《美国大学生作文选》

《美国大学生作文选》P1、21、35、57、102、158、227、239 教师：W.M 2001/9/25 FEELING THE PINCH

When I started on my long journey to the school I would be calling home for the next four years, I had no idea of the challenges I would be facing. I was leaving my home, my siblings, and my parents, the people who had raised me and protected me for eighteen years. I was leaving a place where all my necessary needs were taken care of my food, clothing, and medical bills. The only hardships I encountered in high-school were paying for gasoline, the movies, or that new CD I wanted. I had it easy living at home, and I took that for granted.

The first day I arrived on campus I got a little taste or what I would be experiencing for the next four years. I was told my tuition had not been paid, and I could not move into my dorm room until my balance was paid. For the first time in my life I had to handle a serious financial situation on my own, because my parents were no longer around to help me out. My parents did not fully support my decision to attend Marywood College because they know they could not afford it. I had decided at the last minute to take my chances that the loans I had applied for would be approved, and that I could afford to come here. So after writing out a check that would almost completely delete all of my savings, I moved into my dorm room.

Being safely moved into my new home and having my tuition bill, for that moment, squared away, I felt relaxed. Nevertheless, that relaxation did not last very long. I soon realized

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that although I did not have to pay for heat, water, or electricity, I had to pay for almost everything else. By that I mean food, phone bills, car insurance, cable, and all my own necessities, and without a job that was almost impossible. luckily, I was eligible for work-study, but seventy dollars every two weeks is not much to live on. I was desperate and falling more deeply into debt every day. I hated asking for help from my parents, because I knew they really could not afford it, but I really had no other choice.

My father agreed to give me a small loan and promised he would send money whenever he could to help me out. So far he has stuck to his promise, which is a big help to me. My mother, on the other hand, has been a little more practical by sending me food, medicine, and other necessities. She even bought me brand new snow tires for Christmas, because she knew I could never afford them. my parents' help has relieved a little of my financial burden, but it will be a long while before I can splurge and by something for myself like I used to in high-school.

I have been here for almost three months and every day has been a struggle for me. Even though my loans were approved, I still have to come up with money to fix my car, which always seems to be breaking down, to pay my phone bill, which seems to get more expensive every money, and to buy food so I will not go hungry, if I miss a meal in my meal plan. Another struggle I have to look forward to in the future is paying off all the loans I have just to go to this school. Sometimes I wonder if all this money borrowing and penny-pinching is worth it, but then I realize that without a good education I would have no hope of ever making enough money to survive in the real world.

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So in conclusion, I strongly believe that the financial pressures I have experienced here at college will eventually make me a person that is more capable of balancing a budget and supporting a family in the future.

REFLECTION UPON LIFE

As we grow throughout our life, mentally and physically, so do our views about our life. When I was a young child, around five years old, I was in a major car accident. At the time of the accident, I did not realize the seriousness of it and how lucky I was to still be alive. As I look back and reflect upon what happened on the night of the accident, I now realize how lucky I, and the rest of my family members who were in the car, are to be alive today and without serious injuries from the accident.

The day of the accident started out great. My older brother, Troy, and I had spent the night before at my half-sister JoAnn's house, with her, my niece Heather, and JoAnn's husband Gary. The next day we spent playing inside the house, because it was cold, windy, and rainy outside. As afternoon turned into early evening, JoAnn had us get a bath, and then change into our nice clothes. She told us we were going out and that where we were going was a surprise. The five of us climbed into the car, and old VW Bug, and we headed off for our surprise. It was still cold, windy, and pouring cats and dogs outside when we left. None of us wore seatbelts; back then seatbelts were not regulated by the government and people just did not wear them. Troy, Heather and I sat in the backseat together, fooling around as all little kids do in the car. The drive seemed endless, although it had really only been about twenty minutes, and the next thing

