E110 FA19 Class Blog

Stepping onto the airplane, I was full of excitement and ambition as I thought about the opportunities I was about to experience. Traveling with my local mission trip group, N.E.W.S, I was ready to fully immerse myself into helping the families of Biloxi, Mississippi, but little did I know they would be the ones to help me. There are numerous ways to deal with everything that life throws at you, but appreciating the smaller things, and valuing time, imagination, and memories over materialistic goods, allows an individual to accomplish any problem or hardship with grace and fun. Happiness can be found in every situation by appreciating the little things, taking in the moment, and refusing to take anything for granted.

Upon arriving at the worksite, my group and I started our first task, painting a few doors. All of the sudden, a giggling, skipping little boy bounded around the corner of the house towards us. He was about four-years-old and a big, broad smile was plastered across his face. He was followed by a more hesitant boy, who seemed to be his older brother, who quickly apologized for his brother being a distraction. We immediately denied that he was being a bother and proceeded to ask the two of them if they wanted to join in us. Damion, the older of the two boys, declined but Dylan, the younger one, immediately picked up a paintbrush and began painting the doors with us. Before I had time to even blink, Dylan began to use all of the colors of paint we had out and everything was a bright yellow. Paint was on rocks, the grass, and all over Dylan. I decided to grab a few blocks of wood and gave them to Dylan so he could paint them yellow, which would avoid the white doors from becoming a sunshine color. Seeing his eyes light up as his imagination raced made me realize that fun and happiness can be incorporated into almost every situation.

Throughout the week, we continued to incorporate fun into the hard work we were assigned to complete. Everyday, Dylan would race out of the house full of energy, ready for the adventure of the day. Due to the family’s financial restrictions, there were not many toys for Dylan to play with, but a smile remained painted on Dylan’s face at all times. He would use sticks as lightsabers or baseball bats, and through his imagination he was able to have fun in any situation regardless of the materials and resources presented to him. Dylan was truly happy because he was able to appreciate everything in life.

About half way through the week, Damion decided to join in on our fun and played baseball with us. We were all laughing and having fun, but our purpose in being there was to help fix up the house, so the games came to an end and we returned to work. The boys stayed and helped us with the work, Dylan still making a mess with the paint in the grass, and Damion asked if he could help to paint his bedroom door. When we told him he could, his eyes brightened and there was a faint curl to his lips. What was tedious work to us, was a new, fun, exciting opportunity that he had never experienced before. The simple act of painting his bedroom door created so much happiness and truly showed me that the littlest of things should never be taken for granted and anything can be fun and joyful, depending on how you look at it.

Despite the fact that Dylan and Damion did not have the monetary resources to get items such as toys, they were some of the happiest people I have ever met. Even though they definitely had struggles, they were so positive and let their imagination run wild. They appreciated everything in life and never took anything for granted. Happiness can be created by the simplest things and imagination alone. In order to be happy, nothing additional is required.

Giro “Jerry” Gallo was quite the character. He was not very affectionate and almost never told anyone that he loved them, including but not limited to, his 11 grandchildren. He instead baked you an abundance of loaves of bread, made you soups, and bought you pretzels from Philly Pretzel Factory. 

It was about 1:30 in the morning on January 27, 2019, when my mom woke me up with the worst news I could imagine, my grandpa, Jerry, had passed away. My grandpa, who we all refer to as “Poppy”, had been sick for a while. My grandpa and I were similar in so many ways and knowing that I am carrying on parts of his personality helps me to deal with the loss of such an important figure in my life. I made him laugh like no one else. 

Two days before the 27^th, my grandpa left the rehabilitation center he had spent the past month in and was put on hospice care, so we knew the end was near. The next day, my entire, extended, Italian family came over, bearing all different foods. As soon as we ventured into the basement, the mood shifted. We all sat around his bed in silence, trying to come to terms with what was laying in front of us. That night some of my cousins, aunts, and uncles stayed the night. Even though we thought he would have a bit more time with us, no one could bring themselves to leave. 

At 1:30 in the morning the very next day, my grandpa took his last breath. The next few days dragged by and were full of tears, hugs, and sympathy. We filled an abundance of boards with pictures that we didn’t even realize we had. He was just such a large part of our lives that he was always there and in turn, in so many of our pictures. Although it was hard, assembling those boards brought my cousin and me closer and made us feel oddly comforted in the hardest loss of our lives thus far. 

