My Favorite Teacher

Mrs. Kilgard

            It was the first day of second grade when I first met Mrs. Kilgard. She was an older woman in her early to mid 60s, with a kind demeanor. This was only my second year at Lexington Creek Elementary School, but Mrs. Kilgard made it seem like she had known me my entire life. As the year crept on, she made an effort to keep the class fun and engaging as well as taking a personal interest in all of her students. I think that’s why I would consider her my favorite teacher. During the year, there was a week in which we studied a different country every day and would indulge in their customs for the day. For instance one day we were studying Ireland and she made us potato pancakes, latke style. Another day we studied Japan and in order to come into class that day, we had to take our shoes of at the door. When the first Harry Potter book was released, every day for almost a month during story time, she read a chapter to us. One day each week she arranged for a “mad” scientist to come in and perform a fun, learning experiment.

            When the end of the school year began to approach, my parents told me that we were moving. When I informed Mrs. Kilgard of this, she made sure to give me her address in order to keep in touch with her. As time passed by, I tried to keep up with writing her letters to let her know what was going on in my life, and she made sure to write back. We lost touch for a couple of years, but I decided to send her a graduation announcement, to which she responded with a nice letter and a gift card to Barnes and Noble. I was able to get in touch with her last year, but I lost her phone number, and I recently tried to mail her a letter, but it was returned saying that the address was vacant.

Just Jump

Just Jump

            For those of you who don’t know me well, one of my biggest fears is falling. I dislike the feeling of falling. Dreams that involve free falling freak me out. Well, a couple of years ago, I had this fear challenged. My parents and I were in Utah as part of a family vacation, Ogden, Utah to be exact. While we were there, my dad and I stumble upon a place that had indoor skydiving. Being guys, of course we had to check it out. We walk into the place and it sounds like a jet is about to take off, but what it was a massive vertical wind tunnel. There wasn’t much discussion as to whether or not we were going to do it. We did it. So, once they had us sign all of the paper work, they put us in a room with one of their instructors who taught us proper technique to control rising and falling speed, and then we suited up and stepped into a chamber, which was a lot like the cargo hold of a plane, but made with plexiglass windows. After our session in the vertical wind tunnel, the instructor had to show off, but it was extremely cool. After leaving, we talked to mom about how much fun it had been and then decided that we wanted to go real skydiving. So we called around and found a place that had an opening for us.

            The next day dad and I woke up bright and early to travel out to the jump site hangar where we went through a long training session so that we could jump by ourselves. After the training, we suited up and boarded the plane. As we got closer to the jump zone, I began to second-guess our decision to do this, even more so when I got to the opening in the side of the plane. Our instructor took a moment to calm my nerves and on the count of three encouraged me to jump out of the plane. I am glad that I did so. It was an experience I’ll never forget.

Amelia

Amelia

            Amelia and I have been together for just over two years. She has always been faithful to me, never lets me down and supports me wherever I go.  No, I’m not talking about a girl. I’m talking about my car. Amelia is my 2007 Nissan Xterra SE. She has a 4.0L direct injection V6, 1000W stereo system, and is dark red.

            When I got my license several days after my 16^th birthday, during my sophomore year, I was handed the keys to the family pick-up, which at the time was exciting to me because I had my own car! Since I played baseball in high school, a truck was the vehicle to have. Well over eighty percent of the guys on the team drove trucks. Well, as I got closer to senior year and thinking about college, I began to realize something that was a more efficient in hauling people and stuff around. I wanted to have a vehicle that I could store items in the back and not have to worry about those items if it was raining or worry about someone running off with my stuff. So during June, the summer before senior year, I told my parents that I wanted to look into procuring a new car. My dad then told me to do my research, make a list of cars that I was interested in, make a spreadsheet that included the specs of the car, and then present my findings to my parents. After spending a couple of days on research and creating this report, I showed my parents what I had found and then that was it. Dad took me to test drive a couple of cars on the list, but didn’t really say much about purchasing one. The last Friday in September, my dad pulled me into the office to show me a car that he had found and he asked if I liked it and I said I did. The following Saturday, my parents told me that they were going to look at houses for house ideas because they’re into that stuff, and they left. I didn’t really notice anything suspicious the first two or three hours that they were gone, but when it got to be five to six hours that they were gone, I was a little concerned. Well, they finally arrived home they acted like it was a typical Saturday. Towards the evening, my dad told me to go with my mom to my grandma’s house because the garage door was sticking, to which I responded that it had been sticking for a while. Any way, I went with my mom and opened the garage door, and there sat Amelia in all of her glory.

Kaiser

Kaiser

            “Kaiser, I love you buddy”.  And with those words, I let go of the best dog that I’ve ever owned, and walked out of the veterinarian’s office.

I remember it like it was yesterday, I was nine years old riding with my dad and grandpa to go pick up a brand new puppy. Kaiser. Kaiser was a giant schnauzer, and the second dog my family has owned since I’ve been around. It took a while to get Kaiser both housetrained and during the first couple of weeks, he whined every single night that we put him in the crate. By the time he was a year old, he was almost the size of a Shetland pony, and weighed close to 60 pounds.

The first time that we took Kaiser up to the farm, it was the middle of January and it was his first time riding for a long distance in a car. We were 2 minutes from the driveway, when he threw up all over me. Needless to say I was not a happy camper when I had to get out of the truck and ride in the bed when it was 28 degrees outside. That December, we made a trip out to Colorado to my grandparents’ cabin and to ski and we took Kaiser with us. It was his first time seeing snow, and he absolutely loved it, which was kind of confusing because he had a thing about getting his feet wet.

