Final Reflection

Being a part of the early college program with Hunter College definitely gave me a great deal of preparation for my college career. I believe that the experience is more so significant than the actual work or classes. Of course, the classes and the challenging curriculum pushed us toward a certain work ethic, but the actual feeling of working on a college campus brings a different dynamic to the picture. We got a chance to feel real responsibility as college students, working on life-mastery skills such as time management and social readiness. We learned that even when our energy was low, we needed to bring forth our best and still push to get rewarding results. Personally, the added “stress” was worth it, because I was able to see how a competitive college works. I got the opportunity to study in the facilities and test out what works for me and what doesn’t. This is very important because next year, when I am studying for a final or doing a simple assignment, I know which methods pertain and work for me. I had a one year head start at a long academic career ahead that requires commitment and focus, and I am glad I learned it firsthand this year.

Some obstacles I faced during the course of this year generally revolved around focus. Sometimes I fell off track, and didn’t find anyone who was serious about studying with me or couldn’t find the energy to continue working. Other than that, the class of math always gave me an issue, throughout the four years of high school. My attitude toward math when I came into this program was a little more negative than when I came out, I admit. This program has shown me that I can do anything as long as I am determined. If I’m uninterested, it becomes harder to do as well. Math is still a struggle for me, that’s just my weakness but I can tackle it and use resources with confidence now. Another obstacle, as we can see now, is the weather. The second semester is by far the hardest, not because of the material, but because it is the time everyone wants to relax, enjoy the spring, and be easygoing. However, I have reached many successes this year, having to do with my character, my ambitions, and my final high school work. One success has been recent, despite our slight laziness this semester we managed to get through a presentation for the final fiction class assignment. When we were assigned a fiction story and a specified genre for presentations, I thought I’d never get through it. I couldn’t imagine balancing both assignments, as I was so overwhelmed with everything else. I just wanted to rush through and graduate. But, once I slowed down and worked it out with my group, we developed a creative and interactive presentation, which completely reflected what we were assigned. We got a 98 altogether, which pushes me to continue doing what I did to finish up this semester strongly.

I enjoyed Fiction Writing very much this year. As I have discussed with my peers and teachers before, I aspire to continue writing beyond my academic career. Writing has always been a part of who I am, something that I am deeply passionate for. I particularly appreciated this year’s fiction class because I have never taken anything like it. Fiction has always been my favorite genre to read, specifically romance and mystery novels. However, I had never even tried to write it. I didn’t experiment with different types of writing styles or genres before this class. I mainly excelled in academic papers, so this year broadened my view and love for writing. I enjoyed learning about the structure of fiction, and always took great notes so that I could carry it on with me to college and use that knowledge to get ahead with my writing classes. Because of this class, I actually am really interested in taking creative writing as a course in college. I learned that there are all different types of writing; it’s a whole nother world. There are informal styles, formal styles, different language and intriguing techniques that we are able to incorporate in our writing to make it more developed and full.

This year I took English 120, Geography, Pre-101, and Italian. My favorite ones were English 120 and Italian, mostly because they weren’t a huge challenge to me but I was also very interested in what the courses entailed. Although English 120 was tedious at times, it was informative and gave us the researching skills we will need throughout college. I loved writing academic papers and learning how to stretch sources and extract deep analysis for each. I aced the class and was very proud I had the opportunity to take it. For Italian, it was very similar to Spanish in some ways. I am not fluent in Spanish, so it wasn’t too easy to me. I spent hours studying before each exam, but it paid off because I aced that class as well. Our professor was entertaining, and always made the lessons relevant and easy to pay attention to. I didn’t enjoy the courses I took this semester. Geography is generally a captivating subject, specifically cultural geography, economic geography, and population geography, but the professor did not make it stimulating. And as for math…well, I was never connected to it.

