Miss Willow Bangs

Not everyone is what they seem. Miss Willow Bangs, the teacher who seems to have a soul made of stone and a heart that only pulses for arithmetic, is soft on the inside. This teacher, this "monster", this stealer of spring loves the Art Teacher. Miss Bangs wants to bask in Spring just as much as the children. Even though she is the teacher holding them hostage inside the brick walls, she has a free spirit. It isn't a child's spirit, but it is a spirit after all. Teachers feel the Spring too. They feel the longing for new beginnings. They aren't just lovers of pencils but of hearts as well. Remember that the next time you think a teacher has no soul; they long for Summer as much as you!

The Stuff of Souls

One day you’ll find him. Someone who can peer right into your mind. This person will be meant for you. No matter how hard you try to talk yourself out of love, this human will remain in your thoughts, your heart. You will want to spend the rest of your days by his side. Traveling the world with him sounds like the most beautiful thing. Spending nights under the stars gives you shivers. So don’t let this person go, whenever you find him. After all, he’s more yourself than you are. Whatever souls are made of, yours are the same.

I Wish

I wish I could tell her.
I wish I could touch her face.
I wish she was still the innocent girl I knew.
I wish she was mine for forever and a day.
I wish I wasn't such a fool.
I wish she hadn't left me alone and cold in this hard world.
I wish I could hold her just one last time.
I wish she could have read my mind.
I wish her lips still moved with happiness.
I wish she had waited only for me.
I wish she had stayed joyous with in.

Oh how I love you my sweet, sweet Catherine.

Happiness from Passion

"Do what makes you successful."
"Go to college to get a job."
"Read this to be well cultured."
"Wear these clothes."
"Eat this food."
"Vote for this person."

Culture has made us a generation of rule followers. Those who push buttons or contradict authority are wrong for society. Greed has overrun us. All we want are the big cars and the fancy houses but so many lose their life along the way. We all get so concerned with success that we forget what we actually loved in the first place. When we look back over our lives we won't remember the days we made the most money. We will remember the days that we laughed the hardest and made us the happiest. Instead of going down the set track that seems to be the only thing of importance today, do what makes you happy.

Catherine married for money, for status, for security. But she knew the man that made her heart glad wasn't Edgar, it was Heathcliff. After all the time she had spent obsessing over image and appearance as a sophisticated lady, it took one look into Heathcliff's eyes to remind her of her happiness. The kind of happiness that doesn't come from materials but, rather, from the soul.

Don't be like Catherine. Follow the heart and do what gives you joy because no one ever regrets happiness.

I Thought I Knew It All

I thought, this week, I would write about heart ache. It's not the required topic nor is it a favorite subject for most but sometimes writing just makes things better. There are times in our lives when things don't go as planned. When the water boils out of the pan. When the safety pin isn't long enough. When the car runs out of gas. When your heart gets broken. Everyone tells you how to deal with failure but no one ever tells you how much it will break you. No one tells you how one little sentence can tear you to pieces. I believe myself to be strong but sometimes I can't even stand tall. Under the weight of the world, I am slowly being crushed. I thought I knew so much, it turns out I knew too little. I wish I could understand why it hurt so much, why I can't seem to brush it off like the other little things in life. But I know there is better waiting for me. Who knows where it lies, but it is out there, just for me. It is perfect and real and worthy of my life. Heart ache seems to last a life time. A second turns into hours, a day into years. But sometimes one must be defeated to become the hero. Don't choose a battle that will only kill you. Choose a defeat that will raise you from the dust. I thought I knew it all. Well, I didn't.

Thrown Away Key, Thrown Away Mind

"I have locked the door and thrown away the key..." (The Yellow Wall Paper)

The woman has literally thrown the key out of the attic room. She has locked the room and disposed of the key. The room has taken her in and consumed her.

However, the woman has locked the door to her mind and thrown away the only way to get in. All throughout the short story, she continuously loses her mind further. The door represents the woman's small ounce of sanity still left in her. The key is her wish to succumb to her overworking and delusional mind. She chooses to lock her door and become part of the cracked and dead yellow wall paper.

When she throws the key into oblivion, the woman goes with it; into a deserted land of nothingness. She travels to the land of her own whims. And no one can get back in.

An Extremely Scary Sojourn

As I stumble through the fog surrounding Skyview Academy, I search for the doorway that seems to be invisible.

