A Slice of Life by John Carroll

Tino’s and Tyquan

I get off the old, orange trolley and quickly glance at my cell phone for the time. Its only 4:07 so I can take my time and stop by Tino’s for a drink. I pass a boarded up yellow building. A small concrete lot lies next to it and a Boston Police car is parked there, using the building as a hiding spot. I hustle across the intersection and open the door to Tino’s Pizza. Tino, a short plump, Greek man with a gray moustache sits on a counter behind the cash register. His wife stands up as I walk in. I turn to the left to choose a Thatcher Farm chocolate milk bottle and I place it on the red counter. Tino is in a bad mood so he gets up without saying hello, wipes his hands on his apron, and begins to put a large circle of dough on a silver pan. “One twenty-five” his wife says without emotion, but with a heavy Greek accent. I hand over the money and thank them before heading out the door. I walk only about twenty yards before I turn up Morton Rd. The street is steep and is normally a pain to walk up with a backpack, but it’s Friday so I don’t mind. I pass a gray van on the street and then walk about fifty yards before turning down West Side Rd. I look straight at the red door of my house and walk towards it. A small black boy is seated on the dirty white steps. He spots me and leaps up from his place. His blue Red Sox hat nearly falls off his head. “Hey John! You want to play basketball?” he yells cheerfully. “Hold n Tyquan. Let me put my bag down.” I say smiling. I walk up the steps before opening the first door and look back at Tyquan. Tyquan bounces the ball as high as he can then retrieves it before heaving a shot from his left shoulder. The sky is gray and he ignores the tiny raindrops. “Tyquan, I think it’s gonna rain.” I say. “Well, is Aidan home? Can I play the Wii? Can I have some orange juice?” he asks quickly. I think about what to say as I open up the next door and toss my bag to the side. My dog sits up straight, stares at me, and reveals his white chest and paws. I pet him briefly and scratch behind his golden-brown ears. “JOHN?” Tyquan is now in the house only three feet behind me.”Yea I’m right here. Give me a minute to change. I’ll get you orange juice if you wait here and pet Clifford.” I say, hoping that Tyquan will go for it and not ask anything else, but knowing him I am sure that that’s unlikely. “-but, but, can I play the Wii with Aida-“ I cut Tyquan off. “Ty, sit down and pet the dog.” The bright smile of the eight year old is dimmed and I have to feel a little bad. “If you wait here I’ll get Aidan to play with you.” I promise. “Ok , but, but, remember my-my orange juice!” he says excitedly. I know that my brother, Aidan, isn’t home so I call my mom as I walk up the stairs to my room. “Hi, can you have Aidan call Ty when you get home?” I whisper, making sure Tyquan doesn’t hear. I then wash up quickly before putting on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. Tyquan’s groan breaks the silence so; I quickly slip on a pair of tan boots and throw on my sweatshirt. I turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs and pour a glass of Tropicana for Ty. “Aidan will be home in a lil’ bit.” “Ok but-“ “No, I gotta go…right now”. “OK.” Tyquan skips out the door and runs across the street. I watch him and think to myself. I will never forget that kid Tyquan Davis.

A Slice of Life by Michael O'Donnell

Spoon Suspects

Slice of Lax

As I walk out of W105 at 2:45 I grab my spoon and am ready to put my shorts on. I go into the bathroom to put on my shorts and star a conversation with someone in the stall next to me. After I’m done putting my clothes on, I walk out and see the Nike Dunks and immediately think, Nino. I walk down the stairs of Walsh hall I head towards my locker to put my khakis away into my locker. I put away the clothes and Andrew asks “What happened to your stick?” I look and he points to a crack in the head of the stick. I immediately go into the office and ask Mrs. Galvin if the camera works in the main lobby of Walsh. She curiously said yes. I asked if she could play back the tapes if anybody had broken my spoon. After 15 minutes of hard work and investigation, we get our first suspect, Andrew Burke, but he put it back into the trash bin where it was before. Then we get a tip from Arrupe Crime Stoppers by Francisco. He said that He, Madison, and Jake had taken the stick outside to play with it, but Madison had broken it. Mrs. Galvin called Madison in for questioning. After hours work in the interrogation room, he finally couldn’t deal with the pressure, lie after lie he told. We got his information and the crime was solved and Madison is pleading guilty and is released on bail until he will be tried on Mon. March 15, 2010.

