TCC Writes Spring 2011

Magazine This publication is a contribution from the Tarrant County College, Trinity River Campus Writing & Learning Center

“Professional and Personal Growth�

SPRING

2011

Time not only flies but soars!

Students, thank you so much for sharing your time and talents with us. Your energy and enthusiasm inspire us and keep us going semester after semester.

As you will see on the following pages, we found the best, most highly motivated students to contribute stories about some of the most interesting people in the world, our own students.

spring 2011

Contents

Hitting it out of the park!

Eric Ruvalcaba

Eric Ruvalcaba writes about how the All-Star Student Leadership Program has positively changed his life and how it could impact yours.

Coming Out of the Dark

Haylie Cole

Haylie Cole’s story is powerful and inspiring. Her strong-will and desire to triumph over the grips of drugs, alcohol, and bulimia is a testament to all.

Special Delivery– Home Births

Connie Alling

Many women have found the professional services of midwives and having their babies at home as an excellent alternative to the high prices and sometimes lack of sensitivity of some hospitals.

From High School to College

Jimmy Rouyre

Jimmy offers a candid view of what students can expect when transitioning from high school to college.

In His Hands

A Formal Look at Trinity River

Student

In His Hands

Mathew Dean

As a candidate bound for seminary, Mathew Dean offers soothing and comforting words you can draw on during chaotic times.

A Formal Look at Trinity River

Christina Holmes

The Trinity River campus is more than just a collection of beautiful buildings. Christina Holmes provides us with a different perspective.

Student Warrior

Ryan Lanham

Ryan Lanham shares the inspiring journey of Trinity River student Sgt. Clinton Riggins. His story is compelling, thought provoking, a must-read.

Being Casey

Being Casey Mitchell

Mitchell My

Biggest

Supporters

Casey Mitchell

Being Casey Mitchell, is sometimes not an easy task. The newest member of the Writing & Learning Center is a man of many talents.

My Biggest Supporters

Erika Platou

Being told by her high school teachers she would not be graduating was a wake up call that changed Erika Platou’s life.

Suffering Erica

Ryan Lanham

How would you respond if you discovered on Facebook that one of your closest friends is in the hospital?

epiphany

Epiphany

Betty Spencer

A beautifully written poem describing a relationship and the impact it had.

From Russia with Love

Nikita Tembo

Nikita Tembo was born and raised in Russia. Not only does he share facts about his homeland you may not know, but shatters a few myths and stereotypes about Russia and its people.

Edge of Ruin

Miles Martin

Running a marathon can be exciting and exhilarating, unless you get lost in the woods. This is a great story about fun, managing anxiety, and teamwork.

10 14 18 24 27 30 36 38 42 47 49 50 52

Welcome to TCC Writes Online Magazine

J

ust as the Trinity River Writing & Learning Center is an incredible resource, our campus library is just as amazing. Ask anyone who regularly visits, and they will tell you just browsing through the stacks, one can totally lose all track of time. A library is a magical place allowing the mind and its power of imagination to become stimulated in miraculous ways a television cannot.

Having made up my mind to spend only twenty minutes searching for a particular book, an hour later I made my way to the counter to complete the transaction. In passing, I could not help but think of the many interesting techniques publishers use to entice and even seduce you into picking up a book: a fascinating cover, an intriguing title, or a powerful introduction; before you know it you are into the story for the next 750 pages.

welcome

Like books, people are very similar. We all have a cover, a gorgeous exterior, or package: our appearance, but many of us also come complete with a story we keep inside. Sometimes we want others to know about it, and sometimes we find it too personal to share. Many of us find it too painful to share for fear of being judged or being ridiculed. In each case, it is these incredible stories that make us who we are.

Here on the Trinity River Campus, there are thousands of interesting and beautiful faces who navigate these halls. At the conclusion, or beginning of each class it is plain to see the endless comings and goings of hundreds of students per day. Some walk aimlessly as if in some altered catatonic state, narrowly missing others as they stare into small electronic devices. Others carry backpacks loaded with books, food, papers, and everything imaginable they can pack into it.

But who are these students? What are some of their stories? Like those thousands of library books, there is always a much greater story than we see. In previous issues of TCC Writes Online Magazine, we have been extremely fortunate to receive amazing student writing contributions. Through their essays they challenge us to experience their lives and stories, as well as see our own from different yet similar perspectives.

For this issue of TCC Writes Online Magazine, we invited students to become part of our writing staff to uncover interesting stories that exist among their peers. They uncovered meaningful and inspiring stories, stories that not only stirred the emotions, but moved the soul. The featured narratives and writings in this issue, provide a better understanding of what is really inside the book: the backstory. Students share their triumphs and tragedies in their own words. They share what is beyond the cover of their lives. It is the students’ hope that by sharing the experiences of their peers, others may benefit.

One of our stories include a conversation with a beautiful Trinity River student who possesses a wonderful personality and television looks. She grew up in what most would consider a privileged environment, with loving parents, and a supportive extended family, but a deep-rooted insecurity lead her into drug addiction, bulimia, and alcoholism. During our interview, she describes what it felt like to courageously confront your inner-most demons and find the strength within yourself to win.

I am also reminded of a young, honorably discharged TCC soldier, who was shot twice while serving his country in Afghanistan, and although he left one war, he brought another home with him. He shares his story of bravery, his appreciation and value of human life, and how he summoned the power to change. And finally, the next time you sit down in the Riverfront CafĂŠ for lunch, you may be sitting next to a young, handsome, unassuming man who was born and raised in a country almost 6,000 miles away - in Russia; only he may not fit your description of what you thought a Russian looked like. This Russian just happens to be Black, and his narrative is remarkable and humorous. He also shares some interesting facts about himself and his homeland.

These are just a few of the stories you will find in this issue. So next time you find yourself sitting by a student in a classroom, pass others going to and from class in the hallway, or when the door closes on a crowded elevator in East Fork, just know that there is more to the cover of the person standing next to you than meets the eye. Once you get past the cover, it may be a book you cannot put down.

Thank you for your support of TCC Writes Online Magazine.

Steven Le Mons Managing Editor

What an incredible year this has been. As we continually grow, each year we add a new chapter in the book of our identity as a unique TCC campus.

With the passing of every semester, each of us will leave our contribution and mark to creating this new and exciting community.

Thank you for making our campus not just a collection of beautiful buildings, but a campus of exceptional students, staff, and faculty, who positively impact the world around them.

We are the face of TRC.

Tarrant County College

Trinity River Campus

I

By Eric Ruvalcaba

t is never an easy task to take an experience and put into a few words the amount of impact it has and will have upon us as we grow. At times we as individuals cannot appreciate the true significance of any given circumstance or event until the experience is over. At the end, however, we gain an important piece of the puzzle we call life. For me, that piece was found in the All-Star Leadership Program. When I take a look at the past year since the beginning of the program, I always like to reflect on what the initial start was like, its growth, and what the end result of the program ultimately was.

“Through the All-Star Leadership Program, I was molded into the leader I never thought I would be.

I now take leading roles with confidence, determination, and an open mind.�

As I began my upward academic journey, I had not given much thought as to what I wanted to accomplish. At the start of college I began to take a firm grip on my life. I had no idea what I was supposed to achieve. My first year went by relatively well, and it served as an excellent opportunity to build a strong foundation for my academic success. My second year, however, soon showed its face, challenging my true willingness to rise above an expected turnout for me. That was when I learned about the All-Star Leadership Program.

Upon further investigation of the program, I did not give it much thought simply because I had no idea what it meant to be a leader. However, I was already managing a student organization so I knew I could not run from the chance to develop myself. I went through the selection process, which consisted of an application and an interview, and I had the good fortune of making the cut. Before the year began, those who made it through had to attend a two day training camp. It was there I realized I would be dealing with a whole range of personalities, and it would be for a whole year!

As the days grew into weeks, we slowly began to realize what the program would encompass. Unfortunately, some became overwhelmed. As our circle became smaller, those who remained became much more united. From volunteer work to rigorous workshops, we held each other up during the good and the bad times. It was tough but I was determined to reach the end, because the reward would be completely worth my input.

My vision and determination helped keep me focused on the prize, and no one would be able to stop me from achieving my goals. Even with all the hard work, we still were able to enjoy the process of development. The connection among us was strong, and that is what enabled us to continue our commitment to the program as well as to each other. In the midst of my progression, I learned to listen to my peers, as I knew they would strengthen my own ideas and perspectives.

In the end, much more than I imagined to achieve became a reality. I met every challenge put in my path, and gained an enormous amount of experience vital to future leadership roles. I gained a deep motivation to empower not only myself, but every individual around me who seeks personal development.

I grasped most of the opportunities presented, and each experience has been and will be of great use in my life. I will use everything I gained from the program to become a strong leader regardless of the role in which I am placed. I will continuously strive to sharpen my strengths while improving my weaknesses. I gained an insurmountable amount of confidence in myself, and I developed a set of skills I would not have received anywhere else. Through the All-Star Leadership Program, I was molded into the leader I never thought I would be. I now take leading roles with confidence, determination, and an open mind. I am truly grateful and honored for all the support from the amazing faculty and staff members, as well as some of the most incredible student leaders Trinity River Campus has to offer. 

The Trinity River All-Stars from left to right are Ryan Jones, Mariana Garcia, Eric Ruvalcaba, Adrian Vasquez, James McDonald, Kevin Howard, Jorge Munoz, Anita Weddle, Yvonne Reyes, Norma Lopez, Ashley Mendez, Jessica Rodriguez, Ashely Guzman, Ariana Rodriguez.

