3 questions

What role does honesty play?

the memory is hugely based on how a lie led to a humiliating exposure and experience.

How does this represent fantasy vs. reality?

in the memory, i thought i would be a good pitcher because i was a dominant pitcher in my video game, and the video game made it look easy. this could relate to similar situations, with worse consequences.

Where does team responsibility play a role in the memory?

i lied about my ability and made myself seem greater than i actually was. i took on a role too large, and wasn't prepared. i ended up hurting my team because of my lack of responsibility

Memory

Chris Reed

English

Pugliese

9-21-09

Baseball Game

I arrived at the field one hour early. Butterflies in my stomach, ready for my first game. The field looked massive, larger than usual, as if someone had moved the fences back farther, and moved the bases farther apart. The infield had just been raked and watered, and the outfield grass was perfectly cut. I was in amazement.

I set my stuff down on the dugout bench and jogged out onto the field to join my teammates for warm ups. I was beyond nervous. It was my first baseball game. Things weren’t looking to good from the start. During warm-ups the muscles in my arm were telling me they weren’t happy, very sore, and I couldn’t throw the ball anywhere near where I aimed. My teammates were already frustrated with me, and the game hadn’t even started yet.

After warming up our arms, we all headed back to the dugout. The time for the first pitch grew nearer, and still coach hadn’t announced who the starting pitcher would be. I was nearly positive it wouldn’t be me, so I was just focused on doing well in the field, and hopefully getting a hit my first at bat. I was totally zoned out, envisioning myself hitting a home run and jogging around to the bases, team and fans going nuts. But then I thought I heard my coach call my name. I snapped out of the trance I was in, and looked up.

“Reed, your starting pitcher today. Hope your arm’s feeling good.” Coach Dave announced.

My stomach tightened up and I nearly puked. How was that possible? I had no prior pitching experience. Then I remembered telling coach during our last few practices that I was an expert pitcher, and that I should pitch in a game sometime. But I had never anticipated that he would really listen to me, and actually have me pitch. Especially now, the first game of the season.

“Reed, go down to the bullpen and throw some pitches, we need you ready in five minutes. The games about to start.” Coach commanded.

As I journeyed down to the bullpen, thoughts raced through my head. What was I going to do? I had no idea how to pitch. Then I tried to calm myself. I kept telling myself that since I was good at pitching in my MLB video game, than that had to mean I was an ok pitcher in real life.

Unfortunately that was not the case. The first inning lasted for what seem like years. I couldn’t throw a strike. Literally, I looked like idiot on the mound, and allowed the maximum amount of runs possible, six. After that, the mercy rule came into play, and the inning was finally over. I felt awful. The look of disappointment in my coaches eyes, and the discouraged looks on my all my teammates faces. We were obviously going to lose the game because of me.

The coach took my aside and asked me why I had told him I knew how to pitch, because it was apparent that I couldn’t. I told him about how I thought that if I was good in my video game, then I could be good in real life. At least he chuckled. He told me not to worry, and that it wasn’t a very big deal. But to me it was. I was humiliated.

I ended up striking out two out of three at bats that game, and had three errors in the field. It was a day to be forgotten, and unfortunately to this day hadn’t been forgotten. After the game, my dad had nothing to day. I could tell he was disappointed with me, like everyone else who watched the game. But he still managed to say something supportive. Doing his job as a father.

That day I was so ashamed that I swore to myself I would never let it happen again. I wouldn’t lie about my talent, because it would catch up to me again, as it did before. I practiced pitching with my dad everyday, ritually, so someday I would be as good as I was in my video game. I couldn’t wait for my chance to redeem myself, because the events that occurred on that treacherous spring day would be stuck in my head forever, and would serve as my motivation. Motivation to improve.

Questions for Tobias Wolff

Why do you choose to end your stories the way you do? without a conclusion

In Nightingale, what did the Fort Steel Military Academy end up actually being?

Why weren't there other students or parents, and why was the map and aerial photo of the school wrong? Was the school all a scam, all fiction like the map and photo?

Zoom in. Real time, accelerated, slowed

He looked around at the same scenery that he had been looking at for the last hour

Real Time

"Where are they, I've been waiting forever." said Tub to himself, then, in and attempt to release all his anger he screamed "Ahhhhhhh!!!!"

He walked back and forth at a brisk pace, trying to keep himself warm, and after doing this for a few minutes and noticing that it was unsuccessful, he began doing jumping jacks. The jumping jack idea would have been very effective, but there was one problem. Tub could only do ten jumping jacks before keeling over exhausted, , wee-zing. He had gotten very out of shape because his exercise and eating habits. To make himself feel better he told himself, "that extra blubber is helping keep me warm."

But that definitely wasn't the case.

Accelerated

All that was going through his head as he paced back and forth was warmth, and maybe food. Every part of his body was cold, from his toes, to his head, even his brain was cold. He was shaking and shivering, and nothing he did could help him escape the cold. He was very upset that they were this late. Could they have forgotten about him? He was worried for a few moments, but then realized that they were probably just screwing around somewhere, or just running really behind schedule. His stomach growled. He was starved. He didn't know if he could deal with it much longer. All he could think about is the king size Hershey's Chocolate bar that he left at home on his counter. He had planned on bringing it as a snack, but forgot to, because he was in a hurry. He didn't want to make them wait for him.

