Welcome to the first issue of [Untitled], Arabia Mountain High

School’s first literary magazine! [Untitled] is a product of Mrs. Klein’s

creative writing class, and the first edition features poetry, fiction,

essays, and other creative projects created in her class. You will also

find a few writing tips and inspiration to help you start writing

creatively on your own.

In order to create this issue, each student contributed an essay on

the theme of “Back to School,” and another piece of writing on any

topic he or she desired. The class took the time to read and revise their

work. Several students even took their own pictures to add another

element to their writing.

We are very excited to share [Untitled] with you, and we need your

help to make it a success! When you read the cliffhangers, email your

ideas to amhscreativewriting@gmail.com. If you have comments,

suggestions, or any other ideas, email us!

Finally, we are already planning our October edition. We want to

focus on spooky, scary, and suspenseful stories. If you want to

contribute, stop by and talk to Mrs. Klein in D202, or email us.

We cannot wait to hear from you!

This tale is true, and mine.

It tells how I got my first heartbreak. I was

young and new to the idea of love,

And the thought of having someone to call my

own made my heart throb.

His eyes, his smile, the way he dressed were all

features that attracted me to him.

His words, his kindness, and the little things he

did made me fall for him.

Time went on, and we grew closer.

My affection for him grew and so did his for

me.

I remember that first day he kissed me.

I got butterflies and my heart started to beat

faster.

The smile he gave me afterwards gave me

chills,

and from that point on I knew that this was

“real” and I wanted it to last.

It was the first day after a break from school.

Everything with us was great until the face of a pretty new girl appeared.

All the boys wanted her.

I wasn’t worried though, I knew what I had with him been “real”.

Days went by, months went by. I noticed things were changing between with

us.

He looked at me differently, he talked to me differently.

What was going on?

I didn’t realize what was wrong until I saw him…with her.

He seemed happy and he smiled at her the way he used to smile at me.

The following days silence between me and him grew. He would walk past me

to get to her.

What did I do to deserve this?

Nothing.

My first “love” ended up being the first one to break my heart.

Never again, I told myself.

I’ll never fall for another unless and until I knew that it was REAL.

My Tale of Loss

By Shanteria Maddox

RIP TO MY BIG BROTHER, I LOVE YOU

This tale is true and mine. It tells how……..

Losing my older brother was hard,

Why was he taken away from me?

Why did he have to go so early?

Rage, Revenge, Real Soul-Clenched

Is the way I felt when I got the news.

Having a fun day June 24th before I

Got the call that my 24 year old brother

Was shot multiple times.

I couldn’t even cry, I just prayed

Prayed for peace, perfection

That he makes it through his first round of

surgery.

But no it didn’t go that way, another

Call I receive, “He didn’t make it”.

Sat for a couple of hours in disbelief,

“GOD IS THIS REALISTIC”, was the line I

repeated.

My heart was truly broken, bent, and

breathless.

It was all a huge shock, I could not freaking

believe

It in its entirety till I saw him lifeless,

Suited up in his coffin.

My sister in law, my family, my niece and

nephews, and

His friends filled with the room with tears.

I looked at my next oldest brother

Clenched my cousins hand, and still

question

Is this really real you guys.

That day is one I shall not forget.

My brother became a true statistic, a

young

Black male, shot to death, murdered,

heartlessly.

His favorite line was “be safe”.

I truly wish I was there to tell him.

His killer was found

That brought a lot of closure.

I will never let this be a thing of the past.

I honestly think about it daily.

Why did he have to be the one to be

murdered?

I have to question why but it just sort of

comes naturally.

I hope he is resting in paradise and peace

with no issues.

Watch over me Antavious.

Ill forever be your little sister.

Far away physically, but very close in spirit,

Too bad you couldn’t finish your music

plans.

I know this was your passion.

Continue watching over me, though.

Be my guardian angel

I promise to “be safe.” I love you.

Love,

Shanteria

By Rikita AlfordRoses are red

Chivalry? It’s dead.

I gave you my heart to hold

You broke it instead.

You’re piercing eyes, beaming through my

soul

I pray you choke on every lie you told.

Love is cursed by monogamy.

I swear solemnly my feelings bother me.

Roses are red

Love? It’s dead,

It doesn’t exist, but we can’t resist

To think it does

But I won’t pretend.

Who are you?

Are you smart, funny, tall?

Do you care about anything at all?

Do you like blue or black?

Is there something that you lack?

Do you blaze your own trail?

Or follow the paths of those who fail?

What defines you as you?

Do you even have a clue?

Ask yourself who you are.

And your brain will stretch far and wide

To find the answer that will complete you.

Is it the truth or a false perception?

Will you ever know? It lies at your discretion.

Do you know who you are?

Find out. It will take you far

As the stars begin to align in their perfect

positions,

I transition to wander around my thoughts.

For the most part I reminisce about last

summer…

Remember how it used to be,

I was all into you

and you were into to me.

I glance once more at the stars,

begging the lost figures for answers.

My basic instinct as Capricorn is that

I care too much and I always see

the worst of situations instead of the positives,

my heart is lost without your touch…

Then I think if you still think of me

the way I do you…

This crazy game we play with each other

when we act like we don’t care is pointless,

a blind man could sense the way we act

around each….

at the end of the day I want you to always

remember this:

No one will ever love you more than I do.

By Christum Noel

On a bright Sunday morning, your smile forms the horizon and your teeth become the bright sun You stretch your arms out allowing the songbirds to make love on your finger tips The bosoms of your cherry blossoms aren’t what they use to be The shade of pink that showed your blushing cheeks are no longer there Your blossoms are more like sadden roses, a deep red of embarrassment Embarrassed of how your children treat you How they beat you How Bombs and missiles are pressed deeper into you Cigarette smoke crushing your lungs Your pores clogged by alcohol and the blood from those who thought wrist were just strings from kites that they Could just cut free. Your dress is dingy shade of purple made from blue skies and red blood I want to remember what I use to see Instead of this cancer known as civilization I want to see you hair like trees Cheek like plains I want to learn the structure of your bones How they curve and twist to make your Grand Canyon How your passion spreads like wild fires How your skirt twist into tornadoes How you 2 steps into earthquakes How you blew the coldest winters And no matter how lost I am you always keep me on the ground never leaving my side your gravity keeps me Comfort because I know your thinking about a child who is worried for his mother Worried that the branches you grew into the heavens have no been cut down for profit And no profit is more important than making profit for you because without you we have no land With no land we have no home With no home we are lost We are lost in your in your mysteries Your echoing valleys I am sorry you have to discipline us with hurricanes and tsunamis but we children are experimenting Learning how to make our lives better when you’re the one that gave us life to begin with I am sorry But there are still a few us who like to come at night and listen to your stories Hear your thunder clapping, your waves crashing, Cuddling with your vines with the knowing fact that you’re still beautiful Knowing that you haven’t changed & that you are still the Mother Earth we fell in love with You are still beautiful Through the trenches of warfare and dirtiest of slums you are still beautiful You are still beautiful to me

______________________________________________________________________________

A sharp crash echoes through the empty house.

The man jolts up and looks instinctively at the alarm clock. This time of too early to wake up, but late enough to sleep, was an unfamiliar time. He should not be awake; the cause of his consciousness, currently unknown.

Now, a moment of realization flow over his body, paralyzing him with fear. Imaginations of possible causes of the noise flash through his mind as he lays stiffened in his bed. ‘What will they take? What will they do to me?’

The next noise resonates within the house. As each step of the stairs is slammed down upon, fear stems from the unknown distance of his now seemingly certain doom.

As if accepting his fate, he lies still in his bed. The noise stops at the top of the stairs. The metallic sound of the door knob turning begins to consume his mind. Then, the door…

What is behind the door? What will happen to the man? Will he survive the night? Is this just a big misunderstanding?

The Intruder By: Arthur DaSouza

Red Lip Bandit

BY: Robyn Golden

Sonny walks into the parlor and saw the vintage styled juke box.

He noticed a girl staring in a skimpy, scantily clad plaid waitress skirt.

She was wearing red lip stick and her hair was quite long with curls.

Sonny walked towards the counter and ordered a large chocolate milk

shake, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a cherry on top.

That’s when a puddle on the ground happened to grasp all of Sonny’s

attention momentarily. Suddenly a song started to play. Sonny was

distracted from the song and gazed as if in a trance. He seemed to be

hypnotized, following the puddle outside into a restricted area. The girl

with the long curls and red lips appeared. Everyone inside of the

parlor, started to dance.

Read the next issue to find out what happens next!