A conversation with TCC student Haylie Cole

L

ife is truly wonderful! It begins at birth as a rambling overture; beautiful, innocent, and free. It soon crescendos into an incredible symphony, complete with strings, percussions, horns, and woodwinds. In time, each movement becomes beautifully executed, touching every part of our emotions, culminating into wonderful experiences we know as happiness. However, being happy, experiencing love, contentment, and joy are not rights, but are gifts that are greater than any negative event or circumstance that seeks to destroy them.

Life does not always promise us that each day will bring us happiness or joy. In fact, life is filled with many challenges; challenges that sometimes find us in what seems like the eye of a never-ending storm. This side of life is called adversity. I recently had the opportunity to sit down with Haylie Cole, a Trinity River student who not only experienced the darker side of life through her battle and near death experiences with drugs, bulimia, and alcoholism, but the toll her experiences took on her family as well.

I find Haylie to be a beautifully gifted and talented young woman who is not only a fighter but someone who, through courage, a strong belief in having a purpose, and the love of her family, fought back from near death to become a student scholar selected to the Trinity River Dean’s list.

Her interview is brutally honest, emotionally charged, and incredibly inspiring. Haylie believes if she can share her story with others, there is a purpose in her adversity. Here are excerpts from our conversation.

SL: Good morning Haylie, thank you for coming. I appreciate you being here.

Haylie: I am glad to be here.

SL: Where are you from?

Haylie: I was born in Aledo, Texas, and lived there until my eighth year of school. I attended Trinity Valley.

SL: What kind of school is Trinity Valley?

Haylie: It is a private school. I wasn’t the smartest kid like I was used to being, so I ran from it. That’s become kind of a theme in my story: when I’m no longer the best at something, then instead of picking through it, I just quit.

Growing up, my parents were amazing; absolutely wonderful people. Both of them were rarely around their parents. My mom’s father was an alcoholic and a drug addict, and so I think they wanted my brother and I – he’s 25 now, older than me – they just wanted our lives to be the opposite of what they had growing up. We were pretty much handed everything and given every opportunity. I think that, subconsciously, I felt like I was given so much, all I wanted to do was give them back the daughter that I felt like they deserved. When I wasn’t perfect or the best at something, then that just wasn’t good enough. That wasn’t even spoken to me by my parents; that never came out of their mouths. It was just something I acquired on my own.

SL: So what did your parents do for a living?

Haylie: My dad was a bodyguard for a wealthy businessman. He is the owner of his own company. He had two jobs, so he wasn’t around as much growing up because he worked so hard. My mom worked part-time as an orthodontist’s assistant and she still does as a day job. Then we moved to Brock, Texas, a small town west of Weatherford. Pretty much all we did was play basketball. I went there my freshman year and lost my world.

It was the first time I’d ever been kind of dazed and found out I didn’t fit in. That’s actually where my eating disorder started.

SL: Was that part of the perfection thing?

Haylie: Oh, definitely. I think I felt like I had lost control of every aspect of my life, so that’s in control: the intake of food and what I could do to my body that nobody else could change or effect. Also, I didn’t want to grow up; my childhood was darn near perfect. I think I thought by losing that weight and maintaining kind of a child-like figure, I could hold onto one part of my childhood. It’s a pretty amazing disease. It was awful.

SL: What about your friendships at that time?

Haylie: I was such a loner. I had never been before; I was always outgoing and always an extrovert. I put all my energy into the anorexia at that point. I heard somebody saying growing up that stomach pains equal lost weight, so I would see how long I could go with my stomach grumbling and yelling at me to feed it. That was kind of a game for me. After my freshman year at Brock I went back to Trinity Valley my sophomore and junior year. I started bulimia at that point..

SL: When you saw food, what did you see?

Haylie: Fear. Food was an enemy. It was a weakness. It was self-esteem. It was an identity. It had just become part of who I was. My sophomore and junior year, it got a lot better because I was hanging out with friends more and basketball wasn’t so traumatic. My sophomore and junior years were better, but I still wasn’t

Haylie Cole me, and I knew that. I think I took my first drink of alcohol the end of my sophomore year. Since my grandfather was an alcoholic, I always told myself growing up, “I will never drink. I will never do anything like that because I know how it affected my mom.” And I did. It wasn’t a big deal until I got drunk for the first time. I was, like, “This is amazing.” I got to forget everything: all the pain, or any imperfection.

SL: So it was like an anesthetic?

Haylie: Yeah, kind of; however, I wasn’t an alcoholic yet. I did it every once in a while. It was a treat more than anything. My junior year I was drinking a little more than sophomore year, but it was still manageable.

Senior year, I don’t know what I was thinking. I had gotten much prettier and become more of a woman, so I guess I wanted to prove myself to the people at Brock, and I went back my senior year. It was absolutely horrible. I got a bad reputation from the start. I wasn’t a goody-goody anymore. I had a foul mouth, I drank.

SL: Where did that persona come from?

Rebellion, anger; I was definitely angry with my parents for not preparing me for the pain in the world that I had no idea was there. I was always sheltered and protected growing up. To find out that people were mean, things were hard, and I would have to make choices on my own was awful. I wasn’t ready for it. I think the alcohol and rebellion period is how I broke out.

SL: Did your parents know at this point?

Haylie: Not yet. They did know about the bulimia, and I did have to see a therapist for a little bit, but my parents just had blinders on the whole time. They didn’t want to see what was going on and I understand that. No one wants to see that and face it.

SL: When they saw the weight loss did they think that was just a phase?

Haylie: At first they thought that it was just puberty. Then they started realizing. One night my dad made me eat soup in front of him. That just blew my lid. I was furious. That confrontation happened between my dad and it never happened again. My senior year, I got my first love. He was not really a good guy. He was a partier. The thing with him was, he took the place of my eating disorder. So for a full year, I didn’t have an eating disorder. I ate normally. That was great. However, I became addicted to him. After senior year was over, the drinking really started. I got a job at the golf course we lived on as the beer cart girl, which I was fabulous at. I ended up getting fired from that job because I was drinking while working. That’s how I started my freshman year in college. I went to school to party. I did not go to school for education, whatsoever. I had pretty much made all A’s my whole life and I didn’t care anymore. I was just done.

SL: What were you done with?

Haylie: Trying. I think I was lost. I had no direction, no sense of who I was, what I was, or where I was, and I just drank. I was never close with my father. I think that the love and acceptance I wanted from him, I tried to find elsewhere. I was at school for the first week, I think, and then I stopped going. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I didn’t care. About November, my parents found out.

SL: Did they not know you weren’t going to school?

Haylie: They did find out that I wasn’t going to school, and there was no consequence. We never had consequences. My consequence was moving back home and getting a job. Unfortunately, the last week I was at Tarleton, I went to a party.

I walked in the back room and a guy was snorting something. Turns out it was Adderall. I was talking to him, and he asked me if I ever tried cocaine before. I said, “No, but I’ve always wanted to.” I did cocaine and from the first time I did it I was hooked. That was my answer to everything I wanted thus far. It allowed me to not eat, it allowed me to not drink; I just wanted to be numb, and that’s exactly what it did for me.

Haylie Cole So I basically did cocaine at 18. I got a job at a daycare, so I was working at a daycare on cocaine. I didn’t care about anyone else. I didn’t care about anything except getting high.

I was at home one night, and I guess my mom had been through my wallet. I had cocaine in there. I was required to go to a rehab center. I went to Orange County to a treatment facility. Phenomenal! It was a beautiful place. I did not go to get sober. I did not go to get healthy. I did not go to get well. I went to please my parents.

SL: So everything that was provided to help give you direction, you saw something different in it… more as a means of getting what you wanted?

Haylie: Exactly. The definition of selfishness would have had my name next to it for sure. “Okay, I’ll do that,” and all the time you’re thinking, “Hmm…what can I get?” Right. I was so incredibly manipulative. It was awful.

SL: Was that part of the drugs, or part of who you were as a person?

Haylie: I think both. I think mainly as a person. I can’t blame it on drugs. I was not well. I went to California for three months in intensive treatment. I went to AA there, and Cocaine Anonymous meetings; I just laughed myself through them. I got caught drinking in treatment a couple of times. I’d put vodka in my coffee or something to stir things up, because I didn’t care. They let me stay on my (medicine) because I had ADD, but I didn’t really. It was just a stimulant, like Adderall. I thought, “I’ll just snort that and get my rebellion fix.”

I was in rehab for two or three months, and then I went to a halfway house for about 6 months. In the halfway house I did meth for the first time. I also did heroin for the first time; I smoked it, then I shot it. So, I had used a needle for the first time. I got caught once and was kicked out for about two days, then allowed to come back.

How did you get drugs into the halfway house?

Haylie: I didn’t. We had to get jobs, so I had a job; after work I went to Santa Barbara with this guy and he shot me up for the first time. I got sick, because heroin can make you sick, but I was completely numb.

It was, at that point, amazing, because I didn’t feel, and that was perfect. However, heroin’s not easy to get.

I convinced my parents after nine months there I was better and ready to come home. So I came home, got a job at Pappadeaux’s, and immediately started using ecstasy, which was new; I hadn’t done that before either. I became addicted to ecstasy; I was popping six or seven pills a day. Normal people take one and they’re good to go, but my tolerance was well off. At one point I found a lady who had extra needles, so I was shooting up ecstasy and cocaine, and all this stuff, while living with my parents.

After three or four months, they knew something was up. I had lost a lot of weight again because of the ecstasy. I had started becoming mental. I guess it was the first time I had ever seen the effects mentally.

