Sajid Farook
Block: C/D
Driving through the streets of Kuala Lumpur at the young age of eight, curiosity suddenly struck my younger self’s mind. “Ma, why did you name me Sajid Omar Farook?” I asked.
“Sajid means servant to god, or a worshipper,” she replies, her head motionless, focused on the windshield. “Will you live up to your name?” she then asks.
Will I live up to my name? I ponder. Am I a servant of god?
To this day, I still wonder whether or not my name truly lives up to my identity. To me, a name is more than what you’re called but a big portion of who you are. Religion is more than a big portion of who I am, but the servant of god really me? I’m spectrum of many different qualities, but according to definition, my very name is just one distinct hue. Intelligent, creative, and philosophical, wise, insightful. Those are my true colors. Those are things I really value.
I remember the day I took part in the marshmallow challenge. Following the end of ten minutes my group and I had to complete the task, not only was I left with a partially collapsed tower made of spaghetti, tape, and string, but more knowledge about me and my collaboration skills. “Guys, make the base a tripod...we need to thicken the layer over here...tie the string from here to the table!” I remember saying. The marshmallow challenge shows that someone with a creative mind of many colors and qualities is who I am.
Sajid Farook (continued)
Block: C/D
Many colors and qualities, just like my Rubik’s Cube. At the age of twelve, toys are almost nonexistent. For me, on the other hand, I use play with my Rubik’s Cube more than I played with any other toy in my childhood. I often encounter some very stressful times - times where the world is counded in sadness. My Rubik’s cube, though is like a torch light - it shines through the sadness, and when I put it together, it replaces it with happiness. Few people use a multicolored cube to relieve stress, but those who do have an intelligent and imaginative mind.
I remember the day in health class a couple days ago that didn’t just give me another reason to think I’m a person with a philosophical, insightful mind, but gave me proof. “I want you to rank each set of words in order of how well they describe you from four - being the best - to one - being the worst.” Mrs. Ryan said, handing out the sheets of paper to everybody. I remember writing straight fours next to phrases and words such as “insightful, ”logical,” “ponders at philosophical thoughts,” and more. I was constantly contemplating at how well some of the sets of words describes me - especially those that represent status quo. Other categories such as “Harmony” and “Activity” received lower scores, but the results couldn’t be clearer: my mentality is by far and away my greatest strength.
It’s easy to say that you’re something, but if you truly are that, it’s far easier to prove it. Important things such as your passport, name, and culture won’t prove it. I’ve learned that I’m someone with an insightful, creative, wise, and intelligent mind through a spaghetti tower, a cube, and a piece of paper filled with words and numbers. What will show you who you are?
The meaning of Jack:(reflected)
I am Jack and I’ll tell you the meaning behind my name. My name means someone who is a man no matter how old you are. Such as the The story Jack and the Beanstalk. He took the task on for himself like a man. I had a nickname from my brother and sister and some friends. The nickname was Jackisito which means little Jack. I always had hated the nickname I didn’t like being called little or small. They don’t do it today but occasionally they say it just to annoy me. The story of how I got my name was interesting. My Mom wanted to call me Jack so they were going to name me Jonathon and call me Jack but then my Mom was afraid people would call me John so then they named me Jack.
My name also means stubborn that I think what I think no matter what anybody tells me. One time in a family reunion my uncles came back from the grocery store. I asked if I could help bring the groceries in but all that was left was a big cooler of water and my uncle said, “You can’t carry that thing it’s as big as you.” He was judging me he didn’t believe I could lift it up cause I’m small and I can’t stand it when people judge me for. He was exaggerating of course it was only half my size but I went and picked it up and hauled it up the stairs and onto the counter. I proved him wrong and boy he was surprised. I have more meaning then my name though. I really value friendship,hard workers,and courage. By courage I don’t mean doing stupid stuff like jumping off cliffs thats not courage that’s insanity. What I mean by courage is standing up to bullies and ripping apart peer pressure like one would rip up a poorly written paper.
Based on some websites me having the name Jack will cause me to hit my head a lot. I know this sounds ridiculous but it’s true this has happened many times. I remember one time me and my brother were goofing off and he was lying down on the floor and I was on the bed and there was a desk next to the bed. So I leaned down and made a funny face at my brother James. Then James blows in my face and it startled me so then I jerk upward and hit my head hard on the corner of the desk. Then I say “I think I’m bleeding” and James says really and I say no”. Then put my hand to my head and I felt something wet but I thought I drooled (It was about 4:00A.M so give me a break) so then I go to the bathroom to pee. I turn on the light and look into the mirror and there’s blood dripping down from my head down to my chin and my hand is all bloody from touching my head. Then I call over James and he sees that my heads all bloody then my sister Madigan wakes up and tells me to not be so loud but she doesn’t look at my head. So I keep saying look at me while she’s saying to be quiet. Finally, she looks at my head and we stop the blood from coming out with a hand towel. Luckily I didn’t have to go to a hospital and in the end I was all right. I am kind of a clutz me always hitting my head and falling down but that is just who I am and i can't’ change that. This isn’t just about my name this is a definition of my personality. My name is the not that ties all the strings together. “Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!”-Dr. Seuss by that quote I mean that everyone is themselves and i am me.
Ethan Chi My new racket
About every year, I have to get a new racket. But when I wanted to get a new racket this time, I wanted to get a new racket that was cool. Receiving my racket at the tennis store made recieving it exciting, I knew that the racket that I was getting wasn’t just any old tennis racket. It was a babolat, Normal rackets, have bad bad materialed frames, they have a smaller frames and they have smaller grips. To me, the fact that i had an awesome racket made me feel special. Very special.
