming back home; I could barely wait for her to come home. At that time, we were staying at a place in Korea, so my dad, mom and I drove from Seoul to Incheon. It was a long drive, and because of the rain and the fog, the trip was hard, but when we arrived at Incheon, we were reminded again why we came all the way from Seoul. Anica seemed to have already become friends with lots of people. There I learnt my fourth lesson. Love the people you are with when you are with them, because sometime in your life you will have to say goodbye.
When my sister’s camp ended, we were all really happy to see each other and I couldn’t have been more thankful for my sister for teaching me all these lessons, just by talking to me on the phone and studying at camp. Of course I was happy, but I was also worried about my own hard days to come. I won’t even have a little sister to teach lessons to!
Showing posts with label personal narrative. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal narrative. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Personal Narrative
Zai Jian (再见)
“Get ready. It is cold outside, and it is cold at the orphanage too, so wear your coat so you don’t catch cold,” said my mom wearing her scarf. I did not know that the orphanage was cold. I thought they would turn the heater on for the children. But I still wore a warm coat so I don’t catch cold while walking to meet people who we were volunteering together. We prepared to go outside soon and went outside to go to the meeting place. It was cold outside but luckily, I did not have to walk too long outside because the meeting place was near my home. Then soon after I saw Michelle coming to the meeting place. Lucky that Michelle was also volunteering. If she didn’t come to volunteer, I would have been so lonely watching children with people who I don’t know that well. When everyone arrived, we went on the small bus. I was not so excited to go to the orphanage during the winter break and just before Christmas.
The orphanage was not so bad, and surprisingly, it did not smell that bad either. But it was cold that I had to wear my coats. I looked around. I saw children running around in the small space. There were no toys to play with. Some were shy, some were more mature than others. Some did not smile well and some were smarter than other kids. There was one child who had only one short arm and two fingers. But it was amazing that he never gave up and he was a smart three years old boy. He was brave that he could speak loudly to the strangers. He also knew how to make his arm and his two little fingers stronger. Holding a pencil with his two fingers was hard for him. So he stuck the pencil between his shoulder and his cheek. There was also a kid who was seven years old, but he was smaller than the other kids who were younger than him. This amazing kid was strong and his feet were fast. He knew how to train himself and be strong like others were. He punched the balloons and ran around whole time. Another boy did not smile a lot, but later he smiled and laughed. Maybe he knew that we would go away after that day and never come back. All of them were amazing and happy no matter where they had grown up and how they grown up.
When the volunteering hour almost came to the end, we shared some glow-in-the-dark bracelets, and we also gave out hand made cookies and cupcakes. Then Michelle and I saw the three-year-old boy with two fingers go to his room. We followed him and we found out that he was trying to hide the cookie and the cupcake he received. We did not know why he was trying to save his treats. But what I thought was that the other kids took his food because it was hard to eat the treats he got with only two fingers. He should have eaten it slowly and because he ate slowly, other kids come to him and they will take his treat. I thought that he was smart. He knew how to solve this problem by himself.
Everyone got on the bus and the bus started driving off. The children’s voices and their last words “zai jian （再见）” echoed in my ears. I could see their happy faces and I could read their minds when I saw their eyes. It seemed like they were saying, “Come back”. We drove off, far, far away, back to our home.
Shootout Victory
I had never before felt more anxious, nervous, excited, and energetic at the same time. Soccer had always been my favorite sport. Not only did soccer unite nations and symbolize friendship for millions around the globe, but it was also truly the beautiful game. A game packed with skill, excitement, strategy, and emotion. All of those ideas were streaming through me right now like a roaring river.
My soccer league had recently introduced an end-of-season tournament to crown a season champion. This was only the first round of the tournament, but if this was going to be the last game I played this season, it had to be the best.
I felt the wet grass brush against my ankles, still wet from the early morning dew, soaking my long soccer socks, as I waited in the center circle for the kickoff. When the whistle finally blew, it barely registered anything in my head.
Thirty minutes later, the whistle blew again for the game to stop. The score was 0-0, a frustrating and meaningless score. Now we would go in to the penalty shootout round to determine a winner. Each team would take 5 shots from the penalty spot; the team with the most goals would advance to the next round. The losing team would walk out, defeated. A go big or go home situation, my stomach seemed to be crammed to the brim with panicking butterflies.
We got off to an early lead; scoring our first two shots while our opponents had only scored one. Our next shot sailed over the goal, keeping the score at 2-1. Fortunately, they missed their shot as well, leaving me to score and set up my teammate Ricky for a game winning penalty shot.
I felt my heart pumping like a machine inside my ribcage as I walked up to the penalty spot. I took several deep breaths before striding forward to strike the ball. I did what any right-footed striker my age would do; I aimed it to the top right corner. I watched the ball sail perilously close to the goalkeeper’s fingertips, barely finding the top right corner of the net. I felt a rush of joy run through me, and I pumped my fist in the air with excitement. Now all I could do was wait.
The other team scored their next shot, but it didn’t matter as long as Ricky scored this next goal. He was the best striker on the team, he had a deadly combination of power and accuracy. I watched with my heart in my mouth as Ricky’s shot boomed into the back of the net. 4-2. Game over.
A shout of triumph lurched through me, as if I had been waiting all day to let it out. I stuck my hand out and high fived anyone I walked past, teammate, coach, parent, ref, or opponent. I was having the time of my life.
My soccer league had recently introduced an end-of-season tournament to crown a season champion. This was only the first round of the tournament, but if this was going to be the last game I played this season, it had to be the best.
I felt the wet grass brush against my ankles, still wet from the early morning dew, soaking my long soccer socks, as I waited in the center circle for the kickoff. When the whistle finally blew, it barely registered anything in my head.
