Fresno City College 1101 E. University Avenue About Ourselves Fresno, CA 93741 A Collection of Essays Written by Fresno City College Students www.fresnocitycollege.edu in Developmental and Preparatory English State Center Community College District Fall 2014 – Spring 2015 About Ourselves A Collection of Essays Written by Fresno City College Students in Developmental and Preparatory English 2014 – 2015 Edited by Marisol Baca, Anna Boyle, and Michael Medrano We dedicate this issue of About Ourselves to Fresno City College President, Tony Cantú. Acknowledgements The editors would like to thank the following people for their help and support: Dr. Jennifer Johnson, Dean of Humanities State Center Community College Foundation Friends of the Arts (FOTA) Mary Doyle, Production Ben Lozano and Lindsay Kerner, Graphic Artists Cover artwork: “The Derrgh Kick” by Mone Marie Harrison From the Editors In this publication, the Fresno City College Developmental English Department proudly pres- ents the best of our students’ writing submitted for Fall 2014 and Spring 2015. The editorial staff published the works with minimal editing. All of the essays were written in response to assign- ments; some are serious, some are funny, and some show the remarkable ability our students have to write about difficult experiences with honesty and grace. Fresno City College 1101 E. University Avenue Fresno, CA 93741 Table of Contents Sea to Shining Sea, David Alvarez . 1 The Only Road I’ve Ever Known, Joshua Baker . 3 Hanging Memories, Andrea Briseno. 5 Childhood Fears, Ospicio Cisneros . 9 A Leap of Faith, Angelica Garcia . 11 Childhood Fears, Monica Hernandez . 15 Sad Statue, Jacqueline Lagunas . 18 Water Was My Worst Nightmare, Elizabeth Leon-Moreno . 20 Bullying Out of Nowhere, Shakira Lorenzo . 23 Success, Ashley Macias . 25 More Than A Piece of Clothing, Veronica Mendoza. .27 A Day I’ll Never Forget, Donald W. Micheletti . 30 Moving to the United States, Husna Razzaq . 34 Dog Abuse, Vannarie Rom . 37 Passion, Shiyue Thompson . 39 Technology Today, Patricia Winn. .42 Picture of Me, Samantha Yang . 44 Sea to Shining Sea David Alvarez A story told to me often, about how life today was created. How life on earth today is ignorant to life around it. In much kinder words goes somewhat like this. We saw white clouds moving across the waters as if they were moving towards shore. As they moved closer we noticed that they weren’t clouds, yet something not known to us. They obtained the ability to travel on endless amounts of waters, with wooden bird like objects we had never seen before. These wooden birds flew across the water like great eagles soaring across the land. They say they could carry many men for long distances without getting tired. Almost tall enough to touch the blue sky with the tip of its eagle like wings. What kind of man could build such things? When they arrived to shore we observed these men that we presumed lost. Greetings were with a raise of the hand, and an intruding motion as if they were going to grab your stomach. They reeked of odor we had never smelt on any animal before. They spoke with tongues we did not understand. These spoken tongues were as sharp as obsidian, and had no feeling to them. Their blue eyes filled with darkness and unexplainable fear. They moved with little elegance, and also very stiff. These men looked strange all around, maybe because they had no braids. We wanted to know more of these strange humans that arrived unexpectedly. We observed them and their bizarre ways of nature. More less looking at their spirits, how their in tuned with the elements of life around them. They seemed relatively incapable of caring and managing their foods. We kindly began to help them, and showed them our way. As time grew on these outsiders became to know of the precious treasures the land possessed. They grew mighty and forced us off our lands. To consume the precious elements the sacred earth had to offer. Elements so magnificent in wealth, it forced them to dehumanize us as a nation. Stripping us from what we know as natural and confining us to new laws. They committed grue- some acts of violence to our women and children. Acts so inhumane we don’t speak of them today, because of the image they want to keep as a new nation. The nation we call America today. 1 I have heard stories like these throughout the twenty three years I’ve been walking this earth. This story with many more details not defined stays close to my mind, walking through the cor- ridors of our school. This story is the untold story of my people. The very people that suffered and went through ongoing battles, so we as a diverse nation can sit in a class room today. Many indi- viduals are ignorant to the history of our nation. A nation built on what they want us to think as fairy tales. Because of this rated version of this story, many other original stories my ancestors would have shared have been lost. I feel that as time has changed throughout the years we need to tell these stories on how we were established. I believe by telling these stories more individuals might appreciate education, history, Ms.Bacas class, and life in general. There is a culture right in our backyards that is being lost. And we know nothing about it, other than tee pees and stereo- typical chants. I feel the time is now, to educate the students about America’s history and stop the false advertisement. I feel that we go all up until college thinking about what we learned in k-12 to be correct. Then coming to learn that all we just learned k-12 was just lies and thus having to relearn everything all over again but backwards. I say this in a good way from a good place, with ambition to teach our young the truths our four fathers have kept secret. 2 The Only Road I’ve Ever Known Joshua Baker “Here I go again on my own, goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known. Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone…” The lyrics to this song are the first thing that flood my mind as I hear the two words I dread most, “Baker, role up”—it was time for my bus ride to the state penitentiary. And so it begins. The door pops open, and I walk the line to the holding tanks. It’s a long tunnel, and there is a younger man walking with us that catches my attention. I see him walking, head down and afraid. The first thing I think is, “he is screwed.” That day, I saw a boy become a man. I found out the hard way what prison life means and what you have to be in order to survive. The boy embodied none of this. I started my watch on him thinking it was going to be a long day. Hour after hour we wait. They hand out lunches and do a count of inmates, and I see the kid looking at his food. Most of the people around him all have tattoos and are gang members of one kind or another. Next, I see a Bulldog gang member moving toward him, and I know what’s next — the first test of this kid’s long road ahead. The gang member looks down at the boy and says, “Hey kid, you going to eat that?” The kid looks up at him and nods, but that was not the answer the Bulldog was looking for. “I’m fucking talking to you, boy. Are you going to eat that?!” he said again. The kid looks up and pushes the word yes out like a whisper, which is not a good way to look tough. I walk over to them and say “Hey, let the kid be. He doesn’t need your shit.” Most the inmates know me, so he drops the issue for now. I say my first words to the boy, “So how long you got to do?” He tells me he will be serv- ing five years for a robbery and some dope. For the first offense, that wasn’t bad. I guess it could have been longer. I told the kid I was doing a violation of twelve months flat, so eight more to go. I can see the kid is not trying to talk to me, so I leave it at that. But I know that when we get to Wasco State Prison, the game will get real. Time passes, and the correctional officers come with the box of restraints and start the load- ing of the bus. It’s a three hour ride, no talking, no games. The kid is right in front of me as we board the bus and as we start the trip, I notice the kid is in the same row as me. I whisper to him, “Don’t talk, just ride, or the cops will hurt you--trust me.” He looks sick, just as I did on my first 3 ride. Three hours come and pass, and we get to the gate. It’s a cluster of cops and inmates, and the first thing I see is the same Bulldog talking to a fellow gang member, and looking at the kid. I know what’s next--it’s his first prison test--pass or fail. His life will never be the same again. Now to the part we all hate.