When the racket was being given to me onto my hands, it felt like heaven was giving me a gift. But I also knew that I had a responsibility to keep it healthy and not damaged. Responsibility is the price of freedom. Also when I came back out of the heaven of the tennis store, I knew that this racket would be better, it would be stronger, and it would be faster. When I played with it, I could feel an arsenal of angels blessing me which makes me play 20 times better. On the sidelines, I could see an angel that loves me the most always there for me and cheering me on to push forward whenever I play.
Bought by my mom, she also made it more valuable to me, as she was one of those angels giving me the power to carry on if I hit a bad shot or if I made a bad play. But also when I made amazing shots and plays, I could feel myself getting stronger and stronger with every single hit. As if I am draining power from the other enemy. She is helping me wherever I go in whatever I do. My mom is an angel and she is there for me.
To me, my mom is the most important person in my life, and without her, I wouldn’t be here today. She gave me love, she gave me her care and she also my beloved tennis racket. Different people have different relationships between people and my relationship with my mom is special. Special relationships is the thing that matters most to me. Your angels will care for you and they will help you wherever you go. I have my angel, do you?
Mansi Seth
Block: C/D
Mansi. It’s got a ring to it. It pushes through your lips with the “e” sound finishing it off. I see a color in it too. Maybe a shade of blue, like the color of the sky. Confident and sincere.
My parents didn’t take a lot of time choosing my name. In fact, they didn’t even glance through a single “A Thousand Baby Names” book. It was a few weeks before the day I was born when my parents were watching a movie where the main character's name was “Mansi”, meaning “ladylike”. Both my parents fell in love with the name and decided that they were going to call me “Mansi”.
I really feel that ladylike is that last word that I would use to describe myself. My mom recalls that a few months after I was born when I had my first appearance with people other than my family, everyone started “oohing” and “aahing” over my cute, toothless baby smile, though I honestly think it was just gas. Sadly, I was right and a few second later, my not-very-well-processed baby food didn’t want to cooperate with my stomach and went everywhere. Ladylike? I don’t think so.
The pronunciation of my name is just another problem I have to cope with. I know that in India, where I’m from, is the closest that people can pronounce my name right but they just stretch it a few more syllables that what it’s meant to be. Teachers and friends also have a struggle saying my name where it comes out sounding like “man-se”, emphasizing on the “man-” part which is one of my pet peeves. My sister takes advantage of this fact and over the couple of years has given me the nickname “Man”. (No joke) So everyday I have to put up with “Man, go get me this” or “Man, put this away”, but I think that the nickname has contributed in making me the bold person I am.
I think that my name has helped me minimize the confusion of figuring out who I am by the way that the definition of my name is so different from who I really am. When I was younger, I used to change my name when playing pretend because it made me feel like an adult. But now that I’m older, I’ve stopped wanting to change my name, probably because I’ve grown used to it.
Even though the meaning of my name might not suit me, or the pronunciation has lead to a dreadful nickname, I can truly say that my name has molded me into who I am now, and who I hope to become in the future.
(Note: After reading this, I want the reader to know how my name has shaped me into the person I am even though the definition describes that opposite of who I am. In the structure part of this piece, I have used transitional words and a variety of length in scenes.)
My Name = Me
Samar gill Side C/D
“Dad” I screamed from the from my isolated bedroom thinking that he would hear me ( How stupid of me ) “shut up Dimwit” my brother whispers as he pins me onto the the bed, covering my mouth and my nose blocking all oxygen coming into my body. As i struggle for air I hear a angry voice coming from downstairs “ “Jo get back to work now” “ I am working” said jo no answer as he secretly leaves the room I know that he’l be back.
I slowly tip toe to johar’s room, I need that tape “ Hacho” “ohno now he knows i am coming” but i still go on witch is a stupid idea but i need that tape “ uhmm” no one here i thought, then he tackles me into the and slams a bean bag over my head i cry silently and head keeps hitting the concrete floor as this is happening i think to myself why is he doing this does he love me or does he…. “ are you really crying wow you are a big baby, I realise that i’m free so i sprint to exit sign jumping steps and crashing into my soft melting couch i still wonder why he does those things to me.
“Owwa, What the heck dood what was that for” i said in pain “hurry up” says a kid whilst banging a xylophone into me. The next day i told my mum about it, which was a mistake because she was saying “ Well i will come to your school and teach that kid a lesson” i was so embarrassed i made her not come instead my brother came “ great” I thought “now jo’s gonna make even more fun of me. but something weird happened at school he talked to this kid and he actually stood up for me. The only then i realised that he only beats me up because he bored or just whats some fun not because he dosent love me and today he proved that. He does love me and i love him as my brother.
Carissa Chua Following my Great-Grandmother's Footsteps
I’ve never really thought about what my name meant. When I looked it up, Carissa means sensitivity, creativity, and my different qualities can be expressed in various forms of art and literary. Ines, which is part of my first name, means I’m versatile and have a creative nature. You can sum it up as I’m a creative individual, who will adapt to various situations.