I kind of thought I was schizophrenic. They sent me to my second treatment facility in Kerrville, Texas.

Again, I went for my parents. I didn’t go to get well; I didn’t think I could get well. When people say they have lost all hope, I had lost all hope in myself completely. Heroin detox is physically terrible, but ecstasy detox is beyond horrible, both mentally and physically. My skin was crawling, I was seeing things. It was awful.

Continued on page 22

I

By Connie D. Alling

f one were to research their family history, most likely everyone would find a grandparent, great grandparent, or great great grandparent who was delivered at home. Most would have been attended by one or more female family members and women who lived close by. It was the custom for women in the community to gather together, support, and provide for a delivering woman. Birth seldom occurred unattended. Many children were delivered safely under the supervision of these attending women. Midwives were some of the most experienced and eventually more formally trained women who attended these early births. In the average mind today, the presence of midwives at births ends with the early history of childbirth. Contrary to those thoughts, midwifery is very alive and active today.

Modern midwifery offers society the services of a trained and skilled midwife.

These women have been trained to deliver babies at home or in a birthing center facility. Two different levels of midwives who deliver at home are lay midwives and certified professional midwives (CPM.) Over thirteen and a half years as a lay midwife and then as a certified professional, I delivered over 300 babies. Choosing to perform all of my midwifery care in the homes of my clients gave me the opportunity to connect on a very unique, personal level, not just with the clients themselves, but with their spouses and other children. In these births were three sets of twins (two sets of boys, and one of girls), three breech births (one footling – one foot first; and two frank breeches – bottom first), up to four babies for any one family and two babies overseas (Papua New Guinea and Canada). The largest baby I delivered weighed well over thirteen pounds.

Modern midwifery provides prenatal care services during labor like delivery management and postpartum care. Midwives provide counseling pre-pregnancy, basic well woman care, prenatal care as early as the positive pregnancy test, and follow the client through the completion of her six week postpartum period.

Labor and delivery are supervised and managed by the midwife and her assistant. Education is the key to a successful memorable experience. Educated decision making and active involvement allow each client the opportunity to select choices to make their experience unique and memorable for them. Having selected their midwife, more educated choices are made. Where do we have our baby, at home or in a birthing center facility? Will family and/or friends attend the birth? Will the baby’s siblings be present at the birth? These and many more educated decisions create unique and very personal birth experiences.

Midwives lead the client through their journey. Through independent research, prenatal classes, and prenatal visits, the clients are prepared for their birth experience. Our focus is to treat pregnancy not as an illness or condition. Pregnancy is an innate, normal, natural process each woman’s body was designed to perform. Midwives teach women to listen to their body and respond accordingly.

A typical prenatal visit with a client lasts about one hour and includes: spending time talking, checking vital signs, weight, hemoglobin (iron), urinalysis, swelling, baby’s heart tones, dietary counseling, measuring baby’s growth and checking the baby’s position. When possible, husbands/partners and siblings of the baby are present and active participants in each visit. Participation by the husbands/ partners helps along with education to eliminate many fears or concerns that naturally arise through the nine months. Making siblings a vital part of the prenatal process builds esteem and confidence, leading to more cooperation pre-delivery and less competitiveness after delivery. Educated personal choice designs each delivery experience.

Midwives are taught to manage normal childbirth, handle complications, and identify when situations exceed the boundaries of their level of expertise. Early detection is the key. Knowing our clients on a very personal basis assists in early detection of a potential deterrent. Transferring care to a physician, including medical records, and accompanying when it is necessary are managed by the midwife.

Today in the state of Texas, many midwives provide care for a wide range of clientele. Those seeking the services of a midwife range from lower socioeconomic levels to upper class wealthy clients and all walks of life. Individuals who desire more control over their birth experience find the choice of a midwife to be preferred.

For further information about homebirths and midwifery, you can reference web sites for researching professional standards for care, and services. Look online at these websites, or access professional standards for training, standards for care and referrals for midwives in your area. MANA Midwives Alliance of North America – mana.org, NARM North American Registry of Midwives - narm.org.

Connie D. Alling Was born and raised in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, an area rich with midwives. She is the third of eight children.

Connie completed nursing school and became an LPN. She attended North Texas School of Midwifery, in Grand Prairie, Texas. In 1986, she opened her private practice and continued delivering babies until 1996. She is currently attending TCC to complete her prerequisites to pursue a degree in Canine Studies. Connie’s first-hand experience dealing with sensory dysfunctions and learning disabilities, coupled with her love for dogs, particularly Golden Retrievers, planted the seed for her goal of training service and therapy dogs for the disabled.

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East Fork has everything for your academic staycation needs: Visit our fabulous Writing & Learning Center Spend hours reading in our incredible Library Feel better after visiting our Nurse’s Office Become the next great speaker in our Speech Lab Learn a new language in our Sign Language Lab Sharpen your computer skills in our Computer Lab

Next time you need an academic vacation, make East Fork your scholastic destination!

Our friendly associates can help you with any of the following:            

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Haylie Cole SL: So would you say that this was the beginning of your turn around?

Haylie: I think my eyes were open a little bit. In treatment, I did better than I had ever before but the bulimia came back during treatment.

SL: So what was your lowest weight?

Haylie: My lowest was 88 pounds, but at this point my weight was normal. I was about 140, 145. Most bulimics are normal weight. It’s hard to tell a lot of times with bulimia. Anorexia, you can tell, but bulimics generally are normal weight. So, after my month there, I went to an eating disorder place in Austin for thirty days and did really well. I did the best I had ever done, but it was because we were really secluded. I also quit smoking there.

I went to AA on my own for ninety days, which was a huge thing for me. I hadn’t been sober a day in the past 3½-4 years. After about 90 days in AA, I got a phone call from a guy in one of my treatment centers. He said, “I’ve got some stuff. I’m right across the street.” I don’t know how he knew where I was. I was living with my parents. I’m like, “It’s three in the morning. I wanted to get high more than anything in the world. I don’t know what he has.”

SL: But did it matter?

Haylie: It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how good I felt, or how well I was doing, all he had to say was, “I’ve got some stuff.” I went and met him at 7a.m. the next morning; told my parents I was going to a 7a.m. AA meeting; he had crack cocaine, the only thing I’d never done before. My search was over. It was exactly what I was looking for. It was a high like I had never had with anything. It was the worst of the worst. I was definitely addicted, immediately. I spent $700 a week. I had a job at a daycare again.

Every single dime I had went to crack. I was looking through blinds, opening doors, going to gas station bathrooms. I had passed out in a couple of gas station bathrooms from overdosing. One time I hit my head on the paper towel dispenser; I don’t know how long I was in there. I was done. I was alone. I had nothing left. This is where all the weight loss started. I lost 30 about pounds in a month. My parents thought I was back in anorexia mode. I guess this went on for about three months doing crack daily until I was kind of crazy. My mom had gotten my deposit slip from the bank and saw that I would withdraw my $700 at one time from an ATM. SL: Were the withdrawals from her account or yours?

Haylie: Mine. It was my money, which doesn’t make it OK. She came to me and was, like “What is going on?” I couldn’t lie. For some reason – it had to be the grace of God I told her what was going on. She was like, “What are we going to do?” I said, “I’ll stop.” And I actually did. I stopped crack. I still had my ADD medicine, which my parents didn’t know I was getting from my psychologist. That was keeping me going.

SL: How long had you been seeing a psychologist?

Haylie: Six months. I had been to a million therapists and psychologists. At this point in my life, I was 99 pounds. For the next month my eating disorder looked like that. (Haylie takes out picture of herself taken during one of her lowest weights – approximately 88 pounds.) The next month I didn’t eat at all. I ate cauliflower and broccoli. Those were the only two things I allowed myself to eat. I couldn’t move or bathe myself very well, because I was very weak and every inch of my body hurt. By this time, my parents were, like, “You’re about to die.” And I was. I needed to die. I wanted to die, but I couldn’t, for my parents’ sake. I couldn’t allow that to happen to them. I had to wait a month to get into a treatment facility for my eating disorder. I went to the best one in the U.S., in Arizona. My eyes were open a lot more. I didn’t want to be a

Haylie Cole drug addict anymore. I didn’t want to be an alcoholic anymore. I stopped taking all medications except for an anti-depressant.

SL: What did they say that made your eyes become more open?

Haylie: I think I had seen death so many times through heroin overdose, and through crack overdosing, constant blackouts, and numbness in my body, because I weighed 88 pounds at 5’9”. My hair was falling out in clumps. I was knocking at death’s door. I think that through my parents’ love, I saw a glimmer of hope. If they can love me, there is something going on.

During the entire interview Haylie shows a courageous and assertive strength I often found myself admiring. She shares her story as if the very act of sharing has itself become liberating; until now. At this point Haylie’s emotions overtake her and become more than she can bear. Her voice begins to tremble as she breaks down and gently weeps.

Even if I don’t see my purpose in life right now, there is something. If someone can love you that much, it’s worth all that. I had given all my reason for living at this point to God, to Christ, and to my parents. I could not have made it without my parents.

In treatment, I did really well. I gained forty pounds in three months, which is a lot to put on someone’s body. It hurt. Gaining weight hurts really bad. For the first week, I cried at every meal. I was terrified of what the food was going to do to my body, and terrified of the control I was giving over to these people.

SL: So, still, even at this point, it was about control.