As the plane began to take off high into the sky, the captain introduced himself over

the in intercom as Captain JT. He ensured everyone that the flight to Australia will be a

nice one. I was heading off to Australia to visit my father, to spend some time with him

during the summer, before I attend college this fall. Some hours later, below us was a

huge forestry island. The captain gave us a brief history over the islands stating that

they were protected, and forbidden to go on. Once he ended his lecture, the airplane hit

a small burst of turbulence. Minutes later, another huge burst of turbulence passed by.

The airplane became very shaky, as everyone’s head bobbled side to side. Then the

unthinkable happened.

The airplane’s engine cut off, leaving us coasting in the sky before plummeting down

to the body of waters below us.

Two lady flight attendants ran to the front quickly, to make a short announcement,

“EVERYONE PLEASE LISTEN! PLEASE PULL OUT YOUR AIR MASK WHICH ARE

LOCATED ABOVE YOU, AND PULL OUT YOUR LIFE JACKETS, WHICH ARE LOCATED

UNDERNEATH YOUR SEAT. WE ARE ABOUT TO CRASH SHORTLY. WE ARE SO

SORRY FOR THIS INCOVIENCE,” they announced as they rushed to the two seats in

the front.

As I followed their directions, I took a deep breathe, and make a quick prayer. The

feeling was comparable to the exact feeling of going downhill on a never ending

rollercoaster.

I held on tight, as we were about to crash onto the body of water that lay miles away

from the forbidden island …

I’ll take an extra side of Anesthesia, please!

By: Miiauna Felix-Serrano

“Dr. Serrano your patient is awaiting you in the next room,” says my nurse, as I sterilize all of my equipment.

As I cover my body with surgical wear, I turn my back, pushing the operational doors open. My pulse begins to rise as my hands steadied, gripping my scalpel. Tilting my light for better view, I press down on the patient’s skin as it separates like butter to remove a cyst on the left lung. I turned my back to my patient to switch my tools, when suddenly I felt a nudge, followed by a limp finger engorging its nail into my plastic covered hand, my head swiveled quickly around, to be greeted with icy blue eyes…

CLIFF HANGERS

21

Sweat and tears ran down Frankie’s face as he sped down the California coastline highway of I-38. It had been two weeks since he had reconnected with his high school sweetheart, Jay Linn, and now he might be losing her forever. It is his entire fault. He knew it was wrong to bring her to his home, and flirt with her in the manner that he did, but he couldn’t stop. He was in love again, and everyone around him knew it. Even his wife did.

Yes, Frankie was married, and his wife Mindy hated it. She loathed competition, and unfortunately everything about Jay Linn spelled out competition. Mindy was known for eliminating her challengers, whether they were dead or alive. An hour ago Frankie found the letter that Mindy wrote, stating that she was going to kill Jay Linn, and how Mindy and Frankie could be together… forever. Frankie panicked, as he called Jay’s cell phone and only got her voice mail.

He was now en route to her house. As he reaches the white bungalow house, Frankie sees the door kicked in. He immediately runs. As Frankie turns the corner into the living room, he was disturbed by the haunting sight of Mindy, holding a Gluck 23 gun. Jay was on her knees, with her hands behind her head, awaiting her fate. Mindy looks up slowly, as Frankie enters the room. Mindy clenches her fingers around the trigger.

Frankie yells, “No!” as Mindy pulls the trigger…

MY HIGH SCHOOL SWEET HEART

BY DORIEN CAMPBELL

DANGER: CURVES AHEAD

By Daiton Thrash

He has made it through a trying school year. Yes, he is a senior, and

graduation day is tomorrow. Yet this is the night that he shall celebrate with his

colleagues.

His friends have invited him to a party. They have supplied themselves heavy

quantities of Red Bull and beer. At the party he is flirts till his lips are sore, making it

to third base with some and first with others. He is offered a shot to slam. He starts

off slow with a small cup but that graduates to a 12oz bottle. After drinking 22 of

them, he becomes extremely intoxicated.

This is a feeling that is completely new to him. He has had a lot to drink. His

vision is now distorted. He tries to go make use of the facilities to flush out his eyes,

but he vomits before he makes it to the stairs. The host of the party kicks him from

the house and he decides to go home.

He is driving down the road. He rides in one lane but his vision shows that

there are eight of them. Ahead of him is a curve. He is at the speed of 84 mph.

Deceived by his vision again he turns his car sharp thinking the curve is closer than

it really is. His car swerves towards the curve rigorously with him having no control.

As the car swerves he gets closer to the curve….

How my Heart Breaks By: Tiffany Swaby

As I sit in my bedroom, on the phone with my best friend Brittney, I

watch the re-runs of “Vampire Dairies”. The doorbell rang, which startled

me, as I jump up onto my feet. I knew who was at

the door, my boyfriend, Jamal, the love of my life. I

told Brittney that I would call her back because

Jamal was here, but then she just hung up on me–

with no hesitation. So, I ran downstairs with

happiest expression on my face, but once I

opened the door, my expression immediately

changes. Jamal’s face looks as if someone close

to him died. Instead of giving me a hug or a kiss,

he just walks in my house. He looks at my face,

and says that he has something to tell me that might break my heart into

tiny, little pieces of glass. He didn’t even have to say a word; I just

immediately started to cry as when he said the words, “Sydney I got

another girl pregnant”.

I looked at him in his eyes and said with no sympathy that I’d never

want to talk to him ever again or see his face in any way; he broke my

heart in a way that no one has ever done before – hurt me so much that I

couldn’t even put it in words. Jamal had slept with another girl and got her

pregnant, and all I could think of is how I’m supposed to deal with

something like this, or how I was ever going to face him at school,

knowing that he did something like this to me. One thing I knew I was sure

of was that I would never regret – not even for a second – my decision to

dismiss him from my life.

This relationship was over.

As she looks in the mirror she can find every flaw about herself. Every little thing flaw about herself she was the first to spot it. Small bumps, dark spots, and she saw the huge arms of a sumo wrestler. The kids at school didn’t like her very much, they called her names and told her things like kill yourself, you’re so ugly, and your life is pointless. That Friday, Sep. 23, she just can’t take it anymore. She looks at her pale skin, and huge hands, in a disappointment. She walked in her dad’s room, reaches to the top of the closet with the baby blue walls that seemed as if they were closed in every second it took. She passed down from generations, loaded the gun and pointed it toward her head her heavy arms trembled and the anticipation became more sudden. Boom!!!

Boom!!!

What happens next??? By: Shantonia weaver

What was the boom? If you have an idea for how this story should end, send your idea to amhscreativewriting@gmail.com.

Brandon Hardy’s VANTAGE POINT.

“When life…..was often too much for me to bear, I would immerse myself in a reality that I could truly prosper within. I remember it all vividly, the cold, changing winds of September on my face as it forced my…..blonde? No….maybe brunette – hair away from my cheeks; the overwhelming scent of roses, lingering in the back of my nose as I solemnly glanced in awe towards what I perceived to be leaves of a scarlet, or orange appearance. Reaching outward over the shallow, yet forever glistening lake before me – observing every move of those leaves – I suddenly gasped as though I were drowning; the leaves now resting upon the water’s surface. I was naïve, and had set myself a sail a sea of misfortune. There was something I could have done differently, another way; I could have changed the tides of fate if I so pleased, but…..I wanted to hear nothing of it. This was my reality, and no one would take that from me.” “The first time I arrived – the moment I awoke – was pure confusion.” Forcefully awakening from what felt like a coma – accompanied by that of a faint yawn – the girl turns in fleeting silence; stricken with an unrelenting headache – one that with a throbbing, agonizing pain made even the occasional chirping of birds a cringe-worthy nuisance – her memories, blurred. “W-where….am I?”, the girl uttered with a feeble tone of voice. “….Who…am I?” Beginning to ponder a myriad of thoughts all at once, her body had soon begun to slightly convulse on the park bench upon which she sat. Without warning, the area around her had began to become dark – her view, obscured as her eyes dilated; the lake before her, now resembling an oasis of blood – menacing and bottomless. She’d begun to black out.