My grandpa was the only grandparent I have ever met. The other three passed away before I was born, so my grandpa knew that he really had to step up. He played all the roles that we needed growing up. He picked out presents (with help from my mom) we would like for every Christmas Eve, anything from American Girl dolls to a Vera Bradley duffel bag. He was there for every big milestone and carrying on without him has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with. 

To this day, I possess so many similar mannerisms to him that my whole family points out. My mom even calls me Jerry on occasion because so many say that I am his twin. I miss him every day, but it is somewhat comforting to know that I carry on some of his most endearing qualities. So, after 87 years on this planet, my grandpa went to be with my grandma, who I never met but I’m sure was just as memorable. 

You ever had that problem of trying to be your own person? Well I know I had that problem! Hearing you look just like your dad or you look just like your mom. Having the same teachers that your sisters had when they were younger. Thinking that “Yes, I am my own person, but I’m always being compared and connected to someone else!” All I’m trying to do is be different from them. Growing up, my sisters Jennifer and Kimberly pushed me to wanting to be a nurse like our mother. That was not what I wanted to do they wasn’t listening to my request. Sometimes showing people is better than telling. So, I was determined to find myself.

My parents started college then dropped out, I would never start something then quit . I’m very determined to find myself and be different from my family. Yes it is hard being the youngest of three sisters who are now CNA and LPN. I chose a different path I like to help people but I also like to teach them.

“You telling me you want to wipe noses for a living,” my sisters said.

“No I want to deal with children who are older than your son,” I said.

“Proved me right you don’t do anything for them what makes me think you can’t do anything for a class,” my sister said.

Arguing with my sister just helped me to never giving up help me because I found myself. My relationship with my family is wonderful except if you do not agree with them about something. They want to persuade you to take their side even if it is not what you want. Around middle school most students were still trying to figure out what they wanted to be in life. I already knew I wanted to help special needs children. All that was left was which grade i would like to teach. I started to think about High School then I observed the students today and a big NO pops in my head. High Schoolers act like animals for some odd reason. Then I was thinking about Middle School but I look at the way my niece acts then NO pops up again. I could not deal with children that get smart. Now I’m set on Elementary students that I can teach them the way they should present themselves before going into the Secondary School. I always wanted to be a role model for younger children.

Working at Kidz Ink 4 a daycare for three years really help shape my perspective of young children and how to problem solve. My last job put me into the school age room and I completely loved it. I got to interact with children and pretty much get the insight of how they feel with their friends. One time this girl was being bullied by her friends. I had a long talk with the group as a whole to tell them that bullying is wrong you hurt people’s feelings in the process of being the “IT” girl as they say. After they did not listen I had the same conversation with their parents and they helped me with the situation. Wish I had someone there for me growing up because I had no one not even my family. Kidz Ink 4 has a special place in my heart from all the wonderful children I met. I always tell people my life and they compare it to them and they see how I became the person I want to be without any help.

Going into my Senior Year all I could think about is working with young children and guiding then through the rest of their lives. I continue to work in my community as a Early Childhood Teacher. Now attending University of Delaware I have a strong will to continue my study’s and be the best teacher I can be for young children. Don’t listen to the people who doubt you because you can always end up doing better than them. Continue to be the best you that you can be and you will turn out being on top of the world. It goes to show you that giving up is for quitters and you are not a quitter you are a winner. Never giving up help me because I found myself.

Hey everyone! I’m Ellie Cournane, I’m from Long Island NY. In my free time I love to do my makeup and do anything artistic! I also love to listening to music and playing sports. I have played softball since I was 12 years old and I am hoping to continue on an intramural team while I’m here. I am currently a freshman and I’m majoring in elementary education however when I first applied I was hoping to major in physics education. While I am still very interested in physics, I thought that being an elementary school teacher was more suitable for me. I am very excited to get to know every one!

My entire life the expression “practice makes perfect” has been drilled into my head by so many adults. No one, however, preached it more than my piano teacher. “PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT,” Ms. Pascal, my 90-year-old teacher, would shout at me for 10 years. She was a sweet lady, and she shouted because she couldn’t hear well, I guess she didn’t think I could either. However, she did inspire me to try my best, and I continued to improve and gain self-confidence in my playing. When I was in 8th grade, the minister’s wife at my church, Barb, asked me to play the prelude before service one Sunday; I said yes. What could go wrong?

The song I chose to play was Chopin’s “Polonaise in G minor”. I had been working on it for six months and had just played it at my piano studio’s recital. I knew it like the back of my hand. I could play it in my sleep, upside down, and backwards. I had spent the previous afternoon playing it over and over again to ensure I wouldn’t have any unexpected slip ups. Practice makes perfect. I went to church early the next morning to practice on the piano in the sanctuary. Halfway through I started making small mistakes. I was playing wrong notes and messing up chords. I stayed calm and started the piece again. I was still making mistakes, and I started to panic.

