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This is a college level tranfer course, the second in a series where we will examine the poetics of life lived on the ground...as in rough and tumble, as in America at war with herself. This is a world art alone makes sense of, an artist's work is a gift freely shared like air...sympathetic systems aligned, the the fictive or imaginary worlds of possiblity simply an inhale or exhale away. This class is an opportunity to close your eyes and believe.
15 comments:
Sha’Quea Pratt
Professor Sabir
English 1B
9 September 2010
September 11
I remember the day of September eleventh as if it was yesterday. At age eight I did not really understand exactly what was going on. I kept hearing that many people died due to the tower being hit and all I could think is that is how sad it was that people had to die in such a way. As the years continued to go by I began to learn a lot more about what actually happened that day. I heard many stories such as it was Osama bin Laden was behind the attack. I also was able to see George Bush’s reaction while he was at an elementary school and was told that one of the twin towers was hit. Surprisingly, I watched thinking that he would soon get up and rush to New York to be with his people and show that he did care enough for his nation but instead he sat there with the students and did not move a muscle. From that point on I was against Bush and had no respect for him. I couldn’t believe that he would do something like that. Today I still feel the same way and am lucky to have people around me that educate me further every year.
Mauricio Cavero Alprecht
Professor Wanda Sabir
English 1B
09 September 2010
September 11 Story
A cold morning woke up Peru that day, colder that usual for those days. I tried to get out of bed but it was really hard to get out, I was trying to get up to go to work. As usual my breakfast was ready and my brother was calling me to give me a ride to work. When I finally decided to get up for breakfast, the scenario was different. It was nine o’clock in the morning, around eleven in the morning in the US, and the first plane had already hit the first tower. When I saw my brothers face in the kitchen, he was no longer calling my name to hurry, he had death written on his face, I knew that something was wrong and there was no noise in the entire house. I decided to turn and watch the TV to see what has happened, and at first I thought my brother was watching a weird Tim Burton science fiction movie, but we all know that he wasn’t now. I couldn’t help to cry, my tears came down and a felling of impotence embraced my entire body. I didn’t know that some thing so wrong could be done.
That day Peru stopped, and I bet that the entire world stopped. I couldn’t go to work and I was in shock. I was 23 at that time and I will never forget the feeling of how small we are and how miniscule we are that day. I remembered thinking that we definitely live in a crazy world and only take one crazy man to destroy the beauty that some good men create.
Johna Manibusan
Professor Wanda Sir
English 1B
9 September 2010
September 11
Nine years ago I was only 10 years old just about to turn 11. I woke up one morning like every other morning and went to school. Right when I got to school I remember hearing all the teachers talking about some tragic thing that happened to the pentagon. Myself among a bunch of my piers didn’t know much of what was going on. The first class of the day I had was math. I remember sitting in class talking and waiting for my teacher to begin when the principle came on the loud speaker and told us all to take a moment of silence for the victims of the incident that happened, followed by the Pledge of Allegiance. After the announcement came on my teacher put on the news in the class and we all watched the tragic incident replay over and over again. I remember how silent the class was and all you could hear were gasps. We were all so young and confused on why it happened. All my classes that day were pretty much the same, we would all talk for about 20 minutes in the beginning of every class about it.
After the sad day of September 11th, I remember how scared I was to do things. Everyone would remind us about how much our security was getting more strong and strict. I would just sit at night some nights worried about if it would happen again constantly praying over and over to myself to hopefully fall asleep. I was scared it would happen around me or to people that I knew. I was a young age that it did not affect me like it may have now. But it definitely put some fear in myself.
Leah Yeashan Banks
Professor Wanda Sabir
English 1B
9 September 2010
September Eleventh Story
When nine eleven happened I was getting dressed for school. I was in the seventh grade. I had only turned on the TV to watch music videos while I got dressed but the news seemed to be on every channel. My mom asked what was going on and I said I didn’t know. She said something had been blown up.
School was unusually quite. My homeroom teacher asked us how we felt and said we had the option to go home if we wanted. She also said for those of us who wanted to stay we could put or head down and pray silently to ourselves. It was a sad day not so much because of the planes but because a friend who was close to me couldn’t get in touch with her brother and she cried all day. The guys at school made jokes about planes flying, at that age I guess we couldn’t take it too seriously.
After that it was kind of a regular day. I don’t come from a patriotic family. So my mom came and got me after school and I went home.