Hours later, she awoke to the repetitious beckoning of a woman who’d also been in the area. “Hey! Hey!”, the somewhat impudent, yet affable voice yelled from afar ; the sound of her sneakers forcefully scraping against the cobbled pathway upon which she ran, catching the girl’s attention as she turned in confusion. “Oh, thank goodness….you’re alive!”, the woman stated amongst a rhythmic pant, now standing in close view as she clenched a plastic bottle of water – drinking excessively from its opening. “Alive…..? What do you mean?”, the girl managed to mutter, despite her condition.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way!”, the woman responded while lowering the bottle of water she’d been holding ; her auburn hair streaked with flurries of red, though bound gently to her head in a ponytail that lie eloquently upon her shoulder. “It’s just that well, recently a lot of strange things have been going on in the area – specifically this park. Everything from lights in the sky, and disembodied voices, to people suddenly going missing ; even a few mangled bodies have been found deeper in the forest – And what’s worse is that people have stopped coming here out of fear. But that doesn’t scare me, I’m undaunted by the face of Hell itself! Ha-ha!”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I!? But surely you’ve already heard about this on the news…..right?”, the woman queried lightly. “……..The “News”?, the girl stated in an attempt to imitate the same amount of sheer affability displayed by this woman before her, though still bemused. “I…don’t know what you mean, But, I feel like I can trust you. Tell me, where am I? – It feels like I overslept.” “Huh? Heh, maybe you did! You’re in New York….remember?”, the woman responded, while adjusting her stance – her black spandex, exercise-shorts reflecting the filtered sunlight of a New York morning sky as she folded down the creases on her black tank top; white, thin sleeves worn underneath it.” “New York!? What’s New York?”, the girl exclaimed in shock. “You’re…..not from around here, are you?”, the woman chuckled, smiling as she tilted her head to the side – her ponytail, now dangling down near her torso. “N-no…I don’t think I am, am I?”, she continued. “You mean you “really” don’t remember a thing?”, the woman answered. “What about your name? family? friends? “No….not a hint”, the girl responded, while looking down to her knees in sudden astonishment. “These clothes….! I don’t even remember putting them on!”

The girl’s eyes now glanced upon knees covered by black jeans, slender brown boots of a light-brown lining, or threading and metal embellishment, the trimming of a white blouse of black-straps that wrapped around her shoulder and forearm – almost resembling pieces of an arm-length glove ripped into individual strips of fabric – a wine-red cardigan vest, and a pair of black gloves – the right with a black cuff-like bracelet around it, fastened tightly to her wrist – each possessing the same “silver-zipper” design. “…..Well, your look is really something; I mean, even with the amount of exercise I do each morning, I don’t think I could fit into, or even pull off an outfit like that!”, the woman complimented.

In the midst of a silence awkward, soon turned ephemeral, the woman proceeded to formally introduce herself, holding her hand out without question. “You may have forgotten a few things, but I certainly haven’t forgotten my manners – The name’s Maliene, but you can just call me Mal – Please!”, she kindly demanded. Wearing a smile of little to no emotion behind it, the girl hesitantly accepted her hand, the two now properly acquainted. “Sure Mal! A-and thanks for the compliment – I guess….”, the girl exclaimed to her own surprise.

“Her name was Maliene, we’d spent quite some time talking about all sort of things – I guess this was her way of helping; she hoped that eventually something she said would trigger my memory, but it never did – at least, not today. I’d learned that “Mal” was 21, and the daughter of something called a “Governor” – of course, she hasn’t seen much of him in what’s felt to her like half of her life. In a way, we were both alike; more than I had ever known…….”

Burnt Rose Issue #1-Growing Apart

By: Jimmie Shelmon

“Watch where you walkin’!” said the young man young man named Martez Brown. He was called Tez for short. The two young men, once close friends and now bitter enemies, exchanged a series of harsh words and phrases before being ultimately silenced by their teacher and sent to their seats in the classroom.

Jake began to reminisce about his early childhood, a time when he and Tez were once friends. It was before he began the 10th grade, before he entered high school, and before the girl with bad traits drove the boys apart. As a 3rd grader, he, Tez, a friend named Leon, and a boy named Dustin, now deceased,

played together at Clearbrook Elementary. Jacob was a small, light skinned boy with thin shoulder-length hair of a few different ethnicities. Tez was a chubby, talkative, smart-

mouth with a big afro, which he often kept in a puffball fashion and, despite his name, he was African American. Leon was a fairly dark skinned, slim, scrawny child. And Dustin was a dark skinned, mischievous boy who would always be up to something. The characteristics of the boys didn’t change much over time either. Those four boys were like brothers; they were inseparable. After school, the four boys played in grassy field, across from a busy road and near an abandoned building with a small lot. They called it “The Lot,” it was like a sacred playground to them. Within a few years, Dustin died in a house fire due to smoke inhalation a few years later and the strength of their friendship was tested. The boys still remained friends, but when their teenage years began, Tez began to drift from Jake and Leon. This was because of a girl. And now Jake and Tez share a mutual animosity that has grown over the past couple of years. Jake and Tez have grown apart. “Hey…get up.” said Leon to a wistful Jake who had been absent-minded through the school day. The final bell rang, which ended the school day and the duo began to walk home. They joked around in a casual conversation between friends while taking a short cut through “The Lot” to head to their homes. “Scrrrrr!!!...Boom!” was the sound of a driver crashing into the rail on the road by the lot. While both startled by the loud crash, Jake and Leon rush to the scene to check the condition of the driver. “F***! God******!” yelled the furious driver on the damaged car. “Are you okay!?” asked Leon.

“No cuz my god**** car is all f***** up. My f***** up brakes weren’t workin’. S*** this is bull****” replied the driver. The driver was physically unharmed, but the right side of the vehicle was very damaged, especially near the right back tire and the gas tank. With his cell phone, he began to call his wife and his insurance agent about his fender bender. The two young men knew they couldn’t do anything for the man so they continue their walk home. Unknown to everyone, large amounts of gasoline from the damaged car slowly

seeped into the “The Lot.” Later that night, Jake thought of his first friend from a long time ago. It was a just two years before he had met Tez, Leon, and Dustin. When he first started school at Clearbrook Elementary he played with a girl named Rika. Rika was a small, light skinned girl of Native American descent with long braided hair. Jake and Rika had such fun little adventures together throughout their early elementary school years. Jake remembered how they played during recess, and laughed, and he even remembered Rika’s favorite color, which was blue. Jake and Rika were only friends for nearly two years, but he loved those times. Things were much simpler then that what they were now in present time. The following day at school, Leon tells Jake that two girls were added their class after lunch. Jake didn’t seem too interested when he saw the first one, but his eyes grew big when he saw the second. It was Rika.

By Lauren Thomas

Summer is over. Late nights and early mornings have to come to an end. I have to say goodbye to my two months of relaxation, pleasure, and diversion, and prepare myself for the next ten months of hard work and dedication.

As I lay in my bed the night before the first day of school, I stare at the ceiling reminiscing about all the memories that were created during summer break. I take a glance at the clock wishing that I was asleep, realizing how much I was going to dread waking up in the morning. As time goes by, thoughts about this upcoming school year fill my mind. I begin to think about the teachers that I will have, the new faces that I’ll see, the familiar faces that will be smiling in my face feeding me lies about how much they will miss me, and all the memories (good and bad) that will be made. As my mind processes these thoughts, my eyes begin to close and the sound of the clock’s tic-tocs create a soothing beat that ends up putting me to sleep.

“BEEP! BEEP!!!” It’s 6:30 in the morning and my alarm clock annoyingly continues to go off. My dad, who is already awake, comes into my room and turns on all of the lights eager to get me up and out of my bed and on my way to school. I try to avoid the bright lights by pulling the covers over my head, but a sudden sweep of cold air prevents me from falling back asleep. At this point I have no choice but to get out of bed. Still tired from staying up late, I find the strength to get up and begin my daily morning routine.

Coming out of the bathroom, I feel somewhat awake and ready to begin my day. As I walk back into my room, I think about the three choices of pathetic colors that I have to choose from to wear on this first day of senior year. I let out a big exhale as I pulled down all my uniforms from the top shelf in my closet and pile them all onto my bed. I separated all of my shirts from my sweaters and sweater vests, then selected which ensemble I wanted to wear.

I take a seat in front of my mirror and begin to unwrap my hair. My freshly done hair falls in my face as I unravel the scarf that was tightly tied around my head. I can feel the heat coming off of my flat iron as I reach over it to grab my comb. I part my hair to separate my bangs, then begin to flat iron my hair. My dad brings in my ironed uniform, says goodbye, and leaves for work.

The house is quiet as I look at myself in my mirror, and feel unsatisfied with what I see... me in my uniform. I can’t believe that I am back in my khakis and navy blue polo. I let out another sigh as I bent over to grab my keys, purse, and school bag, then slowly make my way downstairs. It’s now 7:15 and almost time to leave the house. I grabbed my breakfast to eat in the car, and I filled up a bag of cereal to eat as a snack throughout my classes. At this point, there was nothing left to do but head out the door. I turned off all the kitchen lights, set the alarm, and headed towards the car parked in the garage.

