Goddam Teachers

 Paola Rivera

Mrs. Meadows

November 28, 2010

English C/D

Goddam Teachers

     Every teacher in the goddam universe always tries to make every one of us crumby, morons look as stupid as possible by asking questions nobody knows the answers to. Nobody in that goddam building knows the answers to those teachers’ questions. No one. I bet not even that goddam teacher knows the answers to their questions.

     Pretty much all my teachers were like that. Every single one of them. They would start asking questions out of nowhere, and every one of us would just try to hide behind the person in front of them. But if you were in the front row, there was no way to escape. You were a goner.

     I knew this one teacher, Mrs. Walker, she was the master of making idiots, like Ackley, look bad. Ackley and me were in that class together and all. Ackley was like her number one target the whole year. That killed me. And it wasn’t just the questions that he never could answer it was his stupid behavior.

      There was this girl, Taylor Santos, Ackley would always sit right in front of her every goddam class. I think Ackley must have liked the girl or something, because every minute you would see him bugging the crap out of her. He was always poking her or pulling on her hair, but Taylor was just as stupid as Ackley, after Ackley would have poked her or something Taylor would scream and look around to see who did it. That killed me. I don’t think old Taylor Santos ever found out it was old Ackley kid who was the one poking her, even though he was always sitting behind her. But the funniest part was old Ackley. After old Taylor would look around, Ackley would start howling like a hyena. And guess what. That Moron, Taylor Santos still never found out it was Ackley. Not even the slightest clue. Old Mrs. Walker had a tirade with Ackley about being such a disruption to her class and all, but Ackley would keep on laughing. That killed me.

   

       Anyways, a normal day with Mrs. Walker would always start with us waiting for the questions to start in the beginning of class. We were always really nervous and all, and we would try not to draw any attention to ourselves like Ackley and Taylor always did. They were always being called first to answer those goddam questions. That’s the good thing about teachers there always so predictable.

       So anyways all of us sat down waiting all nervously, and all cold or all hot, we were either burning up or shaking as hell in her classroom. The reason being was because old Mrs. Walker’s air conditioning was never on. Maybe it was busted or something. But we never knew because every time one of us morons tried asking her she would yell at us. So since we didn’t have any air conditioning she was always leaving those goddam windows opened. It didn’t matter if we were in the middle of summer in a huge drought, or if there was a lightning storm, or if there was a goddam blizzard old Mrs. Walker’s windows would always be opened. So pretty much that classroom was like hell.

        In the summer we would always leave her classroom covered in sweat, and in the winter if you had the honor of sitting away from the windows you would be fine, but sit within two yards of the windows, by the time you get out you will be covered in snow with icicles hanging from your nose. There were these three kids always messing around, they got moved to the desks near the window for the whole year. Those idiots never had a chance for survival.

         Anyways when the questions did come, I would slouch down until my head was practically on the back of my chair. Half the time you wouldn’t get noticed. But there were two things wrong with that brilliant idea. One, if that goddam Mrs. Walker ever saw you, you would be moved to the front and given one of those hard questions the teachers don’t even know, and when you couldn’t answer them she would yell like hell at you. And two, it hurt the back of your goddam head so much when you slouch like that. But I really don’t care much.

        Those crumby, goddam teachers. They always were bringing pain. 

Holden + Scotch = Toothpicks???



Holden + Scotch = Toothpicks???

                                 By: Paola Rivera

  

     I was walking down the icy roads of New York one mid-afternoon. The sun usually would’ve been directly in the middle of the sky, but today no sun could be seen because of the cloudy weather. I was clad in a sweater, a scarf, and a pair of mittens, (1) but I could still feel the winter air on my face. I was on my way to my favorite park, Central Park, that day.

      When I got there I decided to go straight to the center of the park where there was a small lake and in the summer there was ducks, frogs, and fish to see, (1) but in the winter it was quiet and serene.  That’s when I saw him. He was sitting down on an old bench next to the lake. He was staring at the ice with a grimace on his face and bags under his eyes.  Anyone who saw him would’ve thought he was a recluse, but not me.  He looked like a lonely, young boy. (3) You could tell he was despondent and not very avid to see any one at the moment, but I still decided to go over and sit on the bench with him.

