When my mom was a kid she would race her friend to school every day. My mom came out of the house and was determined to win. She jumped on her bike and headed down the street. In her haste, she failed to see the uneven sidewalk and instead of gliding over it, she hit the sidewalk head on and flipped the bike. She hit the ground, and her bike landed on top of her. There, she was sprawled out on the sidewalk for all drivers to see. As she lay there, the school bus drove by. My mother looked the other way, and to the person driving by, she appeared to be unconscious. At the same time, three men were on their way to the cemetery down the street to bury a family member. They were in the limousine. They stopped and picked my mother up to take her home. My mom stayed home from school that day, but her sister had already left. When her sister arrived at the school, the students who had observed the accident reported that my mother had died, and she had been picked up by the funeral car. Needless to say, my aunt was hysterical with worry and fear. The school called the house to confirm the story. My mother answered the phone and assured them she was alive and well. My aunt was comforted once she heard the news.
Your assignment is to tell us a school appropriate family story. Add the details--descriptions, thoughts and feelings. Once you have told the story, tell us what lesson could be taken form your family story. You must tell us the lesson.
I encourage you to read other stories posted this week. These stories that we tell are about us and the community we live within.
71 comments:
There was a trail of blood from the living room to the bathroom to the open door. The tree was nicely trimmed and the saw was still on the chair by the couch, but I was not there. I can only image what Mom did when she came in the door, because I was not able to witness it firsthand. Let me explain: It was the middle of December right after Dad, my two brothers, and I had hunted down a beautiful, bushy Scotch Pine and brought it home. I was home alone watching t.v. (Oprah, I never watched it before and haven't since) and the tree was calling out to me with its little imperfections. I decided I would trim it. But as I went to the garage and picked up the saws-all I remembered Dad's warning: "don't use that thing while no one's around." The thought quickly passed and I carefully went to work on those few bottom boughs. After I was finished, I set the saw on the chair next to the foldout couch and lounged, taking in Oprah's positivity. The phone rang and I quickly got up to answer it. Boom, my jean leg popped open and blood came out my kneecap. I didn't notice it at first because it felt like I had just run into the chair. When I looked down I was kind of puzzled, like this couldn't happen to me. Then, as the blood began pouring down my leg, I thought that I might die. I was a little kid, what did I know. With a sense of urgency (not panic) I ripped open the first aid kit and looked for some butterfly closures or something. After little success with that, I headed for the back door and off to my neighbor's house. In half an hour I was in the triage. After a few panicked phone calls, a few hours waiting, and a few stitches I was back home, Dad helping me to the couch.
The moral of this story is always listen to your parents.
Once, when I was about 7, I went to mass on with my family on Christmas Eve. Mind you, this is December in Parma; it's cold, and there is snow everywhere. I was helping my grandmother walk through the snow, and we both fell in a huge puddle. After she shouted several Polish curse words at me, we went into the church. We came out an hour and a half later, and reached our car. It was at that time we came to a startling realization; we were boxed in. So, we all got into the car to wait. My cousins were singing, my sister was crying, and I was laughing. My grandmother decided that she had had enough, and started walking back to her house (which was about a mile away). That lasted about 5 minutes, at which time she returned to the car. We waited for half an hour, and eventually got back to her house. There are several morals to this story. For one, enjoy those times with your family, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Secondly, never anger Grandma. And most importantly: PARK ON THE EDGE OF THE PARKING LOT.
This family story goes back to a time when I was seven years old and went to Serbia for the first time. My house’s plumbing was terrible and eventually broke down, so we had to call the plumber. He arrived at the house in about an hour and told us that there was something wrong with the pump, which was somewhere deep in the forest below the hill that we were on. That pump was underground and covered by a rusted metal plate. It didn’t get much attention or any cleaning, so when we got there, the place was covered in moss and spider webs. We opened the cover and a black, dank pit of darkness was waiting for us. My grandmother, being the person she was, told me to go first into the darkness to find the pump after the plumber had climbed in. I’m sure she just wanted me to man up, but back then I thought she was crazy. I stepped into the murky pit and grabbed hold of the ladder that looked like it was going to fall apart in any second. I saw spiders down there and a whole bunch of dead stuff down there that wish I didn’t see. The darkness looked like it was going to eat me up. My family just stood there and laughed. My grandmother came after me. The plumber stepped onto the concrete ground and so did I. This box looked like it could only hold two people, so I couldn’t see how my grandmother could fit. The rest of my family was in charge of changing the flow of water in the house and as a telephone wire so that whenever the plumber needed a change, it would go down the line and get to the family.
The moral of this story: don’t have broken plumbing when you live in a house that has a pump that’s somewhere deep in the forest and in a dark pit. There’s always a moment in your life that will test your will and how far you’ll go to achieve something that needs to be fixed (this thing being the plumbing).
When I was young me and my family would always be visiting my grandma and grandpa. I always had such a good time being at my grandparents house, even if we weren't doing much. Me and my sisters would play kickball, or play on the tire swing, but one story gets told to me over and over. I had so much fun there that I would never want to leave. So when the time came that we were packing up and getting ready to go, I would hide under the kitchen table from everyone and they would not be able to find me. I would hide there until they found me and when they did I screamed that I didn't want to go. Eventually my parents would either bribe me out or force me out and take me home. I was sad during the car rides, even once I got home I would still be thinking about the next time we are going to visit grandma and grandpa.
The moral of the story: If you really want something, try for it. If you don't try you could never succeed.
This story took place before i was even born but i have heard it many times before. At the time my brother Tony was about 10 years old. He would always fuss about never wanting to go out to dinner with the family. He wanted to just stay home and play games and just eat at home. The one time my parents decided to go out to dinner one night. Tony refused to go so my parents left. Tony looked out the window thinking my parents would just drive around the block and come back to pick him up. About two hours later my parents arrived home with full bellies of course. My brother was astonished that they had actually left him at home and to this day, 20 years later, they still bring it up. Needless to say do not pass up an opportunity and do not fuss about going out to eat!
madison smith 3*
The story takes place when I was about 6 at my aunt's apartment. I was spending the night and was having fun with my aunt. When the morning came I was getting breakfast, I was trying to pour milk into a glass. Instead of pouring it into the glass I missed and it fell onto the floor. I thought I was going to get into trouble and started to cry. Instead of my aunt yelling at my she spilled her milk as well, to make me feel better. The lesson learned in this story is do not cry over spilled milk and there's always a way to make things better.