Pulling out of the driveway, I began to think about my first day back and what the day had in store for me. My music was blasted and I was now in a good mood. I was somewhat ready to see my friends and meet my new teachers. In my head, I already had the mindset that I was not going to enjoy my first day back, but I was also hoping that something would prove me wrong and allow me to have a good day. Following behind all the school buses and cars put reality into the fact that I was

By Arthur D’Souza

really headed back to school. I now had mixed emotions and I was already ready to get this day over with.

I made the left turn into Arabia Mountain High school and followed the cars ahead of me into the student parking lot. I turn into the second row, and I already saw returning familiar faces. A lot smiles and hugs were already being exchanged, so I decided to put on a fake smile and pretend like I actually missed these people to create a good start to my day. I parked my car, and waited for my best friend to arrive before I headed into the school. It was now 7:35 and I see my best friend’s car pull up next to mine. I leave the group of people I was talking with to go and greet her with a real smile and a big hug. She laughed as she saw me approach her, but it was obvious that she was happy to see me. She grabbed her bag out of her car, and locked the car behind her.

We began walking towards the building, and finals thoughts about today were racing through my mind. Regardless of what my thoughts and feelings were, the first day of school was here and the fate of how today was going to end up was already determined. This was my last, first day of school at Arabia Mountain High School and I was ready to get it over with. I put my hand on the silver door handle to open up the doorway for me and my best friend to enter the building. I am ready and willing to work hard this year and make good grades to make my parents proud. With the thought of graduation already on my mind, I enter the halls of Arabia Mountain. Senior year, here I come!

The first day of school always seems to be the longest. It I never enjoy the immediate change of waking up at a different time. Then I must get on that large and loud bus. All only to get to the boring school of which I don’t want to be at.

The day begins as the loud screeches of both alarms go off simultaneously. Looking up at the window, only the dark of the night fills the sky. I must force myself to get up and prepare. Seeming extremely hard to prepare for a thing I dislike in favor of bright freedom. I follow through the same monotonous routine practiced everyday for years. Before leaving, I have the same glass of cold water, filling my stomach as everyday in the past and every for the future.

Still feeling the fatigue of the sudden change, I walk towards the bus. The rough feeling of new shoes worn for the first time hurt with each step. Though pitch black outside, the scorching lights inside the bus must blind me. The bus, being difficult for a taller people, allows for a both noisy and uncomfortable ride to school pressing my knees against the seat in front of me the entire time.

Finally at school, I must now endure the day I have dreaded for an entire summer. The instant switch to uniforms and scheduling shocks me by changing what I have done for two months. I hurry across the building for each class feeling energy seep out of me at every moment. After an eternity of school I hear the first pleasant sound of the day. The soft ringing of the bell finally ends the thing I have hated every moment of. Then with the first day done I can only come to the realization of my fate for the rest of the school year. In only a few hours I will be doing the same things I did today and there is no way to escape it.

By Shantonia Waever

The morning of the first day of school, I feel the cool breeze of my small portable fan, and I see

a bright light coming from the white tall bumpy walls. I suddenly hear a voice in a loud but somewhat sweet tone saying get up it time for school. Don’t be late on your first day,’ he said. I then flip over and pull the covers over my head, not wanting to see anyone new or just the same old basic people. My mom then walks back in my room, and she’s really pissed now. Her tone is much different than before. She yells my name almost bursting a blood vessel as if being late on the first day was really a big deal. I then got up so she could leave me alone and the very first thought that popped in my head was I really hate this school.” After brushing my teeth, getting dressed, I packed my lunch, because I refuse to eat that discussing processed stuff they call food. So I packed a frozen lunch to enjoy for my three minute lunch period and a drink. I arrive at the jail of Arabia around 7:45 just in time. Although, if my mom walks me in the school, I would still late. I go to homeroom and we talked about the school board test which is so pointless because people still fail it and most teens are going to do what they want rather it’s bringing a gun to school or drugs, just because we sign a stupid piece of paper means nothing. I meet my first period teacher. I liked her but the students in the class were a whole other ball game. It was a boy who always had something smart to say, and the annoying brat who needed strong medication. Maybe I was already grumpy because I didn’t want to be there, but being around the two made it worst. Just being in Arabia’s school air felt as if I was in code violation 00113 . It really feels like hell and I kept hearing the same old thing, “Put your food up, no food , no cell phones.” Like shut up I do what I want. I am a senior now a full blown senior cut me so slack, please. “Ding – ding,” the bell rang, the students then rush out like rats at a cheese party bumping me and stepping on my brand new shoes. Like they were really in a rush to learn or talk about the code of student conduct.

By Tori Allen

Annoying alarms, annoying rules, annoying voices, annoying faces, are

all reasons why I hate back to school. These are all the things going through my head as I am tucking my uncomfortable shirt in my pants, making my body feel restricted. These are also all the things going through my head as I am driving to school, looking at the “no u-turn” sign wanting to make one anyway. I cut my turn signal on and proceed to make the turn. I get about a half mile down the road and said out loud “Oh Shoot”, that’s when I realized I had a test that day. I jerk the wheel and cut across 3 lanes and make a swift U-turn swaying the car as I am pulling the car back straight. I continue my drive to school and finally park the car. I get out the car and begin to walk in the school. Soon as I walk in the door those annoying rules, annoying voices, and annoying faces all attack me. I make it through the crowded halls to my first class. As usual the class is boring and the teacher is passing out work that I love so much. I leave my first class and my other classes pretty much follow suit. Most of the people I’m cool with left, so the classes feel like detention. Can’t talk. Then comes the best part, lunch. I had to wait in a 10 minute line for the best food in the world. I leave lunch to go to my last two classes. My sixth period moves swiftly and seventh even swifter.

The bell rings I walk to my locker pulling out that locker combination paper that I treated like receipt. I walk to my car and unlock the doors, get in, and drive off. I go to work for a little while, then went to play basketball. I then get something to eat and think about the routine I’m about to have for the next 10 months. I finally make my way home, and I think how much I miss summer. Everyone tells me “It’s your senior year! Enjoy it!” and I really am. I get to go out every weekend with my friends. I have barely any hard classes and I am finally that much closer to graduating. Of course, there are things that I am afraid of... like college applications, being out on my own, and planning my future...

So far, I feel like I’m the on top of my school, but at the same time I don’t. Adults stop me all the time asking me college questions and giving me speeches about being out on my own. Yet at the same time being my petite 5’0 self, mostly everyone else treats me like I am eleven I even had a freshman ask me the first day, “don’t you like this so much better than middle school??” I also have to get approval from my parents before I do anything or go anywhere. All I can say is that I am ready to graduate. I’ve done twelve years of work, school, and drama. I want to go wherever I want whenever I want. I want to throw a big party and take a million group pictures in my cap and gown. I want to celebrate with my family and have everyone be proud of me and wish me luck.

But at the same time I am still a little shaken. I still have no idea where I am going to college or even if I’ll get in, I want to make my family proud, but if I don’t do what they expect of me, I don’t want to let them down. I also like having my parents taking care of the bills and taxes and all of my big worries I know when I’m out on my own the only person Ill have is myself and that really scares me. Anyhow, I know that my job here isn’t to worry; it’s to take care of business and have fun my last year. I still have a lot of growing up to do and a lot of new experiences to have my final year and I know for a fact that it’ll be a good one.

By Marcus Neely Jr.

By Jordan Hughes

I look at my iPod, analyzing the date and setting my alarm clock, something I hadn’t done since the B.C. era. It’s unbelievable, the fact that summer is over, and it was just here. Thanks for lying to me Phineas and Fern, there aren’t 104 days of summer vacation; it barely even felt like fifty. I should sue for false advertising, but no matter the case, that still down not change the fact that I have my first day of school tomorrow. This is just perfect!

Earlier today I told my neighborhood friends “goodbye” as if I were moving to another country and would never see them again. Even though I knew for a fact I would see them again, I was saying goodbye to all the summer memories that we all shared. The summer had been nothing but continuous excitement. The memories always stay in our minds, manifesting themselves into the pleasure portions of our brain, causing us to feel happy when we get down. We all shared our “goodbyes,” for there was much to do before our first day of solitary confinement.Haircuts, new uniform pants, new shoes all had to be found before the next day! How could I be so careless! I know I had a job this summer and my time was dedicated to it, but I didn’t have time for a trim? As I

approached the mall, the image of mountains of cars in the parking lot made me come to a realization that I wasn’t alone in my procrastination. Stone crest Mall and all the department stores I was shopping at were all full.

