Runner
    He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Why in the world does this child get so angry that he has this burning desire to run away from school? I watched as he inched closer and closer to the edge of the woods. As I watched him disappear from across the soccer field, I began to sprint across to where he made his escape. While I was running I was dodging students left and right until BAM! A soccer ball hit my foot and I almost tripped, but I didn’t stop. The child’s teacher was just standing on the edge of the woods, yelling for him. When I reached the woods I stepped carefully around the tangled vines of poison ivy. I spotted the student walking no less than fifty feet away from a person’s home. When I turned to my left I saw our school guidance counselor attempting to coax him back to the field. “I DIDN’T DO IT!” he screamed.

By now there was a cluster of students standing at the edge of the woods listening. The counselor had not seen what had happened prior to this, so she did not understand. This student, let’s call him Runner, 5 minutes earlier had been reprimanded for pulling down another student’s pants and was asked to sit down and think about his actions. What the counselor did understand was that Runner was prone to these outbursts and could get violent with those who interfere.

As I took a few steps closer, stepping on twigs and crunchy leaves, he began screaming again. “Stop following me!” He was almost on the house’s back porch. I could see the fury and the hatred in his eyes. He balled his fists, ready to swing if we stepped any closer. “We just want to help you…” the counselor whispered. Runner looked at me and I motioned slowly for him to come to me. He looked to his left and saw another second grade teacher recording the events that were unfolding.

“Stop recording me!” he shouted. It is a shame that situations like this need to be recorded for proof and peace of mind that the student cannot say we touched or tried to restrain him.

    Finally Runner started walking back towards campus. As soon as he reached the tree line, he started sprinting towards the building. By this time, hardly any students were playing and more students were watching as I followed him out of the woods. I thought to myself, “How many phone calls are we going to make to the front office before someone actually comes to help?!” He climbed up a small playground structure and grasped the bars tightly.

I exhaled when I saw Mr. D, our behavioral interventionist, coming to handle the situation after 10 minutes of us pleading for help. Mr. D asked the student to come inside and perhaps get something cool to drink and talk about everything. I bet you cannot guess what happened next. Did you guess more running and screaming? Runner refused to move and tightened his grip on the cool metal bars. Mr. D had had enough and finally pried the student away from the bars and carried him across the playground. When he put the Runner down I’m pretty sure the student thought about running again, but I can’t say for sure. As they slowly walked into the building, I turned to face the students who had realized that they had been outside for more than 15 minutes past our normal time. How was I going to explain this behavior? Why does this student get so angry and violent?

A Picture of Joy and Grief - Emily Golden

It was a hot August morning, I had been in pain all night.  I was never able to get comfortable and had reached the point where I was unwilling to accept the pain any longer.  At six in the morning I called my sister and told her it was time, and that she needed to get ready. I quickly reminded her I didn't care what she looked like make-up was not an option at this point, we would be there to get her in thirty minutes.  I quickly showered, told my husband to do the same and we were out the door.  On our forty-five minute drive to the hospital I made the other phone calls to everyone who would want to be there.  When we arrived at the hospital I was expecting to be well into the labor process like my first, but that was not the case!  Turns out I was only about 2 centimeters dilated.  The nurse asked me if I was sure I would like to proceed with a vbac, and I quickly responded with a no thank you! Please let the doctor know I’ll be having a c-section.  By 1:02pm we saw Parker Susanne Golden take her first breath, and heard her first cries.  In those cries I quickly realized something was wrong.  It was not just a cry, but a cough then a wheeze.  Four hours after her birth we realized there was a problem, but we weren’t sure what it may be?  We began to question why she would be coughing and wheezing, and the nurses and doctors would respond with we're  not sure.  By the next morning many tests would be ordered and I would be forced to watch my precious new born be poked and prodded in ways I had never imagined.  The end result was a staph infection, and the treatment would be medicine that would most likely make her deaf… My choice at this point was a hearing impairment or decreased chance of survival. We signed the waivers and of course immediately began treatment.  Within twenty-four hours her cough would decrease, and blood cultures we’re starting to clear, all we had to do was wait for the hearing test.  Six very long days later, we sat at the end of a bed myself, my four year old Delany, Parker my newborn who could hear, and had be declared healthy all looking at each other in a pure moment of joy. We knew that the next day we would be able to be home as a family and begin to enjoy life as a family of four.  In this moment of joy a picture was snapped, a picture that would actually be the last moment of happiness in what was to become a very long year.  

What we did not know or even imagine at that time was the person snapping that picture my brother-in-law, was actually wrestling with choosing to live or choosing to die.  What I did not realize that while I was caught in a moment of pure bliss, and happiness that in just a short week the person behind the camera would take his life.  Parker Susanne Golden came home from the hospital August 15th 2012, seven days later our lives would change forever! August 22, 2017 the person responsible for capturing a moment of pure bliss, would also bring me to my knees with the most overwhelming feeling of grief I had ever experienced.