This story takes place when i was around 12 years old. I was learning how to mow the lawn for the first time. my dad was out in the front yard trying to show me everything i needed to know how to get the lawn mower started where to fill the mower with gas if needed etc. while he was doing all of this i was of course not paying attention because none of this interested me in how to mow a lawn i could care less at the time. when he told me it was time for me to mow the lawn and he went inside i was dumbfounded and had not a clue as to what i was supposed to be doing. my dad came out furious of course because he had just explained everything now he had to do it twice. lesson in this story is to pay attention and do what your told even if you could care less.
Every time my family comes together for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, etc., the same story always gets brought up about the time my mother got hit by a motorcycle when she was a child. She was about 11 years old, and it was the day of her sisters prom. My grandmother wasn't home at the time, but my mom was playing with her neighbor who lived across the street. My mom decided to go back home to get popsicles for her and the neighbors but she didn't even make it across the street. As she was in a big rush to go get the popsicles, she wasn't paying attention to the vehicles on the road and as soon as she stepped on the road, a motorcycle came flying by and struck her. She flew about 16 feet in the air and landed in the street. Her sister; the one who was babysitting my mom and was getting ready to go to her prom, saw the whole thing happen and immediately panicked. They called the ambulance and my mom was rushed to the hospital. She had broken ribs, a broken leg, and a broken arm but she was ok. This story always gets brought up because it was a tragic moment and my mom still has the stones imbedded in her thigh from when she struck the ground after being thrown in the air by the motorcycle. The lesson of this story is always pay attention to what is going on because anything could happen at any moment.
When I was in 7th grade, during a snowy weekend in Delaware my parents and I decided to go to the ski resort in Pennsylvania for some fun. When we got there the snow was falling and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day to learn how to snowboard. After all of our equipment was purchased we made our way to the next class to learn how to snowboard. When i got there i was surrounded by little kids and felt weird being the only older kid. There was about 20 or more people and the teacher didn't seem to want to help one-on-one with many people. After falling on my butt several times I thought i was OK but i really wasn't and needed help. After the class dismissed I decided to go down the easy hill and of-course fell on my face many times. The 4th or 5th time I went down I picked up too much speed and the snow was packed too tight and I hit an Ice patch. I went flying in the air and it felt like slow motion. Then when i landed on my shoulder I herd a loud CRUNCH and laid there in the snow alone for 25 minutes before the medics carried me up the hill and pronounced my shoulder was broken.
The moral of the story? don't be afraid to ask questions especially to the mentor. after all I never figured out how to stop...
I was about three or four and my sister was 7 or 8. We had gotten those fun cardboard disc shooters in a kids meal from some fast food restaurant. We started playing a game where we would shoot the discs at each other and try to catch them. My mom kept telling us to be careful and not to shoot the discs at our faces. We were little kids and had a small amount of self control if any. It was my sister's turn to shoot the discs. She shot one toward my mouth. I went to go catch it and knocked my mouth with my disc shooter. Next thing I knew, part of one of my front teeth was missing. I never played with a disc shooter ever again. I learned to be careful with any toy that shoots something. I also learned to listen to my parents. They may be "ruining" the fun, but they want you to stay safe and not get injured.
Once when I was about ten years old. I came back from a rough day at school. I told my dad I wish my problems would just magically disappear. He told me he had 3 magical stones that would make my problems go away. I listened, he explained that in order for these stones to work, I had to not worry about the problem and just face it. And that it would magically go away. He told me everytime I wanted to use one of them that I had to throw it in the lake. And with exciment I took the magical stones and went on my way. Indeed, every problem I had I would go to the lake and toss one of the stones. And next morning I would face the problem and it would disappear. After a month I went back to my dad and told him I had ran out of stones. My dad laughed and said that the stones were'nt real magic and that the only magic I needed was to face my problems. I smiled and realized that there is no easy way out of our troubles. The only way out is to face our problems.
When I was about eight years old, my sister dared me to climb all the way up to the top of a tree. It was about tweleve feet from the ground. In the tree, were pegs... leading up to a stand. My step-dad was using this tree stand for hunting. So, I took the dare from my sister. As i was climbing up the tree, my sneaky little sister would take out the pegs so that I couldn't get down. As I arrive to the top of the tree, I then reliezed what she had done. I was screaming for my mother or step-father's help, but no replies. They were in the house preparing dinner while my sister & I were outside. As I was screaming for help, my sister was laughing hysterically. She told me to just "jump down, don't be a scardey cat,". So, I did exactly what she said and jumped our of the tree stand. I land on my femur bone, I could not feel my leg at all. My step-dad ran outside as soon as he heard my cry... I thought I had broken a bone. He helps me rise to my feet and my femur seemed to be alright.
Moral of the story is... to not take a dare from your five year old sister. I should have known better than to listen to my younger sister's suggestion. Well, now it is something to look back on and laugh about.
- Chelsea Durr 4/5 Period
Once when I was at my Grandmas my mom told us to get ready to leave because my brother was upset he was stung by a bee. He was already sitting in our car. I told my little sister who was about 4 or 5 at the time that I would race her to the car. We went running toward the car, only we took different paths. I went through my grandmas garage and into the driveway to the car. My sister, well, she went through the front door... and I mean THROUGH it. The glass shattered and made a very loud noise. From where I was standing I could see what happened. I went running to get my older brother who was laughing at what had happened. My mom got my sister inside and called the ambulance. Luckily she was kind of ok. She got 50 staples in her arm to close up the cuts. the moral of this story is to not race your little sister to the car, because she will hold it against you for the rest of your life.
A.MacIvor
Now I’m a decent runner, but let me tell you, in the first grade I was fast. While all the wimpy girls hid from the dodge ball during gym class, myself and a few other friends were the ones dashing around the front line dodging these elementary school bullets right beside the boys. One day at recess Sydnie Wolney and I lined up a race. The race was from the edge of the woodchips, across the pavement and to the school. The rules were, whoever touches the bricks first wins. “On your mark, get set, go” someone screamed. We ran side by side in a dead tie and I kept Sydnie in the corner of my eye until the homestretch. Neither one of us was going to give up, and as I scraped the bricks with my arm I swore I had won. Then I saw Sydnie’s face. She took a few spinning steps backwards as red oozed out between her fingers covering her mouth. I was too dumbfounded to speak, but the rest of my fellow first graders didn’t take very long to alarm the recess aid. I felt extremely lost in guilty thoughts as Sammie Heilman picked up at least seven of Sydnie’s teeth that were now bleeding on the pavement. I don’t think I ever told my mom. And our friendship has never been the same because she refuses to admit that I won.