Thirty minutes later, the whistle blew again for the game to stop. The score was 0-0, a frustrating and meaningless score. Now we would go in to the penalty shootout round to determine a winner. Each team would take 5 shots from the penalty spot; the team with the most goals would advance to the next round. The losing team would walk out, defeated. A go big or go home situation, my stomach seemed to be crammed to the brim with panicking butterflies.
We got off to an early lead; scoring our first two shots while our opponents had only scored one. Our next shot sailed over the goal, keeping the score at 2-1. Fortunately, they missed their shot as well, leaving me to score and set up my teammate Ricky for a game winning penalty shot.
I felt my heart pumping like a machine inside my ribcage as I walked up to the penalty spot. I took several deep breaths before striding forward to strike the ball. I did what any right-footed striker my age would do; I aimed it to the top right corner. I watched the ball sail perilously close to the goalkeeper’s fingertips, barely finding the top right corner of the net. I felt a rush of joy run through me, and I pumped my fist in the air with excitement. Now all I could do was wait.
The other team scored their next shot, but it didn’t matter as long as Ricky scored this next goal. He was the best striker on the team, he had a deadly combination of power and accuracy. I watched with my heart in my mouth as Ricky’s shot boomed into the back of the net. 4-2. Game over.
A shout of triumph lurched through me, as if I had been waiting all day to let it out. I stuck my hand out and high fived anyone I walked past, teammate, coach, parent, ref, or opponent. I was having the time of my life.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
The Island Dream
I hear the strums of the newly made purple guitar, the notes not perfectly in tune. The soothing melody being slowly played. But every now and then, there is a stop, a pause, a perfect silence where you can hear the trees swaying and the waves gushing. My toes are planted in the sand, as I slowly move my feet back and forth, squishing grains in between my toes. My hair flies around in perfect wave movements, occasionally getting in my face.
I take a sip from my fancy glass, filled with a delicious mocktail. The coconut and the pineapple swirl around in my mouth, leaving an extraordinary feeling. I want more, but I must savor it.
It’s hard to think I am leaving tomorrow, so I focus on tonight. I see the birds flying in various patterns, the dancers walking up the beach. There will be a fire show as soon as the sun sets.
The perfect shades of pink, red, orange and yellow blend together right before my eyes. It looks like a painting; you can only see the outlines of the palm trees in front of the sun. The colors reflect on the rippling water. The water is empty, all of the fishermen have gone home, and the water sports have stopped for the night. Across the water I start to see the city lights coming from the other side of the island.
Many minutes pass, as I just stare, stare into the light. You can only see some pink and blue now, but it is still just as beautiful as ever. The fire show will start soon. The dancers and the musicians all come out onto the sandstone stage, holding what can only be torches. They come in all different sizes, some long and skinny, others in the shape of hoops. One man out front starts a fire towards the back. It looks like the sunset all over again. Taking turns, each dancer lights the ends of their piece on fire, making the stage blaze. At once, they all start flipping and turning their rods. I can’t keep my eyes off the fire dancing around their bodies. Tricks and tricks go by, but I don’t even remember blinking, I wouldn't want to miss anything. This is the island dream.
I take a sip from my fancy glass, filled with a delicious mocktail. The coconut and the pineapple swirl around in my mouth, leaving an extraordinary feeling. I want more, but I must savor it.
It’s hard to think I am leaving tomorrow, so I focus on tonight. I see the birds flying in various patterns, the dancers walking up the beach. There will be a fire show as soon as the sun sets.
The perfect shades of pink, red, orange and yellow blend together right before my eyes. It looks like a painting; you can only see the outlines of the palm trees in front of the sun. The colors reflect on the rippling water. The water is empty, all of the fishermen have gone home, and the water sports have stopped for the night. Across the water I start to see the city lights coming from the other side of the island.
Many minutes pass, as I just stare, stare into the light. You can only see some pink and blue now, but it is still just as beautiful as ever. The fire show will start soon. The dancers and the musicians all come out onto the sandstone stage, holding what can only be torches. They come in all different sizes, some long and skinny, others in the shape of hoops. One man out front starts a fire towards the back. It looks like the sunset all over again. Taking turns, each dancer lights the ends of their piece on fire, making the stage blaze. At once, they all start flipping and turning their rods. I can’t keep my eyes off the fire dancing around their bodies. Tricks and tricks go by, but I don’t even remember blinking, I wouldn't want to miss anything. This is the island dream.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
The Point of No Return
It seemed suicidal at first, to jump off a cliff, but it wasn’t. I could hear young adults behind me, whispering of my eight-meter cliff jump. I already impressed many people. I did not need to go any higher, but the urge clung to me like a magnet, refusing to let go. It was the thrill of jumping off a cliff. It sounds really stupid. You might say I was losing my mind, or even drunk. But I was just being myself.
My family and I traveled to Boracay at the end of 2013, during winter break. While there, we decided to take a lively daylong excursion to one of Boracay’s main attractions, Aerial’s Point. Our jaunt kicked off with a forty-five minute scenic boat ride from Boracay Island. The majestic mountains and the shimmering ocean water made the ride even more relaxing and refreshing. The college students on the boat already started to dull their senses by drinking the inclusive and unlimited beer. All I could drink was coke. Aerial’s point’s crew even had a slogan: “The more you drink, the higher you jump!” After the short forty-five minute period, we arrived at our breathtaking eco-adventure destination.
Our adventure commenced as we departed the boat, headed up the cliff side-whitewashed staircase and settled down at a shaded table. “Why don’t you go and make your first jump?” my mother asked me, as I was taking off my shirt. I aimed toward the wooden plank for the eight-meter jump, not knowing whether I should be excited or nervous. Several people were already lined up. “Why don’t you go ahead of me?” a stranger immediately offered. “Go in front of me instead,” another stranger insisted. They were obviously horrified, and attempted to use kindness to hide their fear.