     But my endeavor to sit next to him was a fail attempt because as soon as I sat down, he jumped out of his seat and feel onto the snowy, wet ground. (2) I surmised that the fall would not cause any excruciating abrasions so I didn’t worry that much. But I did get up and lend a hand to help him up. And even though he rebuffed my help, he sort of smiled at the sight of my hand. The boy, who fell in an inch of snow, was covered in snow when he stood. (11)

      As soon as he got up from the snow he asked me a question. For some reason this question got me thinking and now it even haunts me. He asked, “Do you happen to know where the ducks go during the winter?”

      I, as you might have guessed, was slightly puzzled. But I was resilient and I quickly answered, “They fly away.”

       “Really? Good, so they’re not stuck here or anything, right?” He asked.

       “Nope, they’re ok.”

       “Good, hey you wanna go get a drink with me?” He asked. “ A quick drink, my treat and all, please.”

         I felt bad for him; you could tell he was lonesome. And he was so desperate he was entreating.  I was still standing and thinking, waiting to see if he would withdraw he’s offer, but he didn’t. So I finally succumbed to his offer. Yes, let’s go. (19)

         Moments later, we were at a bar. The sound of beautiful music pervaded the bar as we walked in. I noticed he was looking at me from head to toe when we walked in. You could tell he was extremely audacious. Inside I felt like slapping him across the face, but since he was a stranger, I didn’t want to be rude, so instead I got us a seat in front of the musician, thinking that it would keep his eyes busy. I was wrong.

       I began to try and talk to him by asking him questions like his name and what school he goes to. He said his name was Jim Steele and that he quit school because of all the morons there. He didn’t seem very honest about that.

        “Hey, I’m a little dehydrated, you wanna order the drinks now?” He asked.

       “Yes, Jim, we can.” (4)

       When the waiter came and Jim ordered two Scotch’s, the waiter looked at him funny. “How old are you anyways, kid?” he asked.

       Jim looked at the waiter and then answered him brusquely “I am 22 sir, is there a problem?”

       The waiter seemed like he didn’t believe Jim either, but he said “I’ll be back with your drinks.” And then he disappeared behind the kitchen doors.  About a minute later he came back with our order.

       After we both finished our drinks, I decided to leave but before I could, he ordered another round. I had an inkling this was going to go on for a while.

        With every minute passing he was turning more and more irascible and I began to abhor him. He had about two more drinks when I was finished with my second one. He was already drunk and acting like a lunatic. When he ordered another one I had to try to extricate the drink from him, but when I did he started yelling at the top of his lungs. “Let go, I have to call Jane, Let go.”

           I was getting pretty scared when I decided to sneak around back and escape from his despicable behavior. The last thing I heard from that boy’s mouth was him yelling at a nearby man to not let his grandmother touch the toothpicks. TOOTHPICKS?

 

      I made a promise to myself that day, if I ever see Holden again, I will Run.

         

Just the Little Things

Just the Little Things

I only remember

the little things

you did, do, and say.

Not your looks or your house,

but your humor and laugh,

and serene voice.

I remember waking up

one day and seeing you

on our couch instead of our

pregnant mother.

You embarked us on

a trip. When my mom was gone.

Even though I was filled with worry

you kept me calm.

You never rankled me,

you were always supporting and loving.

You never rebuked me, You told me

I was perfect. You were

conscientious, never told a lie.

Then-

we moved.

Then-

we left you

behind.

I had an inkling I would never

see you again.

Hoping I was wrong.

Just Hoping.

Five years later,

I see you, a complete stranger.

Till' I hear your voice.

Then-

memories flood back.

I only remembered the little things.

Your serene voice.

The way you never were

lackadaisical.

The way you showed us to put ketchup

on the side.

The way you showed us the proper

way to pet a cat.

Just the little things.

Holden Copperfield

Holden Copperfield

Holden Cooperfield-

a loner, a nutcase,

a bad student.

Standing on a hill

next to a war cannon.

Snowing making Holden freeze.

Watching the game from a perfect

view.

Watching,

Wandering,

Waiting,

for a good-bye.

