Predictions (Cycle Paper)

This semester I’m taking this Child Development course. Basically we just study and learn about cognitive thinking of young children and how and why they do things. As part of the class we go the Winnie Units and “observe” the children in our selected class. I go to a second grade class every cycle, and instead of observing, its more like I help the teacher out and working with the students.
Well, over the coarse of this quarter, I’ve come to know and appreciate each student’s unique personality. When I’m in there I’m able to see how the dynamics of the class work. When I watch them, its like I can see exactly what type of person they’ll be in high school. I don’t think people change much. Kids who are nerdy don’t magically transform and become the most popular kid on campus. Girls who are snotty tend to stay that way and the bullies often don’t change much either. So I can predict how these second graders will be in high school.
As I watch the girlie girles chat about their outfits and each other’s hair, while acting ditzy when the boys come around, I can picture them being the popular girls. They are pretty and outgoing. I can see what the boys will be also. The boy who wears the football jerseys everyday, and is loud and cracks jokes is popular among his peers. I can see him joining the football team in years to come.
Now, just as I can see how these seven and eight year olds will turn out in high school, I wonder if teachers can do the same with their students. Can teachers tell who will be the successful ones, who will be the needy ones and who will wind up with an undesirable life?
Going to this classroom every cycle is my favorite part of the course. I love watching these students and learning more about them each time I go. Now, as I said before I don’t think people really change, but it’d be interesting to come back in seven years and see how the kids really do turn out. Will they turn out the way I predicted or is it possible for people to transform themselves?

One Hour (Cycle Paper)

I had been preparing for March 5, 2008 for over a year now, and the day had finally arrived. Two weeks ago, on March 5 I was to take my road test. Up to that day I had done everything by the book to ensure that I got my license the day I could. I did everything; crossed all my T’s and dotted my I’s.
To get your license you must hold your permit for at least six months, take in class drivers ed, on the road driver’s ed class and complete at least fifty hours of behind the wheel driving before receiving you license. So being the good citizen I am, I made sure I had everything ready for that day. Upon reaching all the requirements, I was ready to rock and roll and get my license. The only thing left to do was take the driving test.
March 5 roles around and my mom and I head down to the DMV in Kaneohe a whole hour before my appointment. We wanted to be sure that nothing went wrong. Ha! Little did we know, that was not how the next hour went. Just like anyone else, I was nervous before the test. With my six months of driving experience I can’t say I’m any good at parallel parking. So I decided I needed to do a little “cramming” before the test. I needed Mom to help me practice parallel parking. We drive around the parking lot for 10 minutes only to find there is nowhere to even practice parking. We gave up. I’d heard from a few of my friends that they didn’t have to parallel park during their road test. Maybe I’d get lucky too.
Forgetting about my parallel parking dilemma, we decided to head in and register so that we were ready when 2:30 came around. We waited anxiously for 15 minutes in the line while the government workers take their time processing everyone’s data. 2:10 roles around and it’s our turn. Mom and I casually cruise up to the plastic wooden counter. We whip out our vehicle registration card and insurance card only to find that the vehicle registration card had expired 8 months ago. I couldn’t believe it! I specifically told my mom to make sure everything was up to date so this wouldn’t happen. All the sudden the clock seemed to tick faster and faster. Now it was 2:15. The crabby government worker told me I could go to Satellite City Hall at Windward Mall and get it renewed, but if I wasn’t back by exactly 2:30 then I’d lose my appointment. So Mom and I race to the car and go as fast as we can to Windward Mall (we didn’t speed, for fear of getting pulled over and that would just be too ironic on the day I’m suppose to get my license). I run up to the second floor of the mall and shove my papers at the old lady behind the desk (thank God there was no line!). I quickly explain my dilemma and she hurries up and gives me the renewed registration form. Its 2:23. Oh, no I’ve got seven minutes until the last six months are ruined.
We made it. We made it back to the DMV with 2 minutes to spare. My mom’s driving is amazing, although I’m sure the tester wouldn’t approve. The ladies tell us to wait outside until our names are called. Still panting from all the excitement, mom and I make it outside. We wait patiently, only to hear my name called through the scratchy voice of the same crabby government worker. Oh, great, just what I need, a crabby old lady who keeps hacking up a storm with her emphysema-like coughs.
With all the stresses of the day, I still wound up passing the test (getting -15, a -16 is a fail) and getting my license, and yes she did make me parallel park...uphill. My last six months of preparing have finally pulled through and now there is a whole new meaning to the word freedom.

