This has nothing to do with how children used to quit school around the age of 12 and go work in mills, where they would get into some tragic accident, like being maimed by a machine gone rogue. (I'm glad to see child labor is forbidden now. However, I wanted to work during the summer, so I can save up cash, but was never able to because I was too young.) Instead, the children are the very same people I go to school with.

I am always really paranoid when we're playing sports in PE. I've had bad luck over the years, what with various projectiles hitting me in the head. The first time I remember was back in 1st grade. Ironically, it happened while I was trying to do something good. I saw a ball that had rolled under a bush and was stooping to pull it out when a football came from behind and hit me in the head.

I can't remember much of the other incidents, except for the ones in middle school. I was played lacrosse, which is one of my favorite sports, actually, and I got whacked in the face with a ball. That was bad enough, but in the same day I was also hit in the leg. During this school year, we were playing volleyball and a volleyball that had strayed from a different court hit me in the head. (As far as I know I have not gotten a concussion from all the pounding my head has received, but I could've lost some brain cells. Terrible.)

I still can't really figure out how to hit a volleyball correctly. The few times that I successfully hit it, I usually hit it around my wrist area, which makes it sore and red. I am afraid I will injure myself if this keeps up. What part am I supposed to use to hit the volleyball? (Basketball is easier for me than this, at least I can catch the ball, even if that makes my hands dry and dusty.)

For some reason, whenever I am in a certain PE teacher's class, I always get injured once. When I had him in 7th grade, I twisted my ankle because I was rushing while doing warm-up exercises, and then I tripped and landed rather awkwardly. (You would think I would have learned my lesson, but I still rush when warming up. Not a good idea, so I advise you "don't try this at home".) The other time I was injured was last trimester, when I was trying to get up the stairs quickly but didn't lift my leg high enough on a step and fell, scraping my knee. I didn't feel any pain at first, so I didn't realize it was bleeding until it was pointed out to me. It started to sting after a while when I was putting water on it. It kept on bleeding, which is disturbing. Eventually I went off to get a bandage so it would stop bleeding.

I guess I'm not doing as badly as others, though. One day, at brunch, I noticed my current PE teacher pushing a kid in a wheelchair to the school office. A teacher called out to him, "Stop hurting the kids!" in a joking manner. However, I suspect a lot of people get injured in his class. We used to have two students who were in some way or another unable to do certain activities. One of the students isn't in the class anymore, though the other still is, but she does exercises with a medicine ball.

Despite my paranoid tendencies, I've always dreamed of having an exciting life, like living in a new place, or living a life fraught with danger, such as going sky diving often or rounding up mustangs (...are there still any mustangs out there?). I'd like to try going in a hot air balloon someday or going surfing. There's a lot of things I want to do, and so I feel frustrated at times because I believe that my life isn't thrilling enough. And at other times, I am too lazy and I just like it the way it is. I wonder if I might have multiple personalities or if it simply depends on my mood. (For instance, I am overall more of a pessimist than an optimist, though I can be either. If I have just suffered from many bad scores in a row in school, then I'll be pessimistic, but after a while I start to have hope again, and become more optimistic. After all, I really hate it when people act like all hope is lost, so I would be a hypocrite if I acted like that myself, so my consciousness gives me "pep talks".)

I crave some more ordinary freedoms, too, like being allowed to wander in the neighborhood by myself. I can only go outside for a short distance (like maybe across a street or two) and for a short time without supervision. When I was young, I always thought my parents were overprotective. I wasn't allowed to walk home until 7th grade and even then I always walked with my grandma (and later my acquaintance/friend/neighbor/companion? I can't come up with the right term). I felt that I was deprived of things, and I still am not allowed to ride a bike home. Although my parents' grip on me slackens over time as I supposedly mature (who knows if I really do? D: ), riding a bike home is still something I am not supposed to do. (But then again, it's also inconvenient. I would have to put my bike in the car when my parents drive me to school; Besides, I'm not really a great biker, even if I can ride a bike. I fell of my bike recently because I saw someone else coming and panicked, trying to give them space. And when low branches stick out over the sidewalk, I panic, and try to swerve, but then I fall off)

I once read an article in the Time magazine about how parents are really overprotective nowadays. The percentage of students walking or biking to school dropped, despite the fact that crime rates have gone down, so it's safer nowadays. And some parents are really focused on what's "best" for their children, which could mean making them study a lot, and asking schools to have more classes and less free time (sometimes this means not having as much PE, too, hence higher rates of obesity). Even though parents care a lot about their kids, it seems it can sometimes harm them rather than helping them. Will you really be fine when you are independent if you are used to being taken care of by my your mother and father? (Not a good thing if you run home every week to make them do your laundry for you. Of course, there might be shared washing machines available for you to use) Is keeping a tight leash on people good for their lives or will it stunt their growth? The key is to find the right balance between the two. To know when to let your kids decide for themselves (and maybe learn the hard way, but that's life) and when you should direct them...It's a tough judgment call.

