Cliches and Dialogue

     George looked up from shoeing the horse to see the outline of Curley's wife in the doorway of the barn. They were alone. She whispered, "What's the matter, George? All bent out of shape”?

     "What 'bout Curley?’Spose he walks in," muttered George looking at his feet.

     "Well, you only live once," she stated. "I ain’t ever told you this, but I don't love Curley. "He’s not that sharpest tool in the shed."

     "I ain't so sure this is a good idea. He is going to walk in and going to

Beg the question why you are here?”
   
     Curley's wife smiled an ironic smile and asked, "George, Do you have ants in your pants?"

        
     George was angered and replied. “No I don’t I just don’t want no trouble and everyone else betting the farm.”

     Curley’s wife laughed. “Box of birds, I know you want to chat”

       
     “Read between the lines, I don’t want to talk to you.” George spoke loudly.

         
     Curley’s wife sat down and softly spoke. “I know boy will be boys, but I get lonely and need someone to talk too”.

            
     “Go talk to your manly husband Curley and Shove off. I am busy” replied George.

        
     “Son of a gun, I’ll be dead before I go back to Curley” Curley’s wife said in a fast voice.

         
     “Step on it and go talk to someone else dammit.” George walked out of the barn.

I have a dream

                                               I have a Dream

11 years ago when I first was instructed to solve a math equation I was saddened. When I got my first work book it was even worse. I realized the more homework you do the more the teacher will give you. I realized that Math was a waste of time. I realized that polynomials and trigonometry will never help me in life. Realizing I do not care about the square root of 169. It is absurd that I am forced to take math. I realized I am never going be respected by math teachers.

I refuse to take part of pre-calculus or foundations. I refuse to be judged by my math mark. Being mocked by the teacher because I can’t add or subtract fractions is not fair. I refuse of being turned into a mathematician with all the homework I am given.  I refuse graphing everything I see in the textbook.

Why can’t we live life to the fullest? Why can’t choose our own future.  Numbers can’t control our lives forever. Why can’t we just live without math? We should choose our futures not teachers. Why can’t I graduate without math?

Let us live our lives without calculations, where we can actually enjoy school. Let us grad with a smile on our face not a frown because of our math marks. Let us go out on weekends instead of doing homework. Let us become successful in life.

I have a dream that I am never going to do long division ever again. That people will not just think of you as a bad math student. I have a dream that math will be turned into an elective not a mandatory course. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and realize math is not important enough to ruin lives if its citizens.

Let freedom ring from the halls of Princess Margaret. Let freedom ring from the gym to the library. Let freedom ring from room 201 to room 105.  Let freedom ring from Wiltse to West bench. Let freedom ring!

5 senses

My uncle called me this morning and told me to go check on my cousin Chris because he was out of town and my uncle heard Chris was in the hospital. I went to the hospital and I walked into the hospital waiting room desperate for some good news about my favorite cousin Chris. I sat down on the uncomfortable fold up chair and took out my phone. As an old lady wearing a nurse’s hat gradually approached me with her head down. In a sad tone she asked, “Do you know Chris” I replied slowly “Yes”. I could smell her latex gloves as she gently touched me on my shoulder with her cold skinny hand. I knew something was wrong. She had a lisp when she talked, but what she said next changed my life. “Chris was shot” she said, “once in the arm and once in the chest.” My head started spinning, all I could think of was all the good times Chris and I had together. “Is he okay?” I quickly asked. “No, no he is not. Chris didn't make it, I’m sorry.” I had a weird taste in my mouth, maybe it was because I was at the hospital or maybe because my cousin is dead. He was more than a cousin, he was my best friend.