East Grand students share writings in Generation 21 school newspaper
By Marina Koepke, Generation 21
Who is school really designed for?
What’s a good way to describe how I feel about school? Let’s see, I loathe it. Yes, school has taught me to use exotic language to sugar code what I say, but let’s be real, I hate school. The game begins.
It’s not all black and white as to why school is a nuisance, so I’ll play it out with you. Could it possibly be that many things are assigned to me that end up just wasting my time? Or maybe it’s getting reprimanded for wearing my winter hat within 15 feet of the building coming in from a blizzard.
Does being at school make me uncomfortable when there are two police officers parading the hallways at least once a week? Perhaps it’s all the activities and academic opportunities being taken away from kids because of budget cuts? The Pawns take a defensive line.
Money. Yes, I’ve heard a lot about money issues lately. From the high school not being able to support a sports team to stay overnight for a state championship, forcing the athletes to wake up at 4:30 each morning to the closing of Grand Lake Elementary, money seems to be a key piece in this game of running a school district. The Queen steps out onto the board.
Another thing I’ve heard recently, which I’m all sure you’d love to hear about, is East Grand School District refusing money to a school to benefit the kids. Wait, what? So it’s not in the SCHOOL district’s best interest to provide the funds for a safer, more productive facility for the children attending there? Well you know, “it’s just 48 kids.” I’m sure those parents love hearing their children being thrown around like scrap. Am I missing something?! The Knight passes through enemy lines, unnoticed.
Isn’t it required by law that the school district provides funds for their schools? Why is there such a battle to provide more opportunities for the youth of our county? Castling Kingside. Rook allows for King to move horizontally across board.
The district gets money from the state and county, i.e. the community pays for the school whether they have kids or not. Has their money been spent wisely? Giant gymnasiums are being built, academic classes are being cut, and schools are being refused money. Is this in hopes to improve academic productivity because isn’t that the main goal of a school in the first place? Knight takes Queen.
Who am I to have any idea what’s going on in the upper tier of the school hierarchy? I’m a mere student, bottom of the totem pole, least important piece in this game. Even though students seem to be the last thing taken into account when decisions are being made, we suffer the sharpest edge of the sword because in the end, it is our school. Pawn takes King.
Now, let’s ask the question again: Who is school really designed for?
By Nico Larson, Generation 21
Raucous sounds of natural violence filled the air around her, stifling attempts at comprehending what was happening. The scenario Andromeda found herself in was the very definition of chaos; large gouts of flame exploding out of bottomless pits, filling the air with the acrid smell of sulfur and burnt flesh. The ground itself seemed diseased, an unhealthy, cracked and blackened surface, devoid of life. She strode cautiously, not sure what her goal was, but did her best to keep her bare feet from anything potentially harmful. It was an absolute mystery where she was, or how she had gotten there.
The last thing Andromeda remembered was the wrenching screech of steel colliding with steel, the flashing red and blue lights, the frantic mutterings and sirens. None of her memories made sense, and neither did her surroundings. It was a dark place she was in, hazy with smoke from the great fissures in the ground, an ominous red glow barely managed to light the horizon, and the sound of distant wails of anguish like a cacophonous symphony of the damned. A soft whispering floated to her ears as if on a breeze, “Who are you, you do not belong here …”
Andromeda spun, long raven hair flying behind her in an arc of darkness. Shivering slightly, she kept herself in an athletic stance, prepared to confront whatever was there, “I’m … Andromeda, and I have absolutely no idea where I am, how I got here, or who you are for that matter. Care to explain?”
She looked around cautiously, unable to distinguish any figures in the smoky clearing and thought, I can’t be intimidated by these things, keep strong; you’ve got to keep strong Andromeda. Her thoughts wandered to her childhood years, her mother cooing to her in a gentle voice, and pointing out the galaxy she was named after on a breezy summer night. The clashing of pots and soft mutterings as her father cooked them dinner, and then the long evenings spent playing various card games with her family. A quick, halting skittering sound jerked her back to the present, and it brought her a great fear too. Fear of the unknown, the sound she had heard was definitely not something a human could produce.
Andromeda, being 29 years of age, was by no means a weak individual, nor was she an intimidating person. Standing around 6 feet and being of an athletic disposition, she felt she could hold her own against an attacker. Still, the sound worried her. It was something she would have expected to hear from some sort of beetle, though she knew such a thing was not large enough to produce a sound audible enough for her to hear amongst the sounds of violent eruptions and the pained wailing that continued constantly. A clicking sound directly behind her caused her to freeze. Uncontained fear coursing through her and her mind racing, overloaded into flight or fight mode as a claw touched her shoulder, pulling back her hair and cooing to her unsettlingly like her mother had done so many years ago.
“You know where you are, Andromeda my dear, you’ve known since you first set foot here, stepping through those black gates …”
Scenes from her life flashed before her, the years she had spent cheating her way through the corporate systems, undermining her friends and betraying those she had once sworn to help. The joy of finally assuming position as CEO, and then initiating a variety of cuts … lashing through ranks upon ranks of veteran employees, firing indiscriminately all who opposed her … the millions she had made through her various scandals and plots … the way her family had turned against her in the end … her life had been one of the most extreme avarice. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she saw the stricken faces of her lifelong friends, staying at her hospital bed after the accident, after all the years of betrayal and anger … they had stayed at her side in her darkest moments, and she had left them with nothing. The slithering voice crept to her ears.
“Yes … that’s right my dear … the fourth circle is your home for eternity, not here, no, limbo is too forgiving for the likes of you …”
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In the last nine years of working with aspiring entrepreneurs in Grand County I’ve discovered that one area where Grand County is seeing lots of activity is in the realm of arts and culture.