When I asked my mom how she thought of my name, she replied with, “ You are named after your great-grandmother, Ines.” I’ve never met my great-grandmother, but I’ve always been told that I look like her. According to my family members, my great-grandmother was a strong woman who also had a gentle, caring heart. My mom told me that my great-grandmother was born to a rich family, and fell in love at 15. Even though my great-grandfather was poor, she believed in true love, and following her heart. Life was hard at first, but she remained unfazed. While my great-grandfather was busy starting up a business in the province, my great-grandmother stayed at home to take care of their 9 children. I admire her strength, and how through thick and thin she pushed through the hard times.
Many people mistake my name for Clarissa or Chrissa. Sometimes when that happens I let it be, but other times it gets on my last nerve. When I was in third grade, I was always called Chrissa until one point I literally taught my classmates how to pronounce Carissa, as Cuh-rissa just to emphasize the “a.” Luckily ever since then, my name was pronounced correctly.
To make things simpler, my family and close friends found ways to shorten my name. The most common of which is Cari. But true to the meaning of my name, I have several creative nicknames. My brother calls me “Riri” because of the “ri” in my name. Sometimes, when I’m in trouble, my mom calls me Ines, as if to remind me that my great-grandmother was responsible, and I should follow her footsteps.
I personally really like my name. I like the meaning behind it, all the stories and memories behind it, and how it makes me feel special to be named after somebody who was such a great role model to others in my family. While I don’t want to fall in love at 15, I want to be strong, be independent, be responsible, be caring, just like my great-grandmother.
Block:C/D
Regina Bernardo Block C/D
From a young age, I’ve always known what my name meant. “You are Regina Elise,” my grandmother would say, when we would go over to her place, “In Italian that means Queen Elizabeth. Perhaps you were meant to become one!” Every time I heard this I would laugh saying “But Grandma, I’m not a queen at all!” She’d give a cheeky smile and a wink so fast that if you blinked, you missed it. Throughout my life, people have always asked what my name meant, and I gave them the same translation my grandmother told me because it was the only definition I knew. But through time, I know now that it means so much more.
Growing up, I guess you could say that my parents saw my sister and I as being the ‘mature ones.’ Even when my younger brother was at the age of when I started looking after the younger ones, my parents would always want to make sure that there was either me or my sister present. Naturally, there were times when my sister wouldn’t be available and babysitting my siblings would become my responsibility. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my family as I’m sure the majority of the world loves their own. But taking care of them, is much like serving them. Which got me thinking, what kind of queen serves a servant? Why does my name portray me as something that I obviously am not?
Around two or so years ago, my sister came home from a long shopping trip with a shiny, slick, never been used, purple hairbrush. She presented it by the door, showing it off to everyone who was sitting in the living room with me. Everyone “oohed” and “aahed” at her magnificent find and I could see why. There wasn’t a single strand of hair weaved between the bristles and the back was smoother than silk. She placed it down on the coffee table and as I laid my eyes on it I thought one thing: mine.
I was tired of of always sharing, I was tired of always being the rock that everyone leaned back on, I was tired of being taken for granted. So I argued and argued time after time to own that brush but my sister refused, claiming that it was for all of us to use. Even though I came from a family of five children
(continued)
and was used to sharing, I was sick of it. I threw tantrums that lasted nearly an hour, or I gave her the silent treatment for days. She told me over and over again that it wasn’t just meant for me. But I wanted it as my own. I wanted to be able to call it my property. And I didn’t want it to be anyone else’s.
“What’s that?” my little brother asked one day, months after our glorious hairbrush. He and my sister had been playing a game of hide and seek in our backyard, when he pointed to a flat silver oval on our patio. I watched from our bedroom window, which overlooked the back yard like a throne, while brushing my hair with the hairbrush. My little sister approached him and their mouths moved in question, wondering what it was. I soon went to join them.
By the time I had got there, they had flipped it over and all of us could see the somewhat glossy brand name of which our hairbrush belonged to. All eyes seemed to have trained themselves on the object that I held and as I turned it in my palm, feeling the outline of a flat silver oval on my skin. My younger siblings, the panic rising. Their eyes wanted me to take charge, to tell them what to do. I gulped and slowly made my way back to the house with both the oval and the hairbrush in hand.
When I got to the door of the living room, I saw my sister reading in the living room, in a position that I was once in when the hairbrush was brought home. I walked over to her and placed the hairbrush and the oval on the coffee table. She looked at my worried face then at the table and she did the thing I least expected for her to do. She laughed.
“About time this thing started falling apart!” she said, “It’s been getting too old anyways.” I stared at her stunned, but soon found myself giggling along with her. We laughed and laughed until tears were spilling out of our eyes, and when we had finally settled down we sat next to each other on the couch and my sister looked at me and said “Imagine. You worried about a hairbrush.” That was enough for us to erupt into
(continued)
giggles all over again, and up to this day, I still remember how I was able to serve her with those few minutes of laughter. As time went on, the hairbrush went through many obstacles -or more accurately- adventures. From being stuck in a stinky gym bag for over a week, to being found in the depths of a tattered couch pillow. Along with these events came numerous rounds of laughter and tears that came right after, but most importantly, they came with memories that I will never forget, just like every memory of my grandmother claiming she knew what my name meant.
But there’s so much more to what my name means and how it really defines me. ‘Regina’ doesn’t just mean queen, but also idealistic, leader-like and generous. Even though I obviously haven’t been very sharing before, the hairbrush has made me realise how I can change that and how it shows who I really am.
