"You don't understand me!"

Teenagers and split personalities are not two things that we like to group together. Split personalities? Who, us? No, no, no, you must be mistaken. You see, teenagers act the same way for everyone! We tell it like it is!

That, my friends, is not a very well-researched or well-supported statement, and yet I continue to hear variations of it in the hallway every single day.

However, the split personalities to which my fellow students are referring are their ever changing circle of friends and the backstabbing art of being a “two-faced teenager.” This has been occurring since the start of 6th grade and, I’m sorry to say, won’t stop until you are all sensible adults. Let me also take the time to tell you that not all grown-ups are sensible. This presents a dilemma and ultimately means, in fewer words, that two-faced drama will never go away. We just get more crafty at it.

That is the most obvious instance of split personalities. The one I will talk about from this point on is more hidden and easily denied. And yet, more people participate in this act than the previously mention. Whether we consciously know when we are doing it or not, this split of our personalities happens early on in life. I would say, around the point when we start conversing with our parents.

Around your friends, you are most at ease. You can laugh, smile, and speak about whatever is on your mind and not worry about who hears. You act like yourself because you are surrounded by the people that choose to love you for who you are.

At home, your personality becomes diluted, no matter how close you are with your family. It may be harder to relate to them, you may have a different sense of humor, etc. They’re not with you every day in school and don’t share the same experiences.

Think about it. Do you tell the same jokes at home as at school? Do you say the same things or act in the same way? The answer will usually be “no.”

If this is the case, then how well do your parents really know you? Sometimes parents know the kid that they wish you were, sometimes they don’t fully understand the extent of your greatness. I have heard numerous stories of children blaming their parents for not understanding them, but how can they understand when you don’t let them see the real you?

Below are a few scenarios that seem to play out quite often, but even we don’t like to admit what we mean.

“Mom! Billy was just about to ask me out, I can’t believe that you came up to us like that.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I-”

“You don’t understand me!”

“Sweetie, Billy wasn’t asking you out. He was trying to tell you that you had toilet paper stuck to your shoe. Trust me, the same thing happened to me with Eric Smith...”

“I can’t believe that you were brought home by the police.”

“You don’t understand me!”

“Actually, I do. I would just care not to tell you about that one incident in 10th grade involving trampolines, strobe lights, and the state coppers.”

“You don’t understand me!”

“Sure I do, the same thing-”

“Mom, be quiet. I get that you went through the same things. But I don’t have time for your lecture, and I don’t want to get in trouble by telling you that.”

So, sure. Next time, slam your door, yell out, “You don’t understand me!” and take out your frustration on your parents. But is it really their fault... or your own? And what are you really saying?

The Price of a Human

Many have often pondered at how much a human being was worth. In Chicopee, Massachusetts, a man seemed to have found the answer. Outside of a Pride gas station on May 17th, the man went up to a station maintenance man and offered to trade his three-month old daughter in exchange for only two 40-ounce beers.
“For two 40s, you can have her,” Brace told the employee, according to Chicopee Police Chief John Ferraro’s account.
The maintenance man then immediately called the police on 24-year-old Matthew Brace, Northampton resident. When the Chicopee police arrived on the scene, they found Brace and his daughter hiding behind a trashcan at the hotel where the man was staying, directly across the street from the gas station.
Details of the case have been released and are as follows: Representatives from the state Department of Children and Family Services took the small girl into custody and, while Brace was not arrested, he has to appear in court on the charge of reckless endangerment of a child.
The baby’s mother, also at the scene, was in the gas station convenient store when the event occurred. She was buying cigarettes and was not charged.
Is the world happy now that Matthew Brace has put a price on a person? Are we relieved that the answer has finally been found? Does anyone else think that it is ironic that the event took place at a Pride gas station? Only time will tell.

“Is There Something That You’d Like to Share with the Class?"

Those are the age-old words that always seem to come out of a teacher’s mouth at the worst possible moment. No matter how much a student says that, yes, they were listening to every word of the lesson, the teacher still does that believe them. Your doodling in class is their way of proving that your thinking was elsewhere. There are no excuses. Until now.

Recently, a study has been conducted by psychologist, Jackie Andrade to find out who, when listening to speech, remembered more: people who doodled or people who did not. The results were shocking and would satisfy many of the world’s doodlers, fidgeters, and pen-clickers.

Andrade asked 40 business people to listen to the same 2 1/2 minute tape. 20 of the participants were instructed to shade in squares and circles on a piece of paper, which was the psychologist’s sly way of saying, “doodle.” The other 20 were not. The tape was meant to be rather boring and contained 16 specific details, such as names and places, that the 40 people would be asked to remember and recite to Andrade afterwards.

The people who drew while listening to the tape, or the “doodlers,” could recite an average of 7.5 names and places. The people who did not doodle could only remember an average of 5.8, which was 29% less than the doodlers.

There is not a proven scientific explanation for why doodling, fidgeting, or clicking your pen allows a person to remember more details. However, psychologist Andrade has many theories, one of which being that doodling causes a lack of daydreaming. Daydreaming requires much of your brain power and leaves less for listening and memory. Doodling does not demand nearly as much brain power, but enough to occupy your brain and keep you from daydreaming. Doodling, the happy medium, is such a low use of brain power that you can still pay attention to your surroundings.

This means that technically, during class, it may be argued that it be smart for teachers to encourage their students to doodle rather than the alternative: daydreaming. So while you’re sitting in social studies class, and drawing a flower up the side of your paper, know that that flower is helping you learn more.

3rd Marking Period, 2nd Article, April Fools

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3rd Marking Period, 1st Article

THE PRODUCT OF A SNOWSTORM

What, I ask you, is a girl supposed to do on the sixth day of a snowstorm when she cannot safely leave her house? There can be many answers to this question, many productive, and not all legal.

So let me rephrase the question: What is a girl to do on the sixth day of a snowstorm that wouldn’t have the cops beating down her door? That’s better. You couldn’t possibly answer that question with something illegal.... unless you added “and not get caught” to the end, I suppose... You know what, let’s move on. I could spend hours phrasing the question differently and there would still be ways to answer it illegally.

Needless to say, I was stuck inside today with nothing to do. I tried aimlessly wandering my house, but I soon grew bored of that when my parents found me and tried to get me to do something productive. How absurd. Productivity would simply not do on a snow day.

Then I tried getting something to eat. I opened the fridge, saw nothing I wanted, opened the pantry, and, again, saw nothing I wanted. I tried the fridge again, hopeful that something new would have magically appeared since the last time I looked. Much to my surprise, I still saw nothing I wanted. Shocking? I think so.

It was then that I realized I was out of ideas. So I figured, hey, maybe my brother Collin will know what to do! I found him in front of the TV and proceeded to sit on him until he answered me. I may not seem big, but 100 pounds on a 75 pound boy can do some major damage on a long-term scale.

He said that I needed to get off of him immediately or suffer the consequences. In all honesty, I was scared of my 12 year old brother. I was also scared of whatever “the consequences” were, so I left him alone, disappointed and still bored.

Do you know those little boxes that your mouse can make on your computer desktop? They are the answer to the imaginatively bankrupt, and I was making those boxes for at least half an hour. Now, in my defense, it’s a very addicting activity.

After making boxes, I had an epiphany, if you will. I would make a blog! It would take up at least an hour of my time and it was legal. Brilliance, right?

So a blog is the end product of hours of boredom on a snow day. I hope you’re happy, Collin, for not giving me anything better to do. That disaster is all your fault. I love you. Maybe.