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I knew everything was chaos! Tires were squealing, glass was flying everywhere, and it sounded like there was noise all around us. Then it was totally quiet, except for the sound of the rain and the howling wind. Troy, Heather and I were all practically laying on top of one another. The three of us were crying and confused, not knowing what had happened. JoAnn and Gary were trying to calm us down and kept asking us if we were all right. Apparently the road was so slick that the car lost control, on the hilly bend in the road, and flipped upside-down twice before slamming into a tree. Miraculously, none of us was severely injured, just a few cuts and bruises here and there. After that I only remember sitting there in the cold, damp, dark night waiting for Gary to get back to the car with some people to help us. We never got to the surprise that night, it turned out to be a surprise party for my older brother, Troy. But at least we were able to go home in one piece.

When I think back to that cold, rainy night I can't help but wonder if someone or something was watching over us that night. After my brother and I got home that night, I remember my parents let us stay up as long as we wanted to, we were allowed to have two bowls of ice cream if we wanted, and we even got carried up to bed that night. I guess my parents were realizing just how close they came to losing us that night. As I reflect upon the tragedy that could have happened on that fateful night, I realize how precious life is and that I must still be here on this earth for a reason. I may not know exactly what that reason is yet, but I hope to one day realize it and do my best to accomplish what I'm here to do. As I search for the reason I am here today, I take each day as it comes and try to learn from the mistakes I have made thus far in my life. I treasure my family and friends, and hope and pray that we will share a loving, caring, and rewarding lifetime together. Things rarely go the way I plan them to, but I take a deep breath,

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and try to laugh and make the best of it. Every time life throws me a curve ball, I do my best to hit a grand slam!

EXPECTATIONS FOR COLLECE

There are a substantial number of expectations we have when starting a new program or joining a specific event. One example is college. There are so many expectations that an individual has before entering the so-called college life. For example, I had an idea in my head that college would be extremely difficult and that I would achieve less than average grades. I proved myself wrong because I am doing fine in college and have an above-average grade point average, and I have no trouble understanding difficult material once it is explained to me.

Since I am doing well in college, I realize that it is not as difficult as I expected. If I study a decent amount of material for a test, I can usually pass an exam with an A or B, and I am not studying to the point where I have no social life either. When I came to college, I thought that no teacher curved grades, but they do--and I was surprised. That probably relates to why I received a B in Frontiers of Science. It is not just the curving of grades that make it less difficult either. IT is the ability I have to retain information that has been learned in high school. Any above-average student with a high school diploma or even a GED can do well in college. IF it were not for the expectation of thinking college were so difficult, I probably would not have had so much anxiety of fear about attending.

Another aspect I found quite surprising was being able to maintain 3.0 grade point

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average. Within the first semester of my college life, I earned a 3.5 average. Since then it has remained pretty stable at least a 3.0 or better average. I thought maybe it was because the semester was an easy one or because I was going as non-degree seeking at the time, but since then, I have remained an above-average student at college. It is not that difficult to maintain a high grade point average if an individual is willing to study and take the time to retain what has learned. Once again this is without studying to the point of no return. It is not as difficult as I thought to maintain a decent grade point average.

If it were not for the difficult material in college life, then there would be no challenge. Although some material can be quite difficult, it is not as hard as it looks, once explained by the instructor. When material is explained in detail by an instructor, it is easier to grasp the concept and to learn the material that is being taught. A student can learn the principles of algebra and apply them without any difficulty if taught thoroughly by an instructor. It was my expectation that an individual would receive a book, read it, and take a test without the instructor explaining anything in detail and only going over material that a student does not understand for himself. Of course, that was another myth; instructors teach their material so students can learn it and understand it fully.

After attending college, I realize that any student can do well, maintain an above-average grade point average, and understand material thoroughly. IT is not difficult as learning on one's own without any help, or taking tests that are extremely difficult to comprehend. With a high school education or a GED, any student who is interested in going to college should succeed.