Ouch! A wall appears out of no where and knocks me to my feet. Jolting my vision, I catch sight of the glass double doors leading into the school. I scramble to my feet and leap for the cold, hard handle hoping to escape the oppressing gloom of the outside. I dread another day of class.

As soon as I store my incredibly envied neon backpack in my locker I launch toward my classroom wondering what is in store.

I open the door and expect to see the classroom in its normal form but to my horror everyone of my classmates is gathered around a steaming pot filled with gooey, green slime. Even Mrs. Smith has joined in on the astonishing scene before my eyes. I glance at Connor, the one who never bothers to show up to class, as he chants "the time has come the song is over." I catch eyes with Daniel, with whom I match everyday (or coordinate), as he replies "thought I had more to say." I am absolutely terrified at this point and look to Carly, who usually is there to comfort me with a joke and steal my salami, but instead she holds a newt over the cauldron looking to pouty Reese for the signal to drop it. During all this, Jill and Seide frantically hop around the pot flailing their arms every which way. Jeremiah sits in his usual corner reading "Young Goodman Brown." Mikaela, who always has a headband stuck in her hair, draws on the board with red marker, GOOD MORNING LEXI... YOU'RE LATE.

It is terrifying.

I awake from my deep sleep feeling nauseous and overwhelmed. I notice a blurry figure before me. Soon, I focus my vision on the towering Mrs. Smith. I quickly raise my head, embarrassed. I glance around the room and strangely everything is how it should be. Carly tells Connor to "shut up" for the 30 millionth time that day. Reese texts and cries. Seide does homework for other classes. Jillian actually is doing the work assigned to her. Mikaela doodles on her page and speaks in Spanish and Arabic at the same time. Daniel talks in rhymes that no one understands. Connor brushes his hair out of his face just like Edward from Twilight. Mrs. Smith says "Lexi, you've been sleeping there for five minutes. Are you ok? Did you sleep well last night?" I smile groggily back and say "Everything's fine. I'm fine. Just fine." Mrs. Smith responds with a sweet smile. As Mrs. Smith slowly turns to return to her desk, I notice a sinister glint in my teacher's eye. Her mouth slowly curves into a mocking grin which every student imitates. Leaving me shaking where I sit.

ULTIMATE LOVE

Phoenix travels long and hard. She gets caught in thorns and crosses over bridges that almost take her life. She dances with death (the scarecrow). Even though she gets to where she wants to go, she is still seen as useless and a nuisance. Phoenix goes through great lengths to obtain the medicine that will allow her grandson to live a life.


"A Worn Path" displays how the world treats the elderly and love itself. The man, that Phoenix meets on the road, explains he has no money to give to Phoenix yet a coin has just dropped out of his pocket. The old woman was not worthy of the money. After all she is just a "granny" keeled over in a ditch. The man with the gun just sees a foolish woman traveling a tattered path. So much of the world views the older generations as stuck in their own ways or old fashioned. Even though Phoenix walks the same road over and over again she does it for a purpose. It's the only way she knows. When Phoenix finally reaches the hospital she is given a coin out of charity. The nurses don't understand why she would walk this whole way in her condition. Phoenix understands the true meaning of love. In today's culture, love is too easy, too simple. After a few months of a relationship, "I love you" comes out. Phoenix understands the true love of sacrifice and struggle. She travels until her fragile body cannot go any further. Love isn't easy, it is a worn and hardened path. The ultimate love has no limits.

I Am Araby.

I wait for the rich to enter my bowels and meander through. I display my assets and greatest jewels hoping that they will catch a wanderer's eye. It is too crowded inside me and I burst here and there. The constant flirting of the salesman destroy me little by little. I am an ancient way of life, a part of people's history. All I want is to sell the items that make up my heritage.

As the small boy, with big eyes, enters into my long corridors, he is too late. I have grown dark. I feel tired and empty. Too many have come before the boy and I have nothing left to give. He seems lost or broken. I didn't satisfy him. But then again, I never satisfy anyone, I'm just a market, just Araby.

A Saving Grace

Music is not just sounds. It is a heartbeat to be felt, a drone to be internalized. When life is smooth and everything is a pattern, music is forgotten. The constant radio playing fades into the background. The great pianists, the timeless reggae bands, the forever popular sounds of country twang somehow meld into the day. But what so many people forget is that music speaks to the soul. It has a way of reaching into the deepest parts of a heart. Sometimes hitting nerves and emotions that one did not even know he had. No one understands that more deeply than the man in his darkest hour. For music is the only thing that will listen and answer with out a scornful eye and harsh hand.

