My alarm started to blare in my ear jerking me awake from another nightmare filled night, I looked over at the clock groggily as the angry red numbers pulsed in my face. My body felt heavy with sleep as I dragged myself into a sitting up position, Lily was still asleep next to me her young face peacefully glowing. I leaned over kissing her forehead as I slung myself out of the bed my feet hitting the cold tile flooring, a shiver ran up my legs and I stood up. It was far to early but I had to get both Lily and Robert for school then get my happy self off to work at the book store. I went into the shower and started up the hot water the steam billowing from the shower head. I stripped off my loose fitting pajamas leaving them in a heap on the floor and stepped into the shower. The hot water ran over my body filling my tightened muscles with relief, I scrubbed my hair harshly trying to hurry as I got out of the shower. I dried myself off and found myself some jeans and a soft cotton t-shirt, I raked my comb through my hair pulling hard at knotts. I french braided it tightly before going back into my bedroom and crawled on the floor to my bed trying to dig out my beaten up pair of converse. “ Lily… come on, it’s time for school,” I gently shook her awake watching her large coco brown eyes open. “ No… too early…” She whined rolling over and getting herself out of bed, “ Do you have to go to work today Anna?” I nodded a bit sadly, “ Sorry sweet. But, I’ve got to go.” She sighed and went over to the small walk in closet that we had converted into a bedroom for my little six year old brother. It tore at my heart everytime I watched them get ready for school, or when they get ready to go to bed at night that there is no possible way for... ... middle of paper ... ... wasn’t early to work because of it I thought it was worth spending the time with her. I painstakingly braid the crown around her head careful to make sure it wasn’t to tight that it would hurt her head but also made sure that it wasn’t falling out. Since Lily’s hair is already naturally curly I touched it up slightly with my curling iron before we decided to head out the door. We lived in the Macarthur Park area, the housing was cheap but the crime was terrible, I was always concerned letting them walk to school by themselves so I made sure that I walked them to school myself everyday. Finally we were all fed and ready to go, I slipped a hunting knife into my pocket before grabbing my satchel like purse my keys in hand. Lily had a firm hold of Jack’s hand as we stepped out in the grungy hallway and I locked our door tightly before taking a hold of Jack’s free hang.
This poem written by Francisco Alarcon describes the life of an illiterate man who finds himself signing away his freedom by placing his mark on a contract. He is unable to read the contract he is signing or even write his name. Being unable to read he leaves himself vulnerable to be taken advantage of and deceived. Alarcon, who was raised in a Hispanic community, was surrounded by illiteracy. Wanting to change the situation in which he was raised in he went to school to become a teacher and now focuses his efforts on eliminating illiteracy. This poem was written from the experience of watching those he cared about around him being taken advantage of because they were unable to read or write. "The X in My Name" shows the mistakes and ill consequences that illiteracy can bring upon those uneducated. It also sheds light onto how social structure and financial class play into illiteracy, and how detrimental illiteracy can be to those on the low end of the monetary spectrum. Though Alarcon only uses a few words it is easy to understand and see how the illiterate can be effortlessly be taken advantage of.
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
In the two separate articles, both titled “Does a Family Need to Share a Surname?” authors Liz Breslin and Laura Williamson have opposing opinions. Breslin believes that family members need to share a surname because she wants her family to be identified as a united family. In addition, in her opinion, using a same family surname also is a symbol of togetherness. By contrast, Williamson states that a family doesn’t need to share a surname because she thinks it isn’t necessary. Therefore, she gave her name to her son. I agree with Breslin because I think that people should follow the tradition, family togetherness, history.
The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.
The breeze from the spring day blew in from the window and lightly touched my mahogany skin. I was just coming home from school and was trying to escape the heat from outside. As I lied in the comfort of my bed, sprawled out in my white sheets, my mother barges into my room.
Everyone had woken up. I hopped out of my bed and approached the pile of my neatly folded clothes on an ancient wooden chair and picked them up. I put on my filthy white washed top; pulled up my compacted jeans; reached out to my red pointed hat and greasy brown boots and strolled down the
The third maddening buzz of my alarm woke me as I groggily slid out of bed to the shower. It was the start of another routine morning, or so I thought. I took a shower, quarreled with my sister over which clothes she should wear for that day and finished getting myself ready. All of this took a little longer than usual, not a surprise, so we were running late. We hopped into the interior of my sleek, white Thunderbird and made our way to school.
I woke up at six in the morning, the sunlight peaked through the blinds in my room. I wanted to roll over and fall back to sleep after slapping my alarm off even though I wanted to get to the jail as soon as possible. I finally forced myself awake; as soon as my feet touched the cold tile I got goose bumps. I shuffled over to the thermostat to turn the heat on then walked into the bathroom. While brushing my teeth I
“Agh but mom.” Alex grumbled, turned over in bed and slammed the pillow over his head.
“Time for you to get up I think, little man” she replied as she walked over to the window.
Cassandra groaned against her pillow, sleep continuing to evade her. Ironic that a part of her was desperately grateful that her body refused slumber. With sleep came dreams, with dreams...came him. A shiver ran along her spine and she recalled the dream she'd had in the bath house, the way he'd gently nudged her mind, her body. The worst part of it all,
“Dammit!” she yelled and quickly scurried out of bed when she saw it was almost ten in the morning.
We finished looking at the house as they did not feel comfortable letting us look upstairs where the bedrooms were. The house I had grew up in that had not been my own no longer brought the warm feeling in my heart or the comfort it brought me. I no longer felt happiness being there unless I closed my
The vibrant sun was shining its warmth upon the green, wet grass. There were puddles of water everywhere due to the past night’s rainfall. I was thirteen years old, short, and chubby at the time, with strawberry-blond hair and blue eyes. I was wearing a denim skirt and a blue t-shirt, which had a cute little bow at the top. My mom, with her curly red hair, blue eyes, and a constant smile that always lit up a room, came into my bedroom, which was purple with butterfly lights. She asked, “Are you ready to go honey?”