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    class and make a speech on a selected topic. The point was to not go off topic. Every time someone did off topic, the whole class was supposed to yell ‘digression!' at them. Holden was one of the guys who often got yelled digression to. He got so frustrated that he would just give up. Holden explains to Mr. Antolini about a classmate named Richard Kinsella. He also went off topic a lot, but Holden said it was better when he did go off topic because it was always more interesting. He says " ‘ I mean

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    Public Vrs. Private

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    to the door and wait in line for the metal detectors. You put your keys in the tray and walk through the detector, it goes off. Two cops walk up to check your backpack. Pager in the pocket got to go back to the car and put it away. Back through the metal detectors and they do not go off, thank God. You go to first period, sit in your seat and the teacher locks the door. The drug dogs must be coming today. Second period and the dogs are still here, there must be something wrong. Third period starts

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    do their jobs, even when you are not looking. Service before self refers to the fact that professional duties take precedence over personal desires (USAF, 1997). In the business setting, service before self means finishing tasks or jobs before you go home at the end of your shift and not leaving them for someone else to finish up. If it is Friday afternoon and I have been given a task, I will always finish my job then, even if it means starting my weekend late. Service before self also means that

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    Personal Narrative

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    instead the journey you take along the way. Every summer that I go back to Michigan, my cousin Lance and I take a fishing trip. This year we were after the big ones, king salmon, running up the Manistee River. I was excited yet a little anxious about the expedition that lay ahead of us. For weeks before we left, Lance and all of his friends riddled my mind with horror stories from their past attempts at these mighty fish. Chris, a big burly man with tattoo sleeves, filled me with the most apprehension

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    the opportunity to explore each of them. I was six years old when I left Trinidad to come to the United States. Sometimes, when I try to remember the country of my birth I just have a blank memory of it. I always told myself when I got older, I would go back home for a visit. I already accomplished my goal of visiting Haiti, where my mother was born. Trinidad was next on my list, since I became tired of my mother as well as other family members telling me about the beauty of Trinidad. This past summer

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    A White Heron

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    is interested in birds and confesses that he is searching for a certain white heron. He offers Sylvia ten dollars if she will show the hunter where the heron is. The next day they go out looking for the bird but do not find it. They call it a night and go back home. Sylvia leaves early the next morning and climbs a big pine tree where she observes the white herons nest. When she returns home she tells the hunter she is not sure where the nest is and the hunter leaves disappointed. Nine-year-old Sylvia

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    Kissed by Poverty

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    family was no more. My father and mother were out of work, my sisters and I couldn't go back to our friends and schools, and our lives had taken a complete twist. I thought about how I would never see my friends again, how I couldn't play soccer after school anymore, and realizing just how the childhood I had was lost. When I started school the next in America, I was shocked. My father advised me that this would be a big challenge, and that only the fit would survive in this volatile world. So I understood

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    The Island of Dr. Mireau

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    vanishes. Then he comes across a dead rabbit carcass. It was still warm. He starts to walk on. Then he sees three beasts. He keeps getting closer and closer going as quietly as he can. Then he sees them dancing and chanting. He finally decides to go back to the house type thing. As he is going though the trees he hears an echo. He stops and sees another pair of feet. He keeps walking then he stops a looks and listens for the beast. He gets a glimpse of the beast. He heads in it direction. He starts

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    thought occurred to him. This time he would instead tell the story of the Stinky Cheese Man making it up as he went along. Well the little girl was certainly surprised by the new twist on her favorite tale. Instead of protesting and insisting that her dad go back to telling the story the way she'd always known and loved it, she simply laughed and listened contently to this new version which she proceeded to request night after night. Little did Jon Scieszka know, but his gift for re-inventing bedtime stories

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    accomplish it. I guess I just want fulfillment, but I only feel a void big enough to fit in Crater Lake. I always wanted to play an instrument. In 7th grade I got a chance to. I started playing the Viola. I was instantly great at it. I practiced and practiced my heart out. I even achieved a superior on a solo I performed at a Solo and Ensemble competition. It started to bore me. Then I quit. Do I regret it? Yes, but I can’t go back. It’s just another useless skill I have. In 6th grade, I wanted

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