Haylie: It was still about control. Still fear. I was terrified of what was next. I had an identity in an eating disorder for the past eight years. I had a body that people always complimented me on, “How do you stay so thin?” So my identity was in a body and in an addiction. To give that up, who was I? I didn’t know. All of that amounted to a cracker that I was about to put into my mouth. That was hard. I purged twice in treatment. I was purging four times a day at one point. So, twice in a month was pretty good. I went to a halfway house for patients afterwards for six months.

SL: Was this in Arizona?

Haylie: Yes, I grew a lot spiritually, and had a lot of time with myself that I had never had, sober. I was an addict through and through. In the halfway house, I kind of got addicted to gum, actually. I was chewing three packs of gum a day. It was just something tangible that I could hold on to, I think. In that stage, a lot of girls with eating disorders get addicted to diet sodas, gum, and coffee; just to have something to hold onto.

SL: It’s like a pacifier right?

Haylie: Exactly. Like a blankie or pacifier, which is funny because it’s a thing from childhood. In a sense, it all stems back to that. I left the halfway house after three months and came back home. When I first came back, it was too much too soon. I did start cutting back eating a little bit. I started purging again, and eventually after a month I drank. I was twenty-one, at this point I went to a bar. I think for the first time in my life. Nothing good came out of it. My last drink and drug before I officially quit was cocaine, ecstasy, and vodka alcohol. It was horrible. I got kicked out of my house the next day. I was homeless for the first time in my life. For my parents, it was the hardest thing for them to ever have to do, to kick their child out.

Continued on page 28

Can you pass the test?

By Jimmy Rouyre

T

here is a huge difference between high school and college, but the main one is the responsibility. In high school you have it pretty easy; you get to know your teachers. If you miss assignments, you get to turn them in late. Most of all, the responsibilities you have in high school are next to zero compared to those in college.

College is very different from high school. The first difference is that you have to actually be responsible and come to class. Your professors do not necessarily care if you come or not, so it is on you to show up for class.

The second difference is late work and making up tests. In high school you have it pretty good. If you miss a day of class or you bomb a test, most of the time you get to make it up. In college, if you miss a day or just bomb a test, you are out of luck. Your professors usually will not let you turn in late work unless you have a legitimate reason - and there are very few. You also do not get to make up tests, so studying is a must! This brings me to my last point, studying. In high school you may have gotten away with not studying for your tests. Here you might get away with it, but the consequences for not studying might lead you to getting an F for the course. Studying is one of the most important things you have to do.

Many people think they can come out of high school and never study again in their life. High school was fun, but college is such a different experience and so much better. You actually do have freedom and responsibility, but at the end of the day the question is, “Can you pass the test?”

Jimmy Rouyre Jimmy was born in Belgium and due to the relocation of his father, moved to Fort Worth about eleven years ago. About moving here, Jimmy comments, “I like the Fort Worth area because it’s a lot different than Europe and it’s much bigger.” His choice to attend TCC is two-fold: “It’s a great choice for getting my basics out of the way, and it’s a less expensive way of doing it.” Jimmy plans on attending the police academy and pursuing a career in law enforcement.

“It’s been awhile since I was last in school and I’m a

little nervous about writing my first paper. My professor gave the class instructions on what should go in the paper, but how should it be formatted? I’ve heard horror stories about professors taking away points because a paper isn’t in the correct form. How do I fix this? Help!” “ D.J. No Knowledge—Ft. Worth Dear D.J. Congratulations on returning to the arena of higher learning!

The good news about your question is that formatting is probably the easiest thing to do on a paper. The bad news is, it’s also the easiest way to lose points for if not done correctly.

The first thing you should do is check your professor’s instructions or syllabus. Many professors include their own formatting guidelines which may differ from another professor’s guidelines. These requirements are often vital in your effort to avoid losing easy points because a piece of your paper wasn’t in the right place.

If you professor hasn’t given you any instructions as to paper formatting, the common format to follow is MLA. MLA stands for Modern Language Association and it regulates formatting and citation styles for documents in the humanities. If you follow the MLA format, you really can’t go wrong.

MLA requirements:  Double-spaced  1’’ margins  12 point font (usually Times New Roman, Arial, or Calibri)  Your last name and page numbers in the upper righthand corner  A heading in the upper left-hand corner consisting of:  Your name  Professor’s name  Class name  Due date (following this format: 8 May 2008) Title is centered The beginning of each paragraph is indented .5 inch (just click the Tab button on your keyboard) For more details and a sample paper, visit Purdue University’s Online Writing Lab (OWL), or pick up one of these great resources from our campus bookstore.

Best of luck to you and your new future in education!

Here are a few of the resources the Writing & Learning Center recommends

In his hands are ultimate power So gentile and mild They comfort in life’s darkest hour Soft to the touch He picks me up In his hands his loving clutch In his hands, peace Tightly the cup In his hands Are steadfast hope Burning like the brightest lamp He takes me in the hope I might call on him He waits For such a rare chance In his hands Are grace and mercy Of kinds that know no bound In his hands There are none like them None, I have found

In His Hands

By Mathew Dean Inspired by the Lord Our God

Haylie Cole SL: At this point, Haylie breaks down again.

Haylie: They didn’t have a choice, if I wasn’t going to get well. They had done everything. They had paid thousands and thousands of dollars on treatment for me. There was nothing left to do. I remember packing my bags, and my mom was bawling in the room next to me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to hear and see. It was disappointment and fear. They had lost me. That was the first time they had ever seen maturity in me. I said, “This was no one’s fault but my own.”

I found a place to stay that night with a family from our church, they are wonderful people. They have four little girls. I think I got to see youth in them and the joy they had. I knew that I could still have that joy even though I’m an adult; even though things are hard and I have to make choices on my own and live on my own, there is still joy in this world. My eyes began to open. I ended up moving in with my grandmother, although I had never really spent any time with her.

She’s stubborn just like I am, so we bicker. It’s perfect. She doesn’t throw parties, and it doesn’t get too crazy over there. I’ve had to grow up, and my parents have had to let me. I have wanted them to step in so many times, because it’s gotten hard. I am an addict, I’m an alcoholic, and I have an eating disorder.

I have all these things that were supposed to kill me, but I’m still here. I know there’s a reason why. I have to work so hard every day to grow and I’ve learned to appreciate everything. It’s a humbling experience to have gone through some of this.

SL: I admire you; you are very courageous. For one, just being here today with TCC Writes, sharing your story with people you do not know, but many whose lives will be changed by reading about you. You will truly be a catalyst in helping them change their lives in a powerful way.

Haylie: I just want people to know that there’s another way to live. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know there was hope. I didn’t know that there was recovery. I didn’t know that there was joy in this world. I know there’s a reason I went through all this. I know God’s got a plan for me. I have to know that, because that’s recovery.

I want people to be able to come to me, be themselves, be real, and know that there’s no judgment.

Who am I to judge? That’s one thing that I have learned through this. I’ve been able to become so humble and non-judgmental toward people. I’ve come across some people that have rubbed me the wrong way. The first thought that comes to my mind is, “What are they going through or what have they been through that makes them that way?” I know there’s something behind those eyes and behind that anger. I was ugly once and I was in pain once, and it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. I want children and teenagers and high schoolers to see that alcohol is not fun. It’s not something to glorify.

SL: In seeing images on television and the images people see of celebrities, where do you see it all going for young people?

Haylie: We tend to do what celebrities do. We dress like they dress, or act like they act. That’s what we see. That’s what people look up to. For some reason people think they’re better than normal people. It’s embedded in us. Even today I will look at a magazine and be like, “I’ve got to look like that or somebody will not love me.”

Haylie Cole SL: If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?

(Long pause)……Nothing. Who am I to say that God made my plan wrong?

SL: To play devil’s advocate, some young people may read this and say, “Oh, she is just a whiner. Her parents gave her everything. I grew up with nothing. My life’s tough. What does she have to be upset about? Those were her choices.” What advice would you give them?

Haylie: I’ll admit, I have thrown pity parties for myself, I try not to anymore. Those were my choices. I think that people have every right to say, “What is she complaining about? She had everything growing up.” It’s true, I did have a wonderful childhood. I’m not upset about that at all. I chose the path that I took.

I went through a lot of things I didn’t have to go through on my own accord, but regardless of whether your childhood was good or bad, everybody has a choice. Everyone has the choice to make the decisions they want as an adult. I can’t change people’s past and I can’t change my own past. I can only grow from here and help other people along the way. I should be dead right now but I’m not. I think everybody has their own entitlement to judge and to have their own opinion. That’s fine, but if I can help one person through this, then I’ve done my part.

SL: Well, I have said it before: I think you are an extremely courageous person. And you are right, there is a reason for everything you have gone through. We are looking forward to seeing the incredible things you will accomplish. You are truly an awe-inspiring person. I sincerely appreciate you taking time to share your story with us.

Haylie: You bet! 

2006 - Haylie at 18, at her high school dance

2009 - In treatment in Arizona. Weight 90 pounds 2009 - Haylie still in Arizona at 90 pounds 2011 - A beautiful, happy Haylie at age 23 and 130 pounds

A Formal Look at Trinity River Campus

By Christina Holmes

As

a native of Fort Worth, I am very protective of i ts preservation. Although I welcome change, I am wary of the destruc tion of landmarks I grew up loving. This is not the case with Trinity River Campus. The area in which it stands was once depressing and crime was common. The structure itself is a marvel of architectural brilliance. A perfect balance of light and space, it is an ideal setting for nurturing the learning process.

