To Persevere

Perseverance. It's a word we hear a lot of in our lives. But do we ever stop to really think about what it is to persevere? Do we really consider some of the things people in this world are forced to push themselves through, or what we may encounter and need to persevere through in our lives? It takes a lot of strength and determination to persevere through some things. Some people can't handle really persevering through certain situations. These people fall short and are never able to gain the great reward perseverance can bring. On the other hand, there are people who have incredible strength and are able to push through and accel in intense situations. These people can later enjoy the fruits of their labor.

In the novella The Old Man and the Sea, the main character, Santiago, must persevere and overcome many circumstances that are working against him thorughout the story. Yet, throughout the story, he doesn't give up hope and manages to persevere.

The night before setting out on his skiff, Santiago learns that Manolin will not be able to come with him. Without another person on the boat, especially a younger more capable one, fishing will be much more difficult. But, Santiago does not give up. He doesn't abandon his fishing and throw in the towel, instead "He fitted the rope lashings of the oars onto the thole pins and, leaning forward against the thrust of the blades in the water, he began to row out of the harbour in the dark"(28). He didn't allow a bump in the road to bring him down. He was determined to fish and break his streak of unluckiness. He wasn't going to allow the loss of his partner to stop him from doing that.

"He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish" (9). 84 days. That's 12 weeks, or 3 months. It is also how long Santiago had gone without catching a fish. For a fisherman, that is extremely disheartening. With no catch, the fisherman cannot make any money, making it hard to sustain their own life, nevermind the supplies they need to fish. This doesn't stop Santiago though.

Without a single catch in eighty-four days, Santiago presses on. Many people would quit and find something else to do that would make them money. Or simply that rewarded them, rather than wasting time and effort on something that was not providing a result. Santiago, unlike these people, has faith. "Today I'll work out where the schools of bonito and albacore are and maybe there will be a big one with them" (30). Throughout the story, he doesn't give up hope. He maintains the idea that if he perseveres, eventually things will turn in his favor and he will be successful. It takes someone with incredible mental strength to maintain this kind of thinking. It takes a kind of perseverance that Santiago has.

A skiff, a hurt hand, bad supplies, and a 1500 pound marlin. This was the situation Santiago had on his hands as he sat, alone, out at sea. He had been sitting, waiting for the fish for three days, which would be enough to make most people give up. But he didn't. He waited as the fish swam around him. Waiting to finally reel him in. "'If you're not tired, fish,' he said aloud, 'you must be very strange.'" (67). Santiago spoke these words as he waited for the fish to finally jump in the air. But he didn't. Yet Santiago did not give up. He waited and waited until the fish finally jumped. With his perseverance and determined attitude, he was finally able to catch the magnificent fish.

Throughout this novella, Santiago is faced with countless challenges, but perseverance is what gets him through. He has that mental strength, that drive to never give up, this, in the end, provides him with great rewards. We can learn from Santiago. When the going gets tough, never give up. We can always make it through. All we need is perseverance.

Short Story

A Pitch, a Pain, and a Problem

“1,2,3,” I thought to myself. I imagined my arm going up and around to the rhythm of those numbers. But imagine was all I could do. I longed to actually pitch as I sat on the bench at practice with a brace wrapped around my shoulder and arm. I looked over at Izzy, who was warming up on the side while the others fielded balls. That was where I should be; getting ready to pitch balls to the team during the second half of practice. I definitely did not belong on the bench, yet here I sat. It all went downhill about a week ago while I was at pitching practice. As my arm cam around in the pitch I felt something snap and I was suddenly in immense pain. This incident was quickly followed by a trip to the hospital. They informed me that I had torn a tendon in my shoulder and would not be pitching for a while. Also, surgery was going to be needed to repair the damage. So now, with this joyful knowledge swimming around in my head, I sat watching Izzy and her rudimentary pitching skills. I was in a horrible impasse and I deplored it.

“Ok, bring it in everyone,” Coach yelled out. I watched as the team hustled over into a huddle around Coach Johnson. I stood up and slowly made my way over. Being ‘crippled’ exempted me from the whole hustling thing, although I really just thought they should come form the circle around me. I listened as Coach talked about the big game on Thursday. He was going on about how our fielding really needed to be infallable because there would be more hits off Izzy’s pitches. This, of course, was a nice way of saying “Sorry Izzy , but Alex is a way better pitcher than you and brings a lot more to the team.” I could see Izzy knew this by the expression on her face. I took a secret satisfaction from this. Once Coach finished talking and he sent people out to their assigned positions, I lethargically made my way back to my seat on the bench. After starting up the drill, Coach Johnson came and sat down next to me. “So the doctors say you’re out for the season?” he questioned.

