The Escape (non-fiction story I wrote for my creative writing class)

Her face was battered, bruised, and drenched with a
mixture of sweat and tears, as she was thrown to the hard tile floor. She
instinctively contorted her body into the fetal position to protect herself
from further abuse. Her attacker, my father, began pacing back and forth
yelling out expletives. He too was sodden, though there were no tears, just
sweat. He looked foreign to me, like a wild animal, and his breath reeked of
alcohol. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, every time he drank this
stuff, this poison, this magic elixir, he was transformed into an treacherous
monster. After he’d calmed down, he lumbered away to their bedroom and
collapsed on the bed. My mother lay in a heap on the floor, trembling. I made
my way over to her, knelt down, and we helped her up.
It wasn’t always like this, there was once a time when we
were the picture perfect family, like the ones in old TV shows. My dad,
Stephen, had been a jock in college, joining both the baseball and track team.
After graduating, he started his career as a defense attorney. My mother,
Olivia, studied the culinary arts in school and later opened her own cake shop,
“Sugar and Spice.” So, coming from two very successful parents, I had the
luxury of attending the Kindlewood Academy, the most prestigious and expensive
junior high school in Rochester Hills, Michigan.
In retrospect, I realize that our perfect family was a
mere blanket covering our real problems. I didn’t find out that my dad had been
physically abusing my mother until I reached the eighth grade. By this time, we
had moved into our new house in a secluded neighborhood on the outskirts of
town. My mother came to my school to pick me up from my Friday track meet.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about this, but something made me uneasy
as I slid into the passenger seat of her Charger. Normally she’d be bombarding
me with typical motherly questions like, “How was your day,” “Did you win any
races,” and “Do you have any homework?” Instead she remained completely silent.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked, studying her face in the
dark car for even the slightest clue to why she was so quiet tonight. No
answer.
“I think we should go out to eat. Maybe Denny’s?” I was
getting worried now.
“That’s fine,” she croaked in a low voice as though she
hadn’t spoken in days.
“What’s wrong mom?”
“Nothing Zeke,” she said, trying to mask her feelings
with a cheerful voice. I knew otherwise though. My mom and I were inseparable.
If there was anything remotely close to a “cool parent” then she was it. I was
always comfortable confiding in her. My father, on the other hand, was hard to
talk to. He was short fused and so wrapped up in his own little world that he
barely had time for us.
“Why are you wearing shades?” I asked, still sifting for
information, “It’s dark out.”
As
we pulled into the Denny’s parking lot, I was able to get a better glimpse of
my mom. Her face was streaked with tears. My heart sank.
“Mom,” I gasped, “what happened?” The only time I’d seen
her cry was at my grandmother’s funeral. I found myself trying to force my own
tears back.
“It was my fault, I
forgot to pack his lunch,” she cried. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I
wanted so desperately for her to be kidding. My dad wouldn’t dare hit her.
Sure, they had arguments, but what couple didn’t?
“He hit you?!” She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer for she
was weeping uncontrollably. She removed her shades from her face instead. I was
horrified. Her left eye was bloodshot and swelled so much that it was almost
closed. And there was a bandage on her left cheek. The level of anger I felt at
this point was inconceivable. My denial of the situation was quickly
eradicated.
“We can’t stay,” I reasoned, “We have to leave.” It
didn’t take any persuasion for her to agree. She’d probably been thinking the
same thing. We left the parking lot without eating and headed for the Comfort
Inn to spend the night. We would go back and get our things in the morning
while he was at work. Our plan seemed fool-proof. We checked in using cash so
that he couldn’t trace the credit card and parked the car across the street at
an abandoned car wash. Little did we know, the car was traceable through the On
Star service. I ordered room service while my mom lounged on her bed planning
our next day.
There was a knock at the door. I peered through the
peephole. There was a portly lady with wispy gray hair and a cart standing
outside. I opened the door and received our dinner, tipped her, and shut the door.
I started toward the small table in our room, but there was another knock. I
figured that the old lady had forgotten to give us something. As soon as I
opened the door, I was thrust to the floor with great force, food spilling
everywhere. It was my dad. Then he directed his attention on my mother, who had
backed herself in the corner of the room.
“I told you, you aren’t leaving me,” he growled in hushed
rage. He took two steps toward her and I did the only thing I could think to
do. I lunged myself at him, throwing punches wildly. I knew I was no match for
him, but I had to try. He punched me in my stomach and I fell backwards hitting
my head on the dresser on the way down. A searing pain formed in the back of my
head and consumed my whole body. I could just barely make out my dad’s figure
closing in on my mom then the room began spinning and soon everything went
black.
I awoke at home in my bed. Was that all a dream? I
attempted to get out of bed but was stopped short as I felt the familiar
throbbing pain in my head. I was bedridden for the next two days. My mom would
come in every now and then to make sure I was fine and, when my dad was away,
plan a better escape. We had become prisoners in our own home. Our plan was to
pack just one bag each. When he left for work we would make our move. We’d run
to the roadside where there’d be a cab waiting for us, withdraw $10,000 dollars
from the bank and get as far out of town as possible. My mom’s employees would
take care of the shop.
When my head was healed we put our plan into action. We
had our suitcases packed and hidden in the closet in the guest room. There was
just one problem; he wasn’t going to work. He had taken his vacation this week.
As soon as he woke up, he began drinking. This is how we ended up in this
situation.
After he had collapsed on the bed in his room, I helped
my mom up and we waited about ten minutes for him to start snoring. I gathered
our bags and my mom called the cab. We were going to make it.
Suddenly,
his phone started to ring. It had to be the loudest ringtone I’d ever heard. He
tossed and turned and eventually sat up in bed and answered. My mother quickly
yanked the luggage away from me and concealed them behind the curtains in the
living room just as he walked out of the room.
He
was heading toward the fridge again. My mother and I traded nervous stares for
both of us knew that the cab would be coming any second now. Five minutes
passed and he remained sitting on the couch watching television. Then, for some
reason, he stood up and went toward the widow. I held my breath. He saw them.
“You’re
trying to leave me?” he yelled in his slurred, drunken speech. He was furious.
With all his might, he threw the suitcases across the room and then went for my
mom. He caught her by her neck and began choking her. I ran over and kicked,
punched, and pulled at him but he would not let go. I looked around frantically
for a weapon. I grabbed his bat out of the display case with the rest of the
paraphernalia from his glory days and with all of my energy swung it at him.
The
bat broke upon impact and he released my mom, who instantly gasped for air. The
blow to the head had killed him. We were free. I collapsed to the floor and
cried with my mother.