Sonny, the piano playing genius, found his hope and rescue in music. Just as Sonny "suffers from the limits that his circumstances have constrained him with," the music suffered along side him. Blues reached out its hand and took hold of the floundering boy locked in the clutch of drugs. Throughout the story of Sonny's Blues, the reader recognizes the healing powers associated with his piano playing fire.

Maybe, I should have some amazing metaphor or a suggestion of an analogy but I adore the way James Baldwin simply portrays music as a saving grace. It is a beautiful thing because only the man with a passion for the way an instrument plays under his fingers, will understand.

Go Ahead, Be Obsessed!

"Wow did you see that new movie? It was so great! The special effects rocked." Movies, music, television, just some of the obsessions of our culture today. Children are enthralled with new TV series that have low morals. Teens spend hundreds of dollars going to the movie theatre. Some might say that popular entertainment is destroying human's minds and bodies. However, isn't reading still very popular? The popular habit of reading as a form of entertainment has not died, thank goodness. And it never should! No matter how many people claim that the popular entertainment forms fill our heads with nonsense and take us away from real life, reading will always be the only way to understand and believe in life as we should.

When I was little I sat in my small rocking chair reading Ferdinand the Bull every single day. It was the first hard back book I remember owning. It is the one book on my bookshelf that looks like it has been loved to the point of dying. I was slightly in love with Ferdinand and the flowers he smelled under the cork tree. Reading is a way for a mind to wander but feel safe, learn yet forget, become whole but still want more. Books teach us about the world, people, situations. Ferdinand the Bull didn't destroy my mind but instead proved to me that being different is good. In fact, it's a great thing. Within every popular entertainment form there will be inappropriate, stupid story plots. Does that mean we should disregard the whole practice, such as watching TV. No! Because for every bad there is a good. For every idiotic, poorly written fantasy novel there will always be a brilliant J.R.R. Tolkien masterpiece. For every book that claims to be suspense and falls short, there will always be a John Grisham nail biter. Pop entertainment is a way for people to know what is going on in the world and understand the view points of valuable thinkers. Reading is one way to get that information and also escape into a world where one can become someone else! It's an amazing thing!

Reading is just one form of the popular entertainment we are so familiar with. It's true, too much TV or too much computer time can be detrimental to children growing up but no one can ever read too much. It is the only popular entertainment that being obsessed with is good thing. Popular entertainment isn't hurting culture, it is giving life to it in the form of books. I hope that popularity never dies or is taken away!

The Red Curtain

Hurry! Quick! You're late! What were you thinking stopping for a coffee? You have to sing in an hour! Idiot. Before I get the mic I need to do my hair. Should I curl it? No, that looked stupid last night. But it's what the director wants my hair to look like... no! I'm not curling my hair. TOO MUCH TIME. Why won't this mic tape stick to my freaking face! Remember that note in the second act. It's a G not an F. "Why isn't your hair curled?" Great, I have to curl my hair. This eyeliner is too light. My eyes need to look amazing for that cute guy who just sat down in the front row. AHHHH. Hey, does anyone have midnight black eyeliner?? Makeup looks great. Mic is on. Hair is done. "You need your mic check! The house is open!" Um, can I just not do a mic check. I sound the same every single night. "No, get a mic check." Fine, check, one, two, three. La la la la la la. "Ok, you're good." See, I didn't need a mic check. 10 minutes to places. Crap, costume! I need my costume. "Can you braid my hair?" Sure! Why do I always say yes to doing people's hair? 5 minutes. Shirt, skirt, shoes, hat, tights... don't have tights. That's ok I'll just wear the green ones I have on now. No one will notice. My mom will notice, yes she will notice. Whatever. I bow second not third. And the opening number is my time! PLACES FOR THE TOP OF THE SHOW! Can you go fill up my water bottle? I'm dying. Don't make so much noise walking across this stage. Why does it have to be so dark? Wait, my prop!!!! "Please sit back and relax and enjoy the performance." I love the sound of that curtain opening. Holy, there is a lot of people out there. Oh hey, there's my teacher. Music starts. Lights up. Characters on. Let's do this!