A Slice of Fiction by Joseph Leahy

I felt depressed as I watched my hometown fly away as I left the army recruiting station on my way to boot camp. I signed up only one month ago, but with the war raging on they are trying to get people into the war as fast as they can. I fell asleep on the bus, even though they told us not to, I would hear about that later…All the sudden I awoke with the smell of coffee directly over my face. As I came to I realized it was the breath of Sgt. Weathers. “Private!” he hollered in my ear “what do you think you’re doing!” “Umm. Nothing sir I’ve had a long day” “GET OUT! GET OFF THE DANG BUS!!” “Yes sir. Right Away sir” They told us to go for a run, no specific run, just follow the road, because it was on a loop. So I ran. And I ran and I ran and I RAN. All of us new recruits had to get to know each other, because it seemed as though we would need all the help we could get. Our run started at 4, I was the first to finish, but I didn’t finish until nearly 8. We had run for almost 4 hours. After I got my cot and set up all my belongings, I was called outside of our barrack. Some guy who was like 6’7 started talking in a very low voice. “Your run today was amazing. You set the course record. Do u Run marathons?” I said no. “Well we are very impressed, and we are inviting you to our special Program for top Recruits. Gather your things. You leave in 1 hour.” “ But don’t I get a say in it!” he looked at me and told me to get my stuff before we had a problem. Crap.

A Slice of Life by Michael Vitale

Every morning I have the same routine, get up, get dressed brush my teeth and go to school. On Monday and Tuesday however a lady from our neighborhood drives me and my brother to school along with her son. We never enjoy the trip on these days because all she does is talk. Whether it is the big news of the train incident, or who is going to be late after school because of a tryout, she never stops talking. I just have to block her out and get back to studying the chosen before the big test on Wednesday.

Then I stroll on up to the door and make my way down to the breeze-way. Sitting there I see all sorts of things going on, from kids doing homework, to others finishing up their breakfast. At seven-fifty-seven all the students’ line up at the double doors leading into Walsh, waiting for the nearest teacher to leave so they can all rush to their lockers. As I fight the crowd and make my way towards locker number eighty-five I stop to take a quick look at the eagles then start my day in home room 103.

A Slice of LIfe by Stephen DeForge

Simply Forgotten

Tonight I hadn’t realized I left my book at school until about eight o’clock. I could’ve sworn that I had taken it home with me, but I guess I didn’t. My parent were furious when they found out I didn’t have it. They gave me the whole weekend off to know that when it was finally time to read, reading will never happen. They sat me down and I knew I was in for a bumpy ride during this big lecture. As I stared at my chicken parmesan dinner, I took in the word my parents told me. Maybe I am taking this opportunity for granted. Maybe I’m letting down more people than just myself.

When the conversation was over I went upstairs and used this valuable time instead to make a new slice of life instead of my old one and look up whatever I could on the book. I found out you have to pay to learn on the internet. My father came in and asked me if I knew what they were getting at and I said I did and told him I’m going to start to go into every class with enthusiasm and the motivation I need to stay committed and work as hard as I can and achieve more then what is wanted. I quickly finish up this last sentence and then go on my BC High email and hit compose messages to find a list of names with Guiney as one of them. I click on Guiney and writ slice of life under the subject and then go downstairs, apologize for ruining dinner and eat seven Elmer fudge cookies with a bug glass of milk while watchin The Pacific.

A Slice of Life (from my past) by Ms. Guiney

The First Dance I Ever Chaperoned

One of the first moments that I admitted I truly wanted to be a teacher happened while chaperoning a middle school dance. I was fresh out of college, working as a special education assistant teacher in Marshfield. I was working to pay off my debt and start earning money toward getting my masters in speech pathology. I was not going to be a teacher, I had decided a long time ago that I wanted to do something more intense, more challenging with my life. So I took this job and figured it would be a way to make money and earn some references, little did I know that it would change my life.

