Donnaven Clark
English Comp
They say that reading and writing is a place that can really work wonders for one’s mind, allowing your thoughts to really run free, having the liberty to say anything you could possibly desire, and what do I say to that? What a load of crap! Reading and writing was never a happy subject for me when I was in school. I would never pay attention in class and for the life of me, I could not tell the difference between a thesis and a theme; even now I sometimes forget. That would be shocking to a lot of people, especially since I am taking a college level english class, struggling to differentiate a theme and a thesis at my age is somewhat depressing. Throughout my years of battling my boredom with the English language, there has been a time when I can say I almost turned over my white flag and forfeited my long harsh battle.
I was in second grade because it was a really weird time for me. If you had a conversation with me around that stage of my life, I would probably try convincing you about how I had the power of time perception based solely off of me dodging a crayon, but that’s besides the point. I remember the day like it was yesterday, it was a class trip that all of the second graders were having that day, and unfortunately I could not bring the permission slip in for some odd reason. Since Ps 214 was such a reliable and responsible school, they told me that even if I could not come to the trip, attendance was still mandatory, and so I had to come anyway. After arriving in school they ended up putting me in a first grade class for the day. It was annoying, however I didn’t mind and so before my class left my teacher told me to grab a couple books to keep me occupied. Me being me I couldn’t care less so I grabbed one random book, OH BROTHER by Johniece Marshall. After making my selection, I remember being escorted to the class and the environment was so tense, even though I was older the cold stares I got from those little kids felt like lasers burning my skin. I quickly scurried to the back of the class and sat down. Now at first, I was not planning on actually reading the book so I just kept my head down, but the teacher noticed I was not occupying myself and so she told me “ Get to reading you are not going to do nothing in my class.” Being that this was not an environment I was comfortable in, I just went with the flow, and man the book started off slow as heck but I remember getting to about the 80th page and at that point, it felt like the words were a part of me. I could no longer hear the kids or the teacher in the room. It felt like I became one of the brothers in the book, the sounds of the raindrops thumping against the window, the cozy feeling of the somewhat worn out couch. The warmness of the heater coming from the corner of the living room, and the harsh tense environment of my two brothers arguing over their missing bike. It was such a blissful feeling; I felt, for the first time, what it was like to live with siblings and I loved every moment of that. That was until the period bell rang and completely pulled me back into my sad reality of an uncomfortable cold seat and loud, annoying first graders. I was livid! It was the first time I ever enjoyed a book so much in my life. I tried, tried, and tried again to get as emerged as I was a couple seconds ago but I just couldn’t achieve what I wanted. Once the first period ended, Mr. Cintron, the principal, came on the school radio and spoke his morning message. At the end of it all he said the famous school slogan “achieving starts with believing”, and i just thought wow what a load of crap.
Looking back now, I honestly don’t know how I was as entertained as I was, the book itself was just about two brothers living their daily lives with the highest point of conflict being a small argument, which is completely normal for a pair of siblings. But because of its normality, I feel that is why I connected to it so much. I never had a sibling that lived with me so experiencing two brothers living their normal lives I kinda felt a sense of jealousy; I wanted to experience the bickering, the fighting and the loving times of having a sibling under the same household. I wouldn’t go as far as to say it made me outright envious of every friend of mine that had their own sibling living with them, rather it helped me understand the real meaning of another man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I carry this quote with me not just for the fact of my household but everywhere I go. It helps me stay considerate to those around me as now and in New York today i feel that a lot of people don’t take into consideration about others and how they feel towards certain items whether it be a pair of sneakers, or maybe a new phone and so they like to make fun of their friends because of how they cant afford such items; its unfair and sadly the general society has been convinced that making fun of others shortcomings is normal. I feel that I am in a pretty good position for myself, but I never brag about anything I have because what may be simple things to me might mean the world to somebody else.