In order to be more successful in college, I believe I need to be more organized and definitely more focused. I get distracted really easily, and I appreciate that I have self-awareness and know myself well enough to evaluate that. My determination and passion for school is present, but sometimes it is hard for me to meet goals, mainly because I am an overachiever. I think I need to reflect on myself regularly, and not get discouraged when I don’t meet a certain goal. I spent 90% of my energy and mental capacity focused on school, but the other 10% is dangerous. If I set realistic goals for myself little by little, I know my thoughts wouldn’t be as scattered and I will feel more “together”.

I have tried to study in many different areas on campus this year. Some were clearly defective and counterproductive, such as the first floor library and the purple couches. Those two areas I can say I got little to no work done. They’re like suction cups…or vacuums. They can easily suck us in, and it’s very difficult to get up and leave until it’s too late. However, some safe areas I explored on campus were B1 and B2 in the library, the computer labs in the North building on the 10^th floor, the Writing Center labs in Thomas Hunter, and sometimes the study rooms in the upper floors of the library. I have used the language center when I took Italian, because I needed to make a certain amount of lab hours in order to pass the class. My Pre-101 class is in the Dolciani Center, so I do use the tutors and resources in there. Also, I had English 120 in the Writing Center, so I became familiarized with the facility in general and the access to computers at later hours.

Jeez, I’ve learned so much about myself in the duration of this early college program. Mainly, the things Mr. Froner guided us through and specifically spoke about was self-awareness and self-appreciation. First of all, I personally struggled with self esteem issues most of my life up until now. This year really was an experimental period, and I know that will grow with the continuance of college. I opened up a lot, got close to many people, got to know about different kinds of people, and different interests. Sharing and diffusing perspectives made me feel a part of something important, and my high school teachers have done a great job at making us all feel significant all throughout the year. I learned to be confident in myself, not only in my academic life. I’ve overcome emotional obstacles right under the nose of my friends and advisors, and I’ve become more in touch with culture and spirituality. I’ve learned that I’m not a steady character. Both Mr. Froner and DeFeo were inspirational and giving to each student. I felt they reached out and didn’t mind telling me what they thought of me or the situations I were in when I reached my lowest points. When I had low energy, Froner always thought of me as a vibrant, outgoing leader. DeFeo always thought of me as creative and determined. I found, after some time, that they were both right. I learned how to be self-aware and self-appreciating this year, and I cannot show enough gratitude to the beautiful people, environment, and school that helped me reach this point.

In the Fall of 2011, I’m still unsure about where I will be attending. It’s between SUNY Purchase or Hunter College. I’m leaning towards Hunter College right now because of the programs I’m just now learning about, the sticky financial situation, and my set goals for when I graduate from college. I think that leaving college with zero debt sounds appealing to anyone. I’ve also gone to a conference at the Roosevelt House about human rights and public policy, which introduced me to a whole different realm of what I might want to be involved in. I know I would be excellent at using resources and experimenting with classes here. I just don’t want the choice, whether going or staying, to be something I get tired of easily or regret.

I have already planned out my future, which I know probably won’t go accordingly, but I want to hopefully hit most of the stuff on my list. If I do choose to go to Hunter, I will probably stay the full time. I’m going to try to pack myself with classes so I can graduate either earlier, or I could do the five-year MA/BA program. In five years, I see myself traveling with the Peace Corps, teaching and working on youth development in impoverished countries across the globe. About two and a half years after that, I plan to go to graduate school and pack myself with all the credentials it may take to become a professor for Literature, or possibly even work in administration. When I graduate, I really want to work some years in secondary education, because I’ve always had my eye on it. I believe the four years of high school are stepping stones and a time where a lot of development happens for teens, and I want to be a part of their growth. Perhaps I can inspire some, like my teachers have done to me. After all of that, I’m not sure what I’ll get into, but I know I will always want to work in public service.

The best advice I can give to the incoming MHSHS students is “listen to the teachers”. I say so because our “teachers” this year were more like advisors. This environment makes everyone so much closer, and allows us to be on a certain personal level with these adults. When orientation begins, and we don’t really know the teachers well, plenty of people are on-edge thinking they’re lecturing just like any other teacher. However, they are saying the TRUTH. They’ve been here to see the development of a few classes, so they know what works and what doesn’t. I believe that if the students trust and acknowledge the warnings given at the beginning of the year, they’d be guided in the right direction. It’s true; Froner and DeFeo are only here to help us get to where we want to be.