The film, The Island, deals with a fictional ethical issue that is quickly becoming a reality. Should cloning humans for organs be allowed? In The Island, clones are being made in order to provide their counterparts with organs, body parts, or anything else harvestable. This “luxury” is extremely expensive, so all of the clones are of rich and famous people. The clones were kept in an asylum where they were monitored all day. To avoid rebellion, the clones were tricked into believing that they were survivors of an apocalyptic contamination of the earth. They were told that there was only one safe haven left on earth, an island and the only way to go to the island was to “win” a lottery, which was thought to be a random selection. Actually, when they did “win” the lottery, it meant that their counterparts were ready for a part. During the movie, two of the clones escape and expose the inhumanity of the situation.

With animal and plant cloning currently being experimented and perfected, human cloning is becoming an increasing possibility. This movie didn’t go into detail about the side effects of human cloning, such as deformities or deaths. It dealt more with how clones would be raised / kept. Clones are genetic copies of the individual from which they were derived so they would be capable of rational thought. If the clones were aware that they were created to be harvested for their parts, there would have been an uprising. This is why they were told the lie about the island. This raises questions about the morality of harvesting clones for organs. “Should one living being be killed to save another’s life?” and furthermore, “Should one living being be killed to donate parts?” I use the term “donate” lightly when speaking about clones because donate implies that there’s free will.

Another issue The Island raises is whether or not clones have the right of free will, or if they have any rights at all. The main character, Lincoln Six Echo, starts to doubt that there is even an island at all. He becomes angered at how closely they are monitored and wonders why. In order for clones to have rights, they would have to be humans. Again this is yet another controversial topic that seems to appear in the film. To prevent the clones from reproducing with one another the overseers implement a proximity rule that keeps men and women separate. Regardless of the rules, Lincoln still makes a friend with a clone woman named Jordan Two Delta. This incident shows that clones may have the capacity to love and the urge to mingle with the opposite sex. It is apparent that the most complicated problem that rises when pondering the ethics of cloning is the question of their rights.

Some of the female clones were created to give birth to children for regular people. The movie didn’t elaborate as to whether these birthing clones were of a woman who could not give birth or someone who was a good candidate for birth. The woman in the movie that birthed the baby was, of course, elated to have given birth and wanted to see her baby after it was born but the doctors quickly took the infant away to give to the non-cloned mother. The clone that had given birth was then killed since she had done her job. This raises a whole new issue of the ethicality of using clones as living vessels for child birth. Should a life be taken in order to give a life?

