Morgan Town Narrative

When the wheels of my plane touched down at the airport in DC, I did not know how to feel. I was about to spend five days in a city that I had never been to with fifty other students that I had never met, learning about journalism, something that I had only just begun to sprout an interest in. Three months ago when I had received the email saying they had selected me people told me this conference changes lives. I did not think that would ever be true. I thought that was all marketing, and I never thought it would end up as an understatement.

The lake glistened before me as my mom and I pulled into Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp just outside Twin Lakes Michigan. I had been accepted into the International Youth Symphony Orchestra program where after spending a week at the camp the entire orchestra would be heading off on a six week European Tour to share our musical talents and American culture with another part of the world. I knew traveling to a different continent would give me further insight as to who I was a person, but did not imagine the people I would meet would impact me as much as they did.

David McCullough argues that people have more time to read then they are willing to admit, gathering information is not a form of learning, and that reading happens to be the best means of learning. He references a story of Theodore Roosevelts’ adventure through the Dakota Territory in the middle of winter. In this story Roosevelt is following a couple of thieves, down the Mississippi river, because they stole his prize winning rowboat. After catching up to the thieves and capturing them, with the help of his trusty Winchester, he dragged them cross-country, with a borrowed wagon, to justice. Then traveling forty miles on foot across the snow covered badlands to railhead Dickinson. An astonishing feat, made memorable by Roosevelt reading all of Anna Karenina through this journey. McCullough thinks of this when people claim they have no time to read.

The anticipation of this day had been building up for some time over that last few months, and now it was upon me at last. I didn’t feel the same excitement I had leading up to this moment, I even kind of grumbled to myself about how I wished the bus was bigger so that I would be more comfortable. We all had our assigned seats, but no one seemed to be where they were supposed to be. The anxiousness of getting to Colorado was causing a great deal of confusion, chaos, and

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.

Her legs were long, lean, and tan. Her blue shorts were loose, unlike her shirt. It was pitch black; showing all her curves and her flat toned stomach, but sadly it didn't show anything more than her neck and hands. Her dark brown hair was pulled in a high, messy ponytail. A strand of hair had fallen out and was on her full pink lips a split second before she unconsciously brushed it away. I took a moment before I finally looked her into her brown eyes. They weren't the brightest but by far the most captivating as she too studied me.

Loading the hefty luggage into the vehicle, we were beginning our journey to an exciting place that I’ll never forget. We were traveling from my hometown located in the southeastern part of Mississippi, Waynesboro. Waynesboro is like the land of zero opportunities. The streets are often bare and boring. There is no “downtown”; everything is crammed in one section of the small town. Calling Waynesboro dull would be considered an understatement, but where we were traveling was the complete opposite. It is a rather near location that enlightened me with intriguing aspects of the world. Our destination was Nashville, Tennessee.

On April 21, Downingtown West has the privilege of meeting the few remaining survivors of the horrifying genocide, known as the Holocaust, for possibly the last time. I would be beyond honored to meet and escort one of these amazingly strong human beings. Personally, I am an outgoing and strong individual. I am a wonderful leader as well as a terrific listener. I am self-aware and would contribute the kindness West has to offer. Making our guest feel comfortable is our number one goal. I will be supporting them in anyway possible. I believe being familiar with my school and knowing most of the student body can be used to my advantage. Whether taking our guest to the restroom or just having a conversation, I will do everything within my power

I rode down the road with anticipation as many thoughts and questions raced through my mind. Scared to death, I tried to suppress these thoughts and gather up all the courage I had within myself because we were almost to our destination. What would this experience be like? What exactly would I be doing? I was in unknown territory in Louisville, Kentucky, where I knew no one except for the other members of my youth group. “Okay everyone, we are almost there. Gather up all your stuff you need. Make sure you leave all valuables on the bus,” I heard my youth pastor say. He continued, “No name tags and do not tell anyone your full name. Not even the children.” My eyes got wide as soon as I heard this, and I wondered what in the world I had gotten

I was dropped off at the school and I shook with excitement. “Good luck and do your best!” my mother shouted in her usual high and happy voice as she sped off in our small Honda. I walked into the school gym and

7am. That was the time I arrived at the parking lot of the First Presbyterian Church in Woodbridge, New Jersey. The destination was Montreat, North Carolina and I was about to embark on a journey with twelve other kids to attend my first Montreat Youth Conference, a retreat focused on strengthening and shaping youth’s faith. The number of stories I’ve heard of what a week in the black mountain area of North Carolina entailed led me to crave the formation of my own stories. This trip was reputable for being “life changing,” and Montreat was supposedly a “thin place between heaven and earth,” but before going on the trip I was perplexed as to what those words meant and if they were ever going to hold meaning for me. However, after a twelve-hour

After Mrs S. was done with checking off all of the homework we brought in she walked to her computer to log onto the CPM herself. She then walked to the front of the class and told us that we had to do Chapter 8 Problems 8-62 to 8-65 with our teams. We started our daily in

560 miles, four states, and half a day of travel to see two of my close friends and a Kanye West concert. The travel to Nashville started an early morning at Pittsburgh International Airport with my brother. After awaking to find myself in Chicago my mind started racing with the possibilities of what awaited me in Nashville. I knew the city would be packed with many others going to see the Kanye West concert in the Bridgestone Arena. As time passed I knew it was time to board our next flight to Nashville. I heard the stories about what Nashville was like but i was still excited to witness what it was truly all about. As the plane landed in Nashville i quickly pulled out my phone to send pictures to my friends and family.

For the next few days, I was alone in my room until my roommate, Emily, one of my closest friends from high school arrived. Until Emily arrived, I kept the door to our room shut and barely went out into the hall. I felt as though I was alone in the world until Emily called my cell phone and informed me she was here. I ran down and helped her bring all of her belongings up the stairs and I was relieved that she was here with me. I finally was not alone in this world. We had been told numerous times that rooming together would be a bad idea because we would hang out only with each other, and we would not meet anyone new at school. For the first few days Emily was there, we didn’t talk to anyone else and I began to think that the warnings we had received were going to be true. Everything changed when we left our door open for an hour around dinnertime.

I smiled and made my way to the lobby where I met my mom and aunt. As we walked out of the hotel, I felt tears well up in my eyes. I remembered how I had almost cried because I was frightened to come, and now I wanted to cry because I didn’t want to leave. I was shy and quiet at the beginning of the week, and I had gotten comfortable with those in my group and on my bus, and I had made quite a few friends I didn’t want to leave. I knew that week was going to be one I would remember for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know to what extent. I knew then, that it was going to be one of my most sacred