My strategy was to jump, without hesitation, straight into the ocean. By executing this plan, I would not have time to be pessimistic and think about how high I was jumping from. I walked off the plank and plummeted down into the abyss.
I felt the water gushing into my ears and up my nose. It was a bit painful but it did not daunt me because of my previous swim team practices. I quickly kicked my way back to the surface for a gulp of air. “No harm done!” I yelled to my parents as I climbed out of the water and up a ladder. The moment of triumph was ephemeral because I knew waiting for me was another challenge, the ten-meter jump.
The fire within me extinguished after a few minutes of rest. Even though my energy was dampened, the anticipation of an adrenaline rush enticed me to the wooded plank that stretched out to Poseidon, the wooden plank for the ten-meter jump. I hesitantly walked across the beam. Uh oh. Big mistake. Pessimistic thoughts started zipping through my head like pesky mosquitoes. I wanted to forsake my mission, but visceral feeling prompted me to proceed. Physically, I was a nervous wreck. My legs were trembling, my hands were sweating, and my toes were fidgeting. Emotionally, I was in a battle. Should I jump? Or should I not? It was the thrill of jumping off a cliff. It sounds really stupid. You might say I was losing my mind, or even drunk. But I was just being myself.
My family and I traveled to Boracay at the end of 2013, during winter break. While there, we decided to take a lively daylong excursion to one of Boracay’s main attractions, Aerial’s Point. Our jaunt kicked off with a forty-five minute scenic boat ride from Boracay Island. The majestic mountains and the shimmering ocean water made the ride even more relaxing and refreshing. The college students on the boat already started to dull their senses by drinking the inclusive and unlimited beer. All I could drink was coke. Aerial’s point’s crew even had a slogan: “The more you drink, the higher you jump!” After the short forty-five minute period, we arrived at our breathtaking eco-adventure destination.
Our adventure commenced as we departed the boat, headed up the cliff side-whitewashed staircase and settled down at a shaded table. “Why don’t you go and make your first jump?” my mother asked me, as I was taking off my shirt. I aimed toward the wooden plank for the eight-meter jump, not knowing whether I should be excited or nervous. Several people were already lined up. “Why don’t you go ahead of me?” a stranger immediately offered. “Go in front of me instead,” another stranger insisted. They were obviously horrified, and attempted to use kindness to hide their fear.
My strategy was to jump, without hesitation, straight into the ocean. By executing this plan, I would not have time to be pessimistic and think about how high I was jumping from. I walked off the plank and plummeted down into the abyss.
I felt the water gushing into my ears and up my nose. It was a bit painful but it did not daunt me because of my previous swim team practices. I quickly kicked my way back to the surface for a gulp of air. “No harm done!” I yelled to my parents as I climbed out of the water and up a ladder. The moment of triumph was ephemeral because I knew waiting for me was another challenge, the ten-meter jump.
The fire within me extinguished after a few minutes of rest. Even though my energy was dampened, the anticipation of an adrenaline rush enticed me to the wooded plank that stretched out to Poseidon, the wooden plank for the ten-meter jump. I hesitantly walked across the beam. Uh oh. Big mistake. Pessimistic thoughts started zipping through my head like pesky mosquitoes. I wanted to forsake my mission, but visceral feeling prompted me to proceed. Physically, I was a nervous wreck. My legs were trembling, my hands were sweating, and my toes were fidgeting. Emotionally, I was in a battle. Should I jump? Or should I not? It was the thrill of jumping off a cliff. It sounds really stupid. You might say I was losing my mind, or even drunk. But I was just being myself.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Tears of My Broken Arm by Sunny lee
“Gotta hurry, gotta hurry,” I said to myself as my fingers were flying through the pile of puzzle pieces. I tried to make my right hand move as fast as I could but at the same time, my left arm was suffering in great pain.
Oh hey, are you wondering what happened to my left arm? Sorry, let me scroll back and show you how it happened from the beginning.
‘Ding ding!’ the school bell rang. “Students it’s recess time! Have fun and remember our class rule number one, be safe!” announced my teacher, Ms. McCawley, as we dashed out the door like angry elephants. My friends and I were always the first to get on the old squeaky swings. “Let’s see who can swing the highest!” my friend Lucy said.
“I bet I could beat you down easily,” I shouted back as we both started swinging.
I kicked hard off the ground. I swung my legs back and forth powerfully as I tried to reach as high as I could on my swing. But suddenly, a wind started blowing hard like a tornado was nearby. It suddenly felt like the wind was controlling my body on the swing. I started swinging out of control. My hands were starting to sweat and I started losing my grip on the swing’s rope. I felt myself slowly sliding off my swing. I swung up really high and ‘BAM!’ I flew off my swing and landed straight on the cold concrete ground with my arm first and face second.
“Ohh… I feel sore,” I groaned, as I nearly passed out. The TA (teacher assistant) came and took me to the nurse office. The nurse checked my crooked arm and called my mom. “Hello? Sunny’s Mother? Your daughter has been injured and I’m afraid she will have to be taken to the hospital.”
She paused as I heard my mom reply on the phone. “What? Injured? Hospital Okay I’ll be there in 10 minutes!” The nurse hung up on the phone as I slowly fell asleep in the clinic’s bed.
“What did you do to your arm? How bad did you hurt it that now you have to go check in the hospital?” my mom shouted, jolting me awake. She was angrier than worried when she took me to our car and drove me to the hospital. After the doctor checked my arm, I was shocked because of the four terrifying words he said, “Your arm is broken.”