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CHALLENGES OF SCHOOL

Life is full of challenges. Form the homework given in K-4 to read Dick and Jane, pages two and three, to the year-long assignments handed down in college to study, analyze, log, and chart such-and-such over the period of one year, it seems as if there shall never be a dull moment. It also seems as if there will never be a spare moment! Just when a person has met the challenges faced before him, new ones arise.

School has to be the most challenging obstacle in the lives of youth today. The task of meeting daily requirements and completing homework assignments is overwhelming at times. The pressure starts in elementary school and keeps building up into the college years. The only relief from the strain is the satisfaction of a good report card. For those who fail to bring home that good report, there is no relief. The challenge then shifts from applying himself in school to hiding his grades from mom and pop!

Elementary school brings about a few challenges characteristic of those years spent there There's the challenge of coloring in the lines, a very real problem to any youngster. or how about the challenge of remembering to raise one's hand before one speaks? There are hundreds of rules and regulations that govern these young children. The one thing that keeps these children in line is the hope of reward. Yes, this is the brass ring. The reward for a clean desk is an extra five minutes of recess! The prize for having all homework done, a shiny-new pencil topper! These small wonders keep small people in line They make the children love challenge.

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Middle school is not so easy. It is not easy for the students, and it also isn't easy for the teachers. The challenge of staying out of trouble, or writing that research paper--these are the new confrontations of an older, wiser group. This clan has outgrown the recess and pencil-topper tricks. They know that their efforts have to bring them something really useful, so mom and pop are pulled onto the scene. How does five, ten dollars for each \"A\" sound? Or, how about no telephone if one doesn't do good in school? Need I say more?

By the time high school arrives, a student's place in academic excellence or else their unlikeli-hood to even graduate has been established. Little can be done now to make life's challenges seem interesting, especially where school comes in. The slothful are rewarded with a nice job at a gas station, a pregnant girlfriend, and a fifteen-year-old Ford. The diligent are rewarded with an SATT score of over 1100, acceptance into Yale University, and a ticket to life. BY meeting the challenges of school, sticking it out, and pulling through, they are given their greatest reward: success.

MY CLASSMATE KEN

The stars shone brightly on that balmy summer night. ken and I were lying on our backs in the grass in his backyard. The fire we had built nearby made shadows dance across the lawn. We were near the shore of the lake, and the rising half moon illuminated the waves as they lapped gently at the pontoons of Ken's boat. Our conversation was sparse, but we didn't need to say much. We were close friends reflecting on the past and also dreaming about the future.

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\"Ken?\"

\"Yeah, \" he replied in a nonchalant tone of voice.

\"What do you think college is going to be like?\"

\"I don't know. Are you scared?\"

I covered up quickly, \"No…Well, maybe a little, but it's still two years away. \"

\"What do you want to be?\" Ken asked.

\"I was thinking of maybe being a psychiatrist. How about you?\"

\"I don't know, \" he replied. That was typical of Ken. He never thought much about the future, pretty much living life from day to day. \"Something that pays enough for me to buy a nice car, \" he said in another typical Ken-like afterthought.

We rambled through some memories, and soon college crept up again.

\"Lare, where have you thought about going to college?\"

\"Wherever someone will give me a scholarship, \" I answered.

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\"You'll get one with your grades. I've been thinking about Evangel myself. \" Evangel was in Missouri, and it was where Karleen, his oldest sister, went to school. Then it hit me --we weren't going to be inseparable forever.

\"Of course, Lare!\" he answered too quickly. \"We won't lose touch. Time won't change anything. \" He didn't sound convinced, and I knew he was thinking the same thing that I was.

The fire grew dim, and we packed up. I went to my home, just across the street.

Ken and I have known each other since seventh grade. I was quiet and studious; Ken was a show-off. He was magnetic, with an appealing sense of humor and great charm. Girls were drawn to his looks. Ken was tall and thin, and he sauntered comfortably, taking large strides and swinging his arms rather carelessly. Some would say he swaggered. His eyes were shiny and so dark they were almost black. If you looked close, there was always a light dancing behind them somewhere, promising mischief if you stayed around. He had a light-hearted smirk.