Although the brush now is dirty, the bristles no longer all stand straight and we never got around to glueing that flat silver oval back on, I still believe that it’s one of the most memorable objects that me and my siblings own. In the words of Helen Keller, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”
Beatrice Wang The Diversity of Third World Kids RLA C/D
Western kids live a harmonious and well balanced life. Even though the society is diversified by religion, culture and race, the kids live in a relatively simple life. They receive the same education, meet the most of the same friends, enjoy the same games, and the live in the same environment.
Its come to the conclusion that western kids live simple lives, when compared to third culture kids, their lives are a lot easier. Third culture kids make new friends that come and go. They are exposed to different languages and different ways of life. Often times, third culture kids have to mentally and physically adjust to new environments.
That said, everyday, I hear people speak their native language. But as a Chinese American, is my native language Chinese or English?
Living in Singapore gives me the advantage of being exposed to so many different cultures and languages, such as English, mandarin, Cantonese, Hindi, and Malaysian. I’ve been influenced with so many diverse aspects, that when I arrive back in China, I don’t know who I am.
Everyday, when I come home from school, my mom asks, “How was school,” or “What did you learn?” But when I speak of Chinese class, my mom says “You’re Chinese, and you can barely speak your own language?”
Over the 7 years I’ve lived in Singapore, I have come to notice that the diversity in cultures has changed me. I realized that the friends I use to have in China no longer know who I am, that my teachers who have taught me before don’t remember what my name is. Sometimes, situations like this happen. It may be a good thing that your old friends forget you because you’ve made new friends, in a new culture, where everything and everyone is different. From these experiences, I’ve learned that people grow out of their shell and they find a new home to settle in. At one point of our lives, we will create new habits and meet new people, and finally learn to grow up.
Ethan Chng Block C/D
After concluding the winery tour at the Castello di Amorosa Winery in Napa, California, I visited the gift shop. A unique looking pencil caught my eye and I held it up to show my aunt, who asked, “Ethan, since you love drawing and sketching, would you like to buy the pencil?”
“I would love to! Thank you!” I exclaimed excitedly, instantly grabbing the pencil in my hand.
I was thrilled to use my new pencil. I couldn't wait to explore its capabilities. During the car ride home, I kept visualizing what I would sketch when I reached home. I then made up my mind to draw the single thing that mattered most to me, my family.
Overtime, I realized that this pencil had some rather unique properties. Unlike other pencils, this pencil was tougher, and stronger. The pencil tip was also very unique in that it could not be sharpened with a pencil sharpener. And because I used this pencil frequently, I constantly had to sharpen it by using a knife.
I like to sketch animals mostly, because their expressions appeal to me in many ways. Sometimes, I will think of a creative art to draw. I love doing all these because sketching enables me to be able to express myself creatively.
Aside from expressing my creative side, sketching also helps me to release stress. After studying for a test, I will sit down on my desk, take out my special wooden pencil, and start to draw something. Art makes me stay calm and cool. Drawing and sketching are effective ways to channel out my frustrations after a day of hard work. I realise that this pencil is not just any ordinary pencil, it holds a special memory in my life.
I’ve used this pencil for a few years now, and I really like it. I am truly grateful to my gracious aunt for buying me this pencil. She has changed my life as an artist, and I will keep this treasure with me forever.
Claire - I own my name
What were my parents thinking?! A name which means responsible, self-confident, talkative, friendly and never lonely. I’ve asked my father why they named me Claire and he always says “because it’s a pretty name”.
Gee thanks dad, that’s deep. Couldn’t my name have a meaningful story behind it like other people’s? I guess that that doesn’t matter much because I like my name.
It’s used in so many different ways. The terrifying way my mother yells “CLAIRE!” that sends me straight into the nearest hiding place. The way my cousins struggle to pronounce it in their vietnamese accent, the way my friend’s little sister used to call me “Bleah!”.
My name isn’t common but it isn’t uncommon either. That’s why I like it. Every now and then another Claire pops into my life and it’s kind of awkward for me but it’s not like there’s another Claire Mai Aronson.
My full name is a jumble up of cultures, which is exactly what I am. The Mai is from my Vietnamese side, Aronson from my grandpa being Jewish and then Claire, a “pretty name”.
Claire - I own my name
I don’t exactly live up to the definition of the name Claire but that doesn’t matter because my name doesn't own me, I own my name. It's been given to me by my parents and it’s mine to keep forever. I am the one that's supposed to decide what my unique and personal name means. It's not there to describe me. It's there to identify me, as the girl who isn't that friendly or confident but still has friends. The girl that's responsible enough to keep her out of trouble, most of the time. The girl that isn’t very self-confident but isn’t shriveling up in the corner of a crowded room crying. It’s there to describe my inner soul, my life and personality. I could never imagine changing it to anything else, even though I’m not the only one named Claire, my name is unique.
In this piece I wanted the reader to learn about my personality. I’ve described myself in the last paragraph and you could dig deeper to find hints about my life. I’ve used basic structures such as descriptions, dialogues and some minor forms of anecdotes.
Olivia Gil de Bernabe My Name
Before I was born, my parents had a very hard time choosing what I would be called for the rest of my life. They went through many names, testing them by asking relatives whether they liked them or not. Names that did not pass the test were thrown out of the “Possible Names Club”. After a few weeks, they finally decided on Olivia.