Final Draft- Tracing Stars

“I am moving to the Yukon and there isn’t anything you can do about it,” I yelled to my older brother, Terable, through the wide bathroom door of the two-story house we’ve lived in since birth. Well, at least for as long as I can remember. Momma and daddy brought us over from Barcelona as babies. I walked out of the bathroom and glared at him in disbelief. Goodness, I remember that puzzled look, I thought, it’s the one daddy used to do when he wanted so hard to understand my ways. Buddha…he looks so much like poppa. Ugh, I rolled my eyes, I’m just so sick of looking at him. Leaning against the red-plastered wall, I almost felt like lying on the sundried grey carpet, where so many memories had been made.

“All I’ve done for you after mom and dad passed away and THIS is how you repay me? By moving to become some bullshit teacher and marry some dude I’ve never met?” Terable ranted.

I rolled my eyes; the internal heat had leveled to my head, making my hulk-like veins pop from my neck up. I flurried my dark chocolate hair in my hands, why must he be so difficult? It’s always on and off like this. Why can’t he just give me space to be myself?

“I’m tired of this. I won’t argue. I’m just gonna pack my stuff and leave now,” I said.

“Where the hell are you gonna stay until you sort out your big rewarding trip?” Terable asked, with a half amused smile. I didn’t answer, but just turned my back to head towards the room. As I entered my clothing cluttered room, I stared up at the ceiling. I noticed, once again, the small indigo blue stars painted against the off white walls. When Terable was only fifteen, and I was thirteen, we took on our wildest imaginations together.

“Ana, why don’t we put stars up there?” he asked, “So whenever we look up at night, we remember that angels are looking down, and we won’t get scared of the world outside.”

“Yeah! And we can show mom and dad when they get home,” I had said. A few moments later, our aunt had shaken the keys, indicating she was coming in. With tear-filled eyes, our aunt clenched her fists. Her knees withered and she looked as though the air was knocked out her lungs, she fell to the stained carpet.

“Kids, I need to talk to you,” she paused and gasped for air through her soaked translucent skin. She was holding back, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Auntie, why are you crying? What’s wrong? Don’t be sad,” I said.

“Honey, things are going to be a little different around here,” she told me, looking frantically from my brother to me, back to my brother again.

“Just tell us,” my brother said without concern. I guess he didn’t think it could possibly be that serious.

“Come out to the living room. I’ll make some tea for us and then we’ll talk about it on the sofa,” she managed to say calmly. It still sounded like she was choking back on her words.

We moved out onto the couch in the living room. We had always enjoyed being in our house, it was as vast as an empty mansion. The living room was decorated with beautiful green and red colors. A tiny hint of silver tinsel lied around the furnace all year ‘round. We felt at home, snuggled in our palace just a few minutes into New Jersey. Nothing could take away our delight. Nothing except…

“Here you go kids,” Auntie said, as she handed us our cups of hot jasmine tea. She took a deep breath. I could see the daggers ripping through her eyes plunging forward at me, heading straight to my chest. She didn’t want to tell us. “I just came from the hospital,” she said quickly.

“With who?” Terable asked.

“Your…parents. Kids, they got in a terrible car accident on their way home from work today,” Auntie looked away.

My face squeezed up with tension as my heart skipped. No, I thought, no! Auntie locked eyes with me, as if telling me the outcome without words. Right then, I knew it. My eyes glazed over, and I felt a force in my chest that wouldn’t stop pulling. Take me instead, God.

And that was when it changed; my life spiraled in a different direction. The tender taste of sprinkled happiness ripped from under my feet. I had lost my parents, the only two people who ever supported my growing ambition to make something great out of people just like me.