His teacher, lousy for

flunking him.

Holden shoots the bull.

Saying He's as dumb

 as a rock, a moron.

Despises people

 with money to death.

Immature.

Compulsive Liar.

Holden Cooperfield-

a green monster, a little boy,

Untrustworthy.

Failing every class but

English. Loves to read.

Is there more to him?

Getting Expelled from four

schools.

Book Review of Anne Frank: Diary of A Young girl

Book Review

Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl

Paola Rivera

          Anne Frank was a young Jewish girl living during the time of war, prejudice, genocide, and fear. During World War II, millions of Jews were killed and thousands hid behind the shadows of hatred. Anne and her family were forced into hiding with four other people, including The Van Daan’s family and Mr. Dussel, while the Nazis attacked their home country. While the world was changing around Anne in those depressing, long two years that they were in hiding, Anne writes in her diary that she received for her birthday. Little did Anne and her family know that almost 70 years after the diary was first given to Anne, their story would still be read all over the world.  

         Anne Frank, the author and the protagonist of Anne Frank: Diary of A Young Girl starts to write her story on June 14, 1942, two days after her birthday. She confides in her diary and it is her best friend throughout those two years. Every thought, feeling, shiver, and tear that any of the seven people hiding with Anne has ever went through, was written in Anne’s diary.

         Anne is an amazing writer, her story moves you, she shows lots of imagery, which makes you feel like it’s 1942 and you are right next to Anne hiding. Anne is a well-educated, caring, kind, and sassy young girl. And while she writes in her diary, you can tell how much she’s growing up. She goes from being a careless thirteen year-old girl, to a caring more knowledgeable-about-the-world 15 year old young women.

          Even after her diary entries have stopped, her story stays in your mind. It’s a lingering, well-written, exciting, epistolary novel and great for young adolescents, because you will always be wondering what mysteries await you on the next page. Anne writes with passion, she never writes just to write, she writes because she loves it and that’s what makes it an excellent reading selection.

  

      

Poetry Friday

My Father...

is the leader,
the boss, the chief.
The silver back of the apes.

My father is the storm
the boom, the crash
the one that makes us scream. My father-

the doctor who
gives you the shot
but not the lolipop,
if you don't cry.

My father is the clouds
that darkens the day.
My father is
the hail that breaks
the window glass.

My father, the book
that can't be read.
The melody in
your head.
The picture without
the color.
The Artic missing
the ice.

Because of him
I'm always looking down,
keeping quiet and listening for orders.
Because of him I know the meaning of fear.

Because of him
I know how to catch
a ball, fix a bike, change
the car's oil.
Because of him,
I hug him at night
and don't let go.

                -Paola C. Rivera

 
  Confession Tuesday
     "Who made you in
     charge of my Life"                  
 

                     I'm so tired of people who think they rule every one's life! There's several people that I know that  just think if they say "I want this to stop now," that the whole world will stop and worship the ground they walk on. But news flash, no one does that. They think so much of themselves, they think there better than everyone else, but truthfully there just other people.

                   One girl that I used to know was (unfortunately) in charge of a group of people, and I was in that group. She was exactly the kind of person who I described in the first paragraph. She was so bossy telling us what to do, and every tiny thing we did wrong, she yelled at us like we just caused the world's population to explode. If we didn't listen to her, she would go on a tirade, telling us how she's in charge and how it's such an honor, and how if we don't listen to her we will make the world's population explode. The point of the group was to have fun, but we did more arguing with that girl then have fun.

                 I always try to steer clear of those people but recently they've been coming to me instead. I'm sure I'm not the only person that dislikes these people's personalities, but for now we really can't do anything. This confession is about me disliking certain people.



PRESCHOOL DAYS

      Before we graduated from preschool we had to have this whole ceremony. In the ceremony we sang songs about our preschool days and we say bye to our friends and teachers. We had to stand on some bleachers on the stage, and to do that we had to get in alphabetical order. I hated alphabetical order so much, because every time we went in that order I get placed right next to these two boys who honestly were really annoying.
          They were always bugging me by pulling my hair, calling me these strange names that made no sense, and they were constantly poking me on my arm. They haunted me every time someone said alphabetical order.
            We practiced many times for the ceremony,  but the last dress rehearsal we had they sang off key and as loud as possible. And since they love to bug me, they came really close and sang right in my ears. They impelled me to scream and fall to the ground. For some weird reason the teacher got mad at me. Usually she was an affable person, but today she was irascible. I told her I would apologize but she wasn't done with me yet. She was on an interminable tirade. I still abhor those two guys for getting me in trouble, and unfortunately in a tremulous voice I had to apologize.