My palms were sweating, and I could feel the tears coming. It was getting close to service and Barb and my parents could see that I was starting to freak out. 

Barb told me I did not have to perform if I didn’t want to. That would be worse than performing and messing up. I had committed and I needed to go through with it. I had dedicated six months of my life (which is a long time to an 8th grader) to this moment and I was not about to throw that all away. Plus, it was in the program so everyone would know something was wrong with me. There would be so many questions from the old ladies that loved to hear me sing and play in service. I was not ready for that kind of confrontation.

“Jane, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” my mom would say over and over again as I attempted to get through the piece over and over again. Tears kept coming the more my parents and Barb pleaded for me to step back and take a break. As a very easily overwhelmed piano perfectionist, you can imagine the kind of stress I was under.

“I have to do it,” I said in between sniffles and wiping my eyes, “I want to do it.”

As I got up and walked to the piano for the prelude, I felt all eyes on me. I sat down, set my hands, and started playing. I could feel myself shaking, which is not great when you’re relying on your hands, and my mind was everywhere but Chopin’s Polonaise in G minor. 

I don’t remember anything from the actual performance. I remember crying because I knew I was going to mess up, and I remember having to stop and start again, although I can’t tell you where in the piece it went wrong because I effectively blacked out for the two minutes I played. After finishing the song I went back to the pew full of defeat and anger. I had failed and it was the end of the world.

Looking back on that day in church, I realize that I had over-practiced the Polonaise. This created a confidence that prevented me from focusing on the task at hand. I have since learned that practice doesn’t make perfect, because you can never reach total perfection; a rude awakening for someone who always needs things to go exactly right. 

I did not let that day in church define my musicianship. Though I no longer take piano lessons, I haven’t stopped playing the piano. I have recently accompanied choirs and solos in school, and even accompanied myself during multiple performances. I’ve learned that practice doesn’t make perfect, but by staying focused and dedicated, I can get the job done. I think Ms. Pascal would be proud.

High school is so overrated. If you really think about it, highschool is just a random group of students who have exactly or almost the same zip code. Although some people say the best 4 years of their lives were in highschool, I disagree to an extent. Yes, I believe the academic part of highschool is an extreme necessity for the future as in college, jobs, and internships. However the socializing, judgement, categorizing, drama, and backstabbing part was not acceptable and just becomes toxic. 

Going to a private catholic school my whole life was super comfortable for me, but switching to an all girl catholic high school sounded horrifying. While not knowing a single soul attending the school, I managed to find a group a friends. Freshman and sophomore year we all hung out every weekend. Whether it was just a movie night or a big party, we had the best of times. I was friends with these girls for over 2 years until junior year came about, and that was when the switch up happened.

Although I was the most confident girl freshman and sophomore year, I started to have doubts, and insecurity with myself. My entire friend group of eight completely stopped talking to me without reason. This was toward the end of junior which was horrible because summer was right around the corner. Another classmate saw what I was going through and went through the same exact thing came up to me and we clicked instantly. We spoke about the issue and we decided to just be civil and nice to these girls throughout the school day. I resolved the situation for myself by showing them that I am still friendly and a happy person everytime I see them throughout the school day

From this experience, I believe that high school is overrated. I do admit that I had a great amount of memories that I will remember for the rest of my life like traveling to San Francisco, and Bahamas with a bunch of my friends, the amazing get togethers, and constantly laughing until my stomach hurt. Highschool also taught me a lot about myself through the good and the bad. Now that I am in college, I have met some of the most real people I’ve met in my life who I connected with instantly. I know that high school will not be some of the best times I had, so I am looking forward to the future. 

After a very average dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup, my ten year old campers and I ran around the cabin, trying over and over again to catch fireflies and watch the beautiful North Carolina sunset. I watched as their glowing faces reminded me of what it was like to be a camper, laughing and running until falling exhaustedly to the ground. This past summer I was no longer one of the care-free campers-instead their cautious counselor. Instead of trying to sneak over to Senior Boy hill, I was the one yelling, “Watch out!” Watching them made me realize how much I had grown and changed this summer.

For as long as I can remember, I attended Blue Star Camps in Hendersonville, North Carolina. Blue Star was my happy place, every summer was filled with joy. Every year I came back from camp as a more positive and independent person.