I moved my eyes swiftly from the stars to the clock, 9:00 pm. My goodness is it that late already? I better call Engle now. When I reached for my iPhone, which usually sat on my bed, I didn’t see the bright blue phone case. Please don’t tell me he stooped that low, I thought.

“Terable!! Dude, just hand over my phone,” I said.

“You can’t leave this house without it, though,” he replied with a proud smirk.

“I paid for that phone; you have no control over it,” I let out a deep, heavy sigh. I walked closer to my big brother, slowly glaring him up and down. Eyes locked, I whispered, “Terable, you can’t keep that phone locked in your palm forever.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” he asked. “I’ve held onto it for years.”

“Eventually, you’re gonna have to put it down. People are gonna call, send messages in and out, and you’re gonna feel helpless when you can’t respond,” I told him. His eyes dropped to the floor, I saw the perspiration drip down his temples as he thought about what to do next.

Getting serious once again, Terable did not hand me the phone. Instead, he kicked forward, dashing into the room where he took apart the bags I had packed. He quickly got a hold of the clothes and flicked them in the air as though they were papers of work on the last day of school before the summer vacation. I, still standing in my position in the living room, started to turn around and head towards my room. As my footsteps led my path, I thought of when we were growing up, and how much I loved Christmas with my parents. The wood toasting into a fine mixture of tall red, orange, and yellow glow, illuminating the entire living room, and the sweet smell of pine cone swam through our nostrils as we cuddled on the carpet. Still walking towards the room, one foot in front of the other, I pictured how my brother and I used to lay on the carpet and draw in our Rudolph coloring books. We’d color Santa’s rosy cheeks, and put frosty glass snowflakes on the evergreen Christmas tree. When my last step directed me into the room where Terable was destroying my packed bags, reality hit me.

“Terable!! I’m not dealing with this anymore. Go ahead, tear up my shit. I’m leaving without it. Keep my phone, keep my clothes, that’s what you’ll have left to remember me by,” I yelled. My face was an apple, and my stomach flipped over thinking about what I had just said, basically promising to never see my brother again. Whatever, he deserves it, I thought. I rapidly snatched my leather jacket from off the chair and threw it on as I slammed the door behind me.

Behind the door, I stayed in place. My feet were glued to the ground, although I wanted to leave him, I wasn’t sure if storming out was the best way. Just go, he won’t change. He’s still gonna try to control you again if he sees you out here, I thought to myself. Ugh, I know. But, I don’t want him to be alone and worried about where I’m at. I don’t even have a phone. I sat in the staircase, wondering what I should do. I didn’t want to feed into his manipulation and end up staying. I have goals, and I intend to get married to Engle and move with him to a location where I could see them again, my parents. Christmas would be celebrated often, the winter breeze would take over and I’d feel my mom’s sweet touch swirling on my cheeks in the crispy wind. Okay, just go in and calmly explain to him why you need to move. Maybe this time, without an argument, he’ll understand, I thought. I got up and headed towards the burgundy red door. As I turned the key in the lock, I heard silence from inside. Why don’t I hear him banging on walls and throwing glass? I smiled to myself, thinking about Terable’s methods of coping with his anger. I always made fun of him when he caught his fits.

As I opened the door, I wondered why he didn’t greet me. “Maybe he needs some time to cool down by himself before talking to me,” I said under my breath. I walked into my room, what a mess, I better start cleaning up all these clothes. When I picked up a towel, the thumping from inside my chest increased. The air filled inside me until I could no longer intake anymore; blood, lots of it. The puddles around my feet come into view, my panther instinct jolted across the room to look for my brother. There, next to the opposite side of the bed, he lied. With his front side up, I saw the slit from one side of his neck going all the way across. I stared. I began to jerk and I felt as though my internal organs were hot potatoes, dying to jump out of my body. I bent over him and touched his soft hand, staring into his glazed, beady, almond-brown eyes. In a deadlock, I squeezed his limp hand. It’s time to look away, my mind dictated. But I just couldn’t. I stood by his side, and felt the warmth of his body still radiating from his skin. I fought the voice inside my head. As his eyes continued to glare in my direction, I felt him saying goodbye.