For a minute my mom and I stared at each other, until for some reason that reminded me of something. “Mom! What about the puzzle competition? It’s in 3 days!” I was ready to burst into tears now. I regretted getting on those swings. I hated the wind that blew me off my swing. I also hated my friend that just had to get me competitive in something as stupid as just a little swing contest. And I suddenly recalled what my teacher said before we went to recess, “Student it’s recess time! Have fun and remember our class rule number one, be safe!”
“Be safe…” I whispered to myself. I started feeling so mad and angry and wanted to give up on everything. The doctor said he had to put a cast on my arm, because if he didn't then later on I wouldn’t even be able to move my arm and the bone would get dislocated badly. I had to listen to the doctor, what choice did I have?
The next day I was depressed. My mood went straight down, like a roller coaster. Whenever I went out of my house I felt like everyone was staring at my arm. By the time I got into the school area, everyone was gathered to ask questions about it.
That day was bad enough, but it got worse when I came home. My mom had just finished a phone call and looked at me frozen. “What happened?” I asked.
“Your friends were talking about it and the news spread to the people who organized the puzzle competition. And they said that you couldn’t join anymore. They said according to the rules of the competition, it stated that each contestant must be a condition where they are able to compete fairly with the other contestants, which includes being able to use both of your arms.” She slowed down towards the end. By the time she finished speaking I was already on the floor crying.
When my mom called me down for dinner, she was all happy and jumpy. I asked her why and she said, “I almost forgot to tell you! After you went up to your room I felt sad because I knew you were really excited for the competition. So, I called the competition judges and talked to them, a very long time actually, and they said that they would allow you back in the competition.” That made my ears twitch. Did I hear her wrong? In a moment I was out of my chair dancing around. I dashed into my room and started timing myself doing different piece puzzles because I never knew how many piece puzzles they might give me to do. I started from 2000, then 5000, then 10,000 and so on.
The 3 days passed and now I was in the puzzle stadium, shaking hands with the other players. My heart was beating at the speed of light. All the other player’s hands and fingers were all big and long. Everyone was at least 12 years old. And I looked at my hands, all short and small. And I was only 6 years old. I only had one comfortable hand to use, and it wasn’t even my dominant hand. When I was just calming myself down, the whistle blew and the competition started. Everyone threw open the 10,000 puzzle piece box and started matching the pieces. I started to think “Oh my gosh I think I should just get out of here.” But my fingers became more and more comfortable and flexible. My fingers were flying through the pile of puzzle pieces and my work. In about 15-20 minutes I was done and I raised my hand. The judges came and made sure my pieces were all in the right place. I sat, more confident then ever: I knew I was the winner. I looked up and around myself with a big smile. But when I turned my head back, I started thinking something was wrong.
The judges looked frozen and were slowly shaking their heads at each other while the other contestants, and the whole audience, focused on the judges and me. There was a large pause until one of the judges finally made a sudden movement. They held my arm up and blew the whistle. I made it. Even with a broken arm. I beat everyone. I was overjoyed when the judges handed me my trophy. I waved at the audience and held up the trophy with both arms, feeling confident. My left arm felt a sharp pain when I lifted the trophy, but come on. I won this. Did it really matter anymore?
Oh hey, are you wondering what happened to my left arm? Sorry, let me scroll back and show you how it happened from the beginning.
‘Ding ding!’ the school bell rang. “Students it’s recess time! Have fun and remember our class rule number one, be safe!” announced my teacher, Ms. McCawley, as we dashed out the door like angry elephants. My friends and I were always the first to get on the old squeaky swings. “Let’s see who can swing the highest!” my friend Lucy said.
“I bet I could beat you down easily,” I shouted back as we both started swinging.
I kicked hard off the ground. I swung my legs back and forth powerfully as I tried to reach as high as I could on my swing. But suddenly, a wind started blowing hard like a tornado was nearby. It suddenly felt like the wind was controlling my body on the swing. I started swinging out of control. My hands were starting to sweat and I started losing my grip on the swing’s rope. I felt myself slowly sliding off my swing. I swung up really high and ‘BAM!’ I flew off my swing and landed straight on the cold concrete ground with my arm first and face second.
“Ohh… I feel sore,” I groaned, as I nearly passed out. The TA (teacher assistant) came and took me to the nurse office. The nurse checked my crooked arm and called my mom. “Hello? Sunny’s Mother? Your daughter has been injured and I’m afraid she will have to be taken to the hospital.”
She paused as I heard my mom reply on the phone. “What? Injured? Hospital Okay I’ll be there in 10 minutes!” The nurse hung up on the phone as I slowly fell asleep in the clinic’s bed.
“What did you do to your arm? How bad did you hurt it that now you have to go check in the hospital?” my mom shouted, jolting me awake. She was angrier than worried when she took me to our car and drove me to the hospital. After the doctor checked my arm, I was shocked because of the four terrifying words he said, “Your arm is broken.”
For a minute my mom and I stared at each other, until for some reason that reminded me of something. “Mom! What about the puzzle competition? It’s in 3 days!” I was ready to burst into tears now. I regretted getting on those swings. I hated the wind that blew me off my swing. I also hated my friend that just had to get me competitive in something as stupid as just a little swing contest. And I suddenly recalled what my teacher said before we went to recess, “Student it’s recess time! Have fun and remember our class rule number one, be safe!”
“Be safe…” I whispered to myself. I started feeling so mad and angry and wanted to give up on everything. The doctor said he had to put a cast on my arm, because if he didn't then later on I wouldn’t even be able to move my arm and the bone would get dislocated badly. I had to listen to the doctor, what choice did I have?
The next day I was depressed. My mood went straight down, like a roller coaster. Whenever I went out of my house I felt like everyone was staring at my arm. By the time I got into the school area, everyone was gathered to ask questions about it.