When I was younger I would always ask my parents why they decided to name me Olivia. My mom would say, “You can pronounce it in both English and Spanish, and I like that”. But my dad would always answer, in Spanish, “It sounds like the word olive, and olives are green. Those are two things I like! ”. At that age, I didn’t quite understand why that made sense. But now I guess I understand why he would think that. Many people do. Several of my friends call me “Olive”, while others call me Livy-most just call me Olivia. Olive and Olivia, what’s the difference? I’m actually very happy with my name. I like how, back when I was born, not so many people were called Olivia. But now it’s ranked the #3 most common name in the Unites States. It makes me feel like I started it. Olivia. Nice and short and easy to pronounce. And as for my last name? That’s a whole different story.
On the outside, my last name is like an unsolvable crossword. Right when you think you’ve caught the word you’re working on, it decides to stay on the tip of your tongue and refuses to come out. And this crossword is a real pain, it gets you frustrated very easily. Gil de Bernabe. That’s my last name. Other than family members and myself, nobody I know can pronounce it. When people ask me what my last name is, I don’t even know what to say. There would only be two ways of saying it. The Spanish way, which is very complicated, and the non-Spanish way. If I say the non-Spanish way, it’s way easier, but it’s not really my last name. Because it’s pronounced in a totally different way.
Olivia Continued
The thing about my last name is that there is actually a deep story behind it. During the 1300’s, one of our ancestors was the guardian of a castle in Aragon, one of the kingdoms in Spain. One of the other nearby kingdoms in Spain, Castilla, wanted to take over Aragon. They want all over the kingdom, defeating all the towns (because they surrendered without even fighting), but when they got to our castle, we wouldn’t surrender. After a very long, bloody war, our troops lost. But as our castle was burning down, my ancestor held up the main key to the castle and died along with the castle. Even though we lost the war I am still very proud of being part of this family. Because of the time that the Castillans spent fighting with us, troops of Aragon were able to come from behind the Castillan troops and attack them. In the end, Aragon won ,and thanks to our ancestor, our family now has a coat of arms. Nowadays the Gil de Bernabes are known to never surrender however hard a task is, and this is why I am proud of my name.
Elizabeth Frey CD RLA
I had recently moved to Singapore, and I hated it. I missed my old friends, my old school, my old life. I was back in the bay area for the summer break and I was staying with my friend Ella. We used to share a nanny and we went to the same school. I remember one day we were sitting by a river, and I was telling her how worried I was about the new school year. She told me that everyone at school already missed me, and she did too, but how she knew that I would make tons new friends. She stood up and grabbed a white rock next to her, “Catch,” she said and threw the rock to me. We continued like this for a while. This simple game of catch was enough to calm my nerves, and help settle the butterflies in my stomach. When our parent’s called to go home, and we stopped playing and headed back to the car, I kept the rock. For years after that, that rock sat besides my bed, on my bedside table, as a reminder of how everything was going to turn out fine, and to not worry too much.
I miss Ella. She was the type of friend who would always keep your secrets, a friend who would think of ways to help you not worry as much. She was a truly loyal friend, and I think that’s really important. Being loyal to your friend is everything in friendship. Just like people say “Loyalty is the first law of friendship.” It’s easy to stay friends with someone who lives in the same city as you, or even the same country. Yet it’s not easy to stay friends with people who live halfway across the world. Back when I lived in the US, I had a few best friends. When I moved to Singapore, one of them pinky promised she would email me everyday. This did not turn out to be the case. I tried emailing her many times, and she never replied. I never got a single email from her, and I haven’t seen her for years. Loyalty is a very important trait, and throughout life there are many things that test your loyalty, and all you have to do is to pass them to prove you’re a real friend.
Jimmy
My special object is my badminton racket. I got this racket from my coach in China, she gave it to me telling me “I’m giving you this racket because I know you have potential use it carefully because in the end it will break.” I keep this racket very dear to me, I use it in every practice, every match and now at the tryouts.
I remember at my first match I heard the crowd cheering, I stood nervously in the locker rooms waiting for my name to be called, with the familiar grip of my racket in my hand I walked on the court. Suddenly all my anxiety was gone and I was ready to play. I won that match, it was a relief to finally get over that match. It was the racket , I thought, all of my anxiety had been drained away by this racket, I could use it to channel my emotions. Now I play when im mad, sad, happy or just for fun.
My racket is black and blue with a pink grip. The pink stands out on the black and blue for it’s a neon color and seems to shine. Thats how i see the world, I dare to be different and I think that is important for a person, as Horace Mann said: “ A different world cannot be built by indifferent people.” My racket is beautiful and sleek, but though it looks good it has flaws, there are places where the paint is chipped but it stays strong. Like everyone on this planet I have flaws and no one is perfect. The racket is hard but is flexible I really think that represents me because I am headstrong at times but I can be flexible when I am required or needed to be.
Jimmy continued
This is why my racket is my special object, it represents me as a person and a person who enjoys sports and a person who has great goals. This racket also reminds me constantly that in sports winnings and losing isn’t the most important but it is to have fun. Lose graciously, Win humbly. Thats my motto, I’ve stuck to this motto like it’s my life line never in any sports have I slipped. Now that I think about it It’s one of my core values. Another one of my core values is to be different, different in life, different in the world and not to change for people but to change others myself. Dare to be different people scoff at that and laugh people have been put to death just because they dared to be different and do things their own way. In the past people were executed as witches because they acted different. Thats why this racket important to me, it reminds me how to be a good person and how to be the best I can be a person.