“Yup,” I answered, annoyed.

“But you’ll be back out next season, right? We’re counting on you,” he said nervously. I was only a sophomore and essentially the only pitcher. I was a pretty good asset to the team.

“Probably,” I said. “The doctor is saying it depends on how my surgery goes. If it doesn’t heal correctly, I may not be able to pitch, or play, anymore at all,” I explained to him. Saying ‘probably’ was actually a little sanguine. The truth was my doctor had told me it was a tricky operation and I only had a 50% chance of my shoulder completely healing. Personally, I was feeling a little pessimistic about it, but why should I bring down poor old Coach? I guess I was in a pretty good mood; must be taking too many painkillers.

“Well hopefully everything goes ok then,” he said a little more relaxed this time.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, “thanks.” He got up and returned to overseeing the drill. He immediately started calling out corrections and moved onto the field to demonstrate. Soon practice ended and the garrulous team filed into the locker room to change. I didn’t stick around to talk to my teammates. I felt relegated. I just walked down to the parking lot and luckily my dad was already there to pick me up. I got in the car and we drove home.

At home I didn’t bother doing my homework, I wasn’t going to be in school for the next couple days anyway. My surgery was tomorrow and I was getting a little nervous. Every time my parents would mention the surgery and try to make sure I wasn’t nervous, I maintained my philegmatic tone and act like it was no big deal. I didn’t want them to think they needed to baby me about it. I could take care of myself. I went to sleep pretty early because I had to get up at 6:30 to be at the hospital for 7:30. In the morning, I remained calm. “There’s nothing to worry about,” I kept telling myself. I knew deep down this was true, but I was very afraid that something would get screwed up and I would never be able to be a softball pitcher again.

“Alex,” my mom was calling from the front hallway.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I yelled back. I got off my stool, dropped my cereal bowl in the sink and went outside to get in the car. We soon pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and went inside. We told the receptionist that we had arrived and she told us the doctor would “be right with us.” Of course that was a lie, we waited for an hour for Dr. Lane to finally see us. I’d always been confused by why doctors were allowed to make people wait forever. I mean when somebody doesn’t go right when the light turns green, or people don’t check out of CVS fast enough, people throw a fit. But doctors make you waste far more of your time and get paid tons of money for it, yet no one openly complains. The strange world we live in. Well once Dr. Lane finally got around to seeing us he brought us into a small room. He went over the procedure for just about the millionth time, and explained the risks and benefits (which were all pretty obvious). When he was finally done, he brought us down the hall to the operating rooms. We went into one and there were a couple nurses waiting. They handed me a robe to put on. I went to the bathroom, put it on, and then returned to the room. They had me sit on the table then lay down. The nurses were very genial and helped me to calm myself. By now my parents had gone back to the waiting area. I laid down on the table and became latent. They put a mask over my mouth and nose and told me to count backwards from 10. Everything slowly went black and then there was nothing.

At some point in the future I woke up. I say this because when I did wake up I had no idea how long I’d been out for. It could have been days, years even, and I wouldn’t have known. It was a strange feeling. When I opened my eyes I saw my parents sitting across the room. When they noticed I was awake they were all smiles. They were suddenly asking me questions. How did I feel? What’s the last thing I remembered? They also said that Dr. Lane would be coming back soon. Sure enough, within 5 minutes he was opening the door to my room. He walked over and started checking things. He asked me how I felt and I told him I was fine.

“Well the surgery went very well. Better than we expected actually,” he explained. “Although there is still a chance it doesn’t completely heal the way we want it to. In two weeks you’ll need to start physical therapy and then you can come back for an appointment in two months.” My parents and I listened and they took down recommendations for physical therapists. After they were done, Dr. Lane left and my parents and I talked.