What made it worst was the fact that I still couldn’t the pants in that were looking for. Frustrated and realizing that Sperry’s were all that were needed for basically every uniform outfit; I made my way home, not even thinking about my hair.

What am I thinking, my hair is atrocious! “I look like one of those nerdy kids who cares more about their Pokémon

collection rather than their appearance,” I thought to myself. I can’t go to school like this; I’ll look uglier than I already am. As I was sassing out similar to a valley girl who is disturbed tiny mole on her

face, I calmed down, remembering that Miss Audrey, a cosmetologist and mother of some of my neighborhood friends, cut my

hair very nicely a few days ago. I hadn’t brushed my hair that day so it was going to look a little edgy. A few minutes of bushing later, my hair was perfect, with waves showing in my hair that would make Poseidon jealous; it was a magnificent sight that even surprised me.

Nighttime soon hit, about time to hit the hay. The next day was going to be my first day back at Arabia, and more importantly my senior year. “I’ve come so far,” I thought, “When did I get so old again?” I remember being in elementary school. Former students of her elementary class would visit my mother, a teacher at the time, from the high school across the street. I remember them being so big and mature. Now I was one of them, and it was now my time to raise the bar, being a “big kid,” as I would’ve said in my elementary years. I looked in the mirror that night, seeing if I’d changed physically, mentally, spiritually, and morally. No words were said, just a smile. Even though I was returning to a school that I had much disdain for, the memories that would be made that year only left me with laughter and zeal as I slept.

By Shanteria Maddox

Back to school has never been my forte. During the summer, just the thought of school gave me a headache, temples cringing and my brain in pain. What do you think of when back to school fumes are back in the air? I think of the many discounts, uniforms that we’re forced to wear, the annoying people and teachers, and last of all, the outrageous rules. But, what could be better than going back to grade school knowing it is your last year?

My body cringes with anger as back to school gets near. I think this is sportive typical for every teen. This is due to the fact that the summer brings late nights-early mornings, partying till you fall, sleeping the day away, and just enjoying your own space, and managing your own time. The summer air is what I loved to breathe in, stress and worry free just living the teenage life. I just wished my dream that summer will never end, would’ve lasted forever.

Bells sounding, alarms going, mom yelling, people reuniting, slamming doors, are all the back to school sounds we ALL just love to hear. Bodies still tired, minds still stuck in the summer mindset. I must admit I was anxious for back to school, only because this is my senior year, other than that I felt doomed. I wasn’t ready for my hand to be aching, veins popping out and constant pressure being put on my right hand due to the simple fact that I’m not Ambidextrous. These are just a few headaches of going back to school.

Furthermore, I wouldn’t exactly say I hated going back to school this year, ONLY because I graduate. I got up with the world’s biggest smile. But, still didn’t want my wonderful summer to end, from the long nights to the adrenaline rushing 5cent paper buying rushes. I also enjoyed buying new school shoes as well as the wonderful uniform clothing we have to be in daily. I also like getting the cute supplies, but other than that back to school is a negative.

The end is here; I would just like to say this back to school year would be the best. With thoughts of prom, SAT/ACT, graduation, smiling hard for my senior photos, college, and dorm decorating, exceeding in classes and beginning my major, when I graduate from the arousing Arabia Mountain High School. It all makes me happy and my soul just gets happy & my legs spring up with joy and my lips form in the way for me to say “I made it”. Although, I’ve hated all “back to school” days. August 13TH, 2013 is a day I’ll never forget; my first last day in grade school. Wouldn’t you be happy?

By Miiauna Felix-Serrano

By: Gia Fore

As I roll over reaching for my pillow, I was rudely interrupted by my annoying alarm clock. Oh

how I dreaded that noise, with my eyes drawn shut I blindly leaned toward my lamp and clicked it to the third setting, the lowest light bulb usage.

I lay in plank position for about five minutes before I gained the energy to hitch my legs over my bed, which seemed to be 1,000 feet from the floor. I stumbled into my bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush and began brushing vigorously. I submerged my face into my hands filled with hot water, sending a sense of reality through my body.

Now the hard part, I walked into my never-ending closet, and as I became one with the circus of clothes hanging, and draping from all things possible. Then my eye was caught I found what I was looking for all the way in the back tucked and folded on the very last rack was my uniform. The same uniform that served me three years previous “old reliable” I would say. Should I get the iron or not, I mean I don’t have to

impress anybody or anything. These are the thoughts that run through my mind. My computer reads 6:30 by now, making this feeling real.

I am a senior now my nerves rise up and I became anxious. I turn to my mirror button all three of my buttons on my white polo shirt, pull my necklaces out and tuck them under my collar, tighten and tuck my shirt in as I roll my eyes. I reach for my keys kiss my dad and walk out the door into my newly purchased burnt orange car. This car will be the same car that will be leading me into my last year in high school.

No more loud yellow school buses. No more crappy crayons. No more soggy school lunches.

This is the end a long journey for many upcoming seniors, like me, who anxiously wait to get out of the non-stop routine of school. As I reminisce about this day being my “last day back to school” (and by school, I mean k-12), a sparkling smile creeps upon my face as I stroll down the hallways with a new attitude, a different perspective, all while trying to dodge the forceful pull of senioritis. New challenges such as filling out college applications, getting accepted into a college, and staying focus, while be the highest hurdles that us seniors must overcome to prepare for our future careers. And our future lives.

As I imagine how my college life would be like, I dream a life full of freedom, easy classes, and parties. However this may not be the case, which is why it’s best to not think of the ‘best’, and just to accept whatever comes my way. I realize that sometimes I would just prefer staying a senior, and better yet, staying a kid for the rest of my life. Reason why, is that life gets harder. But, this is something I cannot stop, and decided to discard my Peter Pan dreams, and grow up. Staying focus and remaining on a good track is how I could make it through life with a breeze.

So as we plan for prom, and walk across the stage to accept our diplomas, we begin to take those big steps out of our teen years, into adulthood. And even though adulthood may seem confusing and challenging for a lot of adults, I’m ready to face it head on, hoping for something great in return.

I’m awakened by my irksome alarm at 6 o’clock in the morning. Just the thought of getting out

of bed overwhelms me with dullness. I don’t want to move a muscle, but I know if I don’t get up soon the annoying sound of my mom yelling “RIKITAAAAAA GET UP!!!!” will upset me even more. So I drag myself out of bed, as slow and unenthusiastic as possible and head to the restroom to take my head scarf off. As I look in the mirror I get sadder and sadder just knowing within the next hour I will be going to school, a place I hate with a million passions. Going back to school, the first day is always

the longest, most confusing and irritating day of them all. People who haven’t hit you up all summer all of a sudden “miss you,”

and teachers who should have forgotten your name by now yelling at you to tuck in your shirt, things such as this make me regret my decision not to drop out of school when I had the opportunity. School work is even more disturbing than the artificial friends who missed you over the summer time. Having to sit at a worthless desk or table, surrounded by people I truly can’t stand, sickens me to the pit of my stomach…literally, I feel like throwing up. But it gets worse, now I have to meet a new teacher, who I probably won’t like simply because their profession is teaching, which means they have to give me useless work and I have to do it or I won’t pass, which is probably the source to my hatred for school. I hate doing work, that’s what it all boils down to.

The highlight of my day coming back to school will probably be the end of the day, when it’s all over, where I’m allowed to leave this hell on earth

behind and go home, to peace and serenity. Where no one is yelling at me to tuck in my shirt, where no one is putting up a facade to like me, or be my friend. Where I don’t have to sit down for countless hours and do pointless work for a stupid grade, besides homework…which I also hate.

Going back to school sucks. I hate the hassle of all the mothers trying to get school supplies for their kids, or the rapid pace of how our summer came to a close, it’s; horrible.

“Wake Up, Pitney”, my father bellows as he barges into my room. The slamming of doors and the smell of breakfast sever the little connection I have left with my sleep. As I get out of bed and check my phone I realize that I fell asleep last night while on my best friend. Knowing her, she will be utterly pissed. Oh well, who gives a flip, I have better things to worry about, starting today, I’m a senior. I run to my laptop and click on my senior playlist. The first song is Kanye West’s “Power”. As the beat drops, it makes things even more official; Yep, It’s finally here… I finish up getting dressed and run downstairs I glance at the time and see that it is 7:00. I am late. I hurry and wolf down my breakfast of eggs and bacon just in time to see my little sister finally come downstairs. With this being her first year of high school, she isn’t familiar with getting up this early. I guess that’s what 3 years of middle school can do to you. By the time she finishes eating, it is 7:20. I run and grab the keys to my ’89 Toyota Camry. As I pull out of my drive way, my sister suddenly stops me and screams that she left her lip gloss in her room. She runs out of the car and back into the house. By the time she makes her way back in the car, I come to the conclusion that I am going to be late. As we speed up the hill and out of the Lakeside at Water’s Edge, I get butterflies. I am nervous yet ready for this senior year.

