Reflection On Entering Westover Job Corps

Louis. The plan for the day was to drive to the St. Louis Airport and then fly to Salt Lake City, Utah. After that we would take a van and drive to the Teton Mountains and set up a base camp for 2 days than go on our hike. My parents said their goodbyes and give me my ticket I paid for by only picking up walnuts and I go into check in and I get my luggage weighed and my ticket scanned and I go on and wait for our flight at around 8 AM. I met up with my crew and when the time came we made our way into security, got checked, then we finally got onto the plane. I honestly didn’t know what to expect for my first flight. I couldn’t tell what was worse, sitting in a space with two other people or trying to fit myself into that Harry Potter closet they call a

So they day before we left I had to say at her house, we stayed up all night until we left at eight in the morning. We had to cram in the van with her mom, her dad, two brothers, and two dogs for eight hours. We only stopped twice and we didn't even stop until we got to Wisconsin. Megan and I slept some of the trip because we were tired. We finally got their around like five.

I would like to bring to your attention the fact that the food at Fort Simcoe Job Corps is not very good in fact it’s disgusting. The salad is not prepped right there are brown spots on the lettuce, some of the tomatoes are rotted and it smells bad. The meat also isn’t usually prepped right. It is usually bloody or tastes bloody. The nasty somewhat bloody meat is served again the same week as a reheat. The eggs are never cooked all the way through and are still a little bit runny and raw. The cooks do not follow the basic food safety preparations rules.

A few days on a stinky old train that rattled and rolled like it was about to just plumb lay down and die, all the good trains were being used by the military, and then a couple days of eating dust aboard a stagecoach that bounced up and down and just made my leg hurt something fierce and I wound up in a dusty bump in the road,a town called Rock Springs.

My grandfather lived outside in a foxhole for two years. He stated that the winters were extremely cold. Many soldiers were killed or severely injured. There was a lack of food and cold weather gear.

Everyday when I walk into work, I put on my pale blue shirt, the one that my coworkers and I constantly complain about, with pride and with a coffee in my hand. I know I have eight long hours ahead of me, and my feet will hurt by the end of the day from the constant walking back and forth, and there is a chance I make some person incredibly upset. Regardless of being cognizant of issues that may arise, I am incredibly content at work, and especially optimistic that I will assist at least someone (even if it is just unfortunately informing them we can only provide resources, rather than assisting). Whenever someone asks what exactly my work is I say, as I was taught, “it is the domestic version of the Peace Corps, and I’m also only in a courthouse.” This does not help many people understand my job requirement, as they just imagine me helping the prosecution, but what I do helps a lot more people than assisting a prosecutor.

Harpers Island. A place I never imagined myself going back to. Not after all the shit that went down there. Too many bad memories for such a small island. Yet, here I was, on the ferry, heading back to that very island. If that wasn’t surprising enough, the only reason I was going back was because my father was getting married again and decided that Harper’s Island was the best place to do it (bullshit). Most of the guests attending were on the bride’s side of the family. All of them were hot-shit lawyers and judges and doctors and basically everything my father wasn’t. He lucked out though, his words. When I received the invite, to say I was hesitant would be the understatement of the millennia. I almost decided not to go. I was so close.

The impossibility of controlling the situation frightened me more than the safety issue itself. I lost my floor. During the following year, I stayed with six different hosts. Most of them were my parents' friends from church, whom I barely knew. At the time, I thought I would feel out of place, like a stranger in the nest. I expected to find solitude and saudade...

I would like to start off by saying I don’t like Job Corps. The reason I don’t like Job Corps is that some of the staff members are disrespectful. Another reason I don’t like Job Corps is the food. It makes my stomach upset and I have to run to the bathroom a lot. The last reason I don’t like Job Corps for the simple fact some of the rules they make up don’t make no sense.

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 woke up and hoped my furnace was working and was ready to be put on full blast. It was a frigid cold day, the coldest it’s ever been. The weather man called for the temperature to be -59 degrees. I walked outside and the air made me feel like I couldn’t move. It was that cold.

Once upon a time, I was on the road to the not-so-great land of Tennessee. Where there was a horrendous drive from my house to the two thirds point of the fantastic cheap hotel. Nevertheless, the first room was on the first floor and ant infested, with a little mold, so I’m going to let your imagination run wild there. Next, the new room had beds that were slightly larger than a twin bed, which my sister and I were required to share (She took 9/10 of the bed and I was awarded the corner). Nevertheless, I was saved when we returned right back to the road in the morning. For the last hour of the ride, I constantly asked if that was a mountain or if that was a mountain, because I had never actually seen a mountain in person before.

My family was on the way to the Reagan National Airport and we got stuck in traffic and we had missed our flight.Our parents had bought us new tickets for later that day and we were waiting for the people to tell us that we could board the plane but they had given our seats away.My parents were so mad and they had to talk to the people that had given us our new tickets and we had to buy new tickets for tomorrow it was night by the time we got out of the airport.We decided to say at my aunt’s house because it was closer to the airport and we

cold. The privacy I had was very little. The shower and toilet was located in the corner of

It was the summer of 1977, and my father decided to pack the station wagon and drive from Fort Worth to Tampa, Florida. Besides my parents in the vehicle, my two sisters and brother also joined us for the long journey. I was young and excited and did not realize the distance my father would be driving on this trip. We made two stops on the way down and the first one was in Mississippi at a Holiday Inn. My first time spending the night the night at a hotel occurred on this vacation, and I was excited. We had adjoining rooms with my parents, and we spent the evening in the pool and watching television all night. I was never aware of my parents’ finances but I know now, we did not have a lot of money. From Mississippi, we stopped again in Tallahassee, Florida and we swam in the ocean during the afternoon and hit the hotel pool in the