Ken's mother was a beautician, and she always made sure that his brown hair was styled perfectly. That is, except for one unruly cowlick she couldn't get rid of. it hung above his eyes, giving the finishing touches to his jester-like appearance. We had very little in common. But in a way our differences bonded our friendship even more for we both admired the other's qualities. I can still remember the day I became his friend.

It was a cool fall afternoon when I was thirteen. While raking leaves I saw Ken come out of his house with his football uniform on. He played in the junior league. As he waited for his ride

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he meandered into my yard.

\"Going to practice?\" IO asked.

\"Yeah, I don't want to though. \"

\"I wish I played. it seems like fun, \" I said, trying to gain points with him.

\"it isn't. The practices are awful, and the coach is a jerk, \" he replied unhappily. \"I'd rather stay at home and shoot baskets. \" Ken was a basketball nut.

His ride was coming over the hill. As he walked to the road he turned around.

\"Hey, when I get back you wanna come over and shoot a few?\"

I was flabbergasted. Mr. Popularity was asking me to do something. \"Well, I'm not that good, \" my weak voice replied.

\"Who cares! I'll see you when I get back, Lare!\" he said, jumping into the van.

Lare! That sounded funny. No one had ever called me that before. But I got used to it fast. By the end of high school I was called nothing else.

We were always together. Many days we would purposely miss the school bus home and

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go to the local arcade. We spent our summers swimming and fishing. it was as if we came straight from the pages of Tom Sawyer.

In junior high we even joined Youth Involvement because every other member was female. I actually got out and met people when I was around Ken! And when he had troubles with his school work I'd help him out. During study sessions at his dining room table, his mother used to walk back and forth saying, \"Ken would get better grades if he would just pay attention. \" She was right. Ken was bright, but he'd rather be having fun.

Slowly, the differences between us began to melt. You could say we rubbed off on each other. Each complimented the other in a friendship that was remarkably equal. Neither of us dominated, and we also respected each other's opinions.

It was during our freshman year of high school that I first noticed some of Ken's attributes in myself. HE approached me one day with a sign in his hand. It read

First Annual

SLH Air Jam!

Lip-Sync Competition

Tryouts Monday

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I'd heard about it. South Lyon High was seeking volunteers to perform lip-sync routines at a special assembly.

\"Oh Ken, \" I groaned. \"No, we can't. We're just freshmen. They'll kill us! Ken, I won't. \" And as he sat there grinning, I knew I was in fact going to do this. Ken picked the song, and we practiced for two weeks. When the dreaded day finally arrived, our group of five was scheduled to go last, fit for the killing. We were the only freshman group; all the others were senior. The crowd was tough, and gave the other acts only moderate applause for their rock-song routines. In fact, the assembly seemed pretty lame.

When we heard our introduction, we came out of the locker room -- four puny freshmen dressed like Egyptians, carrying Ken on a litter. For just one second the crowd was silent. Then a roaring wave of laughter and cheers hit as Ken, dressed as a pharaoh, jumped down to the tune of Steve Martin's \"King Tut. \" The routine lasted only three minutes, during which time I felt weak and dizzy, but exhilarated. It was the most glorious three minutes of my life. We were a hit. We exited to a standing ovation. The crowd continued to cheer, chanting \"Tut, Tut, Tut. \" We came out and took a bow. \"King Tut\" had won, unanimously. IN that short period of time I had emerged from my shell, thanks to two years of Ken's role modeling and his constant pressure to participate in the Air Jam. It had been fun! It was wonderful being in front of those people looking like a fool. We brought the house down while also establishing a traditioin. Every year afterwards our group did some outrageous act for the Air Jam. We became legends.