Final Piece- Draft 7

“I am moving to the Yukon and there isn’t anything you can do about it,” I yelled to my older brother, Terable, through the wide bathroom door of the two-story house we’ve lived in since birth. Well, at least for as long as I can remember. Momma and daddy brought us over from Barcelona as babies. I walked out of the bathroom and glared at him in disbelief. Goodness, I remember that puzzled look, I thought, it’s the one daddy used to do when he wanted so hard to understand my ways. Buddha…he looks so much like poppa. Ugh, I rolled my eyes, I’m just so sick of looking at him. Leaning against the red-plastered wall, I almost felt like lying on the sundried grey carpet, where so many memories had been made.

“All I’ve done for you after mom and dad passed away and THIS is how you repay me? By moving to become some bullshit teacher and marry some dude I’ve never met?” Terable ranted.

I rolled my eyes; the internal heat had leveled to my head, making my hulk-like veins pop from my neck up. I flurried my dark chocolate hair in my hands, why must he be so difficult? It’s always on and off like this. Why can’t he just give me space to be myself?

“I’m tired of this. I won’t argue. I’m just gonna pack my stuff and leave now,” I said.

“Where the hell are you gonna stay until you sort out your big rewarding trip?” Terable asked, with a half amused smile. I didn’t answer, but just turned my back to head towards the room. As I entered my clothing cluttered room, I stared up at the ceiling. I noticed, once again, the small indigo blue stars painted against the off white walls. When Terable was only fifteen, and I was thirteen, we took on our wildest imaginations together.

“Ana, why don’t we put stars up there?” he asked, “So whenever we look up at night, we remember that angels are looking down, and we won’t get scared of the world outside.”

“Yeah! And we can show mom and dad when they get home,” I had said. A few moments later, our aunt had shaken the keys, indicating she was coming in. With tear-filled eyes, our aunt clenched her fists. Her knees withered and she looked as though the air was knocked out her lungs, she fell to the stained carpet.

“Kids, I need to talk to you,” she paused and gasped for air through her soaked translucent skin. She was holding back, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Auntie, why are you crying? What’s wrong? Don’t be sad,” I said.

“Honey, things are going to be a little different around here,” she told me, looking frantically from my brother to me, back to my brother again.

“Just tell us,” my brother said without concern. I guess he didn’t think it could possibly be that serious.

“Come out to the living room. I’ll make some tea for us and then we’ll talk about it on the sofa,” she managed to say calmly. It still sounded like she was choking back on her words.

We moved out onto the couch in the living room. We had always enjoyed being in our house, it was as vast as an empty mansion. The living room was decorated with beautiful green and red colors. A tiny hint of silver tinsel lied around the furnace all year ‘round. We felt at home, snuggled in our palace just a few minutes into New Jersey. Nothing could take away our delight. Nothing except…

“Here you go kids,” Auntie said, as she handed us our cups of hot jasmine tea. She took a deep breath. I could see the daggers ripping through her eyes plunging forward at me, heading straight to my chest. She didn’t want to tell us. “I just came from the hospital,” she said quickly.

“With who?” Terable asked.

“Your…parents. Kids, they got in a terrible car accident on their way home from work today,” Auntie looked away.

My face squeezed up with tension as my heart skipped. No, I thought, no! Auntie locked eyes with me, as if telling me the outcome without words. Right then, I knew it. My eyes glazed over, and I felt a force in my chest that wouldn’t stop pulling. Take me instead, God.

And that was when it changed; my life spiraled in a different direction. The tender taste of sprinkled happiness ripped from under my feet. I had lost my parents, the only two people who ever supported my growing ambition to make something great out of people just like me.

I moved my eyes swiftly from the stars to the clock, 9:00 pm. My goodness is it that late already? I better call Engle now. When I reached for my iPhone, which usually sat on my bed, I didn’t see the bright blue phone case. Please don’t tell me he stooped that low, I thought.