By Rikita Alford

By Dorien Campbell

When I think “Back to School,” I think of my senior year at Arabia Mountain High School. I think of my last year as a high school student. I think of my last year wearing a hunter green, navy blue, or white polo tucked in my uncomfortable, wrinkly khaki or navy pants. Oh the joy! But with a new year comes new challenges. The challenge is a climb up Arabia Mountain that I am anxiously waiting for. The struggle is difficult at Arabia Mountain. With the constant stress from vigorous courses, constant uproar of new teenage drama, and the constant stress of college prep from parents, teachers, and peers can make a light-weight 16 year old go check into a mental hospital. These worries rest heavily on my shoulders. I know that with hard work comes success, but I sometimes feel that I’m slowly burying myself deeper and deeper into a black suffocating hole. For example, my calculus class has 36 students. All are extremely loud, obnoxious, and unwilling to learn. The students are interested in their cell phones and taking cute or funny pictures with their friends, or they just want to lie their heads down on their desk, which I wouldn’t recommend doing. With the cell phones, it can cause drama: cyber and reality. My peers are more “care-free” and “adventurous” than the usual teenagers; it’s becoming a problem. The teenage dream leads to altercations, which hinders educational advancements. Now that it’s September, there is one month until graduating. Being a senior is important to me because it is the final step before college. There are perks to this final year: senior events, spirit week, prom, the senior trip, and graduation. These are all of the events I have been waiting three years for. For once, participating in the schools spirit week is going to be fun. I am looking forward to the ridiculous looking clothing articles tacky day. I am excited about putting on big baggy pants and a tank top and bandana for throwback day and show in school spirit for homecoming week. Nevertheless, spring break and prom are the two days highlighted in bright pink on my calendar. A long and adventurous, scenic road trip with my close friends for spring break is a great getaway before all of the hype of graduation and before college begins. Prom is destined to be amazing this year. I am so excited about having a great time. I’ve had dreams about my gorgeously detailed prom dress and prom date, but I’d always get woken up because I was in British Literature learning about Beowulf and Grendel. In the end, the biggest lesson to learn is that everything comes full circle. Everything will pay off and the lessons learned will be vital sometime in college. Uniformity teaches neatness, professionalism, and discipline. The stress and hard work prepares me for the real world, college, and my future career. The drama I’ve dealt with will help understand, work with, tolerate, or disassociate others in the future. The fun events are great memories and so are the small moments that remind me to enjoy life. If we as seniors don’t learn that lesson, then maybe we have failed.

by Robyn Golden

When I wake up very early and turn over on my side, I am abruptly awakened by the vulgar song choice of my younger sister. Then a strange onomatopoeia version of my brother’s interpretation of the “Lion King” soundtrack starts to ring in my ears. Then my kind of music comes on and I immediately I jump out of bed. The beat drops to “Cover Girl” by RuPaul. Kyle, Violette, and I strut around the room for the duration of the song. My feet are flowing on the ground and I am enjoying the start of my day. Then I begin to get dressed. Violette hurries out the front door grabbing her purse, bag, and comb. Then Riley finally drags out of bed and starts to iron his clothes. I start my person playlist on my iPod I named “No cursing” and I connect it to the speakers. I then start to curl my hair and I run down the stairs to eat breakfast. My brother meets me there soon after and Kyle is in the shower. Mom starts to make a breakfast of cereal, a vegan muffin, and fruit for my father while he watched television. She takes it to him and then she grabs the keys and puts them in her purse. She throws her belongings into the backseat with Riley, I start to drive out of the garage. I turn the radio to 99.7 or “Q 100” fm radio. We blast tunes, sing-a-long, and dance. I have my hands up in the air bobbing my head up and down and my mother frantically grabs the steering wheel in panic. Riley requests a song so the radio station is modified to play “V-103”. We pull up at the school drive-way and pile out of the car. We strut into the building looking “first day fresh” wearing shiny shoes, creased shirts, and gorgeous accessories. As we turn the corner we are greeted with posters on the wall. We “rainbowed” our arms simultaneously to a pause. We find our names and read some strange, familiar, and we say our goodbyes. We go our separate ways to our homeroom classes. Of course my class is the last in the school. I walk past all the classrooms breaking hearts, whipping my hair, and making the crowd go insane. After I get my schedule, I visit my first period class. My teacher is “TRISHA!!!” I’m so excited and she’s so happy to see me. I soon find out that she’s going to be helping with the cross country team and I realize that we’re going to spend more time together than I thought. In her classroom, she’s blasting Rihanna’s album. I immediately start to model to the different songs and the class falls in love with me and my frilly skirt. I move on to different classes like physical education, economics, AP Spanish, calculus, and AP literature. My schedule is awesome and I dance through the halls with various partners like Noah, Kenneth, and Christum. Sitting in seventh period, I start to dream about the dances, graduation, and celebrations that I will encounter later in the year. I’m having an amazing start to my senior year and I cannot wait to see what the upcoming nine months have in store for me. My thoughts are interrupted by the bell for school to be released. I jump out of my chair and dance down the halls until I reach my locker.

By Anthony HIll

Writing tip #1 How do you ensure your readers will visualize your writing as fully as you do? Focus on imagery, language that appeals to the senses. As you write, include descriptions that appeal to more senses than just sight. For example, instead of telling your readers that your sandwich tastes bad, show them: My sandwich tasted like roadkill stuffed between the soles of old running shoes. Gross! Try this: As a prewriting exercise for their “Back to School” essays, the creative writing class wrote down imagery that made them think of school.

Describe the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feels of “Back to School.”

You might imagine waking up to the pungent smell of COFFEE or a whiff of a hot breakfast

entering your room on the first day of school. Did I have that? Heck No! I have been suffering from senioritis since the 5th grade. It’s like when I enter a school a dark cloud of misanthropy takes over my body. I mean don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate people, only when I’m at school. Or maybe I just hate school itself. Regardless, at 3:20 I’m fine. But how apathetic and stoic can a guy be before he explodes? Maybe that was a little harsh. I wouldn’t even have a problem with a school if it didn’t start so early. I dread getting up at 6:30 and beating my alarm clock halfway to death until I hit the ALARM OFF button only to know that I’ll dive back into bed right after. If school started an hour or 2 later and get out at the still got out at the same time then I would be completely fine with that. Ok, that’s a little

ambiguous; I know that I will never have that option as a student, especially not in my last year of high school. Maybe I don’t use my time wisely. Well I know I don’t. When I’m at home the hours go by so fast. I could close my eyes for 5 minutes at 8:00pm, open my eyes, and it’ll be 11:59pm. The same thing could happen to me in my economics class. I’d close my eyes at 12:00pm, close my eyes for an hour, open them, and it’ll be 12:01pm. But that’s not important. It seems like I wait to do all my homework until the last 30 minutes before I go to bed. If it isn’t done by midnight then

it’s not getting done. Even though I have a burning hatred of school and the feeling of school and the grading system and society itself and the grading system and society itself and so many other things that if I were to say them out loud I would darn near explode from frustration, I can say i am looking forward to college and life after school. I guess that's some good that I can get out this year, every last day counts, 25 down, 150 more to go.

by Daiton Thrash

I never liked going back to school. A place where labor exists and freedom does not was

always my perception of it. The one aspect of school I hated most that if anyone were to fall short of meeting the academic requirements, the punishment would be summer school or repetitions of the course. How was one supposed to escape a life of textbooks, tests and worksheets?

The concept of returning to school is one that breaks someone. The sales drop in the stores and the rush starts. The shelves are filled with supplies and threads hang from the clothing racks. Within a week they are nearly picked clean. The serenity and peace of freedom in the summer crumbles. It is always at this time of year when the hassle rises before it begins.

The semester has begun and so has the distribution of textbooks bad assignments. They pile and tower higher than the empire state. Night falls but I stay awake scrolling through websites, pressing my finger tips on key board keys and dragging the tip of led and ink across a piece of paper. Finally I am finished but I am weary. With my eyes dry if saliva, I shut them with pain. Soon after, the alarm rings. I wake with this agonizing sound resonating through my ears and few hours of sleep. With all this these things bringing upon the insufferable they also bring realization that must trek outside the comfort of my home to repeat the cycle at this dreadful and wretched place.