My influence on Ken was more subtle. He was beginning to slow down and take more time

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out for his schoolwork. EH wasn't jumping from girlfriend to girlfriend like he once did. The change became noticeable to all in our senior year. Ken also realized what he wanted to do with his life. We had D. Jayed dances throughout high school and it directed him toward the area of broadcasting. Ken enrolled at Spec Howard's School of Broadcasting in his senior year. Graduating second in his class, Ken became the first student to ever attend while still in high school. I persuaded him to enter a contest for producing amateur commercials dealing with drug abuse. From over five hundred entries statewide, many made collectively by high school classes, Ken's won. They were later aired locally on the major television networks. Ken had applied himself, and he succeeded.

We don't see each other very often now. I'm living at Eastern Michigan university and he's home working. We really began to drift apart in our senior year. Both of us sensed it, and in my yearbook he wrote,

Dar King (Tut) Larry, I'm sure you'll agree our venture in high school has been an interesting one. And I'll never regret a moment. Even though our schedules have changed, our friendship hasn't --and it won't. Take it easy Lare. Ken I wonder if he knows the Picture of us taken at Summit hangs above my desk? OR that my fondest memories of childhood were the long summer days we spent together. it doesn't matter.

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I've seen him only five times since I began college, but each time it was as if nothing had changed. Ken was right. We're still great friends, and we always will be.

MY BROTHER

Although people often say we look alike, they also say that our personalities are the complete opposites of each other. They describe me as intelligent, thoughtful and responsible. They characterize him as self-centered, annoying, and a few other choice words which shouldn't be printed. Our personalities are one hundred percent different, that fact is undeniable.

The person whom I have been referring to is my younger brother, Bob. He was born only 18 months after I was born. The closeness in age is one reason why I believe we are so different. We have never gotten along with each other, no matter how hard we tried. I guess it's because of some feeling inside me. It could be that I was jealous, even at the age of 18 months, of the new arrival. I must have felt cheated out of my parents' attention. My nana tells me that the day my parents brought my baby brother home, I was asking when they were going to take him back to where he came from.

Another problem was that Bob was constantly sick with one thing or another, like ear infections and fevers. Bob was in ad out of hospitals a lot of his baby life. When he was only a few months old, he had to have surgery. So, as you can imagine, I didn't understand why the two people I wanted to be with were always with him. I realized later in life that I was probably extremely envious of all the time my parents were spending with him. Those feelings of

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resentment didn't help our relationship. Even after he returned home I felt a little left out. Not only was he the baby, but he was sick, and needed more care than I did.

As time passed, the feelings between us did not improve. If anything, things got worse. It was to the point where we would fight over anything and everything imaginable. When there was nothing to fight about, we would search for something to make us disagree and start fighting. Even as we entered our teenage years, we acted as though we were only 4 years old instead of 16. Fighting all the time was becoming a very stressful way to live.

Then, just over a year ago, during a routine school physical examination, doctors discovered an abnormality. Tests were scheduled, and when the results came in, they were not encouraging. Doctors suspected my brother could have cancer. They even thought that there was a possibility that he had had it for years. Over the years, the worst problem he had ever encountered was his hearing problem, which had been remedied. When my parents told me that my brother would need surgery so the doctors could explore the area where they though the cancer would be, I felt as if the whole world was going black. it was at that point in my life that I realized just how much he meant to me.

The day he went into surgery was one of the scariest days of my life. The doctors had taken samples to do a biopsy, but the results wouldn't be ready for a few weeks. Those few weeks were very tense. Everyone was hoping and praying for the best, but at the same time fearing the worst. I was truly afraid that there was a chance that I might lose my brother. I watched a change come over Bob. I don't know if anyone else noticed it, but he suddenly became very quiet, as

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well as very moody. I tried to understand why he was acting the way he was, but it was hard, because he wouldn't talk to anyone about it.

When the results came back negative, I felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off my family and my brother. Although Bob has to go every few years for tests just to make sure that he is healthy, right now he is the picture of health.