The first month of the school year, I got to know my students. I was placed in charge of 25 students who would need assistance in regular education classrooms as well as pull out sessions in the resource room. There were 23 boys and 2 girls. There was Jack, who wore his hair long, so he could hide under it. There was Elliot who craved attention and got it for all the wrong reasons. There was Matt who swore like a truck driver, but was probably the most sensitive of the group. Josh, who somehow has made it to 8th grade while reading at a third grade level. And Andrew, who had a slew of problems that I had never dealt with before. At this time he was known for having kicked the last assistant in the shin and punching her in the stomach. Needless to say, I was afraid of this boy. This boy, who weighed probably 100 pounds, with floppy blonde hair and nails bitten to the quick, scared the breath out of me. It was the eyes that did me in, when he smiled it never reached his eyes, and they were always darting around the room, like he was constantly in search of something or someone. He never looked me in the eye when I spoke to him and he would keep his head low to the desk, almost covering his paper, so I couldn’t get near him or his work. Here’s the thing, though, a little piece of me was falling in love with all of these kids, even Andrew, no especially, Andrew. I think it was their isolation and the fact that no one else loved them. Other teachers in the building did nothing but complain about them, so much so that I stopped going to the teachers’ room for lunch. I signed up for extra lunch duties and got to know my kids outside of the classroom. By the end of the first month, I had made a few strides with the kids and I had faced numerous set backs. I can still remember driving home on route three and crying so hard that I couldn’t see the road. Crying because Josh failed his MCAS or because Tyler got caught with marijuana, or Andrew flipped out in math class and tried to run away. Every day there was an event, but almost every day there was a counter- event that would make me rethink my career path.

At one particular lunch duty in early October, I sat down with my boys and asked if they were going to the dance that night. Most of them laughed me off. “ We don’t do that whole school spirit crap, Guiney.” But I pushed and prodded and got a few of them interested in attending, if for but the lack of anything better to do. Once it was settled that most of them would probably go, someone asked if I was going to chaperone, and then the begging started. To be perfectly honest, I was twenty-two years old at the time and had better plans for a Friday night, but I couldn’t really say no to them.

When I showed up that night about a half hour after the dance started, since I wasn’t actually getting paid to chaperone this event, a row of my boys were on the top step of the gym bleachers. They were singing and swaying to “Don’t Stop Believing” and looked to be having a great time. For me it was the first time I had seen them do something normal and fun, to see them act like regular teenagers. It was Andrew who saw me first and he yelled, “Guiney!” He waved at me like a four year old, a big smile on his face and in his eyes. It was in that moment that I knew teaching was what I wanted to do. Having made this boy smile simply by being present in his life was something I knew I could stake my future on.

That dance, that year, that smile got me to where I am today. It was a great moment born out of something so simple. My mom has always told my brothers, sister, and me that 90% of life is just showing up, the other 10% is what you do when you get where you’re supposed to be. That night I knew that showing up was huge for my kids and for me. The other 10% became what I would do with the rest of my life because I had definitely found where I was supposed to be.

A Slice of Life by Harrison Armstrong

The date is the 19^th of March 2010. It is about 10:30 and I figured I’d write about the latest and greatest dance. To be honest, I didn’t like it much. The dance was good but the teachers that were constantly swarming us fellas got on all of our nerves. They had to be watching us for safety reasons and all, but I think would of all preferred it if they had their own sort of party – maybe in like some type closet somewhere in the high school. So I guess I would call it good… but bad.

The music was good. The ladies be fine but being and 8^th grader made it hard to be a contender at the Arrupe dances. The girls that looked the best were all 7^th graders and didn’t want anything to do with an older kid. Also, if you were caught grinding, your whole night was ruined. You couldn’t grind anymore for the night and even you had the opportunity you might go through some weird guilt trip brought on from Mr. Hamblet because we all know grinding is harmless. Having said that and speaking for all the guys except for those who got away with it - mainly all 7^th graders, it was up to you to decide what you did for the rest of the night after you got pulled aside and talked to. You could either risk it and keep doing what you’re doing or get benched from the game. At this nights dance, I had to take one for the team and sit it out. It probably didn’t help that my dad was a chaperone but “it’s whatever”. So the dance went on slowly. I raved it up like only a boss do and I tried asking girls to dance but got rejected for some reason. I ended up just going through the motions but it got boring at times. They probably rejected me because they were nervous about looking at my studdly face for a whole song but a story for a different journal page.

In conclusion, the dance was a success while still being a failure, which I think, is pretty interesting. There were pros and a lot of cons but we all had a good time despite the public school drama that is sure to happen at any dance.