That day was bad enough, but it got worse when I came home. My mom had just finished a phone call and looked at me frozen. “What happened?” I asked.
“Your friends were talking about it and the news spread to the people who organized the puzzle competition. And they said that you couldn’t join anymore. They said according to the rules of the competition, it stated that each contestant must be a condition where they are able to compete fairly with the other contestants, which includes being able to use both of your arms.” She slowed down towards the end. By the time she finished speaking I was already on the floor crying.
When my mom called me down for dinner, she was all happy and jumpy. I asked her why and she said, “I almost forgot to tell you! After you went up to your room I felt sad because I knew you were really excited for the competition. So, I called the competition judges and talked to them, a very long time actually, and they said that they would allow you back in the competition.” That made my ears twitch. Did I hear her wrong? In a moment I was out of my chair dancing around. I dashed into my room and started timing myself doing different piece puzzles because I never knew how many piece puzzles they might give me to do. I started from 2000, then 5000, then 10,000 and so on.
The 3 days passed and now I was in the puzzle stadium, shaking hands with the other players. My heart was beating at the speed of light. All the other player’s hands and fingers were all big and long. Everyone was at least 12 years old. And I looked at my hands, all short and small. And I was only 6 years old. I only had one comfortable hand to use, and it wasn’t even my dominant hand. When I was just calming myself down, the whistle blew and the competition started. Everyone threw open the 10,000 puzzle piece box and started matching the pieces. I started to think “Oh my gosh I think I should just get out of here.” But my fingers became more and more comfortable and flexible. My fingers were flying through the pile of puzzle pieces and my work. In about 15-20 minutes I was done and I raised my hand. The judges came and made sure my pieces were all in the right place. I sat, more confident then ever: I knew I was the winner. I looked up and around myself with a big smile. But when I turned my head back, I started thinking something was wrong.
The judges looked frozen and were slowly shaking their heads at each other while the other contestants, and the whole audience, focused on the judges and me. There was a large pause until one of the judges finally made a sudden movement. They held my arm up and blew the whistle. I made it. Even with a broken arm. I beat everyone. I was overjoyed when the judges handed me my trophy. I waved at the audience and held up the trophy with both arms, feeling confident. My left arm felt a sharp pain when I lifted the trophy, but come on. I won this. Did it really matter anymore?
Monday, December 9, 2013
At the Brink: A Seatbelt Story
At the Brink: A Seatbelt Story
By: Gauri Kaushik
“Shock” was the word that occurred to me when I tried to summarize being at the brink of danger; the terror almost stopped my heart that day. That memory was so fresh in my mind as it was only yesterday when it occurred.
It was a cold and fragile, January afternoon. It was about 3 o’clock and the sun was a few hours away from setting. My dad picked my sister and I up from school and we were heading of to our house in our sleek black car. I was only seven at that time, but that day I learned a very important safety lesson, always wear you’re seatbelt!
When I was young I always thought that it was pointless to wear a seatbelt. Seatbelts were the annoying and strappy barriers that kept me from wriggling in my seat. They had always been the negative point of a wonderful drive. But, that day I realized what an important part it played in road safety.
“Put you’re seatbelt on!” Commanded my father as he started the silent engine.
I felt a diminutive jerk and I knew the car had started. The low rumble of the car’s engine was starting to diminish as I shifted closer to the door peering down at the vacant and ice sheeted roads of Baku, Azerbaijan. My heart skipped a beat as I felt the car jerk to the left. The blood pounded in my eyes, and temporarily, all I heard was my heart beating thunderously. Suddenly, everything came back in slow motion. The only sound that I could discern was my sister yelling her lungs out, my dad trying to control the car. I felt my body yanked from my seat from the momentum of the car, as my body crashed against the front. The car stopped abruptly! The car front was inches away from an electricity pole.
“Everything is alright” I comforted myself softly under my breath when I realized nothing had happened.
We were miles away from our house. The car wheel was stuck in the deep snow. The only thing that could drive us back was broken. We were officially stranded. 20 minutes had somehow passed; my dad was trying to fix the tire with no outcome. Soon, mom would be calling. Suddenly out of the blue two men came running in our direction. Although we could not speak Azeri, the men helped my dad pick the car’s wheel from the deep snow. The chilly wind was howling in my ears. Finally, on the third attempt, the wheel came out. My dad, my sister and I were shortly heading home.
By: Gauri Kaushik
“Shock” was the word that occurred to me when I tried to summarize being at the brink of danger; the terror almost stopped my heart that day. That memory was so fresh in my mind as it was only yesterday when it occurred.
It was a cold and fragile, January afternoon. It was about 3 o’clock and the sun was a few hours away from setting. My dad picked my sister and I up from school and we were heading of to our house in our sleek black car. I was only seven at that time, but that day I learned a very important safety lesson, always wear you’re seatbelt!
When I was young I always thought that it was pointless to wear a seatbelt. Seatbelts were the annoying and strappy barriers that kept me from wriggling in my seat. They had always been the negative point of a wonderful drive. But, that day I realized what an important part it played in road safety.
“Put you’re seatbelt on!” Commanded my father as he started the silent engine.
I felt a diminutive jerk and I knew the car had started. The low rumble of the car’s engine was starting to diminish as I shifted closer to the door peering down at the vacant and ice sheeted roads of Baku, Azerbaijan. My heart skipped a beat as I felt the car jerk to the left. The blood pounded in my eyes, and temporarily, all I heard was my heart beating thunderously. Suddenly, everything came back in slow motion. The only sound that I could discern was my sister yelling her lungs out, my dad trying to control the car. I felt my body yanked from my seat from the momentum of the car, as my body crashed against the front. The car stopped abruptly! The car front was inches away from an electricity pole.
“Everything is alright” I comforted myself softly under my breath when I realized nothing had happened.