The film takes a dramatic plot twist after Lincoln and Jordan escape from the cloning asylum. The issue of cloning is not addressed much anymore until Lincoln meets his counterpart. One can imagine the eeriness of standing face to face with “themselves”. The problem with clones living among their counterparts is that there would be an identity conflict. People could commit crimes and blame it on their clones or vice versa. When a clone is made they are meant to be exact replicas, so they would also have the same fingerprints as their original copies.

As for me, I am against human cloning altogether, but if they are created, I believe that they should be given the same rights as ordinary humans. Rights are something that everyone is entitled to; animals even have rights, so there is no reason why clone should be without them. Some say that clones are not humans but I beg to differ. If you look at the genetic make-up of a clone and an ordinary human, you would not be able to tell which one is a clone.

As I stated before, clones have brains and are capable of thought and hence free will. Now those who are for cloning humans for organs try to argue that we could “make the clones dumb” to stop them from feeling or thinking. Is this not the same logic that slave owners used to keep their slaves suppressed? The clones in The Island were ignorant as to what they were but did that make it right? Just because someone is dumb doesn’t make them less than human or give one the right to kill them.

When faced with the earlier issue about the clone mother, one must wonder what kind of complications there are for clones to have children. Surely there is bound to be some sort of problem with clones reproducing either with each other or an ordinary human. Also, using someone as a means to an end is, especially involuntarily, is wrong. I’m pretty sure the clone mother, if given the chance, would have kept her baby and would have wanted to live.

With advances in technology, more and more things are becoming possible. As a result, more ethical questions must be answered. The Island brilliantly depicts the situations we may have to face in the future. The conclusion that is inferred in the movie is that cloning is immoral. It’s wrong to kill an innocent person for the benefit of another.

Interviewing my grandma

I did this interview when I was in the ninth grade. I recently found my old flash drive and this was one of the files on it. I think it's pretty good for ninth grade!
On July 30th 1936 a baby by the name of Betty Mencel, was born. Later to be known as Betty Heflin after marrying Herbert Heflin. Little did she know that in just 5 years her life would change due to the second world war. Although Betty Heflin was only 5 years old when Pearl Harbor was bombed and the U.S. declared war, she still remembers how it was living in that time.
The United States entered the “world wide war” in 1941. At that time Franklin Delano Roosevelt was in office and the economy had just been brought up from the Great Depression. “I remember hearing about it on the radio,” said Betty Heflin with a spaced look on her face, as if she were reliving the moment. “I was so young I didn’t really understand what was going on, but when I saw my mother shaking her head and tears coming into her eyes, I knew it couldn’t be good.
Betty Heflin was the 8th born of 9 children. She recalls that she used to think her older brother was her father. Although, during that time most African Americans were poor. Betty Heflin, however, was considered to have a “rich family.” Her mom worked cleaning houses and sewing clothing. She stated, “The blacks that worked cleaning the white people houses were better off than the ones that worked in the fields.”
1941 was also the first time the Army Air Corps opened its enlistment to African Americans. James White, Betty Heflin’s older brother went to war during that time. Although he wasn’t in the Air Corps branch, James White was only 18 when he became a soldier. With a smirk on her face, Betty Heflin remembered “Me and my mamma didn’t want him to go. . .but he insisted on it. . .he wanted to fight for his country.”
Betty Heflin remembers that during the war there were many blackouts. When there was a problem, a siren would go off, letting everyone know there was an emergency. Sometimes her second oldest brother, who was a boy scout, would ring the church bells in case of an emergency. When the siren went off it was to tell everyone that they should stay together in a house or find a certain place to go to, like a school house. Betty Heflin lived less than a mile away from Camp Blanding in Starke, Florida. Camp Blanding is a military installation near Jacksonville, Florida. Today it is the Florida Army National Guard’s primary training area. It is located in north-central Florida. While smiling, Betty Heflin told me that “ I remembered the soldiers and how they would patrol the area in trucks, or they could have just been passing by to get to Camp Blanding.”
Another thing Betty Heflin remembered from her childhood was that during the war the food was rationed. Rationing is when goods that are used for the military are sold but only a limited amount per customer. “Oh yes, we had tickets for certain products that we could get at the commissary on the military base.” Betty Heflin stated. She remembers that they could only buy a certain amount of butter, and sugar. The rationing system was set up by the OPA, or Office of Price Administration. The “tickets” that Betty Heflin referred to were actually coupons. Each household received ration books filled with coupons to buy scarce items that were used by the soldiers fighting in the war. Also, butter and sugar weren’t the only items that were rationed. The list also included shoes, meat, coffee, and gasoline.
With the large number of men gone to help out with the war effort, the economy still had to continue; hence many women began receiving jobs that were once held by men. Even though Betty Heflin’s mom already had a job before World War II, her auntie however, didn’t. Daisy Able worked as an at home mother with 4 kids at the time the war broke out. When her husband went off to war, Daisy was forced to get a “man’s” job so she could support her family. Betty Heflin’s mother provided a great deal of help for her only sister. Even with 9 children she still found the space and time to care for her sister’s. “Man, that house used to be so packed at times I thought we were having a get together or a family reunion. . .it was fun to me!” Betty Heflin had two older sisters and six older brothers. One of her sisters was working and 4 of her brothers had jobs so they were able to support the two families, but just barely. In addition to jobs Betty Heflin also remembered how women began playing sports now that the men were gone. Sports like baseball were being played by women because the American people still felt the need for entertainment.
Just 4 years after the United States entered the war, it was over. The Allies won and there were new economic opportunities for grabs. Betty Heflin remembers it as a “welcome home party” for her brother and uncle. “I didn’t pay no attention to the war I just knew that my mom said my brother was coming home, and I couldn’t wait!”
Today you can find Betty Heflin in Ocala, Florida living with her daughter Faye Goring. She is retired and she is my grandmother.