The moral of this story is, be very clear on racing rules, don’t be too prideful to let someone win, and when you see blood… it’s time to stop.
-Samantha Hoyt
A few weeks ago i had managed to save up enough money from work and get the new call of duty. Me and my little brother share the xbox to play it. Everyday i come home from work or basketball practice and we end up arguing over the game on who should play. We get into fights all the time about it then solve the problem after my mom yells at us.
Always listen to mom and be nice to younger siblings.
When me and my dad were finishing of my sisters new room like 2 years ago we were almost done and we were getting frusturated about this trim the we were puting in my dad started just to shove it then kick it and we were yelling then my finger got stuck and smashed i had to get stitches, The moral of the story is to calm urself down,Count to ten and dont do things out of frustration
My Dad and i would always go shopping when i was little. i would always remember he wouldve bought me whatever i really wanted if i was behaving. every child wants everything when they were little. But as i grew older it was less and less with him williing to buy me things. i was akways used to him doing things for me but not i realize i have to start doing things on my own.
The moral of this story is to gain independce. Its not a bad thing
One winter when I was little, I was walking in a park in Bay Village with my older sister and my dad when we came across a pond that was frozen over. At this point in my life I did not understand how fragile ice could be, or that there are different thicknesses depending on the temperature and how frozen the water is. Anyways, my father warned me not to step out on the ice because although it was frozen, its depth was deceiving. Needless to say I was a curious kid who loved to explore, so being told not to do something only urged me stronger to do it. So I took a couple steps on to it, and right before I was about to signal to my sister that it was safe, I fell into the freezing water and was soaked head to toe. I learned to listen to my father because he was older and wiser, and that the air outside seems a lot colder when you are soaked with freezing water.
I would prefer to not disclose any names for this moral story, so I'll keep to the basic details.
You need to be careful when listing the facts, especially when trying to warn your friends of a rumor about them, a single name accidentally added or subtracted to the list can really affect the outcome.
In an effort to protect my friends from embarrassment, I tried to warn them about this horrible rumor that was spreading, but since I accidentally added a name to the list, my friends turned against me, and my efforts to aid them only ended in humiliation and alienation. The moral is simple, don't repeat the rumors you hear all the time, just try to be there to help your friends who are affected by them, especially if they're the primary Victim.
-EJS 3rd period
Ever since I was little, I always remember doing everything my dad ever told me to do. He is the kind that demands respect, and you would be stupid to not give it to him. However, this has gotten me into some interesting circumstances to say the least. He has made me do some pretty ridiculous things that end up making me look even more ridiculous. My dad, an avid hunter, asked me to do a deer call one day while we were in the car driving to go to my friends house. Except he asked me to say "Here deer, deer, deer." (Not the normal deer call). When I did it, he said, "that was really good, not I'm going to roll down the windows, you scream it out the window." So, being the naive and obedient little kid that I was, I listened and did just that. Unfortunately for me though, we were driving down a residential neighborhood and I was looking like a real idiot, all the time not even realizing what I was doing. The worst part of the story is that when we got to my friends house, a lot of people were over and my dad told them all. It does get worse though, I was 15. So the moral of the story is, no matter how old you get, you still fall for the dumb jokes that your dad plays on you.
So I have been in gymnastics for about 8 years now and let me tell you I have had some pretty awefull experiences. Sophomore year, one week before the biggest meet of most of our lives, districts. We had a practice and floor is and has always been my best event, but this day was different. We had done all of our floor passes (tumbling and dance)and were about to start routines. Our coach Michelle tells all of us, "Okay, do your last pass and then we will get a move on". I decided to do a type of leap pass called a cat full, big mistake. As I came down I had rolled my ankel and heard a loud crack or pop, tears instantly rolled down my face. It didnt hurt, I was in complete shock that I had done something to my ankel just a week before districts. I ended up having a bad sparin and I was crushed that I wasnt going to be able to compete. I ended up getting to compete floor but I did get pulled off of vault. It was the best feeling in the world. Moral of this story is to never lose hope and to always look on the positive end of things.
-Megan Chiara 4/5
When I was probably about 7 years old, I had just gotten my first "real" make up set (you know, that cheap creamy stuff that 7 year olds play with) and my friend Jessica and I wanted to play with it. So we went up to my room, feeling like big girls with make up to play with, and locked my bedroom door (which my mom had always told me never to do, but of course, I was a big girl). So we were having the time of our lives smearing make up all over our eyes, lips, cheeks, and hands when my mom called for me to come downstairs. I went to unlock my door only to have my slimy fingers slip right off of the lock! Jessica and I both spent at least five minutes trying to twist the lock on the door. Finally my mom had to take the entire door knob out of the door in order to get us out. Moral of the story: always listen to your parents, and never lock yourself in a room with slimy fingers!
When I was younger my sister and I always got along. She is only 4 years older then me. We used to play barbies, house, board games and anything else you can think of together! My sister loved to wrestle and I absolutely hated it. One day she came running down the stairs and wanted to wrestle me. I told her no because I was watching a movie. She kept asking me over and over again and I became angry. I picked up a pair of toy binoculars and threw them at her. I hit her face and broke her front tooth. Two years later she broke my arm... Moral of the story is what goes around comes back around!
Kristina M. 1*
My Grandpa and Dad have always told us the story about when they were living in Florida in the 60s and a hurricane was approaching. While it has always remained comical, it has became more and more ridiculous and not true over the 20 years it has been told. What started as them simply boarding up their windows and temporarily leaving the state evolved into an epic tale involving both of them jumping out of a second story window mid-hurricane and hiding in a log on the beach. This often comes up at dinners with the family, including when we're eating out, so it can often get strange reactions from strangers. I guess the moral(s) is/are inside jokes with family are fun and don't eavesdrop advice to survive a hurricane from random strangers, or else you will end up hiding on the beach in a log.
