Grandmother

She wasn’t very tall and didn’t look too muscular, but Dorothy Price would be anybody- boy, girl, adult or child- anybody’s ass if they crossed her. My grandmother was hard as a rock, and everyone knew it. There was no “acting a fool” in her house, and her 8 children knew exactly what they were in for if she heard they were misbehaving.

Her eyes were always red and her mind was tired, but her body never stopped. She worked two jobs to keep food on the table, as she was a single mother of 8. But it wasn’t just her children that would come home for dinner when she would call out from the door. Eight of her own followed by maybe three or four friends, a few cousins would maybe stop by, a local maintenance worker who just got off the job and was craving a hot meal, and others, would all come by the house to enjoy the perfectly seasoned, crispy crunchy fried chicken and sweet, fluffy biscuits that she prepared. Dorothy was a strong woman who cared extensively for her family and community.

Every night at 6:30, she would come home from her second job, place her things on the table in the hall and head for the kitchen. The bare chicken was breaded and tastefully seasoned and then fried to a golden crisp. Meanwhile, she’d have the corn, collard greens, potatoes and hushpuppies all going, and no problem keeping up with all of that. When it was just about dinner time, she’d yell out the front door, “All y’all kids get on in here and wash up, it’s ‘bout time to eat,” and without hesitation, all eight hurried in to clean their hands and faces. Never did anyone go without a meal on that side of the railroad tracks in Hogansville, GA. Ms. Dot fed any face that came to the door. Her generosity never ceased to expand, and if any honest person needed anything, they knew where to go.

However, her generosity went hand in hand with her expectations that the people that came to her house never brought trouble. “I don’t play around,” she always said, “and I won’t ever have my family in danger because of my big heart. If you come in here to eat and enjoy ya’self, then that there is alright, but I won’t tolerate none of that other foolishness.” And she stuck to her word. Her loving but stern ways were only two of the many characteristics that made her a wonderful neighbor, aunt, sister, mother and grandmother.

The Price of Happiness

The envelope was small and that was never a good sign. I was beyond convinced that it couldn't be a rejection, but at the same time I was confused. It said, “Bridgewater State University, Office of Admissions” and was addressed in my name. I told my mom to open it because I couldn’t open any of those things; the anxiety would eat me up. My mom, though only 5’2”, is tough as nails, but even these killed her to read because it meant she was losing her oldest child. She opened it quickly and read over the beginning, quietly mouthing through the words.

“You’re in!!” she shouted. “Duh, I knew you would get accepted, my super smart girl!” she said, her smile stretching ear to ear.

“Oh stop mom,” I laughed. “It’s not that serious. I don’t want to go there anyway. I’m going straight to Georgia.” She didn’t look too happy about that one. Georgia was too far for her, even though I had enough relatives there to make up the student population of UGA. I always hated New England weather and she knew she had a slim chance of getting me to stay. I took the envelope off the table, said, “thanks for the good news,” and returned to my room. I never thought I would end up a freshman at Bridgewater State University, and I especially never thought I would like it.

Later that day, my mother came up to my room.

“Olivia,” she said, “wanna talk about college?”  

I had been talking about college all day every day for months, so the truth was that no, I didn’t want to talk about college. However, I knew she had some important stuff to say, so I suppressed every urge to say, “honestly I don’t even want to go to college at this point,” and decided to listen. We talked about where I wanted to go and how important it is that I’m happy wherever I end up. We talked about everything, except for what was really on her mind: money. I knew the cost of school was going to be a problem, but my parents would never admit it to me.

“Money is for us to worry about, you worry about those grades!” is what my dad always told me. At this point, I knew, regardless of where I really wanted to go, I had to make a smart decision. Did I really want to be paying student loans until I retire? The choice was clear. With great education at a “reasonable” price, Bridgewater was the place for me.

Peace Corps Dreams

Prompt: Peace Corps service presents major physical, emotional, and intellectual challenges. In the space below, please provide a few paragraphs explaining your reasons for wanting to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer and how you plan to overcome the various challenges associated with Peace Corps service

I would love to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer to continue my work serving youth, and through my dedication and love for the kids, I would be able to persevere through the challenges put before me.

I have worked with children of many ages and backgrounds since I was 14, through summer camps and community service opportunities, and I love to see how children can grow and how they work.  I believe that every child holds so much potential, regardless of where they grow up and the resources they are provided. With that being said, it is necessary that all children have equal access to resources that will help them fulfill their entire potential. Being a Peace Corps volunteer, I feel that I can help to provide children with the support and help that they need to continue to grow and learn, and be productive members of their community.

I am working towards becoming a social worker, hopefully within the next four years, because not only would I love to serve children in other communities, but I would be honored to be able to work with and support children in and around the community I grew up in. Serving in the Peace Corps would definitely better help me do my job as a social worker in my own community, because I would be able to better acclimate to situations I’m not used to through my work as a volunteer in another country. With that being said, my courses in social work will definitely help me in my service as a volunteer, because I have acquired a good deal of skills and information that I can and will apply to my work now, as a volunteer and in the future as a social worker.

I am aware, however, that serving as a Peace Corps volunteer requires a lot of hard work and ability to work through difficulties. I believe that because I am so dedicated to working with children and being there for them, and through my love for the work that I’ll be doing and that the Peace Corps does, I will be able to adapt accordingly, and not get stuck. Along with that, I understand the importance of asking for help, and will not fail to do so from my fellow peers. I am very excited about all of the opportunities that the Peace Corps provides, and I hope that I’ll be able to help continue the amazing things that it does for people and places of our world.

Race Remixed Rhetorical Analysis

The article “Race Remixed” by Susan Saulny provides an insight on the mixed race population of the United States, and the growing support they are receiving from each other. The piece is a nonfiction article that was written for the New York Times, and I think it was meant to bring awareness of the growing population of mixed race people today. Although it is nonfiction, it does reflect the opinions of the author and interviewees in some aspects. Because of this, the genre determination is more fluid.

In the article, the author focuses on the question “ What are you?” and what that means to mixed race Americans in today’s society. She talks to many college students, most of whom are involved in a mixed race student group on campus. Through these groups, the students find support in people who “look like” them, and can talk about the pros and cons of identifying with more than one race. Saulny also talks about the demographics of the U.S. and how “the mixed race population has grown by roughly 35 percent since 2000.” With these observations, she explores the possibilities of either an increasingly mixed American society, or a more stratified society, focused on keeping people under labels.

Because parts of the article were opinion-based, I would not be surprised if a reader looked at some of the issues with a different approach. For example, towards the end, Saulny writes about a mixed race woman who questions President Obama’s decision to only check black on the census. In a discussion, a good amount of the mixed race people in the room agree that although he did only check black, he could (or should) identify as black and white. Others, however, argued using the “one drop rule,” which says that if you are any portion black, you are to identify as black. This could prove offensive to mixed race people, who, because they are in fact two or more races, will identify with all of them and refuse to be categorized as just one. Because race is such an important but controversial part of our society, in a way, it is understood that the discussion about this would be extensive and heavily debated.