We were miles away from our house. The car wheel was stuck in the deep snow. The only thing that could drive us back was broken. We were officially stranded. 20 minutes had somehow passed; my dad was trying to fix the tire with no outcome. Soon, mom would be calling. Suddenly out of the blue two men came running in our direction. Although we could not speak Azeri, the men helped my dad pick the car’s wheel from the deep snow. The chilly wind was howling in my ears. Finally, on the third attempt, the wheel came out. My dad, my sister and I were shortly heading home.
Summer Camp by Sung
Over the summer vacation I attended a tremendously enjoyable camp where I learned about leadership, teamwork, friendship, cultural differences, and human rights called the Children’s International Summer Village, also known as CISV. The camp takes place in various countries all over the world. This year Korea had the chance to participate in seven different camps. Four children that are 11 to 12 years of age are chosen from each country to attend a camp. It is generally two boys and two girls. For our safety there is also a leader that assists us throughout the entire month we are at the campsite. Luckily, I was selected to go to Denmark with three other kids representing the Korean delegation. Our leader was a woman named Amy who has taken part in this camp at the Netherlands. She was a responsible 21 years old and was enthusiastic to help us spend a wonderful time at Denmark.
Even though it was already my second time staying away from my parents the feeling of sadness and nervousness overwhelmed me. Also, the unfortunate part was that we were restricted to bring any sort of electronic to the camp. This may have been a hard job for me, despite that, I believe I did a good job of cutting down myself from electronics. In total the camp was four weeks. During the four weeks we have two “home-stay” sessions when you do all the laundry and alleviate your hyper mind after participating in all those exciting activities in the campsite. Usually you get to go with a good friend of yours you have made in camp. The first home-stay was before the camp, and in general, most people that volunteer for hosting kids are parents that have sent their child to the camp or have been associated with CISV. The parents take us on tours in Denmark and just chill out at home or the beach. As a result to these homestays I had a chance to tour around Central Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark, and visit a lake in the town.
The area of the campsite was in a town called Vaerlose close to Copenhagen in a school. We slept in classrooms on mattresses with approximately 10 kids in each room and ate in the art classroom of the school. We were provided with pillows and sheets as well. At the camp there were a total of 13 delegations. It was interesting that only two delegations came from Asia, Korea (Seoul) and China (Guang Zhou). The rest of the people were mostly from Europe and America: Norway, Great Britain, The Netherlands, France, Germany, USA, Brazil, Peru, Italy, and two teams from Denmark.
Even though CISV is an education program, the camp does not contain much studying, instead we learn through activities and friendship. Most of the activities require co-operation, communication, teamwork, and trust. For example, we had an activity session where all of us lie down in a long line side by side. Sooner or later we lift our arm up and have to cooperate and pass down every one of us along the long line.
During the camp every single country had to prepare for something called a National Night. Each country is assigned a whole activity session to share their culture and some basic facts about their home country. Our delegation performed and shared lots of unique possessions of Korea and ourselves in person. In the beginning, we wore our traditional costume that a lot of people said looked gorgeous and taught everyone our cultural bow. Our martial art, Taekwondo, was nicely demonstrated to the camp as well and our highlight was of course ‘Gangnam Style’. As soon as we started to dance to the music, everyone stood up and jumped about struggling to mimic our correct, original way of dancing. The National Night was so much fun and the entire camp had a wonderful night.
My most memorable activity was handicapped day. This may sound uncomfortable and frustrating, however it was a great experience for me. In the morning, all of us received a certain handicap we had to struggle with, for the entire day. Some people were blind, armless, unable to talk, deaf, had a broken arm or leg. I received a handicap to walk on one leg; luckily I could still eat freely and communicate without much trouble. Unfortunately, we had a soccer match scheduled that day. I was extremely shocked after I heard that since soccer is all about your two legs, and I lacked one leg, that made it impossible for me to kick or run fast. By the end, I guided a blind friend and became his eyes while he replaced my legs. Even though I was not running a lot, since I had to balance myself on one leg the pain was really bad. I had to admit it was the worst soccer game I have ever played in my life. Even though, it was a little frustrating and distracting to be handicapped for the whole day but I did certainly learn a lesson about human rights. Through experience I could reflect that disabled people still have the right to live and be a useful person making a difference towards the world.
As a result to these four weeks of camp I might not have gained the knowledge of academics, but I am definitely sure it was a great chance for me to develop into a better person. Through this camp I also did make marvelous friends all over the world. I dare say these memories will always be a part of my life.
Even though it was already my second time staying away from my parents the feeling of sadness and nervousness overwhelmed me. Also, the unfortunate part was that we were restricted to bring any sort of electronic to the camp. This may have been a hard job for me, despite that, I believe I did a good job of cutting down myself from electronics. In total the camp was four weeks. During the four weeks we have two “home-stay” sessions when you do all the laundry and alleviate your hyper mind after participating in all those exciting activities in the campsite. Usually you get to go with a good friend of yours you have made in camp. The first home-stay was before the camp, and in general, most people that volunteer for hosting kids are parents that have sent their child to the camp or have been associated with CISV. The parents take us on tours in Denmark and just chill out at home or the beach. As a result to these homestays I had a chance to tour around Central Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark, and visit a lake in the town.
The area of the campsite was in a town called Vaerlose close to Copenhagen in a school. We slept in classrooms on mattresses with approximately 10 kids in each room and ate in the art classroom of the school. We were provided with pillows and sheets as well. At the camp there were a total of 13 delegations. It was interesting that only two delegations came from Asia, Korea (Seoul) and China (Guang Zhou). The rest of the people were mostly from Europe and America: Norway, Great Britain, The Netherlands, France, Germany, USA, Brazil, Peru, Italy, and two teams from Denmark.