When I was about 9 and my brother, 12, my mom thought it might be alright to leave us home alone for half an hour with the neighbor next door if needed. We felt so mature and responsible. Ten minutes in we got bored and decided to play hide and seek. Took heighten the interest and challenge the seeker not only had to find the hider, but also had to tag them to win. It was all really fun and going fine until I thought it would be a good idea to run into the shower of my parents’ room which had glass sliding doors. I thought I was so clever of me because I would just close the doors on my brother so he could not tag me. Well, my brother forced the glass doors open, him being must bigger and stronger than me, and when I tried to close them again, they came off the hinges. My brother then proceeded to let them fall on the ground and break. We thought it would be a good plan to not say anything, and just lightly prop the doors back up. The plan worked really well until the next morning when the doors fell on my dad as he walked by them. We got in so much trouble because obviously everyone knew who broke the doors.
My mom later told me if I had just told the truth at first they would have been a lot less mad. The lesson learned is to always tell the truth and also don’t get too carried away with hide and seek.
One summer my family and I were on vacation. We came from New York and were traveling back to Ohio. We were going back one day earlier than planned, so my mom decided that we should stop somewhere along the way. Well, we found this place in a travel book on New York called the Jello Museum. With nothing else to do, we set our GPS there, and went on our way. It was in a town calledLe Roy in the middle of nowhere New York, and the building was more or less a dump. Inside was this little shabby museum about, well, Jello. We were the only ones in the building, so we got a personalized tour, and spent the time having a blast with the two employees there. We even found that one of them was the great great granddaughter of the man who invented Jello. Everyone agreed that this little shabby museum in the middle of nowhere beat anything else on our vacation, and we went home on a happy note.
Moral of the Story: Some of are life's most greatest pleasures found in the strangest and most unexpected places.
Jennifer Sens 7-8
Last February my grandmother the closet one to me in my family had a stroke. It left the family in a lot of pain. I felt like i had be taken away of having a grandmother. Before all that happened some of my family didn't really talk to each other. But as bad as the situation was we all united and we became even closer then before. Its sad that we had to have something this bad happen just to bring us all back together. My grandmother was the rock that keeps us all together. My grandma to this day cant talk very well, but my family still keep in contact with eachother almost daily. The lesson for this is when bad situations come up your family is always going to be there for you and support you.
Last winter my family and I went to my sisters private property. We went to go fourwheeling and go carting. I have ridden fourwheelers before but neer in the snow. I didnt think it was that difficult. While i got my boots and gear on, my blood was pumping. I always get a rush rigt before I go riding. I put the fourwheeler in 1st gear, and took it slow to get used to the feel of the snow. I wasnt doig bad. I thought 3rd gear would be fun. I then shifted into 3rd gear, it wasnt horrible at first. Things escaladed from then. I was turning on a turn to fast and slid right into the wire fence witth the fourwheeler pining me to it. I heard a little yelling but my ears were ringing to mich for me to make out sounds. I then, from all the chaos, I blacked out. I awoke with my dad paniced sitting by me. I couldnt get a word out. As soon as my eyes opened he was a mess. I learned for this experience to not jump into the fun until I know what im doing. I also learned to not make my dad panic ever again. Since then ive been riding safe and not freaking out my dad.
It was Christmas eve, my family gathered in my grandma's tiny kitchen and ate a big turkey and ham dinner with mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, rolls, cornbread, and other vegetables and sides I didn't eat. I sat between my two little cousins, Page and Casey and across from my dad. Next to him was his two sisters on both sides and their husband's next to him while my grandparents sat at each end of the overcrowded table. Dinner was hecktic and loud but over quickly, leading to opening presents. everyone opened one present from grandma and grandpa because on Christmas morning we wouldn't be together to open them together. I opened a pokemon bookbag with a game inside. Page opened some sort of action figure and Casey got a babydoll. Christmas was one time a year we all got together no matter what and my favorite time of year because we all lived about an hour away from each other and I couldn't get enough family time back then..
just like most young kids at 13 years old i thought i knew it all but we all know otherwise. it was a cold night in december and me and my dad were going outside to play some football like usual. it had snowed all day and there was probabaly about 3 to 5 inches on the ground. A couple days previous to this we were playing and he beat me, all because i couldnt catch the ball due to the fact i had gloves on the size of five of my hands. Remembering this i said "im not wearing gloves and im gonna win". I Walked outside and my dad told me i was crazy and its gonna backfire if i dont wear gloves because it was only about twenty degress out. did i listen? no i thought he was crazy and if anything i could deal with my hands being cold as long as i won. both these plans backfired in the end after i ended up losing and it was all done i went inside, hands swollen with the worst pain shooting through my fingertips. i thought my hands were going to fall off. when i came back in i had to put my hands in hot water for about twenty minutes and this hurt so bad i was screaming in pain so in the end my dad was right and i had almost froze my hands off all because i thought i was right.
the moral of this story is your parents got more experience then you and more times then not they know what there talking about even though you as a kid feel otherwise.
On time, about a month after my tenth birthday (this was in June), I had two of my friends over because they missed my birthday party a few weeks ago. We were in my backyard, and were on my deck as we were eating lunch, which consisted of hamburgers and green beans. My friends had already finished their food, and were waiting off the deck for me to hurry up, so after finishing my burger, I ran across my deck to go play with them, when I felt a sharp pain in my left heel. I fell to the floor of the deck, and looked down at my heel. There was a two-inch long wood chip embedded in my heel, weaving itself into my heel and out again. I screamed out in pain, and my parents came running. After they helped me back into a chair, my dad left to get a knife, needle, and sanitation kit. When he got back, he started to cut apart my heel, digging down about an inch in order to get the wood chip out. After about fifteen minutes, he got it out, and spent the next half-hour getting out all of the shredded pieces of wood. The entire time, I was yelling from the horrible pain. After the majority of pieces of wood came out (with one that was too close to a major vein to do anything about, and that piece is still in my heel)and my hole was cleaned, we filled the hole with gauze and wrapped up the entire area. I was unable to walk on my left foot for about a month. This entire ordeal taught me two valuable lessons: Always be patient and don't rush, and that wood chips are evil.
