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Teen Ink Magazine, May 2006 : Nonfiction Articles

A Bad Reputation
by Eric E., Auburn, NY
     My whole high-school career I’ve worried about how people perceived me - was I cool, weird, or, even worse, a loser? Every kid worries about how they are viewed by others because reputations can make or break a high-school career, but I can tell you from ...
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A Mom’s Lessons
by Joshua M., Hull, MA
     “Honey! It’s 6:30, you’re going to be late!” my mom shouted as I rolled out of bed.

“I know!” I hollered back cockily, even though I knew I had overslept.
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A Worthy Gift
by Lulu Z., Culver, IN
     “An A- is the same as a C, Lulu,” Mom lectured. “You know why? Because it’s not an A!” I wanted to hurl my book and never speak to her again. She is the most intimidating, demanding woman I know.
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Be My Escape
by Kristie D., Franklin, MA
     The breeze tickles our faces as we oscillate on a hammock. The sand slips through our toes and waves crash against the shore. Too often we dream about that little island away from the world, our stereotypical escape, our paradise.
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Call Me Crazy
by Allison H., Vancouver, WA
     Call me crazy, but I love my mother. This may sound strange coming from a teenager, due to the stereotype of the bratty, rebellious kid versus the overprotective mother who never cease to yell at each other.
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Common Bonds
by Erin E., Ridgway, PA
     How do you thank someone for your entire existence? For feeding me at three in the morning, and changing my diapers? For taking me to school and birthday parties and buying me everything I need? How do you say thank you for being my mother?

When it comes ...
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Dreaming of Her
by Emily O., Auburn, NY
     As I peacefully slip away into another dimension, visions of her face haunt me. She reaches forward and gently strokes my face as she begins to speak. Her voice is as sweet as honey, but her words tear at my soul.
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Eccentric Wonder-Woman
by Liam H., San Anselmo, CA
     “Bye, Mom. See you when I get home!” I hurry to the front door, eager to escape being berated with the questions I hear every morning. Just like any other mom, Susan worries about me; I know she means well, but most of her concerns are unfounded.
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Escape
by Anonymous, Montclair, VA
     It was a smell I would never forget - alcohol. She came home every night with the smell of intoxication hovering around her. How she drove herself home was beyond me, but there she was, my mother, stumbling and trying to unlock the door.
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Golden Letters
by Casey G., Bedford, TX
     I was too short in years and too naive in emotions to absorb the symbolism of the black wall in front of me that steamy July day in Washington, D.C., but what I could not fail to grasp was the deep sadness in my father’s eyes.
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Me and My Mom
by Austin N., Richardson, TX
     For most of my life, it’s been just me and my mom. My father was 18 when I was born and really didn’t want a baby. That and the stupid decisions that sent him to jail kept him away from us.
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Monster Movies Make Me Cry
by Mira G., Huntington, NY
     My father and I left the movie theater together. I was quietly sobbing, and my father was holding my hand to comfort me. He was also trying to hide his amusement.

“It’s not fair!” I sniffed.
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Our Ranch
by Luke W., Richfield, ID
     Working on our ranch is a full-time job, most of the time you’re on call 24-hours a day, seven days a week.
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Overdue Thanks
by Maria, DE
     This is for all of you who said I was nothing, and would never be anything. This is for all those who whispered behind hands; who gave me sideway glances in the hall; all those whose giggles followed my footsteps.
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Prom Time
by Jeana A., Phoenix, AZ
     It’s that time again! Prom season is here and with it comes the big problem that every teen faces: its cost. There seems to be such a high price to pay to have a great prom.
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School Me
by Tevyn C., Maybee, MI
     I am an honor roll student who spends my spare time studying and teaching Black History. It’s more than just a hobby, it’s my passion and calling.

In social studies, we are taught that black people were slaves.
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The Super Mom
by Heather P., Waimanalo, HI
     I arrived home one afternoon and noticed Mom looked really exhausted. She was trying to get ready for her first day of college and I could hear her fighting with my father on the phone.

“Edward, you never do anything for her.
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To Mom
by Caitlin, San Antonio, TX
     Motherhood and vicious cycles are rarely mentioned in the same sentence, but I want to think about this. Why? Because I can’t help but watch an unending chain of psychological patterns reinvent themselves in the mothers and grandmothers of my family.
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Two More Minutes
by Leah K., Ridgway, PA
     When I was little, I loved tuck-in time, those few minutes at the end of the day shared with my mom.
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Up There
by Jacqueline Q., Stafford, VA
     My mind was telling me not to go, to turn and run the other way. My feet, however, seemed to have a mind of their own.

I climbed into the stuffy compartment, sat, and secured my seat belt, double-checking it was tight.
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More Nonfiction articles from the Teen Ink Archives