Even though CISV is an education program, the camp does not contain much studying, instead we learn through activities and friendship. Most of the activities require co-operation, communication, teamwork, and trust. For example, we had an activity session where all of us lie down in a long line side by side. Sooner or later we lift our arm up and have to cooperate and pass down every one of us along the long line.
During the camp every single country had to prepare for something called a National Night. Each country is assigned a whole activity session to share their culture and some basic facts about their home country. Our delegation performed and shared lots of unique possessions of Korea and ourselves in person. In the beginning, we wore our traditional costume that a lot of people said looked gorgeous and taught everyone our cultural bow. Our martial art, Taekwondo, was nicely demonstrated to the camp as well and our highlight was of course ‘Gangnam Style’. As soon as we started to dance to the music, everyone stood up and jumped about struggling to mimic our correct, original way of dancing. The National Night was so much fun and the entire camp had a wonderful night.
My most memorable activity was handicapped day. This may sound uncomfortable and frustrating, however it was a great experience for me. In the morning, all of us received a certain handicap we had to struggle with, for the entire day. Some people were blind, armless, unable to talk, deaf, had a broken arm or leg. I received a handicap to walk on one leg; luckily I could still eat freely and communicate without much trouble. Unfortunately, we had a soccer match scheduled that day. I was extremely shocked after I heard that since soccer is all about your two legs, and I lacked one leg, that made it impossible for me to kick or run fast. By the end, I guided a blind friend and became his eyes while he replaced my legs. Even though I was not running a lot, since I had to balance myself on one leg the pain was really bad. I had to admit it was the worst soccer game I have ever played in my life. Even though, it was a little frustrating and distracting to be handicapped for the whole day but I did certainly learn a lesson about human rights. Through experience I could reflect that disabled people still have the right to live and be a useful person making a difference towards the world.
As a result to these four weeks of camp I might not have gained the knowledge of academics, but I am definitely sure it was a great chance for me to develop into a better person. Through this camp I also did make marvelous friends all over the world. I dare say these memories will always be a part of my life.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
THE LAST CHANCE by Kina
THE LAST CHANCE
What’s the thing that makes you happy all the time and blows out your stress? When I was in Korea, speed skating was that sort of thing that made me feel happy all the time. I was glad to speed skate because it was the only time that I could give some rest for my brain to relax like a bear during the winter sleep. As soon as I stepped into the ice rink, I let my brain rest and followed my instincts. Sports might need the use of your brain but sometimes it’s better to follow your instincts. For example, people speed skate really fast. They are human and can make mistakes and fall down. Due to their speed when they fall down, they could slide into you. In that situation, if you tried to use your head and measure the degree that the person would come into you, eventually you would crash. So sometimes, it’s better to switch off your brain and follow your instincts. I also liked the feeling when the icy cold air passed through me really fast. It felt fresh but my nose hurt a bit because it was freezing cold.
I started speed skating when I was in about 2nd grade. I started a lot later than usual kids who speed skate, so I had a harder time than the other skaters with the age of 7~9. To speed skate, you need to be in the perfect squat posture but you must bend your waist. It MUST be perfect. For it to be perfect, you need a lot of flexibility in your waist and power in your thigh. I endeavored hard with those two parts. I especially strived my best with the flexibility. When I got used to it, my capacity of speed skating improved rapidly. I guess it was because I was flexible enough to speed skate due to the practices and I could understand what the instructor asked me to change. The other members were little kids, so they had some problems with understanding. For example, the teacher asked them to put their weight on their butt, so their butt went down, but they couldn’t understand it. They all looked at the instructor with a silly face.
I made such fast progress, so I moved to the advanced level but not the master one. I practiced hard there. Sometimes, I went to the competitions too. I usually got 3rd place. However, after my 5th competition, I realized how to control myself before the competition to jump over that 3rd place wall. It was like a quirk of fate because when I was practicing for my 6th competition, I heard terrible news. My mom told me this would be my last competition. I was in panic. Thus, I tried harder to get rid of that thought. It was too hard. Later on, I changed my mind. I decided to keep that in my mind so I could remind myself and practice harder to finalize with the first place medal.
It was the day that I had my last competition. I was so nervous that I ran up and down the staircases. I ran the hallway. I did squats several times.
I was sweating like a pig. I watched the clock and I had about 15 minutes left before my competition. My heart was beating so hard as if a thousand elephants were in my heart and dancing. I speeded up to the waiting room and quickly put my skates on. The woman who called out the names, to tell it’s your turn, called my name. I rushed to her. She gave me a white cotton cover for my helmet. She gave different colored helmets to each person so people could identify who they were.
BOOM! With a loud gun sound, the race started. My starting was awesome. It was because of the one that I ran the staircases before the race. My legs were already stretched and familiar with that icy-cold temperature because I was running around the ice rink before the race. Therefore until the 2nd round I was in 1st place. Nevertheless on the last lap, I was so accelerated that I couldn't overcome the centrifugal force. Thus, when I went around the last corner, I went a bit outside of the corner. At that time, the girl who was skating right behind me speeded up to beat me. Then she went to the finishing line faster than me. I was so furious that moment but when I came out of the rink my mom told me “good job Kina!! See? You can do this!! You got 3rd places before but on this time, you got 2nd place which was really close to the 1st place.” Her compliment made a slight smile on my lips. Then I told my mom that when I come back to Korea and go to the college, I will go into the speed skating club and get 1st place
What’s the thing that makes you happy all the time and blows out your stress? When I was in Korea, speed skating was that sort of thing that made me feel happy all the time. I was glad to speed skate because it was the only time that I could give some rest for my brain to relax like a bear during the winter sleep. As soon as I stepped into the ice rink, I let my brain rest and followed my instincts. Sports might need the use of your brain but sometimes it’s better to follow your instincts. For example, people speed skate really fast. They are human and can make mistakes and fall down. Due to their speed when they fall down, they could slide into you. In that situation, if you tried to use your head and measure the degree that the person would come into you, eventually you would crash. So sometimes, it’s better to switch off your brain and follow your instincts. I also liked the feeling when the icy cold air passed through me really fast. It felt fresh but my nose hurt a bit because it was freezing cold.
