The Soda Fountain At The Stanford Barn

“Dad, can I go over to Ambers’ house to study tomorrow?” Our daughter Catherine asked the question, from about halfway up the stairs. Only her face could be seen as she peered at my husband hopefully, over the banister. I looked over at my husband, knowing what he would say, before he spoke. “Ask your mom.” My husband said to her, while glancing at me, expectantly. I smiled at him, knowing why he was telling her to ask me. He had worked all week, making the long drive from our home in Ashland to his office in Richmond and was hoping I would drive her to her friend’s house, so he could relax at home. My daughters’ hopeful gaze turned toward me, as well. “Madre?” She didn’t bother repeating the question. I hid the little sting of pain, that I always felt when she called me that, behind a smile. “What time are you supposed to be there, and do I need to bring you over and pick you up as well?” She nodded as she answered me. “Yeah, her mom can’t do it today, but I told her I would help her with her math.” Catherine had always made high marks in her school studies; it was something I was exceedingly proud of. “Yes, I’ll drive you, but make sure your phone is fully charged.” I have always been protective of the kids, and it was a long standing rule that they didn’t leave the house without a way to contact me. “I will.” She called out as she went the rest of the way up the stairs, disappearing from my view.

All three of the boys in The Pact had the luxury of attending University High, which was a six-year public high school for those who were gifted academically. These three boys faced a deficit when attending here since their middle schools lacked the rigor these boys needed. Additionally, to attending University High, prior knowledge can also come from those who are your first teachers, for example, older siblings and parents. All three of these boys faced complicated family dynamics, but Rameck’s mother, in particular, Arlene Hunt became pregnant at seventeen which resulted in a downward spiral of her life. With that, his grandmother Ellen Bradley was able to take care of him. This experience for many learners would have resulted in following the example his mother set, but Arlene Hunt and Ellen Bradley were focused on the success of her son and grandson respectively and pushed him to do

Jerry seems to be a typical freshman, in a period of experimentation—trying out for the team, dreaming about girls, reading “girlie magazines,” but he also appears to be a dazed and confused one. He is “stunned by his mother’s recent death and by the way his father sleepwalks through life.”

It was early July in Southern California: the sun was high, the air was warm, and the palm trees were swaying. Unfortunately, the bright sun could not light the darkness of the pit I had been slowly falling into during my tumultuous school year at my new charter school. On that day, when the other girls were tanning beachside, I was sitting deskside. I was trapped in a tiny, moldy, yellow-carpeted education office at the school I had transferred to the year prior. Like my fading hope, the dusty chandelier was barely hanging on from the ceiling. The room’s peculiarity added to my anxiety, as I felt failure lingering in the musty air. Though I had been sheltered by my parents’ optimism, I knew what I would soon hear: “I am so sorry sweetheart,

The high school on the reservation was so helpless that the books were as old as Junior’s parents! There were times when Junior’s breakfast was a gallon of orange flavor drink mix. The only Christmas gift he’d receive was a five dollar bill if he was even lucky. Living like this and to not give up like the rest made him a survivor. Junior’s sister had given up school, but once had a dream of writing romance novels. Along with Junior’s sister, Junior’s father and mother gave up way before she did. Everyone else on the reservation had given up since it was ultimately a death camp. Even the young teenagers had given up in school.

This divide confirms the issues in modern society, that one’s relationship with other teenagers is valued more than one’s relationship with their family. Connie’s thoughts, revolving around boys, is also a negative effect from her current society. When asked to go to a family barbeque, Connie “wasn’t interested, rolling her eyes to let her mother know just what she thought of it” (Oates 2). Instead of having some quality family time, Connie spends the day day-dreaming about love and the boys she has previously met and boys she hopes to meet in the future. Her acknowledgment of boys and refusal to spend time with her family adds to the claim that teenagers in modern society do not value family relationships. Boys and fitting in are all that’s on her mind because that is what society expects from her. Modern society has the expectation that girls will give into boys and do as they say because they are incapable of defending themselves. For these reasons, Connie can not escape from Arnold Friend, the boy who desperately wants her. The narrator writes, “She watched herself push the door slowly open as if she were back safe...where Arnold Friend waited” (Oates

Peggy Sturmfels was adopted in the early 1990’s when she was two weeks old. Her birth parents were just teenagers and couldn’t even take care of themselves therefore they felt it would be in Peggi’s best interest if they allow her to get the best life possible with someone who could provide for her. They opted for a closed adoption because at the time no one knew she was even pregnant. Her adoptive parents John and Gabrielle Sturmfels agreed with Peggy’s birth parents and vowed not to tell her about the adoption. To her birth parent’s wishes John and Gabrielle gave Peggy the best life a child could imagine, she was their little princess and they treated her like royalty. Peggy was sent to the best schools and graduated high school as valedictorian. After graduation John and Gabrielle had a huge surprise for Peggy; they were going to allow her to attend the college of her dreams: UCLA. Peggi had dreamed to go there but her parents did not feel comfortable with her being so far away from home. Three months later Peggi had packed up and had started her first semester of college. She was doing very well and passing all her classes so she felt it was time for her to have a night to just relax and have some fun. Her friend Abby suggested that they go to one of the Frat parties close to their dorm. Peggy agreed and they went. At the party there was drugs and alcohol everywhere and Peggi didn 't feel comfortable but Abby insisted she stayed and referred to her as a “party pooper”.