Ahu Yildirim
Prof. Wanda Sabir
English 1B
September 09 2010
September 11 Story
I was in Turkey, watching these horrible images from television. It made me think deeply, how and why humans do these horrible things to each other. I asked my self that was I in a dream, or where I was…People were falling out of the building. I thought this can’t be real, this shouldn’t be real. Money, power and politics; no matter we care or not, we are in the game of civilization. I felt like, was watching a part of a Hollywood movie. Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City was gone less than 10 minutes. Human history had added another stain in world’s history books.
Bishwojit Sharma
Professor: Wanda Sabir
English: 1B
9 September 2010
September 11
When I still remember the September 11 my heart starts beating fast and I blood gets cold. I was 13 year old at that time when this disaster happens in the America. Although I was not here I can still feel how American people have must felt at that time. I was in my native country, Nepal when this attack happened to USA. I was getting ready to go to my school at the time when my dad suddenly entered to my room and told me about the attack and told me how many people were killed. She was so sad and worried. I was quite small and didn’t get what my father was really talking about. I came outside and watched the news. I could clearly see how terrorist used the airplane to attack the world biggest trade to destroy America. When I saw that video I was scared and nervous. Now I understood everything. I feel so bad when I knew from the news about the numerous people who were killed in that attack. They were all innocent people. A thought came into my mind at that time. Why do people kill other innocent people? Is there any religion who encourage their follower to kill any innocent people? I guess no but still people in the name of their religion they kill people and destroy their life. After this attack I know security of USA was increased and they started checking people in airport and everywhere which caused people so much inconvenience. The only thing I know is we all are human beings and we should live in peace and harmony. We should not like a wild animal in the name of religion and country and sacrifice own life killing other people and killing our self. The world is so beautiful and we should enjoy our life with surrounding environment and surround people.
Budhi Man Tamang
Professor Wanda Sabir
English 1B
9 September 2010
September 11 Question US Security System
Whenever I open the history of terrorism, September 11 comes in my mind first and makes me feel bad what the terrorist can look like be. The event which made everybody threatened and forced United States to think about its security system. Before September 11 attack everybody could feel safe in United States, but after that people began feel unsafe even the United States. The deadly attack that killed more than thousands of people and put the question mark on United States security system.
In 2001, I was only about 14 years old, was not even that conscious about the news going on in the world. But September 11 was that day I begun to watch news seriously. I saw aero planes getting into the twin tower building instead of flying in blue sky. I felt like I was watching some kind of action movie but that was real and happening in the USA. I was in my country Nepal when I it happened. I used to feel the USA as one of the safest country in the world. But I had to change my mind after that attack. The attack was done by the terrorist group called al-Qaida operated by Osama Bin laden. The plan of attack was made by Khalid S Mohamed in 1996 against the United States.
September became most shocking news all around the world, all the countries began worried about their security. Next target could be any country after that. All the security system was more tightened in the United States. It has been 9 years of attack but still put fear when somebody remembers that. Somebody lost their son, somebody lost their mum, and somebody lost their dad in that attack. And put the question mark on security system of USA.
Brazile Clark
Ms. Wanda Sabir
English 1B
9 September 2010
Freewrite: “What is your September 11th Story?”
I remember clearly where I was the day the towers fell. Sixth grade, Mr. Rust class, the day had barely begun. Our daily English instruction was interrupted by a special bell I had never heard before. Mr. Rust had taken a seemingly long pause and then said he had to excuse himself. I knew something was wrong. Mr. Rust never stopped instruction, we were always on his time he said, nevertheless I was sort of excited to see what the commotion was all about. The class broke out in whispers of rumors: Maybe one of the parents wanted him fired because he was openly gay? No, that couldn’t be it, he had taught there for years and the principal would protect him. Maybe a parent complained because he was a strict teacher? No, parents wouldn’t complain because of that, only we would. Then Mr. Rust walked back in slowly to the center post and said, “America is under attack. We are not to panic. Your parents will be calling for you soon. Until then, we are going to watch the news and make sense of all of this.” One of the boys shouted that America doesn’t get attacked, that we rule the world. Mr. Rust said maybe that’s why some people want to hurt us. We watched the news and he tried his best to explain what was going on but I didn’t understand. Why would people want to hurt us? And then people began jumping out of the windows. That was too much. One of the newscasters blamed the Muslims but my Grandpa was Muslim. The only thing I didn’t understand about Muslims was that they didn’t eat ribs, but who doesn’t love ribs? My mother picked me up a half hour later. We went to my grandmothers house to watch the news with my entire family. They went back and forth, debating with their ideologies and opinions of politics. They tried to impress upon the younger generations how important this was and how our lives would change in the future, but I couldn’t concentrate. I some what did not believe this would effect my daily life. All I wanted to do was finish Mr. Rust’s homework. I knew he would still collect it no matter what circumstance and that’s what was important to me.