At this point all I really wanted to do was go home. And the next day that’s exactly what I did. I went home and essentially laid on the couch for the rest of the week. I watched a lot of T.V., but what I was really thinking about was my next doctor’s appointment. I needed to know if I was going to be able to pitch again. Not knowing was more than I could handle. During the following week, I returned to school and I went to my softball team’s games and practices. I watched them lose to inferior teams because of Izzy’s pitching, and it drove me nuts. But I stayed compliant with Dr. Lane’s orders, and I started physical therapy during the next week. I always assumed that because physical therapy was helping you that it would make you feel better too. I was wrong. Turns out, even though it’s ‘helping you’, it’s extremely painful. But I persevered and soon enough it was time for my appointment.

As my parents and I entered the doctor’s room and sat down, I filled with trepidation. If I couldn’t pitch, or play sports anymore, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Dr. Lane entered the room and asked me how I was doing. I told him I was good. He examined my shoulder and then moved me to a room down the hall so a nurse could take an x-ray. As my parents and I waited for the results, my mind was racing with thoughts. What would I do with all my time if I couldn’t play sports? Would this affect my college choices? I had always planned on a softball scholarship. Before I could finish imagining the worst, Dr. Lane re-entered the room.

“Well Alex, I’m happy to tell you that you are having a successful recovery” This one sentence completely assuaged my racing thoughts. “You’ll have to continue your physical therapy, but from what I’m seeing, you’ll be pitching again by next season.” I was suddenly elated. I wanted the next 10 months to fly by. This excitedness was pretty much the first emotion I’d really shown through this whole ordeal and my parents looked shocked. I simply smiled at them.

10 Months Later

“Are you sure you’re ready?” my dad asked me nervously.

“Yes I’m sure,” I told him, “Anna told me I could start pitching again whenever I wanted and I want to now.” Anna was my physical therapist and I had almost tackled her when she gave me the ‘ok’ to start pitching again.

“Ok,” my dad said nervously “but please take it easy.”

“I will, I will,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.” I slid my glove on and it fit, well, like an old glove. I reached down and picked up my softball and snapped it into my glove. It felt just like it always had. I turned sideways, lifted my arm and brought it down in a half butterfly. It was such a rush. It felt right. And in that moment I knew I was back where I belonged.

2nd Quarter Book Review

Redefining Beautiful by Jenna Lucado Genre: Christian/Inspirational

This book is all about how you look at yourself. It talks about how your relationship with your father and your relationship with God affect the way you look at yourself and the way you look at other people. It gives real insight into father/daughter relationships. Also, how a relationship with God can help you if you don't have a good father/daughter relationship. What's great about this book is that it is not only for people who are really religious. It does make references to Christian religion, so it may not be for people who are of another religion, but it is good for anyone who is Christian (at any level). A lot of the things the book discusses can be related to by anyone.

I really liked the way this book was written. What the author did was she would start by discussing a topic. Then she would break off and tell a story either from her own life or from the life of someone she knows. Then she would go on to explain how that story demonstrates or relates to the topic. This was very helpful in understanding the concepts of the book and applying them to my own life. She would also sometimes write a side not in a boxed off area of the page that referred to something earlier discussed in the book. I thought this was helpful in keeping up with the ideas and relating them to each other. It helped to make everything in the book go together.
I have not read any other books by this author and I don't think she currently has any other books. I have not read many books of this style or genre either so I don't have much to compare it to. Although this book has inspired me to read more like it.

"What is beautiful? How is it defined?"(3)

This book gave me a lot to think about in my own life. A lot of the things she talked about in the book were things i could relate to. I thought it was very interesting to read about how the father/daughter relationship affects girls. It was also interesting to compare what she said to my own father/daughter relationship. She also talked a lot about your relationship with God. Some of that got a little hairy for me. I am not a super religious person and I have doubts about the whole concept of religion. But although some parts were a little over the top for me, I still enjoyed a lot of it. A lot of it was overly detailed but more general. I found this to be inspirational and gave me a lot to think about.

Overall I thought this was an interesting and thought-provoking book. I really enjoyed it and would suggest it to any girl who ever feels insecure or questions themselves in terms of looks, popularity, or anything else a girl could be self-concious about. Or any girl who may want some more insight into their own life.

First Quarter Outside Reading Book Review

The Tenth Circle by Jodi Picoult. Washington Square Press, 2006 Genre: realistic fiction

The Tenth Circle is a story about a 14 year old girl and her family, which is quickly falling apart. After the break-up with her boyfriend, Trixie Stone quickly falls into depression. During a party where she tries to get her boyfriend back, her actions take a dark turn and she is raped by the boy she once loved. With their world seeming to crash around them, the Stone family must pull through twists and turns and a journey that could tear them apart.