“Terable!! Dude, just hand over my phone,” I said.

“You can’t leave this house without it, though,” he replied with a proud smirk.

“I paid for that phone; you have no control over it,” I let out a deep, heavy sigh. I walked closer to my big brother, slowly glaring him up and down. Eyes locked, I whispered, “Terable, you can’t keep that phone locked in your palm forever.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” he asked. “I’ve held onto it for years.”

“Eventually, you’re gonna have to put it down. People are gonna call, send messages in and out, and you’re gonna feel helpless when you can’t respond,” I told him. His eyes dropped to the floor, I saw the perspiration drip down his temples as he thought about what to do next.

Getting serious once again, Terable did not hand me the phone. Instead, he kicked forward, dashing into the room where he took apart the bags I had packed. He quickly got a hold of the clothes and flicked them in the air as though they were papers of work on the last day of school before the summer vacation. I, still standing in my position in the living room, started to turn around and head towards my room. As my footsteps led my path, I thought of when we were growing up, and how much I loved Christmas with my parents. The wood toasting into a fine mixture of tall red, orange, and yellow glow, illuminating the entire living room, and the sweet smell of pine cone swam through our nostrils as we cuddled on the carpet. Still walking towards the room, one foot in front of the other, I pictured how my brother and I used to lay on the carpet and draw in our Rudolph coloring books. We’d color Santa’s rosy cheeks, and put frosty glass snowflakes on the evergreen Christmas tree. When my last step directed me into the room where Terable was destroying my packed bags, reality hit me.

“Terable!! I’m not dealing with this anymore. Go ahead, tear up my shit. I’m leaving without it. Keep my phone, keep my clothes, that’s what you’ll have left to remember me by,” I yelled. My face was an apple, and my stomach flipped over thinking about what I had just said, basically promising to never see my brother again. Whatever, he deserves it, I thought. I rapidly snatched my leather jacket from off the chair and threw it on as I slammed the door behind me.

Behind the door, I stayed in place. My feet were glued to the ground, although I wanted to leave him, I wasn’t sure if storming out was the best way. Just go, he won’t change. He’s still gonna try to control you again if he sees you out here, I thought to myself. Ugh, I know. But, I don’t want him to be alone and worried about where I’m at. I don’t even have a phone. I sat in the staircase, wondering what I should do. I didn’t want to feed into his manipulation and end up staying. I have goals, and I intend to get married to Engle and move with him to a location where I could see them again, my parents. Christmas would be celebrated often, the winter breeze would take over and I’d feel my mom’s sweet touch swirling on my cheeks in the crispy wind. Okay, just go in and calmly explain to him why you need to move. Maybe this time, without an argument, he’ll understand, I thought. I got up and headed towards the burgundy red door. As I turned the key in the lock, I heard silence from inside. Why don’t I hear him banging on walls and throwing glass? I smiled to myself, thinking about Terable’s methods of coping with his anger. I always made fun of him when he caught his fits.

As I opened the door, I wondered why he didn’t greet me. “Maybe he needs some time to cool down by himself before talking to me,” I said under my breath. I walked into my room, what a mess, I better start cleaning up all these clothes. When I picked up a towel, the thumping from inside my chest increased. The air filled inside me until I could no longer intake anymore; blood, lots of it. The puddles around my feet come into view, my panther instinct jolted across the room to look for my brother. There, next to the opposite side of the bed, he lied. With his front side up, I saw the slit from one side of his neck going all the way across. I stared. I began to jerk and I felt as though my internal organs were hot potatoes, dying to jump out of my body. I bent over him and touched his soft hand, staring into his glazed, beady, almond-brown eyes. In a deadlock, I squeezed his limp hand. It’s time to look away, my mind dictated. But I just couldn’t. I stood by his side, and felt the warmth of his body still radiating from his skin. I fought the voice inside my head. As his eyes continued to glare in my direction, I felt him saying goodbye.