Labels: bike, blood, child cruelty, danger, head, injury, job, life, optimism, overprotective, parents, pessimism, physical education, sports, success, time, walk

I got the inspiration for the name from "Wii Came, Wii Conquered" which was on the cover of an issue of the Nintendo Power magazine (it's an old edition, from a year or two ago).

I'm not talking about the Wii this time, though. The "we" I'm referring to is the eighth graders this year - in particular, my village. (Just in case you weren't aware, each grade at my school is divided into villages. Each village has teachers for the four core subjects - history, language arts, math, and science - for PE or your elective, your village doesn't matter.) We were having a fundraiser in the Week of Giving. The money would go to research for Duchenne Muscular Distrophy, a muscular problem that can be inherited (particularly in the X chromosome). 1 in every 3500 boys is affected by it. Females are less likely to get Duchenne because they have two X chromosomes, whereas males only have one (and of course, X is superior to Y. Hahahaha!).

I first heard of Duchenne when my school played a trailer for a movie called Darius Goes West. The trailer didn't really show how serious it was because it was busy saying things like "Buy a DVD - $17 goes to Duchenne research, $3 to making more movies" and "This is not a trailer, this is a vehicle". The movie was pretty funny too, but it was also deep. Darius is a boy (15 at the time of the movie, I'm not sure exactly how old he is now but he has graduated from high school) who has Duchenne. He was going to travel from his hometown of Athens, Georgia to Los Angeles (a.k.a. Hollywood), California to ask the show Pimp My Ride to make improvements to his wheelchair. Since many people watch MTV, he and his friends figured it would be a good chance to raise awareness of Duchenne and also get his wheelchair brought up to speed (it actually broke on the trip).

Duchenne makes your muscles degenerate, and it eventually affects your heart. Duchenne is fatal every time; you're lucky if you can even live to 25. Darius's brother, who also had Duchenne, died at the age of 19. Darius's brother had always tried to be strong and smiling, and Darius found his brother to be an inspiration, so he does his best to be optimistic himself. I was talking to an old teacher of mine and she said she was surprised by how Darius can laugh and enjoy himself and seemingly not be upset by the fact that he will probably die within a few years. I agree; I think I'd be devastated if I knew I would die young and there was no hope of saving me. But maybe different people deal with things differently.

I was kind of surprised that I didn't even know about Duchenne, despite the fact that so many people have it (in fact, who knows, I might carry the gene for it and not even know it. It wouldn't affect me as long as I have one good X chromosome). It makes me think that I really live a sheltered life. I live in a community where most people are middle class (and some make quite a lot of $$$; my mom has a friend who is already retired even though she is about the same age as my mother, and she and her husband are currently building a new house in Palo Alto), or at least you don't see many people living out on the streets, which is pretty good. One time at school we were being shown a video to promote our sense of charity, and there were pictures of people sleeping in cardboard boxes. Some of the students - I think they were boys - laughed. My teacher said, "I don't know if you think it was staged or something, but people really do live in cardboard boxes. They live in places like San Francisco, which are COLD in the winter. When my son is cold, I can have him put on more layers of clothing and turn on the heater and he won't be cold anymore. But a lot of people don't have that luxury." So I guess I am doing pretty well if I don't have to live off of Whole Foods cheese samples (and there aren't much of those nowadays anyhow).

I've never even met anyone who was disabled. I mean, I've seen people in wheelchairs but I've never really talked to someone who lacks the fine motor skills many of us have... The closed thing to that is my science teacher. She was injured in the 1989 earthquake (gives you an idea of how old she is! XD) and for a while she couldn't walk. She can walk now, but I think there isn't cartilage in her knees anymore or something like that. So when she goes hiking, she has to have someone stand in front of her, because she can't walk downhill without falling over.

Oh, my, I've gotten awfully sidetracked. Back to the fundraiser. My language arts teacher came up with an ingenious plan to best the 6th graders, who usually win the fundraisers since they are young and restless. She stashed bills in a box and didn't turn in much money so it would seem like us 8th graders were being lazy as usual. Then, on the last day, she donated all the money, and we won! In fact, by a big chunk, like $500 or so. It was amazing. This is the first time I have ever seen the 8th graders actually come out on top. I feel proud for having donated (even if it was only some dirty coins I dug out of my robot bank) and having been a part of this landmark achievement.

Labels: cardboard box, charity, cold, darius goes west, death, disability, duchenne muscular distrophy, earthquake, eighth grade, fundraiser, homeless, optimism, pimp my ride, trailer, village, x chromosome

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