It was Christmas eve, and my family and I were visiting my grandparents. My brother was probably 12 or 13 and was still into WWE. My cousin and him were playing around and my mom told them to stop because they would break something or hurt eachother. Of course they didn't listen. My brother tried reenacting one of the WWE moves they did with a folding chair. He ended up hitting the bridge of his nose on the chair and spent his Christmas eve in the emergency room getting stitches. Moral of the story, your mom is always right, so listen to her.
when I was younger my dad used to tell me "Tom stories". My favorite one was something like this.
Once in a small village there was a boy named Tom. It was early in the morning and Tom was eager to wake up. After, what Tom felt like, hours of waiting he heard his mother wake up. He rushed off to get ready for the day. After taking a shower, eating breakfast, and packing a lunch Tom left for his friend Joe's house. When He got to Joe's house, He was attacked by his dog. This made Tom laugh and smile. Then Joe's Mother welcomed in Tom, and invited him to go watch some cartoons with Joe while she finished getting ready to leave.
Then they left for the farm, and Tom was so exited. They arrived at the farm right around noon. They were aloud to openly explore the entire farm the whole day. Tom and Joe ate lunch, Then explored the animals, Then explore the woods. They had a fun day but the best part was yet to come.
Then my father would finish telling us the stories about how Tom climbed threw A hey Maze that was built by the farmer. It was a really Long maze and full of many many surprises for Tom to uncover.
This story, and many stories Like it were stories our dad told us kids to help us grow and learn. He inspired curiosity in all of us and gave up the spirit of curiosity. Because he told us these stories I have come to love nature, and love mazes.
The moral of these stories is to always be curious and never stop exploring.
When i was in about 6th grade my brother was in high school. He would be dating a new girl every week. Sometimes more than one and my mom would freak out on him. She would tell him how wrong that is to do to someone and hes setting a bad example for me. How its going to come back and bite him, and the whole time he said that hes a pro and nothing will happen. He was wrong... Five of girls that he was dating showed up at my house asking for him when my mom answered the door. Once they explained what was going on she smiled and called for him to come to the door. She locked the door behind him and walk away. He came back inside the house with his face blood red from being slapped so hard.
The moral of this story is to learn from others mistakes.
One time my family went on a vacation to Hocking Hills; our family included my mom, dad, sister, brother, sister in law, and myself. On the 5th day of our week long trip, we went hiking inside the caves there. No one knew what the events about to unfold looked like, but we still laugh at our interpretations of it to this day... As were walking around we stopped to take pictures when all of a sudden my dad is down. We look over and is shin is covered in dark almost black blood. Turns out he tried to climb a rock and it had a jagged rock sticking out of it. My brother was the only one to really see this action unfold, he explains it, that my dad looked like he was hugging the boulder. If you can imagine what a 6 foot, 230 lb man looks like trying to hug a boulder, that's why we still laugh four years later. We were in the middle of nowhere so we wrapped up his leg with a bandana and carried on Bear Grills style haha. His cut needed stitches but we never went to the doctors and it got infected. Thankfully is only left him with a scar and he still has his leg. It left us all with laughs. The lesson to be learned is that you should think before you act and be able to back up your pride, because it could possibly leave you embarrassed and injured.
-Erica Jacks 7-8
When I was in kingergarten, all I wanted was to be an olympic gymnast. Therefore, I would always force my sister to play olympic gymnast with my on our all metal playground in the backyard. We would drag our picnic table from the sandpit over to the swingset, jumping off it and grabbing onto the bar that supported the swings. Now, my sister was older and taller than me, so could jump at father distances than I could. But, nonetheless, I attempted to jump from the table to the bar at the same length my sister did. Soaring through the air with a smile on my face, I was sure I was going to nail this jump and grasp the bar perfectly. Until.... my wrist smacked the bar and I collapsed to the groud. Upon my tragic fall, my full body weight landed on my wrist. I stood up to find my right arm in the shape of a backwards Z. I did not shed one tear, but simply walked into the house and said "Dad, I think I have booboo.." and raised my arm for him to see. Long story short, I got a sweet rainbow cast and returned to school a week after. Running into the room excited to see all my friends, my toe caught the ABC rug and I almost fell yet again... good thing my mom was right there to catch me. The moral of this story is to never bite off more than you can chew, for if I would have known my limits I would have never fallen in the first place and broke my wrist.
--E. Zaranec 7/8
When I was in the sixth grade I got in a little bit of a bike accident. I was going down my street riding my bike. When I took the concer I wasn't paying attention to tell and ran into a U-Haul truck. I end up hurting my arm pretty bad and leg. About a week later my arm still hurt a little but I could walk fine. My dad always keep saying what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. About 5 years later I was at th doctors getting a check up on my other leg. He though he check both even though only one hurt. The one I hurt in the accident wasnt in pain but he did this thing to it that made it kill. I almost wanted to cry. He looked at me and said. You play lacrosse right. I don't know how you do it bc you don't have a ACL at all. It's fully tore. But yet I was still strong and still going in sports. My dad was right I guess. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
It was the middle of the blizzard of 1978.My mother's brother was rushing to finish shoveling the driveway. Upon finishing he started to sprint back inside when he fell in a ditch. The shovel cut his face, from his chin to his forehead. The roads were closed but my grandmother drove him out to the nearby hospital. Not only was it a struggle to get to the hospital but the doctors were all snowed in. A young resident, whom had never done any such operation, had to stitch my uncle back together, having to sew half his mouth shut. If the shovel had gotten one centimeter over, my uncle would have lost his eye. As it was he was kept in miserable pain for months.
The moral of this story is that when ever someone says "don't run with sharp objects", do not run with sharp objects!
When I was seven years old, something traumatic happened to my mother. She always retells this story with a spin on how brave I was. I don't think of it like that though. My mother and I were outside in my backyard playing hitting a tennis ball back and forth. It was such a nice summers day; my family was outside having a barbecue. The tennis ball rolled over to my dog at the time, Hugo. My mother was closest to him so she went to go get it. Something completely unexpected happened next. A flash of blood and teeth. He ripped into her arms completely by surprise. I without hesitation ran for my mothers other arm screaming "LET GO OF MY MOMMY!" It's still one of the most traumatic things I've witnessed. What did I learn from this? It wasn't that I distrust dogs now or that I hated Hugo for what he did. I learned something completely different. I gained a distrust of people. There must have been at least twenty people watching the mayhem without doing anything. The local pool, which was very close, had an emergency phone that they didn't use, no one could pick up a cell phone. Just me and eventually my father when he heard the screams. I also leanred something about myself. I learned that I can act quickly without thinking. Granted it wasn't a very good idea considering I must have weighed about seventy pounds. I am still shocked by people today.
