Moments that Define Us

Acknowledgements

Students composed the personal narratives collected in this volume as part of their work for English I at the Environmental Charter School. The stories featured in this collection are just a small sample of the writing the ninth-grade students submitted. We hope you enjoy this collection.

Table of Contents

The Sprint ……………………………. Desean Krynski

My First Martial Arts Class ………………Sam Katsman

A Christmas Memory ……………………. Dylan Reddy

be faster than the rest of my team because of my genetics only to realize that would not be the case.

If you want to be better than most, you have to work harder too. When I was 12 and first started track, I wanted to be a sprinter. My coach insisted that I had the form for long-distance running, which upset me at the time. My mother, who was also a runner, ran long-distance in the form of ultra marathons. Since I don’t know much about my birth father other than the fact that he was a sprinter, I decided to try long-distance.

Long-distance running went well for me for a couple of years. I won medals and ribbons, but I never actually won first place. The closest I ever got was third place. I knew I can do better.

A couple years ago, my mom took me to a track to run. My mom is a hard working, considerate, responsible leader who always thought of me as her teenage self. She doesn’t complain when I make a wrong step or when I make a wrong turn. She makes me feel confident that I can do anything. She will run with me sometimes when she is off work to get me on the right foot. She helps me become the person she always wanted to be. A hero who does things the right way.

As I stood on the 100 meter line with her, I knew this had to be done. Running isn’t just seeing how

how fast you are, it's a free for all against the wind. As I knelt down on the track and got in position my heart started racing. She blew the whistle, next thing I knew was that I was running down the track. I could feel the wind in my eyes. I could hear voices yelling. I could see the finish line coming up quickly. Done. I stood there panting with sweat just as mother told me the time. It was a little under 12 seconds. Then she made me run the 200 and I felt the same experience minutes before. Wind, voices, finish line. Done, 23 and a half seconds. She took me to the track was because I kept insisting that I would be a good runner. So that's what we did.

Now that I’m older and stronger than I was before that. I think I can run faster than that. I know I can. If you want to fulfill your dreams you have to keep at it. It’s not something that can happen overnight. But it's something that can be done if you try hard enough.

❖

After finishing the movie, I had felt something inside, something that almost was like a machine that kept on pumping electricity into my bloodstream, and it made me feel ready more than ever before.

With all this built up energy inside, it had prompted me to ask my dad if I could enroll in a karate class, and he looked at me with surprise, wondering where this state of vitality had come from, and how it came from me.

He had a wide smile on his face, and then laughed. He then crouched down to reach my level, and had told me if I was sure that I really wanted to join a martial arts school. I responded, saying that I felt ready than I ever was before. What had seemed like weeks or a month, and continuous conversations between my father and my mother, I had finally been placed into a martial arts dojo. I remember how eager I had gotten over my karate gi, my long-legged pants, even a white belt to suit me for my first ever class; already calling myself a martial arts professional from just wearing the given clothing from the dojo.

When we had gotten over to Shadyside Avenue, I began to walk across the street and I had read the big letters over by the capes that had hung from the left and right sides of the windows, One had spelled out ‘MARTIAL’ in huge letters down vertically,

The one in front of ‘MARTIAL’ had spelled ‘ARTS’ in the same vertical spelling format, And the one that was in front of ‘ARTS’ had spelled ‘ACADEMY’.

After reading them all out loud to myself, I thought that it must be official. I was most certain that it was, after all what would’ve that confidence that I’ve built up these past few weeks do for me? Pretty soon though, I was about to find out. ❖

My Mom, before I was born, worked at Phipps Conservatory. She made plenty of friends there, some that she still talks to, and even some who had kids my age. Because of this, we would go all the time, and it turned into a place that I love to Some of my most fond memories are from around Christmas time, when my cousins and I would visit Santa there. We would go to the same brunch diner beforehand every year. I didn't even know there was a menu until I was much older, seeing as the buffet was superior. Around a table, eating pancakes and bacon, we talked and played until everybody was stuffed and ready to go see We would get into our cars, filing in quickly so that we could be first in line to see Mr. Claus.

When we’d get into the Conservatory the smell of christmas spices filled the air. Wafting from the train room and gift shop, we were entranced in the magic of the scent.

Taking a photo in front of the big tree at the entrance was a tradition, huddling together, the warmth of our bodies giving us a break from the wintery cold. After a while, the kids would complain about the amount of photos, our minds wandering from the camera to what we really wanted for Christmas, and the parents would finally let us be free.

Waiting in line was always the worst part, gathering around the tiny model trains, in the tiny model town, in the center of the room, smiles were plastered across our faces. Eventually though, our feet started to hurt, and the trains faded into background noise. We wanted to sit on Santas lap, tell him what we wanted, take photos, and then start walking around to see the entrancing flowers and greenery. Getting close to the end of the line, when we’d start to see the red hat and big white beard, the excitement would grow back, and slowly we’d begin to prepare what we would say.

Standing in my red dress, we file onto the platform, ready to tell him all our secrets. There

are so many of us that it’s a struggle to stay in frame for the christmas card photo. I walk away for a moment to let my cousins get a family photo, and I feel the beginning of a twinge in my heart. I can't remember the last time I was in a family photo with all of my siblings, and both of my parents, especially not around the holidays. I shake the feeling away before it really gets a chance to live itself out, and it doesn't matter for a moment, because it's my turn to sit on Santas lap.

I know Santa is a different person every year, the color of his skin changes and the way he talks is never the same, but that doesnt matter, because I am there. In front of the camera I smile wide, the spices are climbing their way toward me, my cousins are holding hands behind the camera, and I know that everything is going to end up okay. ❖