Paddling (Cycle Paper)

This summer is going to be the worst summer ever. I won’t get to do what I love. Every summer I do something so intense and grueling that it makes me want to puke. It makes my body feels like it is going to explode into a million pieces and I love it. I love paddling for Kailua Canoe Club.
A paddling crew consists of six paddlers. You need a steersman, a stroker and four other paddlers. The steersman sits in the back of the boat and basically is the leader. She steers the boat and tells the crew to go faster or yells encouraging words to us. In my boat I am the stroker. Let me tell you a little about what a stroker does. The stroker plays a very important role in the boat because the stroker sets the pace. Every paddler behind me is suppose to mimic exactly what I do. So the stroker must have good form and good pace. The person who sits behind me, in seat two is that one who calls the changes. What she does is counts strokes and after twelve strokes she yells “Hut Ho!,” which means switch to the other side of the boat. Everyone simultaneously switches.
Not only am I going to miss my crew but also I will miss my coach. I had a special relationship with my coach. She was inspiring and gave me so much motivation. I will miss those motivating and inspiring speeches she gave before each race. And in a strange way I will also miss her telling us to paddle for 20 minutes straight during practice so we can work on our endurance, even though the race is only a mere 60 seconds.
Every Sunday there is a regatta at a different beach, whether it’s at Kailua Beach, Waimanalo, Keehi Lagoon, Waikiki, Nanakuli, or what not. Each beach is different so each week we train differently. Our training is based on how rough the water is, whether or not we are racing towards the beach or parallel with it and how long the race is going to be. All of these factors are weaved into our training for the upcoming Sunday.
One of the things I will never forget is how extremely competitive paddling is. There is no messing around when it comes to winning a race. Every boat out there is looking to win the coveted gold medal. Teams have come so close to winning it, but can lose by a mere .01 of a second. Each race counts as a whole for part of your club. Whichever club gets the most points (points are determined by what place you got in the race) wins the regatta. Winning the regatta is what it is all about.
The reason I do paddling is not because I get to meet lots of people and go the beach four times a week and work out. I paddle for that one moment of glory and joy I get when I finish a race. All summer, every Sunday starts out the same, waking up early in the morning to get to the beach where my race is. My race is first thing in the morning at about 8:30. I’m always feeling a little anxious before the race.
Every race my club does the same little ritual thing. The main head coach of the whole club gives and inspiring speech about how we need to paddle our hearts out and that every stroke counts and to do our best and bring in the gold. Then my coach gives my crew a little speech reminding us of how hard we worked this week and that we deserve the gold. At the end of every speech she says the same phrase to us, “First you must be one with your paddle, then one with the boat, and finally one with the ocean.” The words still ring in my head today. Whenever anyone mentions racing in a boat, I always think of what Coach said. After her little pep talk, the six of us hop in the boat and paddle out the starting line. This is when my heart starts beating a little faster than normal and I start telling my self to not freak out during the race and to stay focused.
Meanwhile the steersman is yelling encouraging things to us and telling us we are the fastest boat out there and we are going to win. The boat makes it up to our starting flag and we are in line with 20 other boats. All eyes are straight ahead intensely watching the motorboat out in the middle of the coarse. A man on the motorboat raises a yellow flag and my steersman yells “Paddles up!” We all quickly lift our paddles up and hold them over the water getting ready to take the first stroke. Then the yellow flag starts waving from left to right and left to right and back again. My heart is pounding so hard I can practically hear it. All the sudden a red flag flies into the air and green one quickly comes up after it. My steersman yells at us, “GO! GO! GO! PADDLE GIRLS PADDLE!!” We strike the water so hard, we slice it with every stroke. We finally feel the boat start to move and we are off. That one minute of racing feels like ten. I start zoning out. It is like everything is moving in slow motion. I feel the ocean water splashing on my face. I hear the other boats calling their changes and I try to focus on my own boats changes. I focus on how fast I’m going. I always feel like the boat isn’t moving; yet I know it is. I think about what coach said early in week about how I need to bite the water with my paddle and that I need to reach further. All of these thoughts are flying through my head.
Finally, I see the finish flag quickly approaching. I paddle even harder, my steersman is screaming at us to “PADDLE! PADDLE! PADDLE!” Her voice starts to crack as she yells at us to go faster. I start to get frustrated because I see the noses of the other boats creeping along the sides of mine. I’m giving my all yet the boat isn’t going faster, I am furious that my arms aren’t digging into the water more and that they won’t move faster. Finally, we reach the finish line and we all collapse. I feel so much joy in my body that I feel like crying. I smile all the way back to our tent as we paddle home to our club. Then the boat pulls up to the shore and we all hop out.
The whole club is screaming with joy and congratulating us. People form a tunnel with their arms and all six of us run through it while people hang leis on us and tell us how close the race was. We all take pictures together. Then my coach pulls me over to the side to congratulate me. She says I looked good out there and that I had good form. Then she tells me about the other boats and how they did. I feel great. My heart is still racing trying to recover from the physical part of the race but it can’t because of all the emotions I feel. A whole day full of mixed feelings finally comes to an end. I go home and wait for the Monday morning newspaper to see what place I got and which club won the regatta.