You Are And Always will Be...

POETRY FRIDAY

You Are And Always will Be...

The person I admire,

So strong, So brave.

When I was little

you were my-

superman. You were so heroic

you saved me.

Everything you did

made me love you more and more.

You are the most kindest

giving man I know.

So strong, So brave.

When the neighbors house

went up in flames.

Everyone saw you running

towards the house with a hose.

But I, I looked up and saw

saw a hero risking his life for a family

he barely knew.

He was my hero.

But you passed the boundaries

of bravery and stupidity.

Bravery is when you saved

the family.

Stupidity is what you did recently

that could've cost you your life.

I know you didn't want help,

but you needed it.

You never have to mask

your pain with bravery for me.

But now, now it's fatal.

I can't imagine my superman

on a hospital bed...dying.

It's unreal, untruthful, unimaginable.

So strong, So brave

you survived the surgery.

But the superman I knew

that ran at six A.M.,

down a mountain,

selling and feeding animals, is

still in you, yes,

but now,

now you aren't running down the mountain,

instead you're rolling down

on your wheel chair.



The "X" is back!

The "X" Is Back!

-Paola C. Rivera

      I signed onto facebook yesterday, thinking it was going to be a regular day, where I get home from school, watch TV, do my homework and then go talk to my friends on facebook. That day I had One friend request, one message, and a couple of notifications that I never got to read.

      I started by opening my friend request and I was shocked, Calvin...

      Calvin was my X-boyfriend, but after I broke up with him, we stopped talking like we used too. I regretted breaking up with him ever since. I was glad he decided to add me, but like I said before we haven't talked since the breakup, so it shocked me.

      I decided to add him, after all he was really nice and funny. So after I added him I went to my messages, and again I froze in my place...Calvin again.

             "Hey, what's up! I miss you, School's not the same without you so how's Panama?"

I wrote back:

"Panama's nice, and I'm not really doing anything, just talking to you and doing some homework."

It only took him a few seconds to write back.

"Oh, crap I have homework, but I won't do it since I'm talking to you.

               I hate when he makes me blush, But I kept writing, we ended up writing for about an hour, Until he finally had to go, and I signed off forgetting all my friends that started talking to me and I didn't even answer them, and forgetting the notifications I never got to open.

Innocent Kids, Cold-Blooded Parents

     

Innocent Kids,

Cold-Blooded Parents.

     "They used to be affable to each other, but now all they do is fight." Have you ever heard a kid say that? When parents fight they sometimes bring the kids into the fight by accident or on purpose. To the parents who do it on purpose than I abhor you. It's normal for parents to fight, but has anyone thought of the child in the next room crying to himself and praying and entreating that one day his/hers family will be a peaceful one.

     The words that the parents yell and scream to one another haunt the child forever. "Leave, get out! Divorce." If you have ever seen a kid listening to their parents fight or has ever seen a kid after their parents fight it's truly heart breaking.

     One kid who lives in my neighborhood, has been through it all and more. He has been left despondent by his father and one day he confided in me and told me the story in a tremulous voice that added sorrow to his story.

     I was left shocked, but unfortunately I will not tell you this story.

           1. It's extremely personnel

         

           2. It's an interminable, profound, and sad story.

           3. The Anonymous boy confided in me and trusted me, and I don't think he'll be to happy if most of the eight grade knows.

     But I will tell you this the parents of the boy divorced about 2 weeks ago. The father moved from the house, but didn't leave the neighborhood. The dad is currently my neighbor. The anonymous boy avoids his dad, but if he ever has to deliver a message or any other thing, he would knock on the door and refuse to come in. Unlike his brothers who come in whenever they want, like it's their second home.