A moment captured in time would be a source of great pain, and joy for the rest of my life.  I had no idea that the person behind the camera was struggling  to remain here on earth and enjoy all the moments that would follow.  August 22, 2012 I was on my way home from the doctor when my phone rang and my whole world would be turned upside down.  As I answered the phone I can remember the panic in my mom's voice,  her words still echo in my mind.  Four words would change my entire existence “he hung himself Emily.”  I can remember dropping the phone pulling to the side, and the world going black.  What had been joy, and happiness was now black, confusion, and anger.  

Recipe For A High School Swimmer

Recipe For A High School Swimmer

By Donna Lehning

Ingredients:

One high school swimmer

An all star coach

Olympic-sized pool

Silky swimsuit

Warm hat

Oversized sweatshirt

Waterproof goggles

Insanely tight swim cap

Bulky swim fins

Instructions:

1.  The high school swimmer will set a timer for 4:30 am to wake up before the birds arise and start chirping.

2.  Combine wearing a silky swimsuit with a warm hat and an oversized sweatshirt before leaving for the olympic-sized pool.

3.  Separate the sweatshirt and hat and add a layer of insanely tight swim cap, waterproof swim goggles, and bulky swim fins.  

4.  Marinate her swim strokes with each flip turn and repeat for an hour.

5.  Stir in instruction from the all-star coach.

6.  Divide her practice set into 10 minutes of “warm-up”, 10 minutes of “drill”, 30 minutes of “main set”, and 10 minutes of “cool down.”

7.  At the end of the practice, remove herself from the pool, rinse, and dry.

8.  She is energized and ready to serve herself a great breakfast before the school day begins.

Holly Price- Found Poetry

Costa Rica

Between the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean

Small Country

Biological Land Bridge

Pleasant year-round climate

Never too hot or too cold-

            Where nature is the main attraction-

Preferred by vacationers and tourists-

Innumerable beaches-

Pleasant year-round climate-

Never too hot or too cold

Innumerable beaches

    Biological Land Bridge

                                                    Where nature is the main attraction-

                                                        Small country-

Between the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean-

Holly J Price

Found Poetry

“From Costa Rica by JADINE”

A Gift of Love - By Andria Hall

At my graduation, my great aunt gave me one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. Thinking back on this memory, it puts in perspective how the smallest gesture of love can live leave a larger than life impact on your heart.

Our principal said the magic words, “I now present to you, the South Lenoir Blue Devils graduating class of 2001.” The crowd cheered as we  turned our tassels. I opted not to throw my hat but instead walked off to find my family. I pushed through the crowd avoiding silly string and crying friends.

I walked up to my mom and with a misty eyed smile, she whispered “You did it.”. I hugged her tight and told her “No mom, we did it. I love you for all that you are and all that you have done for me.” Then my grandma appeared with a huge smile. She handed me my graduation quilt (she makes one for every one of her grandchildren after they graduate) and said, “Well it’s party time!” I laughed and started doing my best hip twirl pretending that there was music playing that only the two of us could hear.

Finally,  I walked over to my Great Aunt Shug. She was a very short woman with a thick frame. She wore thick glasses that covered her entire face and her hair was always wild and curly. She constantly had a mischievous look about her. I think it was because of her wild wide eyes and smirk she often wore.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Diamond, I’m so proud of you. I was so excited that you invited me to see you graduate. You know, this is the first graduation that I’ve been to in years. When I got your invitation in the mail, I couldn’t believe that you thought about me and wanted me to be here.It has been years since I have seen this side of the family.  I told your grandma, I don’t care if I have to drive myself from New Jersey but I was coming to see my Diamond!”

Her prideful smile then changed and her face looked resolved as if in deep thought. Then she said, “I didn’t bring you a gift but you can have this.” She showed her wrist of golden bangles, a group of bracelets that seemed to dance in the light, each one wanting to catch your attention. She chose the bangle whose sparkle gave off the light and warmth of the sun.  

A waterfall of tears rushed from her eyes as she placed the shiny golden item in my palm. I wasn’t expecting anything, I didn’t even think that she would show up to my graduation. All I knew was that I loved her and wanted to share in the moment with her and the rest of my family in any way possible.

Time stood still for me, I didn’t hear the cheers from other graduates, I didn’t hear my friends talking, I didn’t see my classmates running to hug their parents. All I saw was the look of love and joy in my Aunt Shug’s face and believed that this was as big as a moment for her as it was for me. I carefully put the bracelet on my wrist and began to cry. This moment in time's forever frozen in my mind.

After graduation, weeks turned to months, seasons began to change and years rolled by. I never had the chance to see my Aunt Shug again. We both aged, and the many miles between us remained causing our communication to fail. My Great Aunt Shug passed away many years ago. The bracelet however, never aged and never changed and never let me forget

Vehicle to Independence by Carolina Musawwir

Vehicle to Independence

by Carolina Musawwir

My first one was white. I was 17.