Some areas of the campus are to me reflections of a Dali painting. The impossible curves of rooftops and geometrical rotundas almost seem to be in motion. The structure seems to be vertically dominated. The building itself consists of glass, brick, and stone. It is a mixture of modern and classic. The stones are reminiscent of older structures made from large square stone. The red brick is a perfect contrast to the tall glass windows.

On a clear day, the blue of the sky cuts against the vertical line of the rooftop, creating a brilliant pop of clarity. The windows, made of a reflective glass, reflect the natural surroundings found in the courtyards, causing a serene feeling to wash over you.

The campus boasts several fountains, in which geometrical shaping is prevalent. Some are long, almost infinite rectangles with small spray heads hissing water. Water possesses a calming effect, crucial in a learning environment where stress can be of high significance. The relaxing influence of water can help to placate that stress. Since the campus is set in an urban area of town, the water can also drown out the distracting noises of traffic, to bring a sense of strolling in a country garden instead of a large urban setting.

There are several intriguing works of art both inside and outside the structure. This artwork almost brings a museum- like experience to the school day. Trinity River Campus is an excellent reflection of some of Fort Worth’s museums, such as The Modern Art Museum and the Amon Carter Museum. Upon entry to the campus from the third floor parking garage, you are met with three primary colored squares containing speakers.

Usually these speakers are playing soft classical music.

This can be ideal in calming the nerves of first-time or returning students.

Further down, spiraled circles line the ceiling and light up in synchronicity. This always reminds me of the nervous system, rapidly sending messages of knowledge and sensation. The halls are lined with artwork contributed by students, which reminds new and returning students that success can be achieved and is not out of reach. There is even an art gallery, a relaxing place to where one can think and appreciate the exquisitely displayed student artwork.

One of my favorite areas of campus is the large rotunda street entry way. The large columns, marble floors, granite-like walls, and roundness of the entryway are comparable to ancient Roman architecture. Upon entering the building, the lobby exudes a spaciousness that is a welcome relief from the congestion outside. The rotunda itself is made completely of circular windows that seem to stretch into the heavens. A cone protrudes from the ceiling of the rotunda, perfectly reflecting the outside light.

One can gaze down from the windows and notice circular separations in the earth lined with trees.

These are reminiscent of Roman coliseum seating. Once the trees are fully grown, this area will be an ideal place to sit and take a break from the pressures of school. A long, rectangular fountain cuts through this area, further adding to the serenity. One side of the fountain is the wall of another.

A large rounded wall of water and brick with an open doorway in the middle is colored dark green and made of steel. Once you walk through this doorway, you discover the serene garden of trees and fountains.

Metal is often displayed about the campus. There are sculptures in a courtyard reminding you of a Clive Barker story. They advocate movement and change. The use of glass in the windows and structure suggest fluidity. One can look out a window in class and gather inspiration from that fluidity. The structure itself imitates movement. This to me is ideal in a learning environment because a stagnant surrounding can be an unproductive one.

Surroundings are crucial in a learning environment.

Square, squatty buildings would not provide as much inspiration as Trinity does. As a whole, Trinity River Campus presents a harmonious marriage between modern and classic. It provides its students with a superior learning environment. The beauty is remarkable, and the Trinity River is ever smiling right outside the window. All one has to do when stressed is simply take a walk around campus and stress melts away. Purchasing this building was a truly rewarding venture, not only for the college itself, but for current and future students. 

Wow, I really blew it. I need to get some help with rewriting my paper.

C

Don’t worry bout it Dawg. No big deal, I’ll help you with your paper. I got your back.

D

Don’t leave your grades to chance.

Schedule an appointment and come see us first at the Writing & Learning Center.

Get help from the true professionals.

Sam, Shawn, Maggie, Casey, or Steven

Call today and get the help you need!

817-515-1069

Trinity River students say Rosetta Stone is a big hit!

According to our students, the Rosetta Stone language system has become a big hit in the Writing & Learning Center.

Learning Spanish or English in your spare time has never been so easy. Trinity River students say the program is fun and easy to use, and it only takes a few minutes to sign up.

It’s simple: stop by, open an account, and make learning a foreign language using one of the best immersion systems in the world a big hit for you, too.

Student

By Ryan Lanham

Desensitized to being around so much death, Clint recalls tossing the phone to his mom and saying, “Hey Mom, Rick's dead,” and continuing to play video games until it actually sank in.

A walk through the halls, or cafeteria, of TCC reveals a truly diverse student body; a myriad of ages, ethnicities, and personal styles populate the campus. What is not so obvious is the life experiences of these students. What stories do they have to tell? What has shaped them as an individual? Brief bios are invariably given as students introduce themselves, but sometimes it takes a sit down conversation to grasp how pivotal events played a role in defining one’s peers. A conversation with Trinity River student Clinton Riggins IV, dug deep beneath the surface to reveal a life before college that would change him forever.

The year was 2002, and fresh out of high school, Clint made the decision that many brave Americans did after 9/11; he joined the Army.

After completing basic training in Fort Benning, GA, he was sent to Delta Company, 2nd Battalion, 187th Infantry, 101st Airborne Division“The Screaming Eagles.” Like many military men, he was not the first, or last, in his family to join the

service. His father was a former Coast Guard, his grandfather served in WWII, and his brother, Richard Waller Price, would join the Marine Corps shortly thereafter. As an infantryman, and with war looming in the Middle East, it was inevitable that Iraq would soon be Clint's new home. At nineteen years of age, Clint was in the initial invasion of Iraq. This is not Iraq 2011. This was the Wild Wild West. There were no F.O.B.s (Forward Operating Bases), no supply points, no current maps, and no one had any idea of what this war would entail.

After a long push north, Clint's unit settled into an area about 20-40 meters off the Syrian border. The Syrians were known suppliers of ammunition and weapons for the insurgents in Iraq. They were also known to attack the Iraqi border patrol huts. The U.S. was to provide security, under a strict “do not fire until fired upon” order. Clint's unit, a heavy weapons platoon with four Humvees, had witnessed the attacks, but could do nothing because they had not been fired upon. One

night, this changed, and all hell broke loose.

“Contact! Contact! We're taking anti-aircraft fire from the Syrian border just over the berm, 12 o'clock!” roared over the radio. All four guntrucks, armed with two MK 19 grenade launchers and two 50-caliber machine guns turned and unloaded a barrage of gun fire that rocked the target area for several minutes. Clint, armed with a M203 grenade launcher, proceeded to expel all of his remaining grenades.

When the smoke cleared, and the dust settled, the enemy had been terminated. Sadly, so had one American. The radios of one vehicle had been disabled in the chaos, and a soldier, running to relay this information to a sister vehicle, had taken sniper fire. For Clint, this was not to be his first, or last, experience with death.

A separate paper, or perhaps book, could be written on Clint's war memoirs; stories of a friend surviving a bullet wound to the neck, grenades landing feet away with the firing pins still in, sleeping in a grave for protection, or various fire fights encountered. However, this is not that piece. It should be noted Clint survived two separate shots to the chest. Body armor saved his life, though the first broke a rib, and the second shattered his protective plate. He was also involved in a roof cave-in which resulted in sciatic nerve injury to his back, as he fell onto the collapsed rubble. These events are hard to fathom, but it was when Clint returned to the United States that the darker part of his journey began.

A year after returning from Iraq, in Fort Campbell, KY, Clint reenlisted for four years to join the Honor Guard. This resulted in placement on Funeral Detail. Originally a six month rotation, Clint was forced to spend a total of three years on Funeral Detail. Covering sixty-eight counties in most of southeast Texas, Clint and his team performed over 2,000 funerals, with a record twelve in one day. Any former military member, with a proper discharge, is eligible for this type of burial, but it was when Clint buried so many young soldiers that he wanted to go back to combat. To make matters worse, it was during this time that Clint's brother, Richard, was killed in action in Iraq. Desensitized to being around so much death, Clint recalls tossing the phone to his mom and saying, “Hey Mom, Rick's dead,”

and continuing to play video games until it actually sank in. The death o f R i c k , compounded by the constant burials, nearly pushed Clint to breaking point.

He volunteered four times for deployment before he was given orders. This time he was to deploy to Afghanistan, and eventually become the driver for the NATO ambassador in Kabul. He describes this as a relaxed job, where his daily interaction was with soldiers from all over Europe. An Italian soldier on his team became a good friend, but tragedy was to strike again. While in a four vehicle convoy, made up of two armored Toyota Land Cruisers and two armored Mercedes SUVs, an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) exploded under the vehicle in front of Clint. His Italian friend and a German soldier were both killed, and the shock wave from the blast reinjured Clint's back. To this day, he wears the dog tags of his brother and his Italian comrade around his neck.

Experiences of this nature are not uncommon for soldiers, and most realize the risk they take when joining. How they deal with these events is their true test. Sure, Clint misses combat. He even says he prefers deployment to civilian life. All he's known of civilian life up to this point is through high school. He hasn't experienced the “real world,” as they say, but a bigger picture is coming into focus. College, he says, is helping him to realize that “there is more to life than death.” Larger goals are starting to emerge, as the memories of combat and army life are reorganized to provide room for education and planning.

Motivated and disciplined, he is now pursuing his goal of becoming a U.S. Marshall.

Sgt. Clinton Riggins IV Best of luck, Clint.

The Art of being Casey

Mitchell The year was 1993; I was 6 years old, a quiet, inquisitive boy in Mrs. Williams’ First Grade class at Wills Point Elementary, in a town no one has ever heard of, buried within the swamps of deep East Texas. I was unusual for a child of 6. While most of my classmates were infatuated with the latest Disney films, what the Green Power Ranger had done that week, or when the next Sonic the Hedgehog video game was scheduled to be released, I discovered another world entirely; one that few at my age would find and one in which few would be so richly engaged and affected.