    The anonymous boy describes his father as an irascible, always grumpy and yelling man. What the dad has done has impelled the boy to fear and hate him.

    

      Why do parents bring their kids into the fight and drama when they know it will haunt and scar them?

Confession Tuesday

Birds have feathers, I have secrets.

     Ah, secrets, it's what brings us together and what tears us apart. It has the power to break a whole relationship and if you hold it to long it could break you. Everyone has a secret, but a lot of people handle it differently. You can keep it and wait until you blow and tell everyone accidentally or you can tell everyone and don't care about it. I am the kind of person that doesn't mind telling teeny-ity-bity secrets, but when it comes to the HUGE, LIFE THREATENING SECRETS I shut my mouth.

             Birds have feathers, I have secrets. It comes naturally to me. Nor friends nor family have ever heard my HUGE, LIFE THREATENING SECRETS and nor will they ever. If my friends and me play a game where you must say a big secret than I will say a small one and say it's my only big one that I can remember.

     No one knows...

                                             Fourth of  July  
              Ends With a Bang!


   In this memoir I realize that when you play with fireworks you're gonna get burned and that you should really think before you act.

    It was fourth of July and if you lived in Tennessee at the time you would know that every year the neighbors, friends, and family come out onto the streets and have a huge celebration. I'm telling you, you had to be there. Around lunch time we would all go out while the men barbecue, and the ladies gossip about there lives, and the kids chase each other and play all sorts of games.
   July fourth was a time to reunite with all friends and just relax. The kids did this parade with their bikes where you decorated the bikes with ribbons and American Flags and you would ride all around the neighborhood all together in a big parade. After the parade we would stuff ourselves with hot dogs and hamburgers and when it get dark we would bring out the fireworks.
    Sparklers for the kids and The big fireworks for the men. After the sparklers went out we sat down on the curb about ten yards away from where the men were lighting the fireworks, and watched the fireworks the adults have prepared. I loved the idea of the fourth of July, but being the young, restless,and adventurous girl that I am, I wanted to be closer to the explosions.
    The idea of lighting the firework, running away, and then watching it exploded from a closer view was simply a lot more exciting then being on the curb, on the sidelines, away from the excitement. So when no one was watching I inched closer, My dad lit it, I watched next to him but he didn't see me until he turned around to run and tripped, but he was resilient and stood up quickly grabbing me and running. We both got slightly hurt, but mostly from falling to the ground.

Stormed by Storms

        Created by: Paola C. Rivera

                                    The fights we fought,

The lies we taught.

When the stormy yells

Could be heard everywhere.

No one was safe.

We say our apologies

And all is fine.

But there is still tension that triumphs 

and sorrow that lingers,

In the puddles left behind

 From the storm.

Those tears are brought up to the sky

Of our self conscious,

And a single disagreement will set of the storm,

And we fight again and again.

We cry again and again.

The clouds gather

The sky darkens.

Everyone pulls out there umbrellas for

                                                Shelter,

                                                Warmth,

                                                Protection.

                                               But I-

I have no umbrella.

I’m out in the opened while

 Mother Lightning and Daddy Thunder

Fight and Grumble.

I’m there, first victim.

The lightning Flashes.

The thunder Crashes.

And our relationship

Forever burns into ashes.

                                                             

     Wordly Wise

      Wednesday

                                        1100 Reel Foot Circle

                                             Nashville, TN

                                           

                                             September 8, 2010

Dear Christian,

       It is imperative for me to write this letter to you, because my heart has been guilty for almost six years. I have to make sure what happened that day will not recur in either both of our lives.What I did that day was not only spontaneous but extremely stupid. And as much as I wish I could take it back and how much I cried that day and many days after, I can't, and nor will I ever.

       When I left Tennessee I knew it would be the last time my sister and I saw, and perhaps even spoke to you, but that day it seemed like you didn't. We needed a ride to the airport and your parents quickly volunteered to drive us there. The two cars (small, little cars) were packed up tight, and in the end, one kid had to go alone with my dad, your dad, my mom and my little brother, while the other two kids got the opportunity to ride together for the last time. It was your choice really, I admit it wasn't easy to chose between your friends, and who you would spend the last few moments with, but I was still mad with the outcome. My sister hardly spent time with you, she didn't like going outside and riding our bikes in circles like we did, she didn't enjoy the same things we did, she wasn't there for you like I was, but you chose her.