Slowed

Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, coming out of nowhere, in a never ending stream. The flakes landed on his back, settled there for a second, then melted away into water, seeping through the cloth of his fleece. His whole body damp and nearly frozen. As he did jumping jacks his gut bounced up and down, up and down, along with his rolls, and double chin, and man "breasts." The world nearly shook beneath him. Each time his feet landed on the ground, the ice crunched and the stop sign next to him vibrated a little bit. He self consciously imagined the neighbors in their houses, diving underneath their dinner table, panicked, thinking the tectonic plates had collided and an earthquake was happening. After ten he collapsed to the ground, completely overworked and exhausted. He took a huge breath as air filled his lungs. As he lay there, heart pounding, melted snow began to seep through all his layers, soaking his clothes, and him. He stood up, embarrassed and disappointed in himself. He looked down at the snow angel he had made and noticed that snow angels aren't so great to look at when they're fat. So he started attempting jumping jacks again. It was time for things to change.

Waiting

Tub had been waiting for an hour in the falling snow. Page 20, Hunters in the Snow. Tobias Wolf

Doing anything he could to keep warm. Snowflakes fell gently from the sky, adding layers to the thick blanket of snow that covered the ground. The sharp winter air piercing through his bundles of clothing, chilling him to his core. He shivered violently, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. He looked around at the same scenery that he had been looking at for the last hour. The lifeless trees with no leaves, barren braches, looking as cold as him. Some trees still had their leaves, and snow had fallen on top of them in large piles. The lamppost over head flickered. The bulb dim casted shadows across the night. He leaned up against the lamppost, the cold metal chilling the back of his neck, though leaning on it relieved him very much for his legs were sore from standing. He began to pace back an forth up and down the icy, cracked sidewalk trying to keep his blood flowing, one of his many attempts at achieving warmth. He had been debating returning home because at this point he felt his friends may have abandoned him. Across the street was the neighbor’s ice cream truck, parked in the driveway. Out of service for the winter. It tantalized him. Even though he was nearly frozen, the only thing that was bothering him more than the cold was his hunger. His stomach was growling. Begging him to feed it. In retaliation to him starving it, his stomach attacked him with piercing pains. All he wanted was food. It kept flashing before his eyes. He imagined a huge plate filled with a mountain of steaming pancakes, syrup oozing down the sides. He imagined a multi layer “rich kid” sandwich fro his favorite deli. Layer after layer of meat, roast beef, ham, turkey, all lined with mustard. Tomatoes, onions, and banana peppers bursting out the sides of the French baguette roll. So inviting. Just waiting for him to take a bite. Sink his teeth in, flavors spreading across his taste buds. Ultimate satisfaction. His stomach growled loudly as if telling him to stop his mouth watering thoughts. So his mind drifted back to the cold winter night. The ice cream truck. The lamp post. The cracked sidewalk. His almost frostbit fingers and nose, and his uncontrollable shivering as he continued to wait. No friends in sight.

Lies

Everyone lies. It happens every minute of every day. Whether they are lying to themselves, or to their parents or friends. I lie without a doubt. When i was in fourth grade, everyone in my class went through a phase when reading was "cool." Everyone was supposed to read every night, then fill out a chart in class with how many books they had read. I have always been a slow reader and was amazed by how much my classmates were reading, and the attention they were getting for doing so. So i began to make up books that I read. They didn't even exist. So if anyone wanted to check if i had actually read the book, i could say whatever i wanted about it to them, and they would be able to verify if i was right or not. This plan worked very well for a while and my classmates began to think i was a great reader. But on person i could not fool was my teacher. One day she asked me about the books i was "reading" because she said that they seemed very random and that they probably didn't exist. Obviously it was a bad idea to lie in the first place, so i had to end up telling her about my whole plot. In the end i gained nothing because my classmates found out i lied and frowned upon me.

Until i was 11 years old i believed in Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth ferry. Even though Santa clause used the same wrapping paper as my parents, had the same handwriting as my parents, and give the same gifts as i had seen in my parents closet just a week before. There were so many thing that showed me that Santa Clause didn't exist, but i chose to believe, and fought to convince myself and my friends that he had to be real. The character of Santa is one that made my head spin. A big fat man who rode flying reindeer around the world giving out millions of presents in just one night. How incredible. I chose to believe because i was in awe. I loved the idea. If Santa clause didn't exist, Christmas would be much too ordinary. I loved putting cookies out for him to eat, and forcing myself to fall asleep, or at least pretend i was asleep, so that he would come. People tend to believe lies told by by someone official. Since my parents said Santa existed, i didn't question them. I just believed. until I turned 12 and i found out he wasn't real and my world was completely crushed for 30 seconds.

Mhsl Visit, by Jonah

If Jonah was to visit Mhs, he would dislike it very much. Like any other school, Mhs teaches nothing but lies. Each student spends 7 hours a day at menlo being told lies. But at Mhs, each student has to pay $30,000 a year to waste their time in classes teaching them skills that they won't ever need to use again in their lives, like geometry. The teachers there fail to find enthusiasm in their subjects, because they know everything in their curriculum is fake. They assign more than an average amount of homework a night to the students, because they feel it is their obligation at this "prestigious" Mhs, but the students don't care because they know the school is a lie, the teacher's backgrounds are lies, and the "advantage" they are receiving in life by going to this school is a lie. Everything is one big lie, and because of this, the concept of school is truly a joke. and Mhs is one of the biggest jokes of them all.

You can call me...

Call me frank. But just to let you know, that's not my real name. If i was to tell you my real name, you would become a potential threat to me and my organization, and we don't want that to happen do we? So just call me Frank. Frank Denam.

I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself. I am a spy for the United States of America. My parents knew I has a gift from a young age. When I was 12 I memorized the codes to all my neighbor's garages on the street. I watched them enter codes every morning while I walked the dog until they were hardwired into my brain. I used to play games with myself, like whenever i went to the grocery store I would try to figure out which cars in the parking lot had moved while i was in the store. I can run a 4.6 second 40 yard dash. I can hold my breath underwater for 3 minutes. I have a black belt in 4 forms of karate. I can kill you with a pair of chopsticks, If you get on my bad side, I am your worst nightmare.