My favorite scar :)

I have eight scars and seven of them are within an inch of each other. I’m a whimp and don’t have any cool stories or cool scars. I got the seven of them from knee surgeries I have had in the passed year. They aren’t that cool or big or have any epic story that goes to them.

The other scar I have is on my other knee and it is from sliding into home during a playoff softball game. We were down by one point and it was the last inning, I was on third and there was a girl on second. I, being the brat I am always liked to get the catchers up and out from behind the plate, I liked to be chased back to third. The girl that was up to bat struck out so I knew the only chance of us tying up the game was to get to home plate and fast. So I went half way to home and the catcher was so annoyed at me not returning to my base right away so this time she started run towards me. Finally! Some action to the game, I was in a pickle. I ran back and forth and back and forth until the third baseman dropped the ball. This was my opportunity, so I took off. The third basemen hurried and picked up the ball and chucked it to home. Without hesitating I slid feet first into home just as the catcher was catching the ball, she tagged me but she was too late. I was safe and I tied up the game. In return from all this action I have a battle wound on my right knee that only shows up when I’m cold and it turns purple, but it’s there and I know that it is a prideful scar!

End of Summer (Extra Credit)

Is it really over already?
Is it really time to get onto a schedule that is steady?
I’m going to miss the late nights,
The vacations, the sunsets, all the summer sights.
It seems like it was just the last day of school,
But now it’s back and it’s definitely uncool.
I wish time would just slow down,
But everything is changing fast, I see it all around.
The stores in the mall are selling out tanks and shorts,
And bringing in boots and sweaters of all different sorts.
The taste of watermelon will soon start to fade,
And so will the memories and not so long ago we made.
The warm summer air is starting to move out,
While the cold comes in to replace it with a shout.
It’s time to get back to books and homework,
And in every classroom the teachers will lurk.
It’s back to friendships, rivalries and trying to fit in,
Boyfriends and crushes, August 24 is when it will begin.
There’s no turning back now because it is here,
Goodbye summer, goodbye until next year.

Me as a Writer

I look to my right, then to my left to see no one is watching. I hold my breath as I sneak the slip of paper behind my back to my friend sitting behind me. I know what the consequence is if I get caught. As the paper almost reaches its destination I hear the teacher shout out my name across the room. Immediately everyone turns to stare at me. My heart drops and my fear stricken body becomes unable to move. The teacher marches over and holds out her hand. “You know the rules,” she says to me and she taps her foot quickly. I duck my head and hand her the paper. She marches back up to the front of the room and clears her throat. Then she begins to read my note aloud for the whole class to hear about how I thought the boy I was crushing on looked so cute that day. With everyone looking at me and laughing, I sink down into my seat as low as my third grade body can go as I take my cruel punishment. From that day I on I promised myself I would never pass another note again, or at least I wouldn’t get caught.

All through elementary I was the best note passer there was! I passed notes all the time, but before I learned my conniving note passing ways, I learned to write. I’ve been writing for almost as long as I can remember, but where did it all begin? In the first grade I had Mrs. Nelson and that is the furthest back I can remember writing. I remember writing letters over and over and sounding out words. This was the first time I remember having a vocabulary test. We’d spend a lot of time sounding out words and putting them into stories. As the years went on I became better and better at writing.

In the fifth grade we wrote a lot of short stories. We would come to class each morning and had a paper that had the beginning line of how our story would start. After we finished writing some of us would go up to the front of the class and share. It was fun to hear all of the different stories that came out of the same first line.

As I grew older the papers I wrote were no longer short stories. They were experience papers, poems, essays, research papers, etc. Writing was no longer very fun for me until I had Mrs. Card. She put the joy back into writing. We got to write a lot of papers about our own life experiences. Some were funny experiences and some were more serious. I looked forward to writing assignments in her class. Then cam the poems… we wrote poem after poem, after poem! Towards the end of that assignment I was all rhymed out and I wrote my very first non-rhyming poems. I remember Mrs. Card having a wall where she hung her favorite papers. Mine were often up there which made me feel confident in my writing.

Going into my sophomore year I was pretty confident about my writing. The first paper I wrote in my English class I took a lot of time on. I made sure everything was perfect so I could make a good impression on my new teacher. I got the paper back and couldn’t believe it. There were red marks everywhere! My confidence was shattered and remained shattered for the remainder of the year.

Since Wakefield’s class I’ve been feeling good about writing again and I came to realize Mrs. Wakefield’s harsh criticism made me a better writer. I have a joy for writing. It’s how I vent and share my feeling. Although, I’m not very committed to my writing outside of school I do enjoy doing it. Writing has been with me for almost as long as I can remember and through the good and the bad experiences I’ve always had a love for it.