When I was little, my dad would always tell me to be thankful for what I have. He would never let me go a day without saying at least one thing in my life that I was thankful for. One day I decided that doing this was silly, and it didn't have any effect. My dad was mad, and he assured me that I am very blessed and that I need to be grateful for what I was given. He then loaded my brother and I into the car, and started driving. Little did I know, he was taking us to a bad part of town. The houses were run down, and there was trash everywhere. He asked me if I would feel comfortable living in houses like these, and I replied no. He then said that this is why I need to be thankful for what I have, and never take anything for granted because someone could have it so much worse. The lesson I learned from this experience is that I should never take anything for granted, and to be thankful for what I was given.
My mom tells me this story so often, that I can easily stop her mid-story and finish her sentence. She shares the story so much that I can now tell it just like she does. My mom had just moved to a new neighborhood during her sophomore year of high school.While everyone had their groups of friends my mom walked in not knowing anyone. She promised her self to keep her head down and just make it through the day. When lunch rolled around my mom sat alone, but lifted her head when she heard foul words coming from the table next to her. She peered over and saw a group of the "popular girls" making fun of a boy also sitting alone. The three girls were actually kicking him, calling him a giant and a freak of nature.. just for being tall. The girls sat down and flicked food at him as he sat there hanging his head. My mom couldn't sit by and watch that madness happen anymore. She stood up, walked over to the girls and dumped her milk all over them. She walked back to her table, grabbed her tray and sat by the boy named Kevin.
My mom ended up seeing Kevin at the mall two years ago and he still remembered what my mom did for him and couldn't thank her enough.
I guess the moral of this story is (not to necessarily poor milk on people) to stick up for others no matter what situation your in, because others could have it worse.
Anytime time my family are together or I'm with friends and we get ice cream mg mom always tells us the story about when he was young she fell down the stairs and my grandpa said to her let's gr ice cream. Well after that her two brothers would push her down the stairs or tell her to fall down them on purpose so they could all go out for ice cream. It's a funny story but also mean. Because my mom told me and my sister and brother this story I fell down the stairs and we got ice cream. They would push me down the stairs and after a while my mom found out they were pushing me down the stairs and just wanted ice cream. They stopped because the last time they did it they got grounded and I cut my knee really bad. There's so many stories to be told with my mom, my aunt, and uncles. .
When i was 10 years old, my grandpa started to get sick. As the months passed by he became worse but he refused to see a doctor. After a year of being sick, my grandma finally got him to go to the doctors office to see what may be wrong with him. As it turned out that day he was diagnosed with stage four Bone cancer. We were all devestated and shocked. The doctor informed him that if he would have come in when he first started getting sick they would have been able to catch the cancer and stop it from spreading. My grandpa didnt want to face the truth, he didnt want to accept that he was sick. He fought that cancer for two years. The day my grandma decided that he couldnt hold on any longer and they took him off of his life support was one of the worst days of my families lives. He was a great man and is still greatly remembered today.
The moral of my story is dont take life for granted because it can be taken so easily, also to always see a doctor if you feel that something is wrong with your health.
When I was younger, my brother and I would always to things to each other just to get on each others nerves. One time, my brother was searching the house looking for something and I had no idea what it was. I kept asking and he kept ignoring. About an hour later, my brother had tricked me and cut my hair so bad and handed me the scissors. I knew better than to defend myself against my older brother. So when my mother saw me with scissors in my hand and my hair short, she thought it was myself who cut my hair.
Today, she now knows that it wasn't me who cut my hair, but it was Jake. Now I realize that even though I was younger and got in trouble because of something my older brother did, I should defend myself, no matter what the situation may be.
When I was 10, my father took me with him for a run in the metro parks. Now, given my age, there was no way I could run the entire time with him, so I opted for my bike instead. For some odd reason, as we were departing from our parking space, I noticed that on either side of the entrance to the lot were guardrails, and a couple of low hanging trees. We turned right onto the sidewalk, and we were off. The day started out beautifully, my father running and me following along. When we reached the halfway point of our journey, we corossed the street and began our way back to the car. However, all of the sudden, it started to rain. Being a finicky child and wanting out of the rain, I screamed back that I'd meet my dad back at the car (where there was a pavilion I could hide under). Not bothering to listen for a response, I took off, looking for the lot entrance I'd familiarized myself with. However, I forgot one critical detail. On the first half of the journey, the lot would have been on the right hand side, so that is where I looked. In reality, since we were traveling in the opposite direction and on the opposite side if the road, our parked car was on the other side of the street. Overlooking this detail, I pedaled faster and faster on, searching in vain for my final destination. 20 minutes later, (unknown to me at the time) I had long passed the car. Beginning to panic, because I thought I should have seen it by now, I pedaled faster yet. Eventually, I came upon a stoplight and had to wait to cross the street. All of the sudden, a stranger on a bike pullsed up behind me and said my name. I turned around, in a slight panic, and saw the man smiling at me. He tells me that my dad is looking for me, he gives me my dad's name, and then gives him a call so I know that it's really him. After that, I followed the stranger back to the car, was reunited with my father, and we went home.
The moral of this story for me was twofold. First of all, I learned that just because I think I can handle things by myself doesn't always mean that I can. It's ok to accept help when I need it. Secondly, I learned of the kindness strangers can show. The man took time out of his day when my father needed help finding me. I never learned his name, but I will always be grateful.
Two summers ago we got a jet dock for our jet skis. The first weekend we had the jet dock I took my little brother for a jet ski ride. My mother told me that after we were done to not put it up on the jet dock and just tie it up on the side. After we were done I went to go dock it, and thinking that I had seen my neighbors dock theirs a million times and all you had to do was go full throttle and it would stop on its own. Wrong. I ended up jumping over the jet dock and into the rocks. Thankfully, neither me nor my brother had gotten hurt.
The moral of this story is listen to what your parents say and don't assume you can do something just because you have seen it done before
Lauren S. 4/5
When I was about four, my cousin, Kevin was babysitting my little brother and I while my parents were at a baseball game. We had a small green aligator teeter-totter that was moveable along with a swing-set in my back yard. Kevin thought it would be a good idea to sit be on the teeter-totter and slide me up and down the slide. He held onto the teeter-totter the entire time, though. He slid me down the slide and back up, and he went to slide me down again when I fell off the side of the slide and onto the ground. I broke my right arm.
