My Hero

There’s always someone we want to be like. When we’re younger it’s usually someone as far-fetched as our favorite character in a book such as Harry Potter and his crew or Nancy Drew. As we grow older, our influences begin to change; we grow out of our super hero stage. Around that age, we tend to be influenced by our parents, the people we spend the most time with. Eventually we begin to notice that there are other people in the world to strive to be like. Eventually we meet the one person who inspires us the most; the person who we want to be just like. To meet this person could take years, realizing the influence they have on you could take longer. I was fortunate enough to meet that person my ninth grade year. Unfortunately, I did not realize his influence on me until last year. I have been doing all that I can to make up for that lost time and learn as much as I can from the one person who influences me the most. For me, that person is my math teacher, Mr. Toulson.

Although he is not a very tall man, Mr. Toulson has a big heart. He is dedicated and hardworking, but always knows how to have fun. He can be strict and keeps us in line, but he can also crack a joke when appropriate. He is full of funny stories and always has a new one to tell, most of them involving something incredibly geeky. He takes pride in the fact that he has seen Star Wars over 100 times, and is, in fact, a nerd. He has introduced me to the many wonders of math. I enjoyed math before I had him as a teacher, but because of him, I have fallen head over heals in love with it. Being around him always instantly lightens my mood, no matter how bad of a day I’m having. In his classroom he creates an environment in which everyone feels comfortable and no one is afraid to share their opinion on the topic of discussion for the day. We are all treated equally and given the same opportunities. He never hesitates to help any one in need. He is a math genius, a nerd, a guitar hero, and a friend to many. He is my favorite teacher and I hope to one day be like him.

I have had Mr. Toulson as a teacher for four years. In that time, he has been more than a teacher to me; he has also been a friend. Whenever I needed help with anything, even if it had nothing to do with math, he would do his best to help me. I can always count on him to be there when I need him, even if it is just to escape the grind of school work, presentations, tests, and homework by discussing the latest episode of Lost, or our all-time favorite, Star Wars. He’s not just this way for me, however, but for all of his students. Along with teaching math at our school, he’s also involved in student council and playing the guitar in his church’s band, all while raising two sons. Despite all of this going on in his life, he always finds time to be there for his students, even when they don’t want him to be. Of course, as are all teachers, he’s not always well-liked. Sometimes he is disliked for the amount of homework he gives, or for reinforcing the rules set up by him or the administration to keep us in a safe, comfortable environment.  People also don’t like that they are always stuck spending hours doing things last minute because they just didn't want to listen when he told them not to wait. Sometimes they get in trouble with him for doing things they’re not supposed to, and that makes them angry. He makes us work hard when we want to relax. He makes us keep trying when we want to quit. He is with us through and through, always, not because he has to be, but because he wants to be. Any teacher could just as easily give up or not be there, but they don’t; he doesn’t. He is not set back by this, however, he continues with what he set out to do, teach and inspire young minds. It’s these traits that make him not only a great teacher, but some one I want to be like.

He has also influenced me on a more personal level. When I was about seven, my dad left us and re-enlisted in the military. Soon after, my parents divorced, and the only males in our house became our pets. Since then, I have never had a permanent father-figure in my life. While Mr. Toulson isn’t exactly a father-figure to me, he’s one of the closest I’ve had. When ever I see him in town with his family, he always makes a point to stop and talk to me, and I am always envious of them. He always tells us of the crazy stories he experiences in his home life and the extremes he goes through to make his family happy and comfortable. That’s something I want. I want to have a family that’s whole and happy. I’m not saying we’re not a happy family, we are, but there always seemed to be something missing, and there always will. On top of this, he has helped me to re-connect with myself. During my junior year in high school, I took a course in psychology. In this class, if I wanted to get the most out of it, I had to take an in-depth look at myself. In doing the exercises and writing my final in the end, I began to question who I was; was I really myself, or was I just the outcome of all the influences in my life? Did I really have any control over who I was? Everything seemed surreal while I was in that class, I began to feel as though I was losing my sense of self. Right after psychology, I had math. As soon as I entered that room, everything would bounce back to reality. I would be back in my comfort zone. Math was simple, and straight forward, I didn’t have to know who I was to do math. I didn’t have to know why I was who I was to solve a quadratic equation. Math has been one of the few constants in my life and the man teaching it to me has been constant as well. Mr. Toulson has helped me to feel as though I have some form of control in my life. I learned that what I had feared, not being my own person, was true, but at the same time, I was in control. I am the outcome of the influences in my life, but I choose what the outcome will be. Although he may not know it, Mr. Toulson helped me to keep myself together and to learn something about myself.