       I don't think you realize what that day did to me. I don't think you saw how my dad had to pick me up and drag me to the car because i didn't want to leave you. I had to say bye to all my best friends that day and then another friend chose my sister over me. I conjectured that I did something wrong and I messed up our friendship. I cried all the way to the airport. And when I got out of the car I couldn't even look you or my sister in the eyes. I didn't say bye to you, nor will i ever get to.

      The purpose of this letter was to modify my guilt and sadness of that day.
            
                                                                                      Sincerely,
                                                                                          Paola C. Rivera

                                                                        

Lying at my Best Friends

Confession Tuesday

Lying at my Best Friends

By: Paola C. Rivera

     Everyday I sign onto facebook, hoping to see my friends from Florida are online (even though I don't know what the point is, they say the same thing every time.

Paola!!!

Hey, guys!

I miss you, Paola, Come back?!?

      Everyday since I got on that plane, they have been saying that to me. At first it was okay, because when they said I miss you, come back, I could always answer them truthfully. But, now I don't know what to say, if I tell the truth I will break their hearts, But if I lie I will break mine.

Come Back, Paola!?!

The words echoed in my head. Even though everytime they ask me this, I lie and BREAK MY HEART. I know if I say the truth I will have to deal with the response, Why, Paola?

So I lied again...A tear running down my face.

I want to come back too, guys. 

   The words unwritten are trapped in my mind once again.

We drifted away, I'm sorry.

  This are the words I will never say.

Anonymous

I'm a shy person, when it comes to asking questions. Teachers especially , when you need something or don't understand something and you have to ask the teacher, I wouldn't. I would always turn around and whisper to my friend and if I couldn't I would stay quiet and just try (and fail.)

When I first came to fifth grade, I still had the same problem, but my teacher had a solution. She would play this game with the class where everyone scanned there classwork or/and homework before they did it. After we all finished scanning it, she would pass out post-its to the whole class. Everyone would write down a question, and if they didn't have a question, they would draw a smiley face on the post-it. After we all had a question down (or a smiley face) she drew a target on the white board and we all crumbled up the post-its and threw it as hard as we could to the target.

She picked up all the post-its and put it into a basket. Then she went around the room and all the students pulled out a post-it. And one by one she answered the question.

Confession Tuesday

Confession Tuesday

1. I come inside with muddy shoes and leave a trail of mud (again.)
2. I went to the mall with my mom's money and haven't gave her the change (shhh....)
3. I went outside with my friends before I did my homework (Yeah, like that was the first time.)
4. When a person asks me a question, I say, "No comprende Espanol." To avoid confrontation. (hehe)
5. I yell at my little brother constantly, (Even though it's his fault)
6. I left a huge mess for my maid to clean-up (I wouldn't blame her if she quit.)
7. I tried to bribe my brother into doing a favor for me (Yes, I'm lazy.)
8. I ruin my school clothes daily (again with the mud.)
9. I have a crush on the bad boy (not telling who.)
10. One of my best friend's mom hates me (my fault.)

                                 -Paola Rivera

         I run because....

my neighbours

leave their dogs outside.

And when and when my bus leaves me

in my neighbourhood ,

I must run through streets of dogs.

I was young and afraid

of dogs, when my

neighbor got a new dog named Lacy,

who was the only dog

who didn't know my scent.

That day, the first day
I ran,
the bus left me,
Lacy was outside
glaring, growling, gaping
at me.
I took my first step
growling, snarling, barking.
Another step, same reaction.
Lacy was ten feet away,
but when she launched,
Houston we have a problem.

Step by Step
Running Faster.
Step by Step
Growling lounder.

Sweat running
down my neck as I ran.
But instead of fear prevading
throughout my body.
It was excileration, and excitiment.
The wind in my face,
my hair air-born.

Everyday Afterschool
Lacy and I ran.
Those chases and space walks that
we ran together.
It helped me overcome
my fear.
But even though I was never afraid again
I still kept running.