English 1B 9-11 Freewrite
Sept. 9
Colin Jones
Prof. Sabir
English 1b
9 September 2010
What is your Sept. 11 story?
I was eleven years old on September 11th. I had two “girl friends” by then, and had a crush on a third. I liked Pokemon and video games, and had never read a book of any real importance. My world was confined to vague recollections of Southern California and the squalor of our temporary West Oakland home, where the slugs left glittering trails of themselves over us in the night. That old world was slowly being replaced by our new one, where we lived in a suburban utopia and slugs were a pest for the garden, not the bed.
I was eleven, and my world was in perfect homeostasis, suspended in an equilibrium of Indian Summer heat that shattered the normal Fall cold. Nothing moved when I was eleven: the girls I liked would always be an adolescent crush, my favorite swear word would always be “shit”, and my friends and I would always be running, every recess, on the grassy knolls that surrounded my never-aging grade school.
Until, of course, a handful of men who looked like me sent the world tumbling down.
It was early in the morning. The exact time will always elude me; all I know is that it was earlier than usual because when my mother dragged me into my parent’s bedroom, my father was still there getting ready for work. This was a rare sight: typically, my father would be leaving for the city around the time I would be getting up, and I would only catch a fleeting glimpse of him before he’d come home around six. I knew I must be early because he was ironing his shirt still, eyes half-glued to the horror unfolding on the television my mother had plopped me down in front of.
“Watch this,” she said, voice in half-shock. “You’ll be talking about this in school today.”
I was confused, because this was a break from my usual routine. My world started spinning and I was slowly starting to find that I was being thrown off-balance.
The sight in front of me was the Twin Towers burning. I thought it was just a fire: that some dumb shit had dropped a lit cigarette in the wrong trashcan and an impossibly tall building that had no name was burning down. The announcers on the news talked frantically about “planes” and I did not yet understand what was going on. My surprised eyes were intrigued but half-asleep, still trying to process why these mammoth towers were coughing black smoke into the sky.
And then the second plane hit.
I remember that all of it “clicked” right then. I can’t explain how I understood, or whether this memory is mere fancy, but at that moment I knew. We were under attack. Not by space-invaders, or zombie-Nazis, or neo-communists, but by some mysterious, human presence armed with airplanes ripped from the sky. That suddenly there was a “click” – a kick to the world’s brim – and suddenly my static Earth started spinning.
What happened next was vague. I got dressed and went to school, and there was a somber conversation involving the word ‘terrorism’. In the days that followed Osama bin Laden became the face for this word, and suddenly people who looked like me – tan-to-dark skin, dark kinky hair, and a propensity for growing facial hair – were no longer people, but sand-niggers and towel heads. Even though I wasn’t Arab or Muslim I was called camel jockey and beat for being a terrorist. My world grew up as we invaded Afghanistan, and then Iraq. Suddenly being anything but black, white, or Christian was tantamount to being un-American.
My revolving world had changed that day. And as girl-friends came and went, books were read, and Pokemon were replaced by, well, other inconsequential things – my world began slowly turning to dust.
English 1B 9-11 Freewrite
Sept. 9
Colin Jones
Prof. Sabir
English 1b
9 September 2010
What is your Sept. 11 story?
I was eleven years old on September 11th. I had two “girl friends” by then, and had a crush on a third. I liked Pokemon and video games, and had never read a book of any real importance. My world was confined to vague recollections of Southern California and the squalor of our temporary West Oakland home, where the slugs left glittering trails of themselves over us in the night. That old world was slowly being replaced by our new one, where we lived in a suburban utopia and slugs were a pest for the garden, not the bed.
I was eleven, and my world was in perfect homeostasis, suspended in an equilibrium of Indian Summer heat that shattered the normal Fall cold. Nothing moved when I was eleven: the girls I liked would always be an adolescent crush, my favorite swear word would always be “shit”, and my friends and I would always be running, every recess, on the grassy knolls that surrounded my never-aging grade school.