Everything we do is influenced, in some way, by something else; whether we are influenced by a commercial to buy a product or by our friends to do an activity. We are influenced to do things all the time. Sometimes, we could be influenced by something without even realizing it, such as music, movies, or books. As we are influenced by our friends to participate in an extracurricular, read a book, take a class, watch a TV show etc, we are also influenced by other people in deciding what we want to do with the rest of our lives. While that decision is based on many other factors as well, it takes inspiration and help to get there. It’s hard to imagine that one person could inspire you; that one person could change your life forever. For me that inspiration is Mr. Toulson, a man who is not only my math teacher but the person who has influenced me to be who I am today and who I strive to be in the future.
 

Vagina Monologues

The Vagina Monologues was a very important part of my life. Most people, when they first hear "Vagina Monologues" cringe. They hear the word "vagina" and mentally head for the hills. They don't want to hear about it. Just thinking the word makes people feel uncomfortable. It is not to be talked about, especially in public! But the Vagina Monologues is a very powerful performance. In a way, sharing another's story helped me to find myself. I don't know if it was doing the Vagina Monologues that did it or perhaps the other things I was doing at the time, or maybe it was a combination of the two. I think I can say for all of us that it gave us a certain sense of meaning, a place in this world. It also gave us a sort of family; a family of thirteen amazing woman. I say woman because I think that was a point in my life when I came to certain realizations that have helped me to grow. I was a hit with reality. The Vagina Monologues helped to take away my naivety that comes with being a child. In hearing these stories and the stories of the others doing this with me, I realized the world wasn't what I thought it to be. I have always known that the world isn't perfect, but I never accepted the fact that it could be, at times, such a dark and cruel place for others, and for the people I love. Doing the Vagina Monologues and listening to the others helped me to see this fact and to accept but it also helped me to see that I can help in changing things. Although I am just one person, every little difference helps. Maybe I can't change the world, but I can help. And if I can change maybe just how one person thinks, help them to see the truth in things, get them to help as well, then in turn, maybe they could do it too, and so on. Not only did we create a family within our group, but we also created a sort of safe place. We could talk freely and comfortably and not be worried about what we were saying. We knew if we had a problem, we could tell anyone in the group and they would help, everyone. It became that we weren't the only one's in our safe place, but our audience as well. After each performance, a few girls in the show would get up and talk about their own story. One in every three woman will be abused, raped, or molested. In our group as well. These brave women got up and told their stories in front of everyone. It encouraged others to share their stories too. We had woman standing up and sharing with us about their past, their problems, their stories. Women who felt safe enough, not only to share but to cry and ask for help. Asking for help is one of the hardest things to do, but to cry, is even harder. When we cry, we are in our most vulnerable state and grown women cried before us. I can't even describe the feelings that went through me during these times. Not just during our performances but at the practices as well. I admit, I even found myself crying at times. Not crying for myself, but for the pain and suffering others had gone through. The suffering that people I loved went through, that I hadn't known about until then. Suffering that I hadn't been able to ease. Now I will do all that I can to make sure it never happens again. To anyone. I'm sure that sounds like quite the feat to accomplish, and I know it's not a possible one, but that doesn't deter me one bit. I'm still going to try. Nothing can stop me for now, not only am I a woman, but I am a warrior. A warrior for women, girls. A warrior against the pain directed towards not only women, but to men as well. A warrior who is willing to fight until her last breath. Who will do anything in her power, even when she has no power left and she knows it is in vain. I am a vagina warrior. I once met the most beautiful women in the world. They were the Vagina Warriors. I am a Vagina Warrior.

 

 

     
        

As well as these amazing woman we had a great group of boys helping us with lighting and sound. We couldn't have done it without these three honorary Vagina Warriors.