As the years passed, Kaiser was always by my side. He was very perceptive as to what people around him were feeling, especially sadness or loneliness, in which case he would saunter on over and plop himself down on his feet or try to hop up in the chair with you. Even as he got older, he remained a big puppy.

It was the summer after my senior year, and Kaiser started having health problems, and then when August came around he suffered a massive seizure, but the vet’s that we took him to couldn’t figure out what was going on. The weekend before I moved to TCU for my freshman year, I was dog-sitting for some friends of the family, and was staying over at their house. Well, 6 AM Monday morning, I got a call from my mom that Kaiser had had another massive stroke and that it caused him to go blind. She continued by telling me that she and dad had decided to euthanize him to take him out of his pain. Needless to say, I quickly got dressed and rushed home to see Kaiser. I helped dad load him up in the van and we drove to the vet’s office. I did pretty well with keeping my emotions in check until after the vet administered the drugs that would ease him out, and then I lost it and bawled like a small child while enveloping Kaiser with my arms.

Pomp and Circumstance

Pomp and Circumstance

            My fellow classmates and I are all gathered in the school gym, a buzz of excitement is in the air. Our principal alerts us that it is time to line up and get ready to head out to the football field. Faintly I can hear the band begin to play that march: Pomp and Circumstance. I cannot believe that it is actually here. Graduation has begun! I march out following the four valedictorians who have donned white robes for the occasion. I am in a lovely orange robe that those of us who were graduating with honors had the privilege of wearing. We march out like we practiced several times the day before. The stands are packed with people, everyone is cheering. As I arrive at my chair, I have to wait for the four hundred and sixteen other seniors to arrive at their chair before we all sit down together. As I am sitting on the front row I see three chairs draped in faculty robes, which represent the two teachers and principal that passed away during the year and am reminded that although this evening will be about celebrating, it will also be a somber evening. My best friend Andrew, STUCO president, kicks off the ceremonies with an opening speech, followed by our class president and then our four valedictorians, two of which are also my best friends. Finally after our principal presents us to the superintendent, we begin the march across the stage. Before the ceremonies, I had asked my counselor and close friend Mr. Rickerts if he would be the one to hand me my diploma because he had helped conquer many challenges throughout my high school years. As I receive my diploma from him, we embrace in a hug and I continue across the stage to take a picture with the principal. After arriving back at my seat and watching everyone else receive their diploma, our principal closes the ceremonies and kicks off the fireworks. And so went Graduation.

Skipping Stones

Skipping Stones

           

            When I first started reading Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”, I didn’t know what to expect at the end, in fact I was caught off guard by the ending. Once the ending occurred, it brought up both confusions and questions as to what happened and why it happened. It is interesting to see both the mob mentality and ignorance that occurs in the story. No one in the town knows why the lottery is held; they just know that they’re supposed to do it because it’s always been done. When someone mentions that surrounding towns no longer hold the lottery, several of the townspeople react to the news like it’s blasphemy. The town also no longer has the original black box, they’re forgotten what the chant is that goes along with the lottery. It’s sad to see that they have forgotten the meaning behind the tradition they just do it, granted it’s grotesque. Everyone in the town is okay with what happens until it occurs to them, and then, I would assume that they react much like Tessie did when she found out that she was going to be stoned, and there is irony in that situation. Despite the situation, in a sense, is fair, Tessie protests that it isn’t fair. Which made me think, would she still protest that it was not fair if it was someone besides her being stoned? Something leads me to believe that she would be okay with it. There is also irony in how Old Man Warner is so faithful to the tradition that he fears the villagers will return to primitive times if they stop holding the lottery, when in fact the whole idea of the lottery is primitive. I also feel that “The Lottery” shows the danger of blindly following tradition. It is important to understand why a tradition happens, or else something as terrible as ritual murder becomes a part of the fabric of the society.

Make Like A Baby and Head Out

Make Like a Baby And Head Out

Another one of Hemingway’s stories that stood out to me was “Indian Camp”. The first thing that I found interesting was how Hemingway juxtaposed a boy trying to grow up with the regression of a boy back in to childhood. It’s the story of a boy who goes to an Indian camp with his father and Uncle George.  When they get there they enter into a shanty in which a woman in labor awaits them. It’s interesting to see how Nick’s father initially treats him like an imbecile when he tells Nick, “This lady is going to have a baby, Nick”. Nick responds, “I know,” but his father tells him that he doesn’t know. With out anesthetic, the father has to perform a rather gruesome caesarian section on the woman, while the husband lies in the top bunk having to bear listening to his wife’s screams. After the C-section, Nick’s father brags about having performed it with only a jackknife and fishing line, and he is proud of that, which I found quite alarming, especially my future career, hopefully being a doctor, I know that I would not want to perform such an operation, nor would I be necessarily proud of such a thing. Unlike Nick, I’ve never experienced such a scaring event. Yes, I’ve been in the operating room for several C-sections when I was shadowing an Anesthesiologist, and I must say that it I had a much more pleasant experience.

Probably the thing that bothered me the most was Nick’s dad’s reaction to the man committing suicide. Among several things said, his father says that dying is rather easy. Since I have yet to die, I cannot comment has to whether or not he makes a valid statement, however I do know that a dying, rather suicide in this instance, may seem like the easy way out, especially for an Indian father who probably realizes that he cannot give his child a good life. But in the long term, what seemed like the answer actually hurts those closest to the person. That child will live a fatherless and lacking life.

Like I mentioned earlier, there is a regression of Nick from a young man back to a boy, and this is shown when he addresses his father as “daddy” and his father calls him “Nickie”.