During a visit to the local library with my mother – an avid reader, as many in my family are – I discovered a type of book I couldn’t have imagined existed. From its pages jumped names so foreign and deeds so great that I couldn’t fathom why I was the only one to take interest. It was a book of ancient mythology – a volume in a set, which covered everything from the Greek legends of Perseus and the Gorgon to the frigid tales of Thor and Jormungand the Midguard Serpent.

I read everything I could get my hands on, and very soon I discovered an even greater element to these stories: through my imagination, I began to vividly picture the characters. My hand went for a pencil. I’ve been an artist ever since. Over the years, I continued to illustrate. In 7th grade, I sold my first piece of art – a comic book character – to a fellow classmate for $5.00.

Up through high school I focused heavily upon my love for the legends that had so dearly affected me. When college finally became a reality, I found myself at a horrible impasse. This was the defining moment where I would have to choose a career. The very word sent

chills up my spine, and I had no real direction. It seemed logical to turn to art, as that was my first love, but how many people are known for going to college and getting a degree in illustration? As a result, I wandered from classroom to classroom, degree to degree, for nearly five years while attempting to figure out what to do with myself.

I settled in with the “art crowd” for a while, attempting to make myself at home among the droves of political statements, paint splatters, and digital renderings that were counted as fine art, while mine was pandered for not having the “desired meaning” or “soul” of nonconformity. I discovered I had a knack for drawing – and later painting – faces. I continued to defy my instruction and paint what my imagination held, rather than painting, say, an old boot for its “hidden meaning”. Additionally, I tapped into my childhood loves and became newly inspired by the classical mythology that had so dearly affected me, faerie tales and the legends of King Arthur stemming from the Celts and Northern Europe, the fantastic worlds of J.R.R. Tolkien and Lloyd Alexander, and the foreboding science fiction of H.P. Lovecraft and H.R. Giger, all of which culminated to an explosion of creativity, overflowing from within the deepest recesses of my mind.

After years met with frustration and opposition, I realized that “fine art”, in the traditional sense, wasn’t for me. I returned to the drawing board – so to speak – and began cultivating my enduring love for mythology. This has led me to the University of Texas at Arlington, where I am currently pursuing a degree in English, with a focus on British Literature.

As a student of classical literature, I’ve dabbled with writing my own histories of the world, creating new mythologies and new stories I hope will one day inspire some other young boy or girl who doesn’t quite fit in. I have even been led, in recent years, to compose musical scores inspired by the stories of old. Occasionally I make use of what I have, and as such, I’ve gotten personal requests for commissioned art pieces, which I tackle in my spare time.

It’s taken me the better part of my life to understand the direction I’ve needed to take, and several factors have worked against me to sway that. My focus, however, is fixed, and at long last, I know where to go. 

casey mitchell

Casey puts his drawing pens down long enough to play a little rock guitar.

Anthony Hopkins

A sampling of Casey’s art.

Doppelganger

Mother Teresa

We are proud to have Casey as the newest addition to the staff of the Writing and Learning Center at Trinity River. In his spare time he writes fiction and poetry, paints, draws, and composes classical music scores. Enamored with a love for history and mythology, he is currently pursuing a major in English at the University of Texas at Arlington with a focus on British Literature. He plans to become a professor of British Literature and/or Anglo Saxon/Old English.

“Tolkien - The Grey Pilgrim”

My

Biggest

Supporters

“

She explained to me that due to my lack of grades and successfully failing about two years of high school, I would not be graduating with my friends. I would need a miracle. Right then and there it hit me.”

By Erika Platou

Oh

woe is me! The feeling that no one understands you, no one knows the trials and tribulations the common teenager goes through. Most who didn’t know me said I was a troubled teen. Others referred to me as misunderstood.

Some even placed me in the “She’s just being dramatic” category. To the educators who took the time to understand, I am truly grateful. Had it not been for them, my life would have gone a lot differently. I most likely would have become that troubled teen so many liked to gossip about, thinking they knew the story, thinking it was just my bad attitude.

There were those educators who set them straight, and by doing so proved their faith in me, and allowed me to have faith in myself. Most high school freshmen start their year the same way. The feeling in their stomach as if they had been riding a tilt-a-whirl for three hours straight, waiting and begging for someone to stop this sick ride. Going from being the big bad eighth graders who ruled the school, now to the little ninth grader who are now the main reason the halls become so congested. I, however, did not go into my first day of school that way. I was determined to go in with a bang! I was going to make a name for myself. I went in with a bang all right! I wanted to bang my head on Dean Bregy’s desk as I sat there

at 7:55 in the morning. I had only been there ten minutes and I was lucky enough to be his first victim. I’m not sure if I was more terrified that I was in the dean’s office, or more terrified at what my mother would say when he called her. I think he might have given me a freshman free pass that morning because no phone calls were made. I remember Mr. Bregy making me feel comfortable, letting me know he was there for me, to help me.

Not to make my life, for a lack of better words, a living hell. The last words I spoke to him that morning as I left his office were, “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other often!” He laughed, smiled and told me to get myself to class and he’d “See me later!”

T

hroughout that first year of high school I had managed to do a few things. I managed to either fail every class I was in or pass with a “D”. I had made weekly visits to my favorite dean of all, Mr. Bregy, and made a name for myself in the teacher’s lounge. It was almost like I had my very own mug shot with a caption under it saying, “Do not teach this girl!” My sophomore year consisted of both freshman and sophomore basic classes, some of which I passed, some of which I failed. I didn’t see the point. I fed into and believed what the other educators thought and said about me; plain and simple, I wouldn’t amount to much. Mr. Bregy understood me, though. He knew the war zone some of which referred to as my home. He knew what made me the person I was. He also knew the other educators were wrong about me, and also more importantly, I was wrong about myself.

I went back my junior year with the same excitement I had the years before: none. I had been in the building twenty minutes before I was summoned to my guidance counselor’s office. This was new. I wasn’t being sent out of class for my behavior. Someone wanted to actually speak to me about something. It was a trap. I knew something was up. I knew no good could have come from this. I walked in the office. The secretary looked at me as if I was about to walk in there and create a scene throwing papers in the air, flipping desks over, and demanding everyone’s money along with a year’s worth of straight “A’s”. I handed her my slip and she pointed me in the direction of Mrs. Barone’s office. Little did I know Mrs. Barone would be the only other one of two

educators who would impact my life with such intensity. She asked me to have a seat and pulled my files. I could tell she was new. She was nice.

She either hadn’t been told about me yet or she didn’t believe in making judgments until she had actually met me. Either way she was different.

She explained to me that due to my lack of grades and successfully failing about two years of high school, I would not be graduating with my friends. I would need a miracle. Right then and there it hit me. What had I done to myself? Was the popularity worth it? How were the petty hallway fights and making others feel smaller because I was dissatisfied with my own life going to help me graduate? I had proved them all right. I really was going to amount to nothing and no one.

I would be the super, super, super senior that everyone merely joked about being.

The girl who acted tough was no longer so strong. She cracked. This was what it took. I could handle everything around me falling apart, but I couldn’t take this. I asked her for a way out. I begged and pleaded for her to do something to get me out of this nightmare. I only had one choice. I had to enroll in the JCA program. The JCA program turned out to be nothing more than independent study with the behavioral problem kids I knew to be my friends. The only difference was I wasn’t there to socialize and it wasn’t a game. I was lucky enough to have the support of Mr. Bregy and Mrs. Barone to get me through it. I had questions, they had answers. They were my outlets when I had none, and they were the ones who believed in me most when I didn’t have the strength to believe in myself. The normal JCA student went to school half a day and was sent home, most likely so they could stay out of trouble. Not me.

I took classes the other half of the day to catch up on the years of slacking off. Whenever it would get hard, whenever I wanted to quit, they were right behind me picking me back up. They saw something in me, I hadn’t seen in myself: greatness. They saw my ability to learn new things and retain the information I was taught, they saw the ability to calm a room down or get people to listen to what I had to say. They saw a leader, who if only could use her powers for good, would be able to make a difference in this world, no matter how big or small. I stayed

completely out of trouble that year while I focused on school. I used the two educators I trusted most for advice and guidance to help become that person I wanted to be. Little did I know I did enough work that year, along with two correspondence classes, to be a semester into my senior year, as a junior.

My senior year came and no more JCA. I was in regular classes with regular students. This time, I was writing articles for the newspaper and an honor roll student. Mr. Bregy and Mrs. Barone called me their “miracle child.” Seeing them happy for me and happy I had proven to myself how great I can be was almost like watching a mother and father see their child ride their bike without training wheels for the first time. In my last week of high school I wrote an article in the school newspaper. I thanked them for all they did for me; for seeing the good in me when so many didn’t, for helping me blossom into the person that I had become and the person who I am today. Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what would have happened. Where would I be today

had Mr. Bregy and Mrs. Barone not been there to look at me and tell me I could do it?

I am a firm believer that a person can’t change unless they want to. I do also believe that people can’t change unless they are given tools to improve themselves and a support system. They were my biggest supporters. My very own HDJ cheerleaders.

I know I’m not the only one in this world who has been impacted by now Superintendent Bregy or Mrs. Barone, but I know that I will never forget them and what they have done for me. In a way they molded me into the adult I am today. I have lived and learned but I learned a great deal from them.

Here I am, six years later, back in school because I know I have what it takes and writing about them again.

Exciting people!