Now, with me away at college, our relationship his improved greatly. Suddenly, he is more responsible, and is showing it. Where he would fail in school before, he is getting all A's and B's. When I am home on breaks, he treats me with some respect now, where before there was none. He even tries to include me in some of his activities with his friends. Today, people who don't know us would think that we had always been friends.

Many years ago, I had wished that my baby brother would go away. Now, if my \"big-little bro\would be like. Bob is an irreplaceable person in my life. He is irreplaceable because I would never find another person like him. He has the ability to make me laugh now, instead of frustrating me. I wouldn't give him up for anything.

A FRESHMAN'S FIRST TRIP HOME

I'll bet that no one can describe the feelings one has when they go home for the firs time, I know I couldn't. After living in the dorm for three weeks and getting over homesickness, I was actually looking forward to having some quiet time at home. On Friday, September 13, I packed

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up a few things and left campus around 2:00 p. m. Besides being Friday the 13 th , the main question on my mind was, what would it be like to got home for the first time after just getting over homesickness? As my mother drove through town I could tell that not much had changed, but it still felt weird. Suddenly it dawned on me. I was starting to think of Cedar Crest as my home.

I had a great weekend. I attended Jewish services most of the weekend, but I did have time to fool around on America Online and do a few other things that I had missed for three weeks. I spent a lot of time playing with my pet bunny rabbit because I missed her a lot. I felt strange sleeping in my own bed again. When Sunday came around I actually wanted to get back to Cedar Crest. I missed my roommate and all of my new friends. plus, I had to get my homework done. My father brought me back. When we arrived, all he did was to help me unload the car while I carried all the stuff to my room. Then I hugged and kissed him good-bye, and he left. if was amazing to me how I just sent him home like that without wanting to hop back in the car. I guess all that I wanted was to be back in the safety of my dorm room and see all my friends again.

I have been home once more since then. It still fell weird, but not as much as it did the first time. When it was time to go back to school for the second time, my father said: \"So what do you want to do now?\" My response? \"I want to go home!\" meaning I wanted to go back to school. I guess you could say, \"There's no place like home!\"

MY TEACHER

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I do not recall the first time I noticed her at school, but Mrs. K was not one to blend into a crowd. I would see her walking briskly across the school rotunda, tall and lean, wearing a skirt and a mauve-colored raincoat, holding a stuffed beige handbag in one hand, and a bright red coffee pot in the other. She seemed so confident, always looking straight ahead as she walked about school. Perhaps it was her hair that firs taught my eye. It was short, a mix of light brown and gray, combed slightly up--almost spiked. not the typical sort of hairstyle for an English teacher at our school. it set her apart and made her look dynamic. Already I knew that she was somebody special.

My first day in Mrs. K's class left much to be desired. I entered to find most of my classmates just laughing and joking. The first-day-of-school jitters had become passe, and the smugness that comes with seniordom dominated room. Suddenly the chattering diminished. Mrs. K was coming.

In she ambled, with her stuffed handbang and bright red coffee pt, wearing a skirt and the mauve raincoat; she was just as I had remembered. She scanned that room, and up went her right eyebrow. A most peculiar \"I-know-what-you-are-up-to\" smirk was our first greeting. Now I was nervous.

\"All right, ladies and gentlemen, I want to see if you belong in my class, \" she began. \"Take out a pen and lots of paper. \" Pause. \"Some of you know you don't really belong in here, \" she said, and it's time you stopped getting put in Honors English just because you passed some silly little test in second grade. Well now we're going to see what you can do. Okay now, stop and

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think for a moment, and get those creative juices going. I want you to write me a paper telling me the origin of the English language. You can be as creative as you want. Make up something if you have to--two cavemen grunting at each other, I don't care. You have until the end of the period. Go. \"

It was not the most encouraging welcome. For a moment the whole class just sort of slumped in their seats, drained suddenly of all vitality and hopes of a relaxed senior year. Blank faces abounded, mine included. I had no idea what to write. The origin of the English language? Being \"creative\" seemed too risky. What ever happened to the good old five paragraph essay with specific examples? Well I didn't have any specific examples anyway. I remember staring at a sheet of white paper, I remember staring at a sheet of white paper, then scrawling down some incoherent mumbo-jumbo. What a first day.