It was a fine, summer, Saturday when everything changed for a young teenager named Miller Frederick. School had already started for Miller and he was at a new school. That summer, his family had moved from Pensacola, Florida to Dewitt, Michigan so Miller didn’t have many friends. He lived in a very rural area so he didn’t have many neighbors he could hang out with. Miller had just gotten back from his first day at his new school and he became friends with another new kid from Germany. His name was Reginald Kleinhans. Surprisingly enough, they had a lot in common. They both loved basketball, horror movies, and writing.

It was the Saturday before the last week of first grade and my family and I were attending a kickstart into summer barbecue at Scott Shaw’s house. Accompanied by my mother, father, brother, and my father’s 20 plus mountain biking, “crunchy granola” friends and spouses, we all arrived with summer’s approaching warmth on our faces. Everyone shoveling food into their mouths, playing ping pong, pool and swimming, everything was going smoothly.

It was soon the end of August which meant school was right around the corner. I wasn’t too excited, but I was a little anxious to see what God had in store for me. We hopped in the car, and were on the way. I walked into my new school, Country Day, and acknowledged the wind carried the sound of the chitter-chatter of my fellow classmates, lockers slamming as hard as nails and the howling of the spider-monkey. The halls were outdoor and you could see the never ending mountains and feel the gentle breeze swaying back and forth. I enjoyed the first day and couldn’t wait to go back for more. Throughout the day, I met someone special, someone who would soon to be my best friend, partner in crime, my other half, Sibley. She helped me see the good in situations and inspired me to be outgoing and carefree. Our families became best friends and went on adventure after adventure together. The year

I told him that for our purposes I was defining the teenage years from 12 to 20. I asked him what the first thing that he remembered about being a teenager. AA said that he remembered being 14 years old, and buying his first boat with his brother Timothy. He bought a 14-foot work boat so that he could make money raking “Quahogs”, New England Clams found in the bay. He reminisced on the help and vocational training that a neighbor, named Frank, gave him when he got the boat. I asked him what things about being a teenager did he still remember? AA talked about his first truck a 64 International that he had worked to buy. He said he remembered all the antics of his brothers and sisters whilst being a teenager and chuckled a little bit when the subject was brought up. I asked AA whether he perceived his brothers and sisters in a positive way. He said yes, and said they did every crazy thing so that I did not have to do it. AA had an affectionate comment when asked to describe each one of his siblings. He spoke about his Brother Joseph, “he did everything so I didn’t have to do anything crazy”. He then said Joe was the family wild man. He said his brother Joseph performed various antics such as dressing up on an airplane as a gorilla. AA had also said that Joseph also liked to dress up as Jimmy Carter when he went to weddings, and always carried a well of invisible ink, “which was not the best choice” AA

He always had more friends than us. He always had a way for us to get into the coolest hangouts. And he never was a careless friend. In fact, he was always there. Especially when I needed his shoulder to cry on. Throughout middle school till now, Andy, Jackson, and Martin were my cherries on the top of my banana split that I’d get every other Sunday at Freezy’s diner, right across from Jenny and I. So yes, I had the best of friends. I had a great job. I was ranked number thirty-seven at the top of my class. My very proud lawyers-, or I mean parents. Made my life as lavish as Jenny’s. I was happy, and content, but this isn’t what I thought I wanted… I wanted to feel desired…

Who knew the blankest day of my life would induce the most significant changes of my adolescent life? Definitely not I when I took that sip that would indirectly spill all of my disobedient affairs and fresh promiscuous experiences I obtained within that summer. The summer before freshman year was my summer of experimental escapades and selfish bliss. Being adopted by my austere and unsympathetic aunt April and being a canny and inquisitive, fourteen year old, teenage girl cause conflict for our living situation, lifestyles, and relationships. Therefore, the move wasn’t abrupt, but one specific decision expedited a revolution in my existence.

My family and I dined at BIAGGI 'S RISORANTE ITALIANO at the East View Mall in Victor for my brother Johnnie’s birthday. Because we ate at a fine dining restaurant, we had to make reservations a couple hours in advance. Harrington, Ottenbacher & Kendall (2011) observe, “Traditionally, fine dining was most closely associated with French cuisine. More recently, the Spanish food revolution has created a stir with its groundbreaking scientific cooking style, often associated with molecular gastronomy” (p. 273). Furthermore, as my family walked towards the restaurant, we could see the wonderfully lit, big, and bold sign outside of the restaurant. Just looking at the brightly lit name grabs your attention, enticing you to eat there. BIAGGI’S creates a welcoming reception through a calming atmosphere. The first thing I noticed as I walked into the place was the wooden ceiling and booths, the dimly lit lights, and, the carpeted floors. I felt fancy just by walking into the building. The restaurant looks like a million bucks because

The 1990's rise of the family style Italian restaurant, which served portions by the bucketful, called for huge groups, replicating a nostalgic image of big, boisterous Italian families. With one wave of a garlic-bread wand, these restaurants offered a vision of the past through a red-and white-checked lens. Now I enjoy garlic-drenched linguine with clam sauce and platters of sausages and peppers as much as the next person, but I find it hard to eat surrounded by portraits of imaginary ancestors with the theme from “The Godfather” playing again and