I learned from this to not be reckless and to not do things that are obviously dangerous.
My older sister, Annelise, had found a recent obsession with guinea pigs in her preteen years. For her birthday my dad had come home to Northern Michigan where we lived from Detroit with a obsidian guinea pig. My sister loved it. It was a sweet-tempered simple-minded mohawked bundle of fur. She name her Shirley something something spelled creatively with a "C" somehow. My dad was a pastor at the church next door at the time and the members of the congregation that met the little pig always piously drew an immediate connection to the Bible verse that says "Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all of the days of my life." This was always accompanied with the suggestion that we get another two pigs and name them "goodness" and "mercy" so that they can follow us. We gagged a litter every time at this ever-repeated knee-slapper. Nevertheless when my little sister, Johanna, grew into the phase of wanting a pig, we named it Goodness Anne Mercy. The pet store had insisted that Goodness was a female and that it would be okay for us to keep them in the same cage. Unlike the store that Dad had traveled all the way to Detroit for, this store was cheap and inexperienced. We had to separate the two pigs on December 2nd when Annelise screamed from her room, "Shirley gave birth to black... thing!" That "black thing" grew into a healthy guinea that was at first so small you could hold her like a half-black half-white tennis ball in one palm. We, much to my annoyance, named her Wilma Follow Me.
The moral of this story is that it is very hard to tell genders on rodents so you should always go to a trusted pet store... and that the connection between "Shirley" and "Surely" has a snowball effect.
Christian Schick 7/8
It was a brisk, december night when I was about 9 years old. Everyone in the entire house was asleep, but I was awake in the basement, plotting. I had asked for a pocket watch for christmas and had desperately been wanting it rather than waiting for it. I quietly found my way up the stairs, taking the greatest care not to make even the slightest noise. On my stomach, I crawled through the door way of my parents' room into the closet, where the presents were kept. I saw it; a small cube wrapped in soft reflective paper. I quickly snatched it from the pile and moved out of the room, running back to the basement. After I had found my spot on the couch, I tore the box open and saw it; round, deep golden color, an eagle carved into the surface, jutting proudly over the mountains beneath it. After I had held it for no more than 15 seconds admiring it, my heart betrayed itself. A deep throbbing commenced within me and my eyes became hot and wet; I was crying. I finally realized what I had done and it was too much for me to handle initially. The next morning when my parents woke up, I immediately told them what I had done and of course they were disappointed. I found that the punishment was better than what my conscience would eventually do to me.
I suppose the moral of the story is just that one's conscience is the greatest punishment of all
Here I was in the middle of my afternoon shower on Thanksgiving day, and there's someone disturbing my relaxation by annoyingly knocking on the door. I yelled back that I'd be out in a minute. When I did come out, I went to see who did it and why. And God, I regret not coming out sooner. I went to my brother's room to find him holding his legs to chest and crying at the foot of his bed. And he told me, "Rocky's dead." I ran downstairs. My mother sobbed by the kitchen counter and my father had just walked into the house, letting the door to the garage shut behind him. "Where is he? Where's Rocky?" And my father answered, "He's in the garage." I swept across the kitchen and threw the door open, and there, sitting on some stool or chair, was a cardboard box with my dead dog inside. My father came out. He said Rocky saw a dog across the street and ran to it when the police car hit him. The sound of his yelps ran through my head. The whole scene painted itself as if I had been there watching. I saw the water stains on the driveway and part of the street from where my dad probably washed the blood away.
Somewhere in all of that, someone had told me he was out there to go potty. And for a few weeks before that time we had begun letting him go off his leash to do his business while we went about ours. So maybe laziness on our part as owners was what killed him. And if that was it, then the lesson would be to follow through with the responsibilities I take on. But for me, the lesson was to not take for granted the existence of the things in my life.
Those of you from marching band may remember this story.
About two years ago, the school put a gate on the street next to the PAC. That year, the gate was the bane of my existence. For those of you who don't know, the pit has to haul all of their equipment out to the practice field for just about every practice. Part of this consisted of two big carts that held most of our equipment, and believe me, they are heavy. We used to just go down the ramp near the PAC out to the street and continue to the practice field from there. This was no longer possible once the gate was put up. After the gate was in place, we had to consider two other options. We could either take the long way and go out near the stadium and go through the gap in the chain to get to the practice field, or suck it up and go through the mulch next to the PAC. One of the times I decided to go through the mulch, the worst happened. The mulch is thick and the cartwheels are small. In an attempt to pull the cart through, I slipped on the mulch as the cart came forward. The piece that holds the steering arm to the cart cut a big gash in my ankle. It hurt like hell. So after that, my dad comes to pick me up from practice. After looking at the damage, he takes me to the Urgicare to get patched up. I got eight stitches that day. And by the way, Novocain shots hurt a lot more than the original cut. After I get sewn up, I had my parents drive me back to the high school so I could attend the percussion sectional that night. I don't think anyone expected me to come back that day. So I show up a little late and shock everyone there, as well as acting like nothing happened. I still have the scar.
In short, the moral of this story is to never let anything get in the way of doing what you love.
One day i came home to find that my house was empty of people and there was no one to be found. i tried to call my mom and my dad but no one responded. i thought maybe shes at the store or out doing something, as more time passed by i began to worry. i called my grandma freaking out and she tried to reasure me everything was ok. she tried to call my mom to with no response. at this point i was having a melt down and really freaking out. i was hungry so i wanted o get some food i went to the fridge ad found a note. it read "i knew you would be in here phones off went to your uncles. i was so releaved i gave her a hug when she got home.
the moral f the story is dont jump to conclusions.