Until, of course, a handful of men who looked like me sent the world tumbling down.
It was early in the morning. The exact time will always elude me; all I know is that it was earlier than usual because when my mother dragged me into my parent’s bedroom, my father was still there getting ready for work. This was a rare sight: typically, my father would be leaving for the city around the time I would be getting up, and I would only catch a fleeting glimpse of him before he’d come home around six. I knew I must be early because he was ironing his shirt still, eyes half-glued to the horror unfolding on the television my mother had plopped me down in front of.
“Watch this,” she said, voice in half-shock. “You’ll be talking about this in school today.”
I was confused, because this was a break from my usual routine. My world started spinning and I was slowly starting to find that I was being thrown off-balance.
The sight in front of me was the Twin Towers burning. I thought it was just a fire: that some dumb shit had dropped a lit cigarette in the wrong trashcan and an impossibly tall building that had no name was burning down. The announcers on the news talked frantically about “planes” and I did not yet understand what was going on. My surprised eyes were intrigued but half-asleep, still trying to process why these mammoth towers were coughing black smoke into the sky.
And then the second plane hit.
I remember that all of it “clicked” right then. I can’t explain how I understood, or whether this memory is mere fancy, but at that moment I knew. We were under attack. Not by space-invaders, or zombie-Nazis, or neo-communists, but by some mysterious, human presence armed with airplanes ripped from the sky. That suddenly there was a “click” – a kick to the world’s brim – and suddenly my static Earth started spinning.
What happened next was vague. I got dressed and went to school, and there was a somber conversation involving the word ‘terrorism’. In the days that followed Osama bin Laden became the face for this word, and suddenly people who looked like me – tan-to-dark skin, dark kinky hair, and a propensity for growing facial hair – were no longer people, but sand-niggers and towel heads. Even though I wasn’t Arab or Muslim I was called camel jockey and beat for being a terrorist. My world grew up as we invaded Afghanistan, and then Iraq. Suddenly being anything but black, white, or Christian was tantamount to being un-American.
My revolving world had changed that day. And as girl-friends came and went, books were read, and Pokemon were replaced by, well, other inconsequential things – my world began slowly turning to dust.
English 1B 9-11 Freewrite
Sept. 9
Colin Jones
Prof. Sabir
English 1b
9 September 2010
What is your Sept. 11 story?
I was eleven years old on September 11th. I had two “girl friends” by then, and had a crush on a third. I liked Pokemon and video games, and had never read a book of any real importance. My world was confined to vague recollections of Southern California and the squalor of our temporary West Oakland home, where the slugs left glittering trails of themselves over us in the night. That old world was slowly being replaced by our new one, where we lived in a suburban utopia and slugs were a pest for the garden, not the bed.
I was eleven, and my world was in perfect homeostasis, suspended in an equilibrium of Indian Summer heat that shattered the normal Fall cold. Nothing moved when I was eleven: the girls I liked would always be an adolescent crush, my favorite swear word would always be “shit”, and my friends and I would always be running, every recess, on the grassy knolls that surrounded my never-aging grade school.
Until, of course, a handful of men who looked like me sent the world tumbling down.
It was early in the morning. The exact time will always elude me; all I know is that it was earlier than usual because when my mother dragged me into my parent’s bedroom, my father was still there getting ready for work. This was a rare sight: typically, my father would be leaving for the city around the time I would be getting up, and I would only catch a fleeting glimpse of him before he’d come home around six. I knew I must be early because he was ironing his shirt still, eyes half-glued to the horror unfolding on the television my mother had plopped me down in front of.
“Watch this,” she said, voice in half-shock. “You’ll be talking about this in school today.”
I was confused, because this was a break from my usual routine. My world started spinning and I was slowly starting to find that I was being thrown off-balance.
The sight in front of me was the Twin Towers burning. I thought it was just a fire: that some dumb shit had dropped a lit cigarette in the wrong trashcan and an impossibly tall building that had no name was burning down. The announcers on the news talked frantically about “planes” and I did not yet understand what was going on. My surprised eyes were intrigued but half-asleep, still trying to process why these mammoth towers were coughing black smoke into the sky.
And then the second plane hit.