The front cover reads "Picoult is a master of the art of storytelling,"- Houston Chronicle

One thing that I really like about the way Jodi Picoult writes is that she is great at really making you think. She always ends topics and topics and paragraphs with very thought provoking sentences. They make you reflect on what you've read. It really help you to get into the story and feel what the characters are feeling.

I've also read The Pact and My Sister's Keeper by this author. I've thought similar things about all three. They are all great books and all revolve around questionable topics. She seems to like to write books and stories about controversial topics. You really have to read the whole book before you can decide on your opinion of the conflict. And people often have different opinions.

"Laura Stone knew exactly how to go to hell"(15).

I really enjoyed this book. I've enjoyed all books by Jodi Picoult that I've read. I'm excited to continue reading her work. I really felt like I related to the main character in this story. At some points I felt like I really understood how she was feeling and where she was coming from. It was very interesting to read and I would suggest it to anyone.

Value Essay

Music of the Field

With Apple coming out with a new product constantly, and people always feeling like they need to have the next thing, always being bigger and better, people often forget the simple things that bring us joy. We are always so focused on the material things in life that we forget about those priceless moments that nothing can beat. What in our lives is really valuable? Is it the new computer or fashion look? Is it the time we spend with family and friends? Or is it really just the moments we feel most alive that are truly valuable?

As I walk out of the school, I reach into the pocket of my North Face jacket and fish out my sleek and stylish iPod touch. I’ve been waiting the whole day for the chance to listen to my own music. I unravel the headphones and wipe the dust off the screen. I press the small circular button at the bottom of the rectangle. The screen lights up and reads “Slide to Unlock,” with a bar beneath it. I slide the bar and my music world is opened. I touch the orange music icon and scroll through my playlists. I decide on my “Top Picks.” I then scroll trough the songs until I see one that hits me. With its 16GB of memory, I can fit most any song I want into one portable piece of technology. I love its convenience and capabilities.

We break from our huddle and set out to our positions. I jog to my place as center defense. The tension in my body rises as the referee walks to the center of the field. “Goalie ready?” he asks the opposing goalkeeper. She nods. “Goalie ready?” he asks ours. She nods also. The referee blows his whistle and the game begins.
The center forward hits the ball and then we're in motion. All nervous feeling is gone and I know what I'm doing. When the ball comes my way I have my stick down and I attack. When I get the ball away from the opposing player I pass it up to my offense. I feel accomplished and know I've done a good job. When the ball comes down the field again, I am ready and repeat the process. I feel at home on the field. I feel in control.

My iPod and playing field hockey are two extremely important things to me. They appear to be totally different, but to me they are similar. They both give me comfort and a sense of control. With my iPod, I can always choose the song that I feel suits my mood and on the field I am in control of my plays. My iPod allows me to listen to the music that comforts and relaxes me almost anywhere, and field hockey is a type of release that is similar to why I listen to music. So although these two things are very different, in my mind, they are similar in terms of what they provide for me.

It's hard for me to say what I truly value more. Overall, I'd say priceless moment are more valuable than material items. But for me, my iPod isn't truly what I value, it's what my iPod provides for me. Music is everything to me. It can lift my spirits when im upset or angry. It can calm me down when I'm worked up about something. It is my main form of release and relaxation. What I really value is listening to music, my iPod simply gives me an efficient and convenient way to do that. So I value that also.

Field hockey and my iPod are two very valuable things to me. I value them for different, yet similar reasons. I don't know what I would do if either of them weren't in my life anymore. I would say that it is impossible for me to decide which is more valuable to me because they are both so essential to my life, happiness, and well-being.

Summer Reading Essay

Daisy and Dave

A Child Called “It” meets How I Live Now

Dave Daisy

I wake up in the morning disoriented once again. Ever since we moved to this new house, I’ve been unable to get a good nights sleep. I always wake up forgetting where I am. Not that I ever sleep well. I usually sleep “with one eye open”, to make sure my step-mom does come at me with an ax in the night. She could always hide my body then tell my dad I ran away.

In all honesty, it wouldn’t be that unbelievable.

