A Day At The Technology Student Association State Conference

I remember the first time I went to Disney World; excited and eager like a child on the first day of school. I already had my suitcase packed two weeks before we even left, and that two weeks felt more like two years. The night before we left, I couldn’t sleep. It was like I had nonstop adrenaline rushing through my body. All I could think about were the rides, princesses, and that beautiful beach I’ve seen thousands of pictures of. Finally, after hours and hours of stirring around, I fell asleep.

There I was in a foreign land, lodged in the seats of the cramped van as I pondered thoughts of my future. I was an eighth grader about to enter the arduous experience and intimidating environment of high school. I perceived visions of me struggling through the drudgery of work as well as events where I was given laudations for my witty ideas and prestigious accomplishments. Mixed emotions drowned my brain into a swamp of careless stress, but these were flushed as the abrupt stop of the car brought me out of my daydream. That day was a day I would remember forever, but I was just a child, unknown about what I was going to see.

I sauntered down Main Street U.S.A, greeting the gentle giants that walked my way and maneuvering through the dense crowds of people. Eventually I made it out the border belonging the Land of Disney and got to the gates leading to California’s Adventure, that also happened to be owned by Disney. Upon my arrival, I was greeted by an American soldier clad in blue protective gear, wielding a silver and rouge shield with a star in the middle. I took this as an omen that would protect me on the rest of my journey. I could now see the tower clearly. I was less than half a mile away. I trudged on, until I finally made it to my destination. There it stood, the ginormous building greeted me with its cold arms with the help of a man attired with clothes that resembled those of a bellhop. The man asked how many people were in my party, to which I gallantly responded with a single

After departing from the French Quarter, we headed north to Biloxi, Mississippi, east through Mobile, Alabama and out onto Florida’s long, desolate and boring country highway into the panhandle and past Pensacola. On the drive home, I started feeling a lot of nervous anxiety. I was suddenly

It’s 5:30 in the morning, my alarm is ringing. I get up quickly, my hearts racing. I think to myself, “Today is the day I’m leaving for Fresno, for WBA Championships (Western Band Association).” I eat breakfast, pack my things and say goodbye to my family. I arrive at Logan to meet up with the rest of the band. Walking into the band room was like walking into a cemetery, everyone looks dead. We all load our luggages and suitcases on the bus, we are all seated now and roll is taken to make sure everyone is here. The bus driver, who to me was one of the most hilarious people I have met, began the turn on the engine and I feel the bus rumble as the engine started. My eyes felt heavy, so I close my eyes to begin to sleep and this is the beginning of my exhilarating and hilarious 2-day journey.

The purpose of a vision statement for any organization is to identify who they are and what they want to become in 3-5 years. As most school visions have changed with the evolving workforce so has Garrett Academy of Technology’s vision statement. In the 21st century workplace students need critical thinking skills and the knowledge necessary to succeed and be competitive in a global workforce. In the vision statement Garrett Academy identifies the who and where they want to be in the future. The who the vision seeks to address are the students, who are at the forefront of any educational institution. The question of where they want them to go is also answered in the vision statement by saying they want each graduate to have the skills necessary

Kevin grit his teeth. His hands strangled the arms of his blue leather seat that were embroidered with white thread. Fear oozed from every pore within his body. His body tensed as we felt the engine roar, saw the turbines spin, and runway come to life. As the plane’s thrusters kicked in, Kevin shut his eyes, but I didn’t. I stared through my window and watched the runway lights gradually merge into a single line of fluorescent orange. Before I knew it, I was gazing upon Philadelphia, hundreds of feet in the air, illuminated by the light of an afternoon’s sun. Our destination, the Marine Corps Recruiting Depot.

I was running late, I had to rush from the parking lot to the check in station in the lobby of the Chicago Hilton. Once signed in and loaded on the bus, I finally had time to take in my environment. I was surrounded by wounded warriors from all different wars and I was here to compete against them. It was surreal to say the least. I was completely over whelmed with emotion and fear all at the same time. I had a little boo boo on the wrist and some of these heroes were missing limbs, or scared, would they accept me as one of their own or would I be an outcast. Only time would tell.

“All of you put your heads down!”, the bus driver barked. As if at any second we were going to be bombarded by bombs. However, little to my knowledge, we were about to be. Not by bombs, but by a hail of chaos that would seem to never end for the next four months. The bus screeched to a stop, the old brakes groaning from its years of carrying young kids like me to this same destination. My heart was racing, I knew from this point on, nothing would ever be the same. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glimmer of the infamous drill instructor hat known to be feared around the globe. “What have I gotten myself into now”, I thought to myself. I knew it was too late, there was no turning back.

After eating our packed lunches the second half of the group went. We put on our gear, a basic harness with a couple of straps and a helmet that laid loosely on our heads. Anxiety went through my head as if I was walking down a dark and scary alley without knowing what awaits.

Walking into my kitchen, one December evening of 2014, I saw the printed itinerary for our upcoming trip. There, at the very top, in my mom’s cursive, was written “Hollywood.” Possessing a deep appreciation for travel and cities, I was thrilled to add another place to my repertoire. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I rushed into my closet, dug up my scruffy suitcase and lugged it back to my mom. Haphazardly, I began compiling my favorite outfits, my room suddenly resembling a disaster zone. It was then, tangled up in feelings of exhilaration and chaos, that I knew I was in for an unforgettable experience, one that would stay embedded in my memory for years to come.

On July 14, 2016 I was sitting in my car with my parents on the long three hour fifty minute drive to Morgantown. I was nervous and excited for the experience I was about to have. Would I fit in? Would I make any friends? But I wouldn’t find out until I got there and met the other chosen attendees. And as we slowly made our way down the road I drifted off to sleep.

I climbed on a low brick wall that had crumbled over time. My eyes roamed over the graffiti and my hands couldn't help but rub against the cracks and ridges that had been there for far too long. A few spare weeds dryly coughed in the air. My impatient hands tightened against the cold structure involuntary. "There you are!" I heard a voice over the stammering of feet. I twisted around to find the caller. He was just another face in pushing and pulling in the tide of people. "Over here!" He shouted again. My eye caught hands frantically brushing the sky with his fingertips. I pushed through the stampede. "Where have you been all day? I couldn't find you at lunch." Ross (that was his name, right?) guided me through the crowded parking

I could hear car the car slowing down as I creak my eyes open. Seeing the bright street lights and the hotel I was gonna stay in. Since my tournament was in Lake Placid, we needed a place to stay. I gradually take tiny steps, still drowsy from the four-hour car ride. Swing my head like my neck couldn’t support head I drag my feet all the way down the hall where my room is, I take one last spin before I go inside with my eyes half open shining decorations with the ornaments reflecting the bright lights blind me forcing me to cover my eyes, like the ornaments were a trampoline. With all of the expensive and priceless artifacts here, I already thought to myself, “ this is gonna get bad.”

The thick and dense San Francisco fog twists and turns between the magnificent arches of the Golden Gate Bridge; my father’s old 4RUNNER cuts through the intimidating fog like a hot knife through butter. It is August 28th, 2012; the first day at my new school, Stuart Hall for Boys. My heart flutters as the pistons of my father's car drive me into the unknown. That day the Golden Gate Bridge was my desert, my limbo, my passage from Pharaoh’s reign into The Promise Land. But, who knows, across the grand bridge could lie another Pharaoh, another escape, another long journey across the unknown desert.