 

When You Give Some Kids Some Chalk

One of my favorite memories, that I often find myself reflecting back on, was when my friend and I bought sidewalk chalk and began the first of our many pranks. We felt we should share this great experience with others, but they all said they were too busy, except one. We grabbed him from his house and dragged him in on the fun. What prank would be better than drawing all over the entrance to the school with chalk? We could only imagine the looks on everyone's face as the went to enter the building.

We were only there for a few hours because we had to go to Vagina Monologue practice (another story for another time). We felt as though our master piece was incomplete and there was still chalk left. Too much chalk left. My friend and I ended up coming back, hours later, in the middle of the night to finish the deed, using her car headlights as our only form of light. Hours and many more drawings later, we fled the scene of the crime. It must have been around one in the morning when we finally arrived home and snuck back into the house.

Unfortunately we didn't get pictures of the final product because we were too paranoid about cops. Technically we were trespassing because it was after school hours and we didn't have permission to be there. I guess you could also say we were vandalizing as well, but it was only temporary vandalism. My friend says being arrested for vandalizing a sidewalk with chalk is like being arrested for polluting the grass with water. Somehow I don't think the police would understand.

  We arrived to school the next day to truly appreciate others appreciating our fine art work. I had never been more happy to go to school than on that day. Despite our extreme lack of sleep, we felt as though we were the happiest kids in the world. I can't even begin to describe how I was feeling on that day. It felt almost as if a balloon had been inflated within me and I would soon float away. Nothing could bring me down.

I find myself looking back to this day often. Even though I am halfway across the world, literally, I can still remember that day perfectly. The crisp air nipping at my skin. How the wind felt as it played with my hair and rustled the papers of my journal. The feel of the distant sun warming my back. The  gravel pressed into my knees from minutes upon minutes of kneeling uncomfortably simply to create the perfect masterpiece, especially when writing "The Road Not Take" by Robert Frost.

               But most of all
          I remember the laughter.

I remember their voices as we discussed what we should draw next and where we should put it. I can still hear them in my mind even now. Then endless fits of giggles as we mutilated each others drawings. Changed each drawing ever-so-slightly to make all the more entertaining. Not only for others, but for us. If no one else appreciated it, we at least had ourselves to appreciate the work put into it, for our thoughts of it were all that mattered. We did it for no one other than ourselves.

We were three teen-aged kids with infinite ideas and an even more infinite creativity.The sky was the limit, or the pavement in this case. The time was ours to do with what we pleased. While others were busy, working, partying, studying, creating mayhem, whatever else teenagers of our generation do, we, being two seniors and a junior, chose to create. With ideas in our heads and chalk in our hands, there were endless possibilities of what we could do.

 Unfortunately our chalk was not so infinite and our time even less so. It became a race. Which would we run out of first? Time or chalk?

     




In the end it turned out to be time.

We could always buy for chalk, but one can't say the same  for time. In the end, you always run out. No matter how great the moment how memorable it seems to be, time doesn't stop. And with time comes growth as  well as degeneration. Your memories will fade to make  room for others. Other moments in time you think are the best, the happiest, or the worst. We forget old memories as we make new ones and we make new memories every day. Some not as memorable as others, but still there all the same.

 We try to hold on to our memories, try to preserve them in any way possible. In photo albums, journals, blogs. We may not admit it, but we're afraid of change, we're afraid of what we may leave behind. Change scares us because we don't know what lies ahead. We don't know which moments in our life are going to be those turning points that change everything. The moments we look back on years from now and say: "I didn't know it then, but that was the turning point of my life." Whether for the better or the worse. We just have accept it and move on.

I look back through these pictures and, for now, can remember every emotion I felt that day. I still remember how I felt walking into school the next day. Some excited about the chalk, others not caring at all. Friends coming up to us, asking if we did it, if we knew who did it. We would simply look at each other and laugh. No one could understand how we felt at that moment. How we would feel each time we look back. But every time I look back through these photos, I remember less.

As the days pass, and I become busier and wrapped up in what's going on around me. As I create more memories other moments in my life I look back on and think "That was one of the happiest moments in my life." This particular memory fades. I can't remember the exact expression on my teachers face when he asked us who did it and we could do nothing but laugh. In fact, I can't remember much past going through the front door. I have these pictures to remind me of this day, and someday that will be all I will have. I will remember the laughter of other days. I will remember the sun, the wind, and the crisp air from other moments in my life.