Presenting Trinity River people with topics that make you think.

Get up close and personal with people you only thought you knew.

The World Lounge in East Fork is finally here!

It is the best new place to learn about the people and the world around you. Ever wonder what time it is in your country, or try locating your homeland on a world map? On permanent display is a global map and clocks representing various time-zones. The rotating exhibit will highlight staff, students, and celebrations that make up the wide variety of cultures here at Trinity River.

Stop by and study by yourself or with your friends, and spend some quality time getting to know others who may also have a strong desire to get to know you. The World Lounge is located on the first floor of the East Fork building.

In East Fork East Fork, not just a place, but a destination..

Far and Above the Moon

by Shawn Stewart Far and above the moon sat the golden-orbed spaceship. Like a small and fragile star, it whispered its way across the galaxy to the outer fringes of Earth and entered the atmosphere with a soft murmur of expectation.

It's light shone to thousands, images forever burned into retinas. People staggered back, blinded by tears, trying to blink away the knowledge that passed into them with the light --for light is knowledge, you see, and all those who saw could never forget-seeing the ship circumnavigating the poles and finally settling into a great sea of sand stretching forever from eye to eye in every direction. A group of Bedouins found it first, glistening as a crystal sphere washed up from the ocean of time itself. They bowed to it and called it good, one letter from god. Grass grew for a hundred meters around the base of the globe, and people bent their knees to it in prayer.

Thousands visited before the first alien emerged.

Slender, golden, and aglow he stood silent before the hushless crowd. Leader of the Bedouins wondered, Why are you here?

We're here because of you, the alien thought back, and everyone understood and

smiled. The alien too smiled, and lifted his arms in friendship.

The afterglow of the ship's departure warmed them in the wake of its self-made sunshine, pulsing waves of heat back over the crowd.

The crowd grew silent as it grew dark.

From a point beyond the desert, three wise men looked up in amazement as it arced toward the east.

We're here because of you, the alien repeated in thought, and the whole world smiled, and knew.

Suffering

Erica

By Ryan Lanham

“Erika has been in a terrible, terrible car wreck and desperately needs our prayers right now.”

M

y jaw fell to my chest as I stared at the computer screen in my cold army barracks room in Fort Drum, NY, at least a day’s drive from where Erika lived in Texas. As the initial shock passed, I sprang from my chair and scrambled for my phone to call anyone in my contacts list who knew her or who could answer the questions mounting in my head.

It’s August now, and four months have passed since I first read that dreaded post on a friend’s Facebook page. I’ve just arrived home in Fort Worth, TX, for the first time since returning from a twelve month tour in Afghanistan, and I’m excited to say the least. In spite of the joy I feel returning to see friends and family who spent a year going gray with worry over a loved one in combat, I notice a gnawing sense of trepidation rising in my gut as I drive to the nursing home Erika has been moved to recently. I park the car, get out and notice everything about this place feels unfamiliar and somehow wrong.

The sweltering afternoon sun, constantly tests the body’s cooling system, a forgotten staple of a Texas summer day, appears incongruent with the open windows I notice while walking towards the front doors.

A blast of cool air conditioning is what one would expect to be greeted by when entering any respectable

establishment on a day like this. Instead a stale, fetid stench has been pressure-cooked in this house of the near-dead and hits me in the face with the force of a coastal gale wind. I recover quickly and take short, shallow breaths as I approach the hollow-eyed caretaker at the front desk. With the blank expression of someone who deals with society’s thrown away people day in, day out with little or no gratitude, he points me to where I’m heading. My sneakers squeak and the echoes magnify as I walk down this gray, sterile tunnel, until it sounds like a full-court basketball game in my ears. My heart is pumping so l hard I worry about waking the sleeping dregs as I pass.

I arrive at room 204. The brass numbers, dull and tarnished, stare at me with the same empathy as the employee. I enter the room. Sitting to my immediate right, in one of two hard, navy plastic chairs is another visitor who appears to be in her late fifties. Her hands are clutching those of the bed-ridden resident nearest the door. She smiles at me the way grieving family members smile at each other at a wake. I whisper an almost inaudible, “Hello,” as the words fight to stay in my throat. I scan hard left, trying to avoid looking at this lady’s daughter or friend or loved one, but my eyes can’t help glimpsing a decaying woman; her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her mouth mumbling incoherent thoughts, her back and arms repeatedly jerking just slightly off her bed like a marionette being manipulated by the invisible strings of some twisted puppeteer.

Just past her is the other occupant of this cramped, oppressive room. This one is still and motionless, except for the machine regulated rise and fall of a chest with broken lungs. Her frame is tiny, emaciated. Her arms, wrists, and fingers curl inward against her chest in an ever-tightening

spiral that looks ready to snap if wound any tighter.

A once clear plastic tube, now shaded yellow by constant use or lack of cleaning, runs from somewhere behind her bed directly into her throat. I say her name, and her eyes open slowly, though not in unison. The left eye stares hard right, as if fighting to maintain a line of sight on the part of her nose it can barely see. The right eye rolls in a lazy circle without ever reaching a final destination to stop and focus on. This is almost too much. I pat her

gnarled hand and look away from the room, towards the open window, like staring into the mouth of a furnace while I try and regain my composure.

I notice someone has hung a picture of Erika next to the window. A smiling, vibrant, beautiful young lady with the world at her finger tips looks back at me without a care in the world. For a moment, she is there.

Is the price of gas restricting your vacation plans?

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epiphany

By Betty Spencer

from the day we met, you were not worthy.

I realize that now, years after. meeting you changed me.

I lost my innocence.

I felt depths of loneliness, even with you by my side. no, you did not deserve any single part of me but you took all of me and now, I am new‌ most of all; I am BETTER!

By Nikita Tembo

“Oh, really?!� – is a response that I usually hear from people after they find out where I am from. Yes, I am black and I am Russian.

Once and for all let me explain how it could happen.

My father moved to Russia from Zambia to study at Russian State Geological Prospecting University, which is in Moscow. It was there, he met my mother; she is Russian, thus, a black Russian was born. Actually, my case is not something outstanding or special; you might be surprised to find out that there is a pretty big black community in Moscow, thanks to The Peoples' Friendship University of Russia, whose initial goal was to give young people from Asia, Africa, and Latin America, especially from poor families, an opportunity to be educated. Thereby, Moscow is a multinational city.

During my stay in Fort Worth, I have met many people in many different places, in shops, on buses, in restaurants, and on streets. All of them had different, but identical questions at the same time. The majority of these questions have arisen because of extremely primitive and even ridiculous stereotypes about Russia. Now, I think it is my duty to try to refute and disprove at least some of these popular beliefs.

Climate: People think that Russian climate can be compared to Antarctica; allegedly there is a winter all year long. In fact, winter lasts only 3-4 months. And honestly, it is not very cold, though sometimes it might be cold enough for heavy clothing. But if you have warm clothes, you will be okay. Generally, the lowest temperature is minus 10 or 15 Celsius in the winter. And the true thing about Russian winter is that it's very beautiful.

Women: Another myth that just wounded my feelings is that Russian women are less than stunning. That just is not true. Believe me, I have lived there for 17 years and can say without any doubt - Russian women are the most beautiful in the world, period.

Living standards: Russian living standards continue to improve, and more and more people live above the poverty line; that tendency was highlighted by studies. Of course there are still lots of economic issues that have just increased due to the global financial crisis. Not only has Russia faced this, but the whole world, because the economy of a majority of the countries is closely linked.

Particularly about Moscow, it is one of the most expensive cities in the world. For example, if you have an apartment in Moscow you can sell it for as much as you would be able to purchase a house on the seaside in Cyprus, and still have money for furniture, or even a car. I maybe exaggerate a little bit, but for sure – life in Moscow is expensive. Russia is the biggest country in the world and I can speak infinitely about this gorgeous place.

While in Russia, my decision to move to another country had arisen numerous times. I had often thought about it for long periods of time. Although my father was ready to provide me with habitation and help to enroll me in college, I still found it difficult to choose. I weighed all the pros and cons and eventually decided to come to America; namely Fort Worth, Texas. After 15 hours by plane, heaps of money, and lots of strength, I made it and it is worth all my effort.

The first three to four months were very tough; my limited English, no friends, no car, plus the intolerable hot summer made it very difficult. However, I eventually got used to it. Now, as a TCC student working toward citizenship, I can say that I am completely satisfied being here. I have not decided yet about my major, but my long term goal is to continue taking basic core classes in order to be able to transfer to a four year university. In the meantime, I am looking forward to just getting my degree. There are still many interesting themes and subjects I have not mentioned in this text, but it is a good stimulus for you to continue finding out more about my country, and maybe even visit her in the future. Trust me, you will not regret it.

Nikita Tembo having fun with friends in Red Square.