Ever since my separation with Edmond, I’ve felt more and more that there isn’t a big reason to continue liveing my life. But I have met a new boy at school who I think would be good for me. None of the other kids seem to like him. Which is easy to understand, he smells, has old, dirty clothes with holes in them, and steals from peoples lunches. There’s something about him though, something desperate and scared. Like me.

I get on the bus for school after winter vacation. I look around and see no one to sit with so I choose a seat in the front by myself. I get to school and go to my classes. I’m till getting used to this new school, it’s so much smaller than my school in New York.

Finally it’s lunch time. A time for me to be by myself, and stop having people ask me questions. I buy a lunch so no one will ask questions. And so I can tell my dad that I did infact use my lunch money.

I take my tray and look around for a seat. I see Dave in the back corner of the cafeteria. I decide to go over and introduce myself.

“Can I sit here,” I ask.

“Sure.”

“I’m Daisy,” I tell him.

“Dave,” he answers.

“So, are you new here to?” I ask, to make small-talk.

“Um, no, just not very social I guess.” He notices that I haven’t touched my food. “Do you think I could have some of that?” he asks timidly.

“Go ahead.” God knows I’m not gonna eat it. He pulls the tray over to his side of the table and digs in. He eats like he hasn’t eaten in years. The tray is clean in 3 minutes flat.

I’m impressed.

We continue to talk through lunch. When the bell rings we say good-bye and go to our classes.

On the bus ride home that afternoon, I see Dave sprinting down the sidewalk as if someone is chasing him. I look up and down the sidewalk around him, but there’s nobody in sight.

Everday for the rest of that week, Dave and I eat lunch together. That week stretches into the next week, then the next. Soon enough Dave and I are actually friends. Naturally it doesn’t take me long to notice the excessive bruising and cuts on Dave’s body. Especially when his clothes might as well be transparent with the number of holes in them. So one day I decide to take the plunge and ask.

“It’s nothing,” he says, “I’m just clumsy and have a lot of accidents.” Not only is his answer ridiculous, it sounds far to rehearsed to be real. For the next week I continue to question him about his various cuts and bruises. Finally he cracks. During lunch he takes me to the farthest corner of the cafeteria, as far away from he other kids as possible and he spills the beans.

He explains to me how his mother brutally abuses him. Forces him to be separate from the family and practically a servant to them. How he lives in the basement and has to search the trash for food just so he can survive. He also tells me about the “games” his mother “plays” with him. And how he has learned to withstand everything just so his mother will not feel like she has won. So he can feel some small victory for himself.

I am horrified.

“Well you have to tell someone,” I say as soon has he pauses. There has to be something someone can do to help him.

“The nurse is already in on it,” he says solemnly. “There’s not much she can really do. If my mother ever found out I told anyone, she might actually kill me.”

“There’s really nothing anyone can do,” I say, shocked that this could actually be happening to someone.

“I guess not.”

There’s silence after that. The bell rings and we go to class. I can’t even manage to pay attention in history. I start to think about Dave’s life in camparison to mine. I suddenly feel ashamed. Dave stays strong through impossible circumstances and manages to continue seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. I have it far easier than him and live in darkness.

The following week I am sitting in english, my only class with Dave. The principal walks in the room and asks Dave to come with him. Dave looks at the principal for a moment, then turns toward me. He get up from his seat slowly and follows the principal out of the room. I’m suddenly very anxious. Every minute seems like an hour. Finally the bell rings for lunch. I grab my backpack and rush out of the classroom. I run to the office and see Dave walking out with a police officer. A group of teachers watching him go. Dave sees me and stops. he looks up to the officer and asks him for a minute. He walks over to me.

“He’s bringing me to the station,” he says. “I think he’s going to help me.” There is a slight smile on his face. Tears well up in my eyes a little. I can already tell this will be the last time I see Dave.

“That’s great,” I choke out. Dave gives me a hug and then turns back to the officer and walks out of the building. I run outside just in time to see him driving away. I wave my last goodbye. Small tears streaming down my face.

Later, I think about my time with Dave. I realize that I am a better person for knowing him. He taught me a life lesson. No matter how hard you think your life is, there’s probably someone out there who has it worse off than you. You just have to keep having hope and looking forward. Things will always change.

That night I get a good nights sleep. Thinking abut the wonderful people I’ve known and will meet. Because although I miss Dave, I am now looking forward. Just like Dave, wherever he is.