Smile. Thats my name. Well if you speak japanese. In arabic it means a really horrible insult. I think my name’s japanese meaning really reflects me and my personality. For me a smile is the default position of my face. When I ask my parents about my name they say, in there super high pitched perfect past voice, Cafe Niko was a cafe is Colombia which you and your dad really loved and loved the name, too.
On an airplane when I was about six years old I asked the flight attendant if i could see the cockpit after the flight and he said being from Australia,“surely mate”. After we landed I rushed up to the cockpit like a speeding car. The pilot introduced himself,”Hi. I’m Niko. What’s your name?” I was so shocked that I just said “No Way. Thats my name, too.” We then discussed about how we got them and I got my tour of the cockpit.
Another less awesome story was at soccer in an arabic speaking country and I was playing goalie. One of my friends and my brother were screaming “Go Niko”.My coach came over and scolded them.
Although it has a down side, my name is very special for me and I do prefer it over my “Official Name” Hayden. For me Hayden is not my name it is something people call me like a nickname. Hayden is also a nickname which people call me either when I’m in trouble or when I am getting medical treatment. I think that the age for legally changing your “Official Nickname” as I call it is dumb and kids should be able to change their name whenever they want with their parents permission. I don’t really like my “Official Nickname” But, I love my name and the conversations it brings up and I am thankful for that.
Niko Welsh
C/D
Gustav
“I’m from the states” I said to a few kids
They looked at me with a stern eye “What race are you?” asked one of the kids
“I’m American”
“That’s a joke right?” snickered another kid
“No I am American”
“Listen, your Asian, you’re not American” said a kid as the kids walked away
Later when I went home, I thought over and over again, “I’m American, not Asian, my parents may be Asian but I’m not, why would they tell me I’m Asian and not American?”
Why do people never assume Western looking people are Westerns? Sure they may look, be descended from, but what about deep down inside in what they love, in what they honor, in what they fight for? They may call themselves Asian or Brazilian, but NO ONE cares about it, heck they support it. For a Western that looks like an Asian, that’s not the case.Not only do people think that a Western that looks like an Asian is Asian. They TELL you’re wrong and that you’re a Japanese from South Korea who loves fried rice, that excels in Math class and has the busiest homework but still turns it in on time and plays the piano every day for 2 hours. Has that ever happened to a Asian that looks like a Western, or a Egyptian that looks like a Western. No. Everything people call me is a lie, I don’t care what others think about and call me, I am what I call myself.
LAILA
What I value
Sitting on my bed with a journal in my hands, I started reading. The pages filled with words. Words of advice, words of encouragement. A gift I was given by someone who I value very much someone who means the world to me. My brother. When this journal was written I was only 6 months old. Not being able to read or write I had just recently read this journal. While reading I couldn't help but feel very special and very happy. When I feel like I need to connect with my brother and he is not around I read this journal. It makes me feel close to him. It makes me feel that I am sitting right next to him now. Every word of the journal reminds me of him. The words in the book remind me of things that he would say to me. In every word on the pages I can see him laughing and smiling and even frowning when it came to a time.
This Journal is my reminder that even when things get hard and even in times when I want to give up that I have my family. My family is what I value most. I am thankful to them in every possible way.
“Family is like music. There are high notes there are low notes but in the end there is always a beautiful song. “
This Journal is my reminder that even when things get hard and even in times when I want to give up that I have my family. My family is what I value most. I am thankful to them in every possible way. Family is what makes me who I am. They are the ones who will stick by me through all of my rough times. Without them I am incomplete. They are the core of everything and anything I do. They push me when I need to be pushed. My family is the people that will always love me unconditionally. They will do things for me and never expect anything in return. They will listen to me when I am angry they will hug me when I’m sad. They’ll laugh at me or with me when I say or do something funny. My family is the people that are always going to look at the good in me no matter what the rest of the world thinks. They are who I am. That’s why I believe that my family is one of my core values they are everything I do. My brother as my role model and someone I look up to. Always helping me when I need it, and always being there for me no matter how hard of a time he is having. My sister is the bundle of my joy in my life. Seeing her makes me feel special and loved. Always believing in me even when I doubt myself. My father is the person who will be there for me and tell me when I need to improve something not because he wants to bring me down not because he wants me to feel bad but because he loves me enough to tell me these things. My mother is the base of everything I do. Pushing me when I needed to be pushed. Always looking for the good in what I do. One day when I came home I was feeling very down. “Laila what’s wrong?” asks my mother.
“nothing mom I’m fine.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. I wasn’t in the mood to explain why.
“Laila you are my own daughter I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Fine, today at school I was accused of something I know I didn’t do”
“Laila if people believe that you did whatever people think you did. They are not your true friends. Its like they say. “people who mind don’t matter and people who matter don’t mind” You have to show whoever is bothering you that you don’t care about what theyre saying about you. You need to hold your head high and get on with your life. Because everywhere you go there will be people who are mean and people who don’t want to be your friends. But all you have to do is show them that you are fine and it does not matter to you.”
“Thank you mom I’m very grateful for this advice.”
LAILA CONTINUED
You can have friends and you can have family but you’ll always need more to be full”
Material things aren’t going to make you happy. Its your choice whether you are happy or not. Happiness comes from memories with you friends and family.
I was at my brother’s soccer game watching him play. I was intently watching the ball. Then I stopped to think why am I watching the ball? Then I remember something my dad had told me. “don’t let people kick you around like a soccer ball. Choose where you want to go and what you want to do.” While I was watching the ball I thought I don’t want to be like that I don’t want to be kicked around from person to person. I don’t want to do things just because others want me to. I want to be who I am. I want to be happy.
