It's around 5:30am and I am still waiting for the bus to leave the station. I'm so excited about my trip to Texas. It seems very odd because I'm only on the bus with 3 other people; the bus driver and a mother and her young daughter.
The Driver
He is a short man with white wavy hair and a long white beard. He reminds me of Santa Clause but I am sure that Santa doesn't carry cigarettes in his shirt pocket like this guy does. He keeps looking in the mirror at the people on the bus; almost like he was analyzing them and judging them. Once when he looked back I noticed a brown liquid coming out of the corners of his mouth. That's when I realized that his lip was full of dip and a bottle was close by, halfway full of spit. It disgusted me.
Mother and Daughter from Dominican Republic
A young woman, who looked to be in her early 20's, was sitting near the back of the bus with her daughter, who looked to be about
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He had the most gorgeous blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean. In his hands he had only a guitar case and a small bag. After only 5 minutes of riding he began to go through his bag and pulled out a small notebook with papers hanging out of the sides. Leaning over the seat I saw that it was music with eraser marks and barely able to read words. When the little girl in the back heard him singing under his breath she came running up the aisle. She was half excited and half yelling to the man in Spanish. He was confused and had no idea what she wanted until she started pointing at the guitar case. He was excited that someone wanted to hear his music and pulled out his guitar with enthusiasm. He was actually very good and as he finished we all asked him questions about himself. He told us that his name was Alex and that he was hoping to go to Texas and get noticed by someone there. We all wished him the best of luck and let him get back to writing his
During the first half of the twentieth century segregation was the way of life in the south. It was an excepted, and even though it was morally wrong, it still went on as if there was nothing wrong at all. African-Americans were treated as if they were a somehow sub-human, they were treated because of the color of their skin that somehow, someway they were different.
My next journey was in a month, and I was on my way to the next big rodeo, Nationals. I expected the same response from people there as here, but I was hopeful for it. With this thought, I smiled.
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 stress. The noise of everyone carrying on and yelling could be compared to the way a screaming crowed sounds at an AC/DC concert.
“The Short Bus: A Journey Beyond Normal” by Jonathan Mooney is the story of his journey around the U.S. in short bus nonetheless to meet with different children and their families who have faced challenges in school due to ADD, ADHD, Autism, and other learning disabilities. Jonathan Mooney himself faced the disability of Dyslexia and often had to deal with many challenges in school himself, but he appears to be one of the more fortunate ones, who was able to grow from his disability and ultimately get a degree in English. Needless to say, his book and journey lead the reader to question what really is “normal”, and how the views of this have caused the odds to be stacked against those who don’t fit the mold. Throughout, this story, for me personally however, this story gave several events that I found moving, and had the potential to influence my further work in education.
One night several weeks ago, I was riding the 72X back to campus from downtown. It was a Saturday night around six o’clock in the evening, and as a result the bus was packed with people, young and old, of all races and dress. The commuter crowd in Seattle is extremely diverse; a collection of white collar business people, students, homeless people, and other various characters utilizing public transit. The bus-goers behaved typically of Seattle transit users – heads down, headphones in, eyes closed or glazed over from staring into the
The small legs that whisked back and forth in the open space of the vehicle were full of energy. The young girl spent the day with the two people she admired the most. A bigger version of herself sat in the passenger seat with her husband driving next to her. They laughed over conversation. Every so often, the girl would stick thin fingers against her mother’s shoulder to receive her attention. She would say something trivial and obvious, but her mother would still entertain her. She absorbed every phrase her daughter said as if each filled her with a tremendous joy and was the greatest thing ever spoken. Her mother had selected a black dress for her today with a large white ribbon tied around her midsection. Her hair had been combed back in two braids so that the tips were touching her shoulder blades. They were coming home late from a Christmas party at church.
“Darlings! How are you? Drive to that gas station and we’ll catch up!”, she said. After a good 20 minutes of talking, Elizabeth decided to join Adam and me on our trip.
I said, "goodbye" to the nurse and left that awful place. Outside, I took a deep breath of cool fresh air. I practically ran to get inside my safe car. When back inside i cried in excruciating pain, I couldn't even feel my face. I sat there for a while thinking of those three terrifying words, Dr. Rust's office. I inserted the key into my ignition, turned it and drove away. When I knew I was home safe, I looked into my rear-view mirror. When I saw that old rickety building filled with bad experiences, I realized that that had been the most uncomfortable place I had ever visited, and I surely wasn't going to return.
The Taxi, by Amy Lowell, is an Imagist poem that relies heavily on imagery, rather than abstract ideas, to reveal meaning to the reader. The author uses free verse to allow the images and lines to speak for themselves and stand alone as individual lines. By doing so, each line offers its own tone and meaning, which then adds to the overall feel of the poem. Lowell wrote this poem to a love interest, clearly stating the meaning of the poem. She speaks as if the reader is the one being called after. The reader is entranced in her short poem filled with imagery to set the mood; the dire, last goodbye that seemed to separate the two forever. The poet's love for this person was also shown in her other works, and has made it very clear that there was a connection (Highleyman). This connection reveals the theme to be that she is lost without love. Before breaking the poem down into fragments for a line-by-line analysis, it can first be analyzed as a whole.
During my experiences working in the medical field, I quickly learned that medicine is not just about the intricacies of the body or prescribing medications to fix the body’s shortcomings. There are many more challenges and difficulties that are involved in healthcare that involve many interpersonal skills. This summer I have volunteered with the medical director at Glenaire Retirement Community in Cary, North Carolina. After a few weeks of shadowing, the medical director asked me to see a patient to discuss her primary complaints before he joined me. I went into the patient’s room, introduced myself, and waited for a response. After multiple attempts and no recognition from the patient, the physician came in to join us.
This old/new bus continued our route, and we all sat quietly, awaiting our stops. Everyone had a tired, almost forlorn look, as though they had been through much more than just switching buses. I did not have any concept of time as the bus chugged along, stopping occasionally to let people off, and all of a sudden I recognized that it was almost to my stop. I jerked out of the stupor I was in as the bus stopped in front of my apartment complex. As I gathered up my things to leave, I looked at my friends and said, "Well, this will make one interesting story at school tomorrow!"
While on the road my friend’s sister and I got to know each other very well. We talked about how we were doing in school, and many other things. As time went by we could see the mountains getting closer and closer to us. We could not wait to climb El Capitan. When we finally arrived, we unpacked and got ready to hike El Capitan. On the way up the hike we had a great time because as we hiked up we talked about how cool it was going to be up there on top of the world.
The first night we were there, we got lost looking for the bed and breakfast we were staying at that night. We kept driving by it, but we couldn’t find a way to get to it so we kept driving right by it and then get lost looking for it again. After forty five minutes of looking for the bed and breakfast we finally found it. We were finally able to take showers and then we went out to dinner, we found this cute little pizza place where ...
As I was boarding the bus I looked up for a vacant seat. What I saw then