It was beautiful… small and easy to maneuver.  It made me feel powerful, gave me the freedom that I longed and the opportunity to control where life would take me.  A feeling that I wished my mom could have experienced. 

My mom can’t drive.  We’ll maybe she could, had she learned how to.  But my dad never taught her, and so the lack of a driver’s license meant a lack of freedom.  She depended on others to get her where she needed to go.  On the weekends my dad would take her to the grocery store and appointments… she had to schedule according to my dad’s availability.

My life is so different then hers.

I love my freedom, and my car, which allows me it.  My car helps me to be independent; it allows me to look at the world as a place of possibilities.  My mom’s world was limited to a dependence on her husband.  His car…his money…his decisions.

My car has heard many important conversations between my children and I.  We have talked about drugs, sex and many uncomfortable topics, because in those small quarters there is nowhere to hide from the discussion.  We have heard news about terrible events that have shaken our world and felt the weight of those news together as I steered the little piece of metal to our desired destination, even when the world outside of us has felt chaotic and out of control.

If my mom had had a car… would our communication have been better?  Would she have listened to us more?  Would I have left my house at the age of 16, totally unprepared for the world and the hardships that I would face trying to become an independent woman?

It’s because of my car, my determination to be the driver behind its steering wheel, and the countless women that came before me who sought independence and fought for my right to be in charge of my future, that I am here in a Master’s degree program today. 

My daughter will have her own car, and because of all of those conversations that we’ve had inside of mine, she will be an independent woman. I hope she never forgets that many women before her did not have the same possibilities and I hope that she will keep fighting so that women after her will have even more. 

Now my car is red.  

It’s been paid for by my teaching profession (so no it’s not an expensive one), but it has a lot of places still to take me.

Every woman needs a car!

My Engagement - Erin Swinson

From Dating to Engagement

Recipe for a Scarecrow, by Mary English Comer

Find my recipe here!

The Sunset, by Stephanie Metcalf

My Rocking Chair Memories by Donna Drew

My Rocking Chair Memories by Donna Drew
Illustrated by my daughter, Rebecca Drew


https://docs.google.com/a/ncsu.edu/document/d/10-bShxqYGdXIdQ6M5QKLBNaZ8DaA6c8uwpjmu__3YyI/edit?usp=sharing

Recipe for a Busy 2nd Grade Teacher's Day - Jen Williams

Please find the link below for my writer's notebook project.

Recipe link

Shades of Italy by Rebekah Craven

Writers workshop piece below. Enjoy!!
Shades of Italy by Rebekah Craven

https://docs.google.com/a/ncsu.edu/presentation/d/1jizwbV9qq92nx2ShZYEN5E1Jg2qYT0oZgT0t6YJqdNc/edit?usp=sharing

Strength through Tragedy, by Sandra Bledsoe

Do you have a hero?  Is there someone who has touched your life because of what you have seen in their life?  It doesn’t take a great invention or a great discovery to be a hero.  It takes the strength of one’s self to endure tragedies and not give up.  

    This is a short story of a remarkable woman who showed faith and endurance when faced with circumstances beyond her control.  Eula was born in the early 1900’s and lived on a small farm with her parents and sister.  Her father died at a young age and she was left with her mother, sister, and grandmother.  She tells stories of how they struggled to survive selling and trading eggs to get by.  She was only able to go to school to the seventh grade.  Later, when she was in her twenties she married a nice young man and they lived on the farm.

    Life was good for them, they had a little girl, Christine, and they continued to farm.  A few years later they had a son, but unfortunately, he became very sick.  This was a difficult time for them with the baby in the hospital 25 miles away and they had to take a bus to the hospital every day to visit him.  The baby boy, Charles, died at 13 months old.  Eula had another little girl two years later who was sick with pneumonia and she died at just three months old.  This was a devastating time for Eula.

    After the recovery from the death of two babies, more tragedy came.  There was an electrical fire in their home and it burned down and they lost everything.  It was the support of loving neighbors that came together and built them a new house.  One year later, Eula was faced with the decision to have back surgery because of her severe back pain.  She had the surgery and it left her foot and leg partially paralyzed.  There was no medical insurance, so they made payments to the doctors and hospital yearly from selling cotton and tobacco.  

    Eula was my grandmother, and not until I was older did I realize that she had been through so much.  When I was young I always enjoyed staying with her on the farm and having fun while we worked.  She was determined, strong, kind and loving.  My values that I possess today were passed down to me by my grandmother and my parents.  These values are hard work, education, love of family and faith and trust in God.  My grandmother is my hero.

The Tin Pot, by Brittany McLean

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Please enjoy this story about the women in my family.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1t3VRvawPKs1PWCKb5Zb9SKr1_OqDdEBK4eSLr82Fvu8/edit?usp=sharing