The Edge Of Ruin

By Miles Martin

B

ang! The smell of black powder from the with our finest Darwinist impersonation, crawl from starting gun mixes in my lungs with the the water exhausted, yet one step closer to victory. familiar sting of the cold October Our feet pound the earth as the sun’s heat pounds morning air. The percussion of the gun the backs of our necks. By the direction of the sun I is like an electric shock to my brain, predict only one final challenge remains. A single turning my anticipation into pure adrenaline. The mountain separates victory from defeat. As we reach 2008 “Pain in the Pines” endurance adventure race our mountain bikes, I feel dehydration begin to rise has officially started. As I begin to run, my legs feel in my body like a poison coursing through my veins. as though this is the first time I’ve used them. When the morning’s rigor mortis slowly fades and my mind “No, this can’t be happening! Not when we’re this clears, doubt begins to roll in like fog of ambiguity. close, not now!” Dehydration has become a very real Why are we doing this? Can we do this? These are and very dangerous concern at this point, and I soon questions both my teammate and I are thinking, but learn that we both are suffering. Like irrational neither dare speak them out loud. Even if we mountain goats we climb, unwilling to give up. With somehow found the courage to put our uncertainties every revolution of the bikes’ wheels, our brains into words, there would be no need. My friend and I screams forward and our muscles scream both know that before this day ends we will find our surrender. Our bodies have become a mutinous answers. ship. With each agonizing upward stroke my legs seize into right angles and I have to push them down As we descend into the forest, its ground still wet with with my free arm to maintain momentum. As the morning dew, tree roots grab at our feet like oily finish line appears in the distance, my mouth begins serpents threatening to obstruct our ankles. When to water with what I know to be the sweet taste of our trail’s life line suddenly expires, we realize that victory. With our last ounce of energy we cross the navigating check-points with zero discernable finish line, gravity taking over our bodies, and we features will become arduous. With each team became one with the earth. possessing different coordinates, following them would be pointless. Team after team crosses our The sound of the results sheet being nailed to the paths, and they all share the same confused look of a tree is like a battle cry, and the patient crowd lost rat in a maze of pine trees. “Haven’t we already transforms into an army charging the walls of Rome. been that way!” my teammate snaps. “Damn it, I don’t Where did we finish? First, second, third? With our know!” my response is equally as brutal. That’s the hearts in our throats, and blisters on our feet, we funny thing about trying to navigate in the woods; throw ourselves into the barbarian horde. Like my sometimes you literally can’t see the forest from the body, my finger becomes exhausted as it runs the trees. Five, six, seven, we complete the last of our length of the page. Dead last! This is what we check-points and swiftly advance toward the water. expected. The battle had taken us sixty miles, twelve hours, but we finished. We had our victory. Today The lake has been transformed into a blistering we were titans. All the elements in nature had inferno by the sun. The bottom of our two person conspired to destroy us, yet we prevailed. We kayak scrapes against the rocks as I push off into the pushed the limits of both our friendship and physical fiery water. Prior to our departure we had already ability, and never gave up. Our friendship was established that I would pilot and she would navigate. transformed into an indestructible bond forged by “Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll get us the blood, sweat, and tears of the day. Again no there,” I say, sounding more confident than I actually words needed to be spoken; the look said am. I must have used the words “right direction” too everything. In the icy chill of the October night we loosely. “Head right, no, left,” she commanded. “I found the answers that had eluded us that morning. can’t do both, just pick one! Any decision is better You don’t know what you’re capable of unless you than no decision!’’ I immediately know I’ve pissed her push yourself to the edge of ruin. When you crash off. head first into the wall of adversity and realize you’re not made of glass, anything is possible. Within minutes my arms start to burn from paddling every direction except the correct one. The tiny lake may as well be an ocean, and we are attempting the world’s first transatlantic kayaking voyage. With the last check-point finally obtained we reach shore, and

Connie D. Alling Connie was born and raised in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, an area rich with midwives. She is the third child of eight. Connie completed nursing school and became an LPN. She attended North Texas School of Midwifery, in Grand Prairie, Texas. In 1986, she opened her private practice and continued delivering babies until 1996. She is currently attending TCC to complete her prerequisites to pursue a degree in Canine Studies. Connie’s first-hand experience dealing with sensory dysfunctions and learning disabilities, coupled with her love for dogs, particularly Golden Retrievers, planted the seed for her goal of training service and therapy dogs for the disabled.

Matthew Dean My name is Matthew Dean and I am a born again Christian. My one hope in regard to this poem's desired response is that it makes your day a little better. I was originally born in Fort Worth, Texas.

After graduating from Lake Worth High school in 2005, I joined the United States Navy and traveled though many beautiful and extravagant parts of the world, such as Hong Kong, Singapore, Japan, Italy, Greece, and even Hawaii. In my opinion, Hawaii is one of the most beautiful places in the world, but now that I am back in the great state of Texas, I hope to transfer from TCC and attend BMA seminary to further the gospel of our lord and savior Jesus Christ. All glory be to the king on high.

Christina Holmes Christina Holmes is a married mother of two teenage girls. She has been writing stories, songs and poetry since age six. She also enjoys reading, watching movies, and making all natural candles.

Christina plans to pursue a career in Social Work.

Ryan Lanham

Ryan was born July 5, 1980, in Fort Worth, TX, to Sherrie and Terry Lanham. In 1998, Ryan graduated from Crowley High School. The following year, he studied Business at the University of Texas at Austin. He also took three semesters of classes at TCC South before finally joining the Army in the summer of 2007. After completing his enlistment, which included a twelve month tour in Afghanistan, Ryan has since become a full-time student, the president and founder of the TR Running Club, and a member of various organizations. He has also run three marathons and continues to encourage fitness from his peers.

Miles Martin

Miles Martin is currently a TCCD Trinity River student. He has aspirations of transferring to the University of Texas to receive his bachelor’s degree in Indochinese history. Upon obtaining his bachelor’s degree, he then plans to receive his master’s and doctoral degrees in history in order to teach at the collegiate level.

Erika Platou Only my close family and friends really know that I write and that I enjoy writing. They only know this because they accidentally found poems and stories that I started to write in high school. My senior year of high school, I took a journalism class where some stories were published, and I loved it. I loved the idea of expressing myself through my writing, getting lost in a character, poem, or news story. Writing to me is like art, it is in the eye of the beholder. Some may think my writing isn't that great, while others may love it. At the end of the day I can say that the writing is mine, it’s my story, in my words, and it's who I am. Maybe one day I will have the courage to write a book, maybe I won't, but I can say this... I will never stop writing.

Casey Mitchell We are proud to have Casey as the newest addition to the staff of the Writing and Learning Center at Trinity River. In his spare time he writes fiction and poetry, paints, draws, and composes classical music scores. Enamored with a love for history and mythology, he is currently pursuing a major in English at The University of Texas at Arlington with a focus on British Literature. He plans become a professor of British Literature and/or Anglo Saxon/Old English.

to

Jimmy Rouyre Jimmy was born in Belgium and due to the relocation of his father, moved to Fort Worth about eleven years ago. About moving here, Jimmy comments, “I like the Fort Worth area because it’s a different than Europe and it’s much bigger.” His choice to attend TCC is two-fold, “It’s a great choice for getting my basics out of the way, and it’s a less expensive way of doing it.” Jimmy plans on attending the police academy and pursuing a career in law enforcement.

Eric Ruvalcaba Eric Ruvalcaba is from southern California. When asked to share his thoughts about his writing and personal goals, Eric told us, “Writing allows me to vividly express anything that goes on in my ever expanding mind. I lose myself in every letter, every word, every sentence, and I can never get enough.” Eric’s hobbies include reading, learning violin, puzzles, eating, and getting involved in multiple TCC activities. His ambition is to earn a Ph.D. in psychology and become a successful clinical psychologist with his own private practice.

Betty Spencer Betty was born on August 9, 1979, in Hobbs, NM. After high school, she spent a lot of time devoting herself to her husband and three children. She worked as a licensed insurance representative for several years before deciding to go back to college. Betty began her college career in the fall of 2009 at TCC Trinity River. She is pursuing a career as a surgical nurse and is looking forward to beginning the nursing program here at this campus. Although busy with her family, she has worked hard to maintain a 4.0 grade point average. Betty is the Vice President for the Trinity River Writing Club and was recently inducted into Sigma Kappa Delta, the National English Honors Society for two-year colleges. She enjoys writing through her blog http://thebsstartshere.blogspot.com as an outlet for stress.

Nikita Tembo I was born on October 31, 1992, in Moscow, Russia. My zodiac sign is Scorpio. I was three when I started kindergarten and stayed there until I was six. In 1999, I went to PS 20. After four years there, I transferred to PS 1995, where I studied until graduation in the summer 2010. I have three sisters: one on my mom's line (a 1 year old), and two on my dad's: a five and a fourteen year old.

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To every student writer, Trinity River staff, and faculty member, and countless supporters of TCC Writes Online Magazine, we thank you for an incredible year. We are grateful for your contributions and dedication to making this publication possible.

Student Writing Contributors Connie Alling Mathew Dean Christina Holmes Ryan Lanham Miles Martin Casey Mitchell Erika Platou Jimmy Rouyre Eric Ruvalcaba Betty Spencer Nikita Tembo Special Student Contributions Haylie Cole Sgt. Clinton Riggins IV Faculty and Staff Contributions Lionel Bailey Trish Barker Justin Brumit Danelle Ellis Dr. Mary French Cheryl Garrett Tyson McMillan Dr. Jim Schrantz Michelle Menchaka Scott Thrower

Editors Maggie Engel Steven LeMons Shawn Stewart Samantha Windschitl TCC Writes Online Magazine Spring 2011 Student Committee Mathew Dean Christina Holmes Ryan Lanham Miles Martin Dr. Mary French Special Thanks The Trinity River English Department Dr. Tahita Fulkerson Dr. Scott Robinson Dr. Jim Schrantz Dr. Bryan Stewart Additional Assistance The Trinity River Copy Center Trinity River Graphics Department For more information or to submit a writing sample to TCC Writes Online Magazine, please email your submission to tr.writes@tccd.edu or stop by the Writing & Learning Center.

Read other issues of TCC Writes Online Magazine online at www.issuu.com Enter tccwrites09 in the search window