I remember that all of it “clicked” right then. I can’t explain how I understood, or whether this memory is mere fancy, but at that moment I knew. We were under attack. Not by space-invaders, or zombie-Nazis, or neo-communists, but by some mysterious, human presence armed with airplanes ripped from the sky. That suddenly there was a “click” – a kick to the world’s brim – and suddenly my static Earth started spinning.
What happened next was vague. I got dressed and went to school, and there was a somber conversation involving the word ‘terrorism’. In the days that followed Osama bin Laden became the face for this word, and suddenly people who looked like me – tan-to-dark skin, dark kinky hair, and a propensity for growing facial hair – were no longer people, but sand-niggers and towel heads. Even though I wasn’t Arab or Muslim I was called camel jockey and beat for being a terrorist. My world grew up as we invaded Afghanistan, and then Iraq. Suddenly being anything but black, white, or Christian was tantamount to being un-American.
My revolving world had changed that day. And as girl-friends came and went, books were read, and Pokemon were replaced by, well, other inconsequential things – my world began slowly turning to dust.
ENG 1B 9-11 Freewrite
Sept. 9
Colin Jones
Prof. Sabir
English 1b
9 September 2010
What is your Sept. 11 story?
I was eleven years old on September 11th. I had two “girl friends” by then, and had a crush on a third. I liked Pokemon and video games, and had never read a book of any real importance. My world was confined to vague recollections of Southern California and the squalor of our temporary West Oakland home, where the slugs left glittering trails of themselves over us in the night. That old world was slowly being replaced by our new one, where we lived in a suburban utopia and slugs were a pest for the garden, not the bed.
I was eleven, and my world was in perfect homeostasis, suspended in an equilibrium of Indian Summer heat that shattered the normal Fall cold. Nothing moved when I was eleven: the girls I liked would always be an adolescent crush, my favorite swear word would always be “shit”, and my friends and I would always be running, every recess, on the grassy knolls that surrounded my never-aging grade school.
Until, of course, a handful of men who looked like me sent the world tumbling down.
It was early in the morning. The exact time will always elude me; all I know is that it was earlier than usual because when my mother dragged me into my parent’s bedroom, my father was still there getting ready for work. This was a rare sight: typically, my father would be leaving for the city around the time I would be getting up, and I would only catch a fleeting glimpse of him before he’d come home around six. I knew I must be early because he was ironing his shirt still, eyes half-glued to the horror unfolding on the television my mother had plopped me down in front of.
“Watch this,” she said, voice in half-shock. “You’ll be talking about this in school today.”
I was confused, because this was a break from my usual routine. My world started spinning and I was slowly starting to find that I was being thrown off-balance.
The sight in front of me was the Twin Towers burning. I thought it was just a fire: that some dumb shit had dropped a lit cigarette in the wrong trashcan and an impossibly tall building that had no name was burning down. The announcers on the news talked frantically about “planes” and I did not yet understand what was going on. My surprised eyes were intrigued but half-asleep, still trying to process why these mammoth towers were coughing black smoke into the sky.
And then the second plane hit.
I remember that all of it “clicked” right then. I can’t explain how I understood, or whether this memory is mere fancy, but at that moment I knew. We were under attack. Not by space-invaders, or zombie-Nazis, or neo-communists, but by some mysterious, human presence armed with airplanes ripped from the sky. That suddenly there was a “click” – a kick to the world’s brim – and suddenly my static Earth started spinning.
What happened next was vague. I got dressed and went to school, and there was a somber conversation involving the word ‘terrorism’. In the days that followed Osama bin Laden became the face for this word, and suddenly people who looked like me – tan-to-dark skin, dark kinky hair, and a propensity for growing facial hair – were no longer people, but sand-niggers and towel heads. Even though I wasn’t Arab or Muslim I was called camel jockey and beat for being a terrorist. My world grew up as we invaded Afghanistan, and then Iraq. Suddenly being anything but black, white, or Christian was tantamount to being un-American.
My revolving world had changed that day. And as girl-friends came and went, books were read, and Pokemon were replaced by, well, other inconsequential things – my world began slowly turning to dust.
ENG 1B 9-11 Freewrite
Sept. 9
Colin Jones
Prof. Sabir
English 1b
9 September 2010
What is your Sept. 11 story?