Not being at camp for two years made me feel as if I were lacking my positivity and sense of independence especially after a long and stressful senior year in high school. I was so thrilled but nervous when I got the call that I could finally work at camp. Coming back as a counselor was something I had looked forward to during the two year break since I had been a camper. Now that it was a reality, I was finding it harder and harder to sleep at night as questions ran through my head. Who made this decision to hire me of all people? A week of training was not nearly enough!

Too quickly, the first day of camp arrived; the campers were coming. My co-counselor and I scrambled around the cabin to make sure everything was perfect. The gates opened at 8 AM, and we already had a brown haired, brown eyed freckled-faced girl named Alexis on the front steps, ready to start the summer. Immediately after that, nine other little humans came rushing in the cabin, unpacking their clothes and chattering non-stop. I had never been asked so many questions in my life! 

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding. “I made it through the first day and it seemed to go okay. Only 55 more to go.“

Then I heard a noise. I quickly jumped off the top bunk to see what the raucous was. Alexis was face-down in her pillow sobbing her eyes out. I started to panic. I had never dealt with home-sickness. I calmly asked Alexis, “Do you want to go outside to talk?” she quickly replied “No” so I decided to ask again. This time, she was willing to talk. I thought to myself: “How can I make her not homesick? I am not her mom.” I asked her what was wrong and she immediately started apologizing for crying and being “difficult” and how she missed her parents. I kept telling her it was okay and that I was always there for her. After being outside for thirty minutes she started to calm down and thanked me for the help. Right before we went back into the cabin Alexis grabbed my hand and said, “Abby, you are my camp mom.”

This was the moment that I registered that these ten girls I had just met were counting on me to be the person they could constantly lean on no matter the situation, time, or place. It wasn’t my choice when it was time to mature and become independent. I was their camp mom.

It was a Tuesday, which meant I had CCD. As my mom drove the 10 minutes it took to get from our house to church, I dreadfully looked out the window and felt like a prisoner already. I would have much rather spent the rest of my afternoon playing with Jesse, my childhood best friend, than having to sit in a stuffy and overly-lit basement with a bunch of other bored 13 year olds. Class starts and Father John starts rolling out a TV stand and I switch my attention from blankly staring at my shoelaces to the video in front of me. In the video, a clear cup of water gets black ink dropped into it. A hand appears with a spoon trying to fish the ink out and obviously fails, turning the water dark and nebulous. Father John turns the TV off and proceeds to explain to us the meaning behind the strange video. He said something along the lines of 

“If you have sex before marriage, you will never be able to go back to the pure person you were before and god will be dissapointed in you”. The class clown of my CCD class raised his hand and asked if it’s the same case if you have gay sex. Father John responded by saying 

“It just doesn’t fit, if you know what I mean” while he hit his fists together. I was astonished and disgusted by that comment, while the rest of the class seemed to think it was pretty funny. At this point, my confirmation was a month away and I started to question if I wanted to be a part of the Catholic community. It didn’t take me very long to make up my mind, I decided I didn’t want to go through with my confirmation. You could say my mom wasn’t too thrilled about my decision after 9 years of religious school. I didn’t want to ditch religion completely because I do believe there is a higher power and I feel like it gives me a sense of purpose to do well in life. So, I decided to explore my father’s religion, Judaism. 

The jewish religion is very accepting and holds great value to helping others. By deciding to practice Judaism, I felt like I was being true to my values. Judaism is so big on justice that they even have their own word for it: Tzedakah. This translates to “righteous behavior” and is viewed not as a matter of charity, but rather a moral requirement. With the intent to live a righteous life, you begin to embrace different perspectives and inclusiveness becomes ubiquitous. 

February of my Junior Year of High school I went on a service trip to Nicaragua with my towns youth group, which comprised of my temple and the Presbysterian church. The third day we were there, which was by far the most memorable day of the trip, we went to a church that was in the middle of nowhere called La Iglesia de los Últimos Días. The special thing about this church was that the walls were adorned with not only crucifixes, but Stars of David as well. There was a small band in the front of the church that was accompanying their salsa music with hebrew lyrics. Regardless of faith, everyone was participating in the celebrations and having a great time. 

I layed in bed that night on the bottom bunk understanding that, at their heart, all religions want people to feel welcome and that they have a sense of meaning and motivation in life. Judaism aims to instill good values in its followers through the teachings of the torah. Through this it creates a supportive and virtuous community that prides itself on loving and accepting all. Choosing to practice Judaism was a huge rite of passage in my life because it was the first decision I had made entirely on my own. I was able to change something I wasn’t happy about, while having my values as a driving force.