The Grotto Response

"How little they could know of me or I of them."

This is a quote from the narrator of the short story, The Grotto, by Robert Olen Butler and here's my response to it:

When she said that she was referring to the women in their burkas and how different she was from them.  Deep down inside I really don't think they were that  different from each other.  Obviously we'll never know how similar they were, all we do know was how different they were in appearances.

That encounter was similar to the one she had with the man in the grotto.  She was nervous about his motives at first and what his intentions were while he was staying there.  She was not seeing beyond their obvious differences and of how little they knew of each other.  It wasn't until after she was sitting there for a while did she really come around and actually get to know a little about him.  Once she started talking to him, I think she realized they weren't so different after all.  It was the fact that both of them could share the agony of losing their mothers that helped them bond for those few minutes.  Everyone has their own life's story.  Taking the time to find out who someone is, is something that will bring us closer to each other as human beings.

After I read this it it kind of reminded me of the last Chapel we had.  The speaker was talking about how half way around the world there is someone out there who is just like you.  That's almost exactly like what happened in this story.  Clara had travelled from Alabama to Egypt and some how wound up in this grotto where there was another person who was like her.  He had gone through the same things she had.  It all goes back to that quote.  How little these strangers knew of each other......yet somehow they still were human enough to get to know a little about each other and bond.

Gardenia body oil

I know that my silky gardenia scented body oil is unsurpassed by all other brands.  I have tried hundreds of scented body liquids and all others feel insignificant to my premier lotion.  I have tried everything, baby powders, thick lotions, thin lotions, organic and homemade, scented, and body oils.  Every time I go to a department store with my dad and catch a glimpse of lotion, I can’t resist the temptation to experience the hidden powers under each cap.  I persuade him to buy me my coveted oils.  I’ve learned when and how to charm my mom into getting the new lotion  on sale. I am an aficionado when it comes to pampering oneself.  I anxiously finish my nightly hot shower, knowing that my heaven in a bottle, my gardenia body oil is waiting patiently for me.  I relish every moment I spend massaging it into my moistened skin.  When I apply that first drop, I feel like I am swimming in a sea of Chinese silk.  I’m instantly relaxed.  Of course the oil may feel sensational on my body, but the way it makes me feel inside is completely different.  I feel feminine and sexy.  I’m a confident new woman; I am gorgeous.  The silky smoothness of it, takes my mind out of reality.  I picture myself a confident model who has just been crowned Miss America.  There I am waving at the crowd, the most glamorous, beautiful female in the U.S.  I am on top of the world and wearing the extravagant beauty in a bottle makes me feel privileged.  How could anyone resist feeling this glamorous every night?