I started speed skating when I was in about 2nd grade. I started a lot later than usual kids who speed skate, so I had a harder time than the other skaters with the age of 7~9. To speed skate, you need to be in the perfect squat posture but you must bend your waist. It MUST be perfect. For it to be perfect, you need a lot of flexibility in your waist and power in your thigh. I endeavored hard with those two parts. I especially strived my best with the flexibility. When I got used to it, my capacity of speed skating improved rapidly. I guess it was because I was flexible enough to speed skate due to the practices and I could understand what the instructor asked me to change. The other members were little kids, so they had some problems with understanding. For example, the teacher asked them to put their weight on their butt, so their butt went down, but they couldn’t understand it. They all looked at the instructor with a silly face.
I made such fast progress, so I moved to the advanced level but not the master one. I practiced hard there. Sometimes, I went to the competitions too. I usually got 3rd place. However, after my 5th competition, I realized how to control myself before the competition to jump over that 3rd place wall. It was like a quirk of fate because when I was practicing for my 6th competition, I heard terrible news. My mom told me this would be my last competition. I was in panic. Thus, I tried harder to get rid of that thought. It was too hard. Later on, I changed my mind. I decided to keep that in my mind so I could remind myself and practice harder to finalize with the first place medal.
It was the day that I had my last competition. I was so nervous that I ran up and down the staircases. I ran the hallway. I did squats several times.
I was sweating like a pig. I watched the clock and I had about 15 minutes left before my competition. My heart was beating so hard as if a thousand elephants were in my heart and dancing. I speeded up to the waiting room and quickly put my skates on. The woman who called out the names, to tell it’s your turn, called my name. I rushed to her. She gave me a white cotton cover for my helmet. She gave different colored helmets to each person so people could identify who they were.
BOOM! With a loud gun sound, the race started. My starting was awesome. It was because of the one that I ran the staircases before the race. My legs were already stretched and familiar with that icy-cold temperature because I was running around the ice rink before the race. Therefore until the 2nd round I was in 1st place. Nevertheless on the last lap, I was so accelerated that I couldn't overcome the centrifugal force. Thus, when I went around the last corner, I went a bit outside of the corner. At that time, the girl who was skating right behind me speeded up to beat me. Then she went to the finishing line faster than me. I was so furious that moment but when I came out of the rink my mom told me “good job Kina!! See? You can do this!! You got 3rd places before but on this time, you got 2nd place which was really close to the 1st place.” Her compliment made a slight smile on my lips. Then I told my mom that when I come back to Korea and go to the college, I will go into the speed skating club and get 1st place
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
FIRST TIME AT THE BEACH by Andrew L.
<<FIRST TIME AT THE BEACH>>
In everyone’s life, a chance to go to the beach is just essential. It is a wonderful place to go to and enjoy your day. I was born in the US, in Los Angeles, where the ocean waves surge against the Los Angeles coast. At that time period, I was still 2 and a half years old. I would spend my entire time everyday staying at my house, playing with my toys. All I knew about and all my knowledge, was simply “trapped” inside my house. I had absolutely no idea what joy was even there in the outside world. One of my highlights of my entire life was the first time I actually visited a beach.
It all started on this sunny day, the first time when my dad actually took me out to play. Full of joy and excitement, I dashed out of my house with my dad. The fresh air that flowed into my nose, and the wind that breezed across my face, gave me the feeling that this was going to be a very special day.
My dad and I arrived at this place where there were these tiny little bits of things that looked really similar to rocks spread everywhere, and this “huge swimming pool” that seemed limitless, stood right next to it. I took a step into the tiny rocks, noticing that they were much softer than ordinary ones. My toes sunk into the small bits, making me feel really comfortable. This was completely a different world than the one I used to be in!
My dad told me to have fun and play around here, but he also told me not to touch the water. As he walked away to rest on a couch, full of curiosity, I disobeyed his orders and charged toward the body of water. Just at the same time, an enormous wave rushed right towards me like a rough and hard wall, knocking me to the ground. My dad ran towards the place I fell and picked me up. Tears of fear went gushing out of my eyes, but at the same time, I felt like this was one of the best moments of my entire life! That was the very first time I actually went into the ocean!
Everyone has a first time on everything. Thinking back to the moment I first came to a real beach, I feel really different comparing my life now and my life back then.
My First Day of ISB by Hyo Jin
My First Day of ISB
I was amazed at the size of the school. It was huge, twice as big as my old school. When I went in, the school was smaller than I expected. But, soon I noticed that it was only half of the school that I saw.
In the computer orientation, I got the MacBook. This was the first computer that I owned for myself. The computer was very new to me. So I had some trouble in my class.
“Follow me,” said my buddy on block C, enrichment time. I had no idea what “enrichment” was. There was no “enrichment” period in my old school. Instead, we had five tests in a week. We had tons of thick textbooks and no computers. It was easier to study in ISB than my old school.
After school, I had to go to a bus. I regret that I did not ask for help. When I came out, I noticed that I wandered around the whole school. Thankfully, the bus was still there in the parking lot. The next day, I thought of a way to go out easily, it was to follow the crowd that was going to the bus.
I learned that ISB was a big school. I like many things in ISB, like getting computers for myself, and the teachers were not so strict, but the best thing that I like is that there are not so many tests as my old school.
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