I grow weary of this routine but the day till graduation is within reach. I am now a senior and it this year shall be my last. This is the end to all labor forced upon my hands. Soon the day shall come where I will be given the clearance to start my own life. Soon the chains of the DeKalb County School system shall loosen and fall and I shall walk into a new life. But until that day, I earn my way.

by Frederick Couben

Back to school means multiple personal plots and goals to succeed in whatever I choose to participate. It means late nights lying awake, working on what seems to be pointless. It means sitting in class struggling to keep my brain on task. Thoughts of the past and the week before last keep my mind off of the projected lessons we are beginning to learn. It means all the ups and downs, positivity and negativity, and rushing to do assignments at the last minute. Clearly it’s not all fun and games like the summer because school is lame. It means time to maintain and strain to get an education. You walk down the halls and see familiar faces. Faces of the fake, faces of your friends, and faces of people you hate. You see the faces of educational drones whose purpose is to transfer knowledge to you, although it seems as if they can’t fully grasp the concept of the lesson themselves. You see the yellow and black wannabe police officers who patrol the halls and jump on a “case” whenever their walkie-talkie gets a call. You hear pieces of conversations like, “What’s up bruh?” “Guess who I saw,” and” Girl, guess who pregnant.” The negativity floating through the halls seem to form thick smog that floats in black and white toward you. The worst part is everyone who wants to hunt you down for not wearing the correct attire. Hopes and dreams begin to fill your head. Most students kill themselves with the imam make all A’s and B’s this year. I never seem to accomplish my goal of joining a club or sports team. My resume has all of my name and grade on it. All of the attainable goals seem to be more unrealistic because the minds of teens nowadays seem so twisted. In the minds of teens, the goals that are more likely to be unattained are the most important. The mindsets of teens seem to be, “Bruh Imma get a lambo for prom” instead of “What’s going to benefit me?” All the hopes and dreams seem to be mediums, in which goals may travel but never seem to really get through. When you are at a new school, it’s totally different. I know all of two people, and I don’t know where I’ll fit in. The only two people I know I never see, because our schedules are totally different. I spot my friends and foes; dudes who are cool, and young women who are friendly because I’m definitely not throwing the first hello. I flow with the river and end up where I land. One day I found myself in lunch sitting with some geeks from the band. All the faces of people I don’t know mold together to be one because personality is more so what seems to draw me to a person or their crew. I try to get not too far ahead of myself, because in the end, I always seem to be alone no matter what I do. As I wake up and get dressed, I turn up to Juicy J because there’s nothing like a trippy tune to help you start the day. My pupils begin to dilate as the bright light rises and gets rid of all the shade. I try to pick up my feet but my toes seem to never leave the fluffy white carpet. As the hot pulsating water touches my face, I wake up and prepare to go to the most dreadful place. My clock works counterclockwise as I countdown to 3:20. Time to go; I guess we’ll see how my first day goes.

By Asia Minor

Two weeks ago no one could have told me that my year would start out like this. I had dreaded

the thought of stepping back into the pasty, white and green school. I had the anxiety pit in the bottom of my stomach and so many questions in my head. I endlessly wondered who my new teachers were going to be. Was I going to be with my friends? Were the classes were going to be hard? Remembering the cold, air blast against me and hearing the shrilling of the bells brought back too many memories. I ransacked my mind about how bad the first day was going to be…but what happened on the first day surprised me.

s the vibration of my phone buzzed in my ear, I had dragged myself out of bed with the anxious pit taking away the tiredness from the sleepless night. Stepping into the bathroom, I turned on the light but shielded my eyes from the sudden brightness; my body was not used to this early morning schedule and any sudden change gave me instant pounding in my head. After adjusting myself to the light, I went ahead through my daily routine and got myself ready for my first day of driving. Knowing the regular horrible traffic of the first day, I decided to head out the door early to beat everyone else. I told my parents I loved them, and made my way to what I felt was my D-day.

fter arriving to school, the parking lot was entirely empty except for a few teachers’ car. Either everyone did not have the same mindset as me…or I was just way too early. Regardless, I just stayed in my car, ate my breakfast and awaited everyone’s arrival. By 7:30 the school was packed with life, and the morning was stepping into full swing. Getting out my car, I gathered all of my things, dusted myself off, and made my way to the first day of school. As I stepped into the building, I was completely overwhelmed at the fastness of it all, until I felt familiar arms encase me. Turning around to greet the familiar faces of my friends, I knew that I would be able to face anything this year and make my senior year my greatest year. Going to all of my classes, I settled in nicely and was glad to know that I had people to hang with. I had lunch with my friends, my teachers were acceptable, and I was content with my classmates.

All in all, my first day of school went very differently than I had expected. I was happy to know that all of the bad feelings I had about it wasn’t true, and that anxiety pit in my stomach went away. The pasty, white and green school was seen as a nightmare. Now, it is just a building that I will have to attend until graduation. To me, that is the best feeling in the world.

A

A

It’s August 12th, and I’m anxiously waiting for next day’s arrival. As time begins to slip through my fingers, I begin to contemplate how my first day of school will go as I reminisce about previous years and remember how people whom I haven’t seen or heard from all summer, claim that they’ve missed me and a whole bunch of other lies. Being that this is my last first day of high school, I am overly excited. As I’m packing my messenger bag of school supplies I’ll probably never use, I come across this Old Navy commercial on television about a girl who gets an entire new wardrobe and people are memorized by her “new look”. Everyone keeps asking, “Who’s the new girl?” not realizing they’ve never seemed to notice her existence. The commercial made me realize that this same exact thing happens every jn year at my school. Over the course of summer some ugly duckling or struggling “fashionista” seems to make a life changing transformation. The next day, I am abruptly awaken by a ringing in my ear, and forced out of bed. I wipe my face and clean up my appearance. After a long relaxing shower, I look through my closet to find what I should wear. Being the fashionable, creative, individual that I’ve established myself as, I dread to put on those ugly khaki’s and oversized navy, white, and hunter green polo’s. I begin to wander about me walking into school and all eyes are on me. In the background

“Fierce” by Azealia Banks plays and I rip the runway, well hallway to be exact. I’m naturally a high street fashion hipster and would much rather amaze people with the many outfits I designed over the summer than looking the rest of the entire student body. Then I hear a voice screaming, “Noah, were leaving in 10 minutes.” Awakening from my daydream and back in the realm of reality, I rush to pick out what to wear on my first day I finally decide to put a blue oxford, khaki shorts and my black doc martens. As I glance into the mirror seeing if my outfit goes together perfectly I hear “Pound The Alarm” by Nicki Minaj comes on. I began to think about my senior year and all the duties that come with the title. From the college application process to graduation I start to realize that I'm finally at this point. Finally I pick my hair so it is in perfect position, spray on my cologne, and grab my messenger back and head out the door.

By Noah Banks

by Jimmie Shelton

The television is on. I look into the world of television and imagine my tedious, mundane school life as a sitcom. As the 2012-2013 school year begins, I envision this as my show’s final season, because this is my final year in high school. My school life is filled with lust, greed, pride and the rest of the seven deadly sins. With this being my final year, all negative influences have been escalated to the breaking point. All of the emotions and egos have been building and will escape into the open from the start of school until graduation day. The school year begins and the television in my mind starts the show. I see a barrage of familiar faces of students and faculty alike. And I already being to hear the monotone yelling of administrators hassling students for inappropriate dress code violations and the weak excuses the students seem to conjure out the blue. Some things never change. Now, I recall past seasons and reflect upon past students and faculty who have come and gone throughout these past three years for one reason or another. Now a take a moment to process that this is my final year and the show begins. The story continues. I hear more of the discordant sounds of teachers and administrators yelling at insolent, lackadaisical students. The young freshmen appear to be so frightened, nervous, and jumpy by the way the rush frantically to class and act so timid whenever they are near

upperclassmen and administrators. The sophomores and juniors act as if they have adjusted perfectly to Arabia’s yearly convoluted and unnecessary changes along with the massive amount of students who fill the halls almost every waking moment. The camera pans over to the seniors. The seniors are the class who are so reckless and rebellious to the rules. Most seniors have so much excessive pride that they feel a false sense of invincibility. This year will be a long one so who knows what amazing exploits and scandals that the seniors and the rest of the school will come across. But can my peers and I resist the alluring urges of temptation that plagues us? Can we ignore the sweet,

captivating urge of self-gratification in order to make responsible choices in order to further our futures or

will hell’s grip on us become tighter and devour us? The seven sins and our urges and tendencies vex us all, especially during the beginning of the end of our grade school years. Either this finale will go out with a whimper or a BANG.