The Dandelion

This dandelion represents Rose of Sharon. As everyone knows, a dandelion dies after all its petals have flown away to plant new seeds, for new flowers, for new beginnings. Rose of Sharon has been stretched too much! Her husband abandoned her. She gave birth to a lifeless child. Not knowing what she would find in California, she deserted her homeland and traveled in squelching heat for days, she was pregnant, and starving. However, Rose of Sharon does not complain. Everyone that meets her gets a sense of her unearthly joy and peace. She is always leaving pieces of herself with others. Just like the dandelion. As the flower lets go of it's petals, Rose of Sharon let's go of bitterness and hatred and turns those feelings into love and contentedness that blossom when planted. In this particular picture, this dandelion has one petal left to give. Rose of Sharon gives her last petal at the end of the book when she forgets her dignity to save a dying man. The dandelion will not go on living as a beautiful flower, as it has given everything it has to give. Even though it is no longer young and pretty, it has presented a chance for many other flowers to grow. Rose of Sharon has lost her youth and the time of blooming, for her, has long passed but she has scarified for the ones she loves.

It's Their Culture, Not Ours.

The Sochi Olympics! This is a time for the world to come together and embrace the talents of others. This is a time for cultures to unite. It's a time for nations to experience other ways of life and enjoy it. However, these 2014 Olympic games have turned into a whining fest for Americans. "The water is yellow!" "I have no door handle!" According to some of my classmates, these conditions are "HORRIFIC." But once again, The USA is making it all about themselves! They aren't comfortably roomed in a four star hotel, so they are going to complain about it all over social media and make Russia sound like hell hole where no one is worthy to live. Well, that needs to change. American athletes need to stop their dramatics about hotel water and start living for the games. In frank, this is a time for the USA to suck it up and stop complaining about cultures they don't and will never understand.

The problem with the American culture today is that athletes are worshipped. They live in penthouses and make millions of dollars. However, that status must drop when entering a foreign country. In my trips over seas, homeless men go to the bathroom in the streets and leave the waste out to rot. Our family doesn't drink the water because it is yellow but we DO NOT complain. We brush our teeth with bottled water. 20 Homeless dogs were on our heels in Greece. News Flash, American Olympians! Dogs roam the land in other countries. Who cares if there is a dog at the bottom of the ski slope. It will not alter the athlete's score, unless they are also judged on aristocratic complaining. Americans, as a whole, must be humble when traveling. America is blessed. We have beds to sleep in every night and we have fresh water. We have protection. Other nations don't. This is a time for The USA to show compassion and honor when dealing with less fortunate people. Instead of making the people of Russia feel like failures for not putting on the greatest Olympics of all time, let's instill them with a sense of dignity and let's be grateful! The athletes need to hold close to their hearts the experiences of dirty water, and the sights of stray dogs, and the laughs of unfinished rooms. Because in the end, it will be a memory. I once stayed in a room with my whole family on the top of hill (literally), with a toilet that didn't flush, a bed that wasn't soft, a door that didn't close and froze the room, and smelled of garbage. The owner greeted us in his strawberry boxers... But we were in Greece! An hour away from Athens, one of the most historical cities in the world. And somehow that memory of a gross motel room with a strange, owner man ,who spoke absolutely no english, turned into a joyous remembrance of the most beautiful place I've ever visited. It is their culture. And it is my job to love it just the way it is.

So, instead of laughing at Russia for their poor accommodations or their "unpreparedness", look around, American Olympians. You are in Russia! The home of some of the most beautiful architecture on the planet. Stop complaining and enjoy the best two weeks of your life. Make every moment count. Make sure to use bottled water when you brush your teeth so you can laugh about the "old days in Sochi when their wasn't real water" when you are ninety. Remember it is their culture. Russians live with the poor water everyday. They have dogs on their doorstep that beg for food. AMERICANS DON'T. Respect the place that is called Russia. Embrace the mishaps. Because in the end it won't be Russia that looks unprepared or undignified, it will be America that appears as discontented, spoiled brats.

The Children Are Hungry

Their stomachs cramp. Their sleep is restless. Their life is horrid. The children were always hungry. All they wanted was an orange, a piece of meat, something to fill their deprived tummies. But there was no work for the Oakies and if the father starves so does the child. 

Steinbeck utilizes short sentences within chapter 19 of the Grapes of Wrath. By creating every sentence in a precise, cryptic manner, the reader feels the sense of urgency that the father feels in the story. He needs food for his family! Or they will die. The travlers from Oakland were no longer the men looking for work, no, they had become the starving Oakies. Their shame could not evade them. They were starving their own children.