Fortunately, that first day with Mars. K would not be my last. Although the class size shrunk the following days as some students ran or their academic lives, I was not prepared to leave. I knew Mrs. K's class would be an arduous English journey, but I could never let myself miss it. It would be a journey well worth taking.

As the weeks continued, tidbits of Mrs. K's colorful past and philosophy about life would somehow always creep into lectures and class discussions. We found out she had served as a volunteer nurse in a combat hospital in Japan. During the 60s a wilder Mrs. K could be seen cruising the streets of San Francisco on motorcycle, decked out in long spiked boosts and short spiked hair. And there was a running joke about her age. Mrs. K could not be much less than 45,

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but she was forever 28.

I would come to deeply trust and respect this eccentric lady. I guess I have Oedipus Rex to thank for our first class meeting. We had to compose an extensive essay on the Oedipus Trilogy, on which much of our semester grade would be based. Foolishly, I chose to write on the most abstract topic, predestination and divine justice. I toiled for days, torturing myself trying to come up with some definitive conclusions. Finally, I realized my struggle was merely carrying my mind farther and farther adrift in a sea of confusion. I needed someone to rescue me; I needed Mrs. K.

We arranged to meet in the small room of teachers with red pens at work and administrators shooting the breeze over lunch. I crept inside with notes in hand and took a seat. She soon arrived, holding a tuna-on-wheat, a chocolate chip cookie, and the red coffee pot. \"I hope you don't mind if I eat while we talk, \" she said, \"but if you do, I'm going to eat anyway.\" Smile.

We talked the whole lunch period. I felt awkward at first, actually struggling to explain why I'd been struggling with the assignment. But then Mrs. K the Mentor emerged--soft spoken, introspective, wise. I opened up to her. We sat beside each other at that table, reflecting on predestination, divine justice, and life. A ray of sunshine cut through clouds of confusion. tow days and two drafts later, I had gained more than just a deep understanding of Oedipus Rex: I had gained a friend. What was it about this woman that enabled me to reveal a different part of myself? Never before had I spoken so openly about my thoughts, or about myself. Most people

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did not understand my cares and thoughts. But she understood.

I would go back to that room many afternoons later to sort my thought. To her I was no longer Erick but Hamlet, because of my pensive and complex nature. \"Okay hamlet, what's on your mind?\" our conversations would begin. Every writing assignment became an excuse to spend time after school talking and reflecting, me at the wooden table, her at her stool. We digressed on everything from Paradise Lost to Shakespeare to \"The Road Not Taken. \" Often I would learn about more than just literature: \"Life's not black and white, its' a hazy gray, and you've always got to use that wonderful piece of machinery God gave you and question things because nothing is clear-cut. \" I noticed my perceptions changing, as well as my writing style. More of my character entered my writing, and being \"creative\" no longer seemed risky. She told me to put more of myself into my creations, and I listened.

One afternoon near the end of my senior year, I asked her about her favorite novel. \"OH, without a doubt, Les Miserables, \" She replied. \"but I never could find an unedited version. \" On Graduation Day, in a sea of seniors hugging one another, red and blue mortarboards sailing through the air, I searched through the crowd for Mrs. K and handed her a small box. Inside with a long thank-you on the cover was a new copy of Les Miserables, unedited and unabridged.

I doubt that I will come across many others like Mrs. K. Only she would sit with me one-one-one, and review every minute detail of a draft. Only she would give up an afternoon just to shoot the breeze. Only she could I call a mentor, a confidant, and a friend. I still think of Mrs. K. Sometimes, when the pressures of college come crashing down, and the order of life

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seems to have run amok, I go to my room and slowly close the door and my eyes, sit down, and talk with Mrs. K.

\"Okay Hamlet, what's on your mind…\"

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