Once last year my dad, an old friend of mine and I were coaching our13-14 year olds baseball team, and to tell you the truth we were not that great of a team. Most of the kids were either inexperienced or the rejects of the league. Somehow we always attract those players for some reason. Anyway it was a glorious summer Saturday afternoon up at the old baseball diamond. Are team was pretty much getting crushed by the other team and you could tell that they just did not want to be here. Well it was the bottom of the 5th inning and something sparked are team. The next thing you know we start getting hit after hit in which lead to us scoring runs. The kids started having fun and eventually it all came to a halt. They lost the game but once they believed in themselves instead of worrying about losing, they almost won the game. The lesson these kids learned was that they should never “count your chickens before they hatch
It was October 27th, 2012. It was a day that we had been waiting for all season, it was the day of the Regional Cross Country meet. Going into the meet we knew we were one of maybe six teams going for the four spots for the state meet. It was a cool overcast day, and it had been raining for the days leading up to the meet. We arrived to the bus at nine in the morning, and the second we got on everyone had their headphones on. For the next two and a half hours, nothing was said. We arrived at Hedges Boyer park after the long, boring bus ride and got down to business. First came our warm ups and stretching, and then we walked to the line. The nerves started to set in. I knew what I had to do. The team knew what they had to do. At 12:30 the gun went off and the race started. To say it started like a bunch of bats straight out of hell would be an understatement. For the whole five kilometer race numerous thoughts came through my head. Most of them being teammates past and present whom I wanted to make proud. The whole team raced their tails off, and it was easily the best team race we had put together. After the race I basically collapsed, and then proceeded to vomit. It was pretty disgusting, and I won't go into detail. We waited at the finish line for the results. Our coach told us to cool down and he would tell us when we were done. We started running our cool down and we saw him, as we got closer, he held up three fingers. He was telling us that we had got third. That we had qualified for the state meet for the second year in a row. All seven of us hugged each other and many of us began to cry. This was easily one of the best days of my life.
Moral of the story: The best things in life are experienced with those that you love the most.
Each summer when I was younger I would stay at my grandparents house during the week. My parents were at work so I stayed there. My grandpa and I would do many things together. I always helped him out with yard work and any other miscellaneous job he needed help with. I will never forget the time we collected pop cans, metal scraps, and copper wire. We collected them all summer and then we took them to a scrap yard. We made over two hundred dollars.
The lesson I learned that summer was that if you work hard you can achieve anything. Hard work pays off and you can get what you desire because of it. It taught me the value of a dollar. I worked hard to get that money and I saw how accomplished I felt.
Joey Marincek 7/8 period
A few years ago, I always went with my friend's mom to deliver meals to houses of the elderly and disabled. I loved going and I loved to see the looks on their faces when they see people trying to help them. I enjoyed doing this and had learned that helping others brings great joy to a person even if I get nothing in return. I have learned to be a great and generous person while participating in this.
My favorite story was one my mother told me when I was younger. The story goes that once a young girl was a lieing child, she would constantly lie about everything. And one day the lieing girls mother met a magic man who granted the mother one wish.Her wish was that every time her daughter would lie her touge would turn green and so the mother would always know when the daugher was leing... This story plus green food coloring made it so i never lied again as a child.
A story I remember is from when my sister and I were young (3, maybe 4) One day, she was playing and took a nickel and stuck it in the mouth of one of her stuffed animals and then took another nickel and put it into her own mouth trying to imitate the stuffed animal. She ended up swallowing the nickel and having to go to the ER and have her stomach pumped. Although she has a good laugh when she looks back on the story today, I see it as a good example of how imitation can be dangerous.
-Jimmy Rutkowski 2nd period
My mother tells me about a store when I was about 3 or 4. I was getting ready to take a bath and began to run through the house in my socks. As my mum was yelling not to run through the house I was already going up the the hard wooden stairs at full speed to the upstairs hallway. As I began to run through the upstairs hallway to my bathroom I slipped on the wooden floors and hit my head on the corner of the walls. I began to scream, my mother and grandmother came running to my aide. As they looked at my head, while I was screaming, a huge egg-shaped bruise began to form on the side of my head. As we always did in emergencies we called for my neighbor, a pharmacist, to come and look at it. Since it was so big and a head injury we had to call 911 and I got a ride in an ambulance to the hospital ER. I turned out to be fine after x-rays and a few days with a major headache.
The moral of the story is to listen to your parents and not run in socks on wood flooring!
About two summers ago we were playing a softball game at the high school and they have this little bebbles as there infield. It is like your playing on kitty litter with some random big rocks. Because of that my mom bought be a mask when I play. I've worn it for a while now but me and my friend wanted to wear are new sun glasses we got. They didn't fit I'm my mask so I didn't wear it. My mom told me to just wear it because it's better to be safe then sorry. Well we were in the middle of the came and a ball came my way. It was a hard ground to me and it hit a rock. The ball bounced of the rock in front of me and hit me right in the nose. My nose was bleeding so bad and was brusing already. We later found out it was broken.
The moral oh the story is to lesson to what your parents say so you don't get hurt.
Once, when my mom was a teenager, her parents went out of town. Left alone at 16 (without a license), her and her boyfriend took her dad's prized truck out on a drive, thinking they would just park it back in the garage at the end of the night and her parents wouldn't even know. They ended up getting into some trouble and going to a party, and her boyfriend ended up getting into a "disagreement" with someone else. In an attempt to flee before parents or anyone showed up, they jumped in the truck and sped away. They ended up hitting a parked car a few streets away and the truck was totaled. Her dad told her when he found out that she was to never drive any of his cars again. My mom and her dad are not close, but to this day she has never ever driven any of his cars.
The lesson is that there is no point in lieing and sneaking around, because most likely you will get caught and there will be bad reprocutions.
A story that stands out to me is the time my younger brother broke his arm while I was babysitting him. He was about ten and I was fourteen. We went to the elementary school by my house and he decided that he was going to jump to the center of the monkey bars. I warned him not to do it, but for that reason he did. Of course out did not end well. From that I learned never to say anything to my brother that may be considered a challenge. He will take it.
Nicole Rouge
it was about my freshman year that my friend alex fuldauer and i were outside on a hot summer day in my garage discussing what we should do and my dad suggested that we should ride our bikes to chipotle. i don't know why but for some odd reason we listened to him and we road our bikes 3 miles to chipotle and then it started raining and we were already wet because of sweat and now we were drenched with rain after eating at chipotle alex gets a call from her mom to come home. so then we have to ride another 2 miles to Alex's house in the rain then we got in trouble because one of the bike chains broke and i had to pay for it, even though we literally have 12 bikes hanging from the celling in the garage, therefor the lesson i learned is 1. not to listen to my dads advice and 2. don't ride you bike ANYWHERE...get a ride.
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