I was eleven years old on September 11th. I had two “girl friends” by then, and had a crush on a third. I liked Pokemon and video games, and had never read a book of any real importance. My world was confined to vague recollections of Southern California and the squalor of our temporary West Oakland home, where the slugs left glittering trails of themselves over us in the night. That old world was slowly being replaced by our new one, where we lived in a suburban utopia and slugs were a pest for the garden, not the bed.
I was eleven, and my world was in perfect homeostasis, suspended in an equilibrium of Indian Summer heat that shattered the normal Fall cold. Nothing moved when I was eleven: the girls I liked would always be an adolescent crush, my favorite swear word would always be “shit”, and my friends and I would always be running, every recess, on the grassy knolls that surrounded my never-aging grade school.
Until, of course, a handful of men who looked like me sent the world tumbling down.
It was early in the morning. The exact time will always elude me; all I know is that it was earlier than usual because when my mother dragged me into my parent’s bedroom, my father was still there getting ready for work. This was a rare sight: typically, my father would be leaving for the city around the time I would be getting up, and I would only catch a fleeting glimpse of him before he’d come home around six. I knew I must be early because he was ironing his shirt still, eyes half-glued to the horror unfolding on the television my mother had plopped me down in front of.
“Watch this,” she said, voice in half-shock. “You’ll be talking about this in school today.”
I was confused, because this was a break from my usual routine. My world started spinning and I was slowly starting to find that I was being thrown off-balance.
The sight in front of me was the Twin Towers burning. I thought it was just a fire: that some dumb shit had dropped a lit cigarette in the wrong trashcan and an impossibly tall building that had no name was burning down. The announcers on the news talked frantically about “planes” and I did not yet understand what was going on. My surprised eyes were intrigued but half-asleep, still trying to process why these mammoth towers were coughing black smoke into the sky.
And then the second plane hit.
I remember that all of it “clicked” right then. I can’t explain how I understood, or whether this memory is mere fancy, but at that moment I knew. We were under attack. Not by space-invaders, or zombie-Nazis, or neo-communists, but by some mysterious, human presence armed with airplanes ripped from the sky. That suddenly there was a “click” – a kick to the world’s brim – and suddenly my static Earth started spinning.
What happened next was vague. I got dressed and went to school, and there was a somber conversation involving the word ‘terrorism’. In the days that followed Osama bin Laden became the face for this word, and suddenly people who looked like me – tan-to-dark skin, dark kinky hair, and a propensity for growing facial hair – were no longer people, but sand-niggers and towel heads. Even though I wasn’t Arab or Muslim I was called camel jockey and beat for being a terrorist. My world grew up as we invaded Afghanistan, and then Iraq. Suddenly being anything but black, white, or Christian was tantamount to being un-American.
My revolving world had changed that day. And as girl-friends came and went, books were read, and Pokemon were replaced by, well, other inconsequential things – my world began slowly turning to dust.
Senay Ghidei
Professor Wanda Sabir
English 1B
9 September 2010
My September 11 story
It was around 9 o’clock in the morning when the teacher left us and didn’t come back for the next half an hour. Everybody started talking about different subjects since nobody had any clues what is happening. The teacher got back and said, “I have bad news; there has been an accident in New York. The twin towers has been attacked.” All the sudden, the room filled in with silence. It was very sad and shocking.
Everybody started asking questions: how and why it happened. Since it is three and half hours away from Washington D.C, almost every one is familiar with the buildings and conditions of New York; almost everybody has relatives living there. A couple of minutes later, another crazy story came, but this time it’s in Virginia; A plane crashed into the pentagon which is a couple of miles away from my school. Things started making no sense and there were a lot of questions left unanswered. About three or four hours later we were told to go home and stay until it was announced by the principle.
I got home and started watching the news. I remember watching the planes getting into the buildings. It was very shocking and sad because we couldn’t believe what we were seeing. We had no idea what was going on and who was behind all of this. Then CNN announced that it was Bin laden who is responsible and claimed he is proud. Who is this person and what does he do? I was twelve that time and couldn’t figure out the clues. I knew it was something related to terrorism. Many families lost loved ones, many songs came out to help heal the nation and many countries stood by our side. I will be sad forever for this day and there should be no forgiveness to whoever is responsible.
Mauricio Cavero Alprecht
Professor Wanda Sabir
English 1B
9 September 2010
Comment on Sha’Quea Pratt
Reading your post made me remember that scenario. Yeah, that was bad of George Bush, I remember feeling the same way, thinking why he didin't react. That day was crazy but Bush's reaction was even crazier.
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