When people ask me what I care about I say “My Iphone” but now I realize that material things aren’t the things that are going to make me happy when I am sad. Its not my friends or family although they can help cheer me up. The only person that can control how I feel is ME! Lately I’ve been thinking that Trust is something that makes me feel safe. It makes me feel comforted. Like a blanket. When I was young my parents gave me a blanket. Something I held dearly to myself. This blanket was my safety net. It kept me safe and warm. It made me feel like their was only good in the world.
“ A relationship without trust is like having a phone with no service and what do you do with a phone with no service? You play games.
Trust isn’t something bought or given trust is something earned. I believe that trust is something needed in a relationship. Without it relationships fall apart. Trust is something needed because… When you trust someone you can be yourself around him or her. You can tell them something and not expect anyone else to know. Trust is what Relationships should be based around. I believe everyone should feel safe with people they care about and people they trust. But its like they say trust is like a vase once its broken even if you glue it back together you can still see the cracks. I have had experiences where there were people I knew I could not trust. But there have been many cases where I have met people I could trust. I trust my teachers my family and usually my friends. I think its important that trust is mutual when you give you can expect to receive it if you don’t give it don’t expect to receive it. Trust is something I strongly believe in. Its not something I will let slide.
Aiden
A splash of water erupted across my face cooling me as I rowed my way through the water in the slightly choppy but beautifully clear waters of the Andaman Sea. The sandy shores of the “yet to be explored” island beckoned me and compelled me towards it. A light and joyful smile shone from my father’s face, and that gave me that encouragement to continue on and make it to the mysterious island. A shout of “Are we there yet?” rang out from behind me, followed by an insisting tapping on my back from my beloved brother. After a few more hard strokes, the tip of my canoe hit land and I climbed out of the canoe. As I climbed out, my foot tripped over my oar, and with a loud bang I fell onto the soft but clinging sand. Brushing the sand off my legs, I stood up and waited for my dad and my brother to get out of their boat.
My mom and dad landed a little further down the beach so I called them over. While they trotted slowly towards me I entertained myself by throwing a lump of sand up in the air, watching it split and come back down with a splat into the water. In the corner of my eye, I spotted a small, eerie and dark cave, hidden at the far corner of the island. As I was keen to find out what was inside, I wandered towards the isolated cave by myself. My dad saw me and followed me. “Anything there?” he asked. I told him a little hesitantly that I didn’t know yet he laughed a cheerful “Good luck!” and I ran toward the cave.
The sand was covered with shards of curved glass, worn away over time. Kicking the sand and venturing further and further into the cave, my big toe suddenly collided against a hard, and half buried piece of rock. My toes curled up in pain, and I clenched my teeth so tightly that at that moment I was sure all of my teeth would be crushed out of shape. My mum then rushed towards me and bent over to see what happened. Following her gaze , besides the quarter-chipped-off toe, I noticed the piece of rock next to my toe, and tossed it towards the beach. I didn’t want to see that rock again!
Aiden (continued)
My mum then wrapped our only beach towel around me, and hobbling back towards the beach, my mum assured me caringly that it was alright. Almost instantly, my foot stubbed against a rock on the beach. Looking down, I realised it was the same rock. It was as if it was beckoning to be taken away from the desolate island, and had to resort to pain to make me take it away. Like any person would have at this stage, I picked the rock up, and brought it to show my dad. Dad jumped in surprise -- it was a piece of coral fossil, probably from at least 2000 years ago. On closer examination, I felt the small, bumpy, and rough holes on one side of the coral where other sea creatures (called polyps) used to live. The other side had some shells fossilized into the rock, and seemed like they were hand carved into the rock. As I made my way back to the boat, sand clinging onto my wet feet, I gripped on tightly to the piece of coral, making sure it wouldn’t fall, and with my dad’s help, made it into the boat. Almost in an instant, we were heading back to shore.
When I got back to our room at the resort feeling weary and exhausted, I placed my coral on the mantelpiece in front of my bed, so that when I woke up every day I would see it. It was from that day that I started to collect memories and to bury them in that stone, like grains of sand washing and building up on a shore. The memories itself gave off a soft blanket of warmth and care, that comforted me when I thought of them. When I got back to Singapore, I also placed it on my desk, and it has stayed there ever since.
Today, three years later, the piece of fossil I found at Langkawi has weaved a special place in my mind.The coral is like a key to a vault of precious memories and feelings of joy, care, love and family togetherness that reside in the coral, which magically emerge when I cast my eye upon it. So strong are the memories that flood to me, that I will keep this key safe for all time, and bask in its memories when I accidentally gaze upon it or when needed call upon it to warm me when I am lonely.
Adam - More Than Just Names
Adam is supposed to be the name of the first man on earth in multiple religions, mainly Islam and Christianity. Most people at least have heard about or are familiar with the story of Adam and Eve, the first humans on earth who defied the order of God in order to eat from the fruit of the Forbidden Tree. And being born in the year of the horse fits the persona of defiance so much as horses like to be free and go against the flow of things. It’s not easy. In order to do what others aren’t doing, you need power, you need courage, something I lacked.