by Tiffany Swaby

Going back to school for my last year of high school feels like I will finally start my life, when I walk across the graduation stage of Arabia Mountain High School after doing 4 years of this hard and crazy school, it will finally be last year. Graduating means everything to me and going to college to become successful in my life as an adult, but I have not reach that goal yet because I still must get past the 12th grade year first, so that I can go to college and see how I would like it. As I walk down the hallways of the first day of school all I could think is that I just can’t wait to leave this school. Even though I just got here, I already want to go back home. As I sit in my homeroom class, I see people I have not seen in months since we left school for the summer. I take my seat in class, and I see one of my close friends walk through the door. We meet eyes and instantly start to jump for joy and make a whole bunch of noise with our mouths wide open with so much excitement in our faces. The teacher comes in to try to get our attention but everybody was talking and catching up on the summer. Then she tells us to be quiet very loudly, and we instantly hush up and listen to what she has to say about the school code of conduct, that stupid test we take every year of our living lifes. Everybody’s faces look upset and bitter as people begin to say, “I hate doing this test every year. Like, we all get the point of doing this test. Why are we doing this?” We didn’t even get to do it anyway because the bell had caught us. I go to my first real class, and I like that class, but I just don’t know how my other classes are going to go. I wonder about my other classes, if I need to go to the counselor’s office and change my secdule, and if I will have a good day. But after all those things going my mind, I just look up at the teacher in my creative writing class and continue to pay attention to what she is saying. As I walk through the hallways, it’s close to the end of my first day back to school. I sit in my 7th period class, which is my favorite class so far because all my friends are in there. The bell rings and I walk out of my class and go straight to my locker and hit the corner that my locker was on so sharply, but when I get to my locker its was packed and nobody wanted to move out of the way, so that I can get my locker and go home, because they just don’t know how bad I want to go home and relax and chill. They let me through and I go to my locker finally to go home, I bend over put in my combination finally to go home just come back for another day of Arabia Mountain High School.

I often tend to perceive the Summer as an endless purgatory bitter-sweet, holding true to the ideal belief that it would remain immutable – a right irrevocable by time’s progression; that any thought of its imminent conclusion were a mythic presumption of inconceivability – worth of humor. Unfortunately, optimistic thoughts of a continuous exile from what feels like a facility or nation of sovereign reign, obligation, and slight Communism were rendered nothing more than euphoric dreams.

School had begun, and the burden of its symbolic ball & chain weighed me down effortlessly. I had barely survived the superfluous turmoil of Junior year – era of discord, and mental-upheaval - and now stood in crippling confusion at the fourth year’s breath-taking silence. Staring vacantly and fatigued at myself in a mirror – donning my school uniform – I began to recall the almost haunting Back-to-school advertisements often encountered near Summer’s end. Mocking and nothing less from ironic, they often subjected me to a fragment of subconscious anxiety and lament – filtered nightmares pertaining to the new school year, stemming forth and branching outward from my tree of thoughts; an elegy to a dear friend of unwavering warmth and light, cast into memory.

What was I to do but accept this fate? Only one year remained, so why not conform for just another – become “S8224476” Class of 2013 once again; one amongst the many other numbers catalogued into this academic system. With education comes a price unknown to most; for 12-13+ years you must relinquish your own individuality and freedom – committing yourself to your studies, and devoting most of your youth to school. This is the true purpose of seasons such as Summer and Winter alike, to provide to our convenience, a break, or time of rest susceptible to persistent interruption. And yet, I feel as though school has completely engulfed my own self, becoming the basis of life in an immersive sea of insight. Cold, and engineered with knowledge, I stand at the pyre of Summer’s forgotten tomb, and weep artificial tears of ash; it truly seems, that Fall has come.

By Brandon Hardy

By Josiah Mwangi

By Nyriah Arnold

Many of you are in challenging circumstances that you don’t know how to prevent. Whether it’s

from conflicting with someone, knowing you lost the dispute, to your boyfriend/girlfriend cheating on you with a random stranger, or worse your best friend. There are various recommendations you can ensure to avoid or resolve those issues.

One thing you can do is identifying that issue and sense if you can avoid it. Many of issues can be avoided, but some of you decide to be the tough person by not backing down. Be the bigger person, especially if you’re getting into a conflict you obviously know you’re going to lose. It’s better to be a “WUSS” than to be in a coma at the hospital. It’s one thing to defend your life; it’s another when you’re defending your dignity. Do what I do and ignore, but if you can’t, run to the nearest adult that can help.

Another way of resolving disputes is by talking to someone you trust your life with. Talking enables you to get everything out from your conscious so you become stress free. If you don’t talk to someone, your anger and stress builds up and issues become problems becoming a hazard to the people around you in your life. It’s better to talk to someone or even to write it down, like in a journal or diary, than to get hurt.

Overall, there is something you can do to resolve or prevent issues to become a life threat. All you have to do is stop, think, and resolve. Everyone has the potential of becoming a good person, INCLUDING YOU!

What is a relationship? It is a state of affairs existing between those having relations or dealings. There are relationships between parents and children, boyfriends and girlfriends, and teachers and students. However, the key to these relationships is trust, honesty, and respect. Arguments may occur here and there, but one bad disagreement shouldn’t infuse hatred and deceit into your mind. Talk it out, write it down, or show the person ways to better themselves. What is trust? Trust is the reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing. There aren’t specific rules of when to trust someone, but there are factors of when to not trust someone. Things such as dishonesty or immaturity, can predict there won’t be trust in a relationship.

If Molly and Jay are classmates who have to work on a project together, trust has to be instilled in their relationship first. Nevertheless, the relationship could go astray if Jay shows characteristics of immaturity. Molly would then begin not to trust him as a partner for their project. To fix this, Molly could talk to Jay about his childish acts and explain they have to trust each other if they want their project completed. It only takes one simple act of discussion to get Jay to get back on track and their project is finished beautifully and on time.

Bold, Brave, and Beautiful

By Marcus Neely

I found this scorpion at my house. I

thought it was cool, so I captured a picture

of it. I thought it was cool because I am a

Scorpio.

The scorpion was bold and brave, just

like me, because it came in my house

uninvited, not afraid of what could happen

to it.

I hope another one comes so I can

capture it and keep it as a pet.

Bold, brave and beautiful.

By Shanteria Maddox

Changing the point of view you write from can drastically alter your writing. Try writing in first person – This allows you to get inside the head of your main character. Your reader will be able to experience the thoughts and feelings of your character as they read. This can help the reader make an emotional connection. However, it can limit the scope of your story. Try writing in second person – This means directly addressing the reader as “you.” This can help give your story a universal feel and make your reader feel that they are living your story. Try writing in third person, limited – This option allows you to write in a narrative voice that is separate from the voices of your characters. This broadens your scope and allows the reader to experience the action from a more objective perspective. Try writing in third person, omniscient – This option is almost like a hybrid of first person and third person, limited. While you are writing in a narrative voice, you can also show the reader the inside thoughts of your characters.

By Lauren Thomas

Three hundred and sixty-five

days in a year, and my time is

limited. Summer days are coming

to an end. The wind beneath my

wings is getting cooler, and the

looks on the kid’s faces have

changed from excited and joyful

to disappointed and dreadful. I

flutter in and out between the

heads and faces of the people

below me to give them a warm

comforting feeling. Admire my

beauty.

Do you see my beautiful

colors and designs? Appreciate

my existence for the beauty of

nature will always surround you no

matter what the season. Let the

feelings you get when you see me

flutter by remind you of all the

joyful memories that were created

in these past two months of

summer.

These flowers that you see

perfectly bloomed didn’t bloom on

their own. While you were at play

during the summer heat, I was

working hard to help create the

summer beauty that you see. Did

you enjoy the scenery? Did you

enjoy what summer had to offer? I would hope so. All this nature, so much serenity! How

could you not enjoy this?

I can understand why you hang your head low; you don’t want the summer fun to

end. This is why I land on your shoulder. I like to see the smile that stretches across your face

when you notice my company. Fluttering around you and your friends for a short while

makes me giggle. I would love to stay but I have to go.

My final glance at your smiling faces from up above gives me an everlasting memory

that I will cherish. Your waves goodbye and the final sound of your laughter echo away with

me as I go to find my limb to rest on. The sun is setting. I feel the rays from the sun hitting my

wings. It’s beautiful. What a summer it’s been. Farewell laughing kids. See you later,

affectionate teenagers. It’s been nice, hardworking adults. See you next summer.

SATURDAY October 29, 2012

2012-2013 Theme:

“The Magic of a Moment”

PTSA of Arabia Mountain High School

Sonia Croft – AMHS Reflections Chairman 404.557.0728

http://www.arabiaptsa.org/reflections