2 Teach is 2 Learn 4 ever (my volunteering experience at an elementary school)

Turie T. Small, an elementary school located in Daytona Beach, is an institution dedicated to discovery and learning. They believe that education is an essential ingredient for a child’s future success. Their philosophy is explained in their vision statement:

We at Turie T. Small will work to create a motivational and meaningful environment to all. We believe every child will learn and reach his or her full potential. Our students take pride in themselves, take responsibility for their actions and develop an attitude that education is vital. They will apply these attributes to setting goals for the future in order to be successful contributors in our democratic society. We are building today for a better tomorrow. We are doing it all at Turie T. Small.

I did my volunteer hours at Turie T. Small. With my major, English education, it only makes sense that I experience working at a school. For the short time that I volunteered there, I was faced with quite a few learning experiences. For example, the students had to get in groups to read together. Everyone took turns reading a page out of the book but when we got to the student I was tutoring, he read too quiet for anyone to hear. One of the teachers informed me that he was not a very good reader, which I knew was not true because I had just helped him with his homework and he read exceptionally well. While everyone else continued reading I convinced him that he was a good reader and that he should read. So, when he gave it a try, he surprised a lot of the other students that thought that he simply could not read. After that day, he began to open up to his peers and make friends.
I knew what to do in the situations I faced at Turie T. because I had had prior experience with young children from helping out at my mom’s home daycare. I believe that every child has the capacity to learn, some just require additional attention or effort. Of course there were those students who were problematic. Some students, mostly the older ones, had made up their minds already that they would not do their homework. Dealing with these students took an extreme amount of patience. I knew that they did not want to do their homework but knew that they would have to. When dealing with these types of students I made sure I was firm but understanding. Once I related to them, we were no longer enemies and were able to tough it through their homework.
There were also students that were born leaders. One of them, Destiny, was always the one who volunteered to read first, pass out folders, or anything else she could do to help. Another student that is bound to succeed is Benny. Saying that he is smart is an immense understatement. Anytime I was paired with him for tutoring, I knew my job would be easy. Then there was Moniqua, she was always in the know about the happenings at Turie T. Small. Sometimes the teachers would ask her if they were unsure about it themselves. Her only downfall is her talkativeness which I think she’ll be able to control later on.
The experiences I had volunteering at Turie T. Small Elementary School will stay with me forever. As volunteers, it was our job to help teach the children but in actuality, we were the ones being taught. Volunteering at Turie T. was definitely a positive experience for me and I wouldn’t mind doing it again for my next volunteer hours.

African American History - What I'll do to succeed in this class.