Growing up, I was always teased for my last name, Shaker, whose pronunciation didn’t resonate with me simply because it sounded odd when compared to other western names at the time. Because I was taunted so much about my last name, it shaped the way I thought about it drastically. I envied the other kids. I envied how easy their life was, being able to sink into the crowd and become invisible. The taunting followed me to Libya, where even though it was less of an occurrence, still bothered me. Until one day, when my language teacher decided to put a stop to it. She told me that when you shake things, that person is a very powerful and courageous person.
It was so obvious, yet so subtle . I grew from that experience simply by learning what my last name means. It changed the way I thought of my last name. What I used to think of as a nuisance I now wore like a badge of honour. And little by little, it began to grow on me too. It just fits so well with everything I’ve talked about previously: my first name, my chinese horoscope, it all just fit together perfectly like an elaborately designed puzzle.
ML# What I Value Ethan Wallace
Summary/My Learning/My Thinking:
The object that I brought in to class today was a baseball glove. It’s quite worn out, it’s black and brown with a little red “Rawlings” symbol on the top. It has dirt all over the edges and the inside of my glove. I’ve chosen this baseball glove because it has lots of importance to me since the time I had it. My dad had bought it and I have had it for as long as I could remember. My hands were very big then, because I was bigger than every one of my classmates. But, my hands have not grown that much since, apparently, because I still have the same glove from that time that I had gotten the glove.
A few years ago, I was playing catch with my dad, and I had just thrown the ball. My mind began to wander. I was looking at the very tall Evergreen trees that we had in our front yard while the ball was sailing back towards me. As I sort of turned back in the direction of my dad, all I saw was the ball. My dad was shouting “Watch Out Ethan!” It was too late. Spinning directly in front of my eye, it hit. I was on the ground, writhing in pain. Well, it was only my dad and me at the house at the time, so it didn’t really end well with my mom. At the time, I didn’t think it was any bit funny at all. But, now when I look back on it, it gives me a good laugh.
Sometimes, I play with it inside the house (even though I am not supposed to) because it gets the walls all dirty and my mom gets a little mad about it sometimes. Even though I leave it off to the side when I don’t play baseball, I will always love my baseball glove, and it has always been with me here in Singapore and at home in America. Whenever I catch a ball in my baseball glove, I always think about how supportive, loving and caring that it is every single day of my life.
Jay Alldritt
One of my special objects, is a balancing bird. It’s wings are yellow and the rest of it is white. It also has a sharp nose and a banana looking tail. It will balance on your finger, with no huss. I know your thinking, “what is so special about a little toy bird?”
Well, it was a birth gift. Because it relates to my name. My name is Jay. It means bird. Get it? That’s why it is a birth gift. The bird represents me and my name. I remember trying to balance my little bird on different things in my house when I was little. So much success. And so much failure. Waddling around with my little feet and my one piece Pyjamas at the age of two with my balancing bird. That’s some pretty funny stuff. My biggest success with my bird was balancing it on my tiny nose. That’s why my bird is so special to me.
My other special item is the Australian flag. I was born and I lived in Australia for 6 years. It really did mean a lot to me. Because Australia is my favorite place to be. I know that people are scared of sharks. And people don’t like getting sun burnt. Or maybe some people hate the accents. I do agree, that they can get on your skin. But I am still proud to be from where I am from. And whenever I see the Australian flag. I can smell the barbecue from next door. I can feel the burning hot sun and the freezing cold air. And I can smell each bakery that are all over the block. To be Australian, it means I am proud of who I am. I may live in a foreign country. And be friends with foreign people, but in my core, I am Australian. And I am proud to be an Australian. I would like you to learn who I am, and where I am from. And also learn a bit more about how I grew up and where.
Clara Cajade
My goggles, the ones that I use every day to swim. They’re so special to me because my parents gave them to me just like the first time they gave me a pair of goggles they gave me when I first entered the swim team, It had made me so excited that I finally had a pair of my own goggles like the big tuff professional swimmers. When you think about it it’s so easy to just give up and not do things right. And just thinking of these goggles helps me push myself everyday if I want to do something or not.
It reminds me how much my parents do for me, but also how much they care for me and how much effort they put into my life to make me happy. They remind me that you can’t just get what you want, things don’t just come and go, you have to work for it, it won’t just come to you on it’s own. To the person beside me or across from me to them these pair of goggles might be just a pair of ordinary goggles but to me they’re the resemblance of hard work, thoughtfulness, and care. Everybody needs something to keep them going in life, everyone needs some type of kick. Some people need a friend, some might need a teddy bear, others will need books, I got these pair of goggles.
You should care about my object because care and well done work is important in this world to keep growing in a positive way and for the next generation to have the caring kindness that we got. This also might stop to help war and have more peace in the world
Ryan Meehan
ML# Special thing
Summary/My Learning/My Thinking:
The item that I brought to RLA today was a copy of my first ever gift, a Teddy bear. It is a tradition in our family for the kids to give a newest member of our family a gift when they first meet them in the hospital. My two older brothers had gone to the store and picked out a teddy bear for me. This Teddy bear was given to me by my two older brothers the day that I was born. I was laying in an incubator receiving oxygen to help me breathe when my brothers came.
I value this item this item because it was the first gift ever given to me and
that my brothers cared about me enough to go out to the store and pick me
out a teddy bear. This was my favorite toy for the first 4 years of my life well
this and my little sister. Actually 3 years after i was given bear me and
my two older brothers picked out a small toy dog for my little sister
to play with.
I want you to learn that i really love my brothers, and that i am proud of them
and very happy that they cared enough to buy me this teddy bear. I tried to
use a lot of antiques in this piece.