Life in the Day of a Cursed Freshman
by Liz L., Cape Girardeau, MO
I am cursed. Nobody told me I was but I know it because there is no way a normal teenager could go through what I did on my first day of high school and not be cursed.
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Holocaust Memories
by Ashley M., Centreville, MI
Approaching the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., I thought it wasn't going to be a big deal.
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365 Days
by Shannon H., Lula, GA
Twelve months remain -
without your face, though its structure
is stenciled in my mind.
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Why?
by Christopher G., Shreveport, LA
In this time of trouble we ask, "Why are we in Iraq, why do our soldiers fight, and why do our brothers die?"
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Brandon's Note
by Lindsay B., New City, NY
Another day had passed, another day of torture and mocking by those I had thought were my friends.
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On Finding a Job
by Stephanie M., Norwell, MA
I was 16, and suddenly school had come to an end. The weather was amazing every day, and each night was like Friday
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More Than Money Collectors
by Catherine C., Qunicy, MA
We are a strong and hardy bunch. We are those who must be polite no matter what kind of fuss you make when you try to pass off coupons for items you didn't buy.
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Retail
by Laura L., Herndon, VA
To work retail is to learn humility. September 18 marked one full year that I worked at Wilson's Leather as a sales associate.
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Code 13
by Anonymous, KY
"Code 13 for carry out. Code 13," squawked the intercom. Another call to help someone.
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A Bad Morning
by Angela S., S. Plainfield, NJ
It was a tiresome morning. For some reason, I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep.
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Integrity
by Emily J., Rock Island, IL
Most students make their way through high school working a part-time job and I am no exception.
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My Education in Cake Baking
by Kelly S., Quincy, MA
School had been out for two weeks and I had spent my first free days after freshman year sleeping late, talking on the phone and watching soap operas.
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The Man
by Kevin W., Leawood, KS
Holding the stick, he knew the lives of 200 people rested in the movements of his hands.
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Nine Crooked Months
by Cecilia C., Antioch, CA
It's been nine crooked months since I started out at this crumbling drug store by the muddy river, shaky in its foundation.
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Pia
by Nicona K., Boulder Creek, CA
On November 8, 2003, I stood with a microphone in one hand and my new partner's leash in the other.
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Turquoise Tights
by Christine S., Arlington, VA
It's Monday
Silver shirt
Billowing black skirt
Always black
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Revelation at the Lunch Table
by Anonymous, Hamilton, OH
For a few seconds I put my head down and relax the tension in my shoulders.
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Retirement
by Jordan J., Clarence Center, NY
As I walk through the automatic doors of the independent living community, I enter a pleasant foyer with a fireplace and comfortable couches and chairs.
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When The Smoke Cleared
by Laura M., E. Amherst, NY
Smoke from her cigarette curled up around her head.
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