I believe that African American history is an essential subject for every student, regardless of ethnicity, because it shows the ability of a group of people to succeed even when the odds are against them. In order to complete this class, I have and will continue to make sacrifices. I plan on completing all assignments as soon as possible. To insure my success, I am willing to give up anything that might obstruct my way. I understand that there may be questions that I don’t know, books I’ll dread reading, or essays I will be reluctant to write. But I believe that with determination and perseverance, success is inevitable. In past classes, I have always been one to contribute to classroom discussions. I intend on continuing this habit while in African American History. My knowledge on the history of my people is extremely limited as I’ve gone to schools that devote only 28 or 29 days to teaching students the subject. It’s because of my lack of knowledge on this topic that I will be bringing eagerness and questions to the academic atmosphere.

"Revelation at the Toystore" (What was the lesson learned?)

In “The Lesson” by Toni Cade Bambara, a group of African American children are exposed to a different socio economic class than their own. Their teacher, a neighborhood college graduate named Miss Moore, takes them to visit F.A.O. Schwarz, a famous toy store in New York. The children are astonished by the prices of the toys, especially the main character, Sylvia. She becomes enraged that there are people who would pay $35 for a toy clown when her family pays the same amount for rent. Despite her anger, the trip to the toy store has a positive effect on Sylvia in the long run.

“Who are these people that spend that much for performing clowns and $1000 for toy sailboats? What kinda work they do…?” These questions are pondered by Sylvia when she notices a toy boat at the store. Her questions show that she notices her own economic standing and is comparing it to another. It’s a good thing that Sylvia is angered by this because she may try harder later on to change her socio-economic class. Sylvia realizes that the people who can afford $1000 sailboats must have jobs that pay well. This knowledge will also give her the encouragement to move up in life. At the end of the story, Sylvia’s cousin, Sugar, tries to race her to the ice cream store. But Sylvia has a revelation. She vows that no one will beat her at anything. She is not just speaking about races, Sylvia plans on excelling financially too. In order to do this she would have to further her education. It is obvious that the positive that comes from her visit to F.A.O. Schwarz surpasses her anger.

To sum it all up, Sylvia’s experience at the toy store is beneficial to her. She will probably strive harder to obtain what she wants. Also, Sylvia has learned another valuable lesson. Although she is poor now, it doesn’t mean that she has to remain that way for the rest of her life.

"Parenting Styles" Willy Loman Vs. Charlie (Based on Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman"

“Death of a Salesman” by Arthur Miller is a timeless tale of the last days of Willy Loman, a sixty-three year old traveling salesman. In the story, Willy begins to hallucinate about the past. His hallucinations are believed to be the result of how his sons, Biff and Happy’s, lives turned out. Biff, thirty-four, has moved from job to job since he dropped out of high school and for a brief time went to jail. He wants to work on a farm though it’s against his father’s wishes and he feels like he should be “making a fortune” at this point in his life. Happy, the youngest of the two, lives in an apartment and keeps telling his parents that he will settle down and get married, though he isn’t going anywhere in his business and enjoys sleeping with many different women. The Loman’s next door neighbor, Charley, owns his own business and his son Bernard has become one of his most valuable employees. It is apparent that Charlie is doing something right when it comes to parenting. His techniques are much more effective than Willy’s.

Willy, though he meant well, tried to be a friend more than a father to his sons. In the play, he makes a feeble attempt at reprimanding Biff for stealing a football from school. Then he gives immediately, trying to reason that the coach would probably commend Biff for taking the initiative to practice with a regulation ball at home. The problem here is that Willy is interested with appearances more than academics. He thought that since Biff was so popular in school that he’d excel in life as well. Exaggeration is another flaw in Willy Loman’s parenting. When he says, “Go to Filene’s, go to the Hub, go to Slattery’s, Boston. Call out my name Willy Loman and see what happens! Big shot!” we see how he tries to talk himself up. Probably the greatest problem with his parenting style is that he did not set a good example for his sons. This is displayed when Biff catches him having an affair in a hotel room in Boston. Throughout the whole play Willy is unsure whether or not he raised his sons correctly.

The opposite could be said about Charley. Though we don’t know much about his background, we can gather what type of father he is by observing his son Bernard. For example, when Bernard tries to warn Willy that Biff was failing he was brushed aside. One can infer that Bernard only went to Willy because he thought that he would have commanded that Biff take more interest in his schoolwork like his father would have done. When Bernard speaks to Willy about his business trip, he does not disclose that it is to argue a case at the Supreme Court. His modesty shows that he has been raised to have good values.

Given the evidence above, one can conclude that Willy’s parenting is inferior to Charley’s. Though both of them love their children unconditionally, Charley appears to be sterner. Setting ground rules, being a positive role model, and instilling moral values are all characteristics of effective parenting. Willy just didn’t understand that.