Month: November 2018

Thanksgiving

by Rhobie Toussaint, posted in Experience

I like celebrating Thanksgiving. Not because of its history and its roots, for I wouldn’t think of celebrating the holiday if that was the case. I celebrate Thanksgiving because of what it means to me. I like to be grateful for everything in life, but Thanksgiving serves as a reminder of just how much there is to be thankful for. When I think about the food that’s going to be served on the kitchen table, I also remember that there are people who won’t have the same opportunity. There are individuals who are in a hospital bed, a jail cell, or lying on the street right now. I have a roof above my head,  I am provided with food and clothing, and I’ve been fortunate enough to be surrounded by people who love and support me. For that, I am eternally grateful, especially so on days like today.

Thanksgiving is a day I send my friends paragraphs, expressing my love and appreciation for them. My friends’ reactions to it bring me joy for they deserve the immense appreciation that goes towards them. Thanksgiving is the day where everyone is home, and we all get to eat together as a family. No one’s at school, or at work, or taking a nap. Everyone in the household is at the same place, at the same time, enjoying the great meal. Thanksgiving, in my experience, is a day filled with happiness. It’s a day where some friends and family gather. It’s a day where I am reminded that everything, even those that seem ‘little’, counts, and that there is great importance in being grateful for it all.

Art

by Rhobie Toussaint, posted in Beyond MLEC

Piece drawn by Sofia Matheus

For as long as she could remember, Sofia Matheus has a great love for art. It’s one of the things she’s passionate about.

“With art, you can express yourself without actually saying anything. You feel really relaxed when you’re doing it, and you just focus on that, and you don’t need anything else…. I like all forms of art, even those that make you feel uncomfortable. Not every piece was made for your pleasure… All art, every piece, is interesting.”

Sofia also loves literature. She enjoys reading the work of authors such as Edgar Allen Poe and John Green. Sofia would much rather stay home and read books or draw than go out any day.

“When you’re doing things that you like, it feels good… that alone is better than some medicines.”

– Sofia Matheus, Student, 14

Another piece created by Sofia.

Hands

by Rhobie Toussaint, posted in Creative Writing, Experience

I am my hands. The pen marks all around my palms and the side of my fingers signify my love for writing in colorful ink. I refuse to write anything not required in all in black ink, in black ink. The cramps on my hand remind me of the Sundays filled with me playing my clarinet. Each finger has to cover a specific hole for specific notes, or else a squeaking sound will come out of the clarinet. My right thumb is placed under a back-piece of the instrument to support it, leaving my thumb aching. Every time I look at my long nails, I am reminded that I should cut them, but there’s never any time to do so. Between the typing of articles, writing of poems, and carrying of books, there’s no downtime. My hands help me reach for the pencil I’ve dropped for the fiftieth time. I try to catch it in the palm of my hand before it rolls under someone else’s chair.  My hands help me write birthday letters and lengthy paragraphs of encouragement. The end of my thumb and index finger hold the pen and my other fingers support them while the tip of my pen touches the paper. My hands help me comfort a friend in need of emotional support by placing my warm hand over theirs, gently squeezing it. My hands help me excitedly wave to someone I recognize across the hall as I try to gain their attention. My hands help me tightly hug my best friend after a long, tiring day at school. They touch the back of his shirt with a firm grip, giving us both comfort.

Throughout my life, my hands have been there for me. From car accidents to test days to breakups and makeups, my hands have been with me. They are more than a part of my body. They are more than something connected to two of my limbs. My hands are my support. They help me pick myself up after I fall. They remind to relax as I clench and un-clench them in distress. Most importantly, through the support that my hands give me, I can support others.

Write

by Rhobie Toussaint, posted in Experience

I love to write.

That’s why English has always been my favorite subject. That’s why I enjoy typing long paragraphs, either motivating or proving a point. That’s why I love both writing and receiving letters.  That’s why I aspire to write a best-seller one day.

I love to write.

I love writing for different reasons, one of which I realized in fifth grade. I remember the family problems going on back home. It was evident to two of my teachers that I was feeling down, despite me denying it every time they asked. Day after day, they’d ask what was wrong. Day after day, I’d reply “nothing”, with a contradicting sad smile. One day, one of my teachers told me, “If you can’t say it, write it.” That’s exactly what I did. After a math lesson, he gave the class free time, but handed me a sheet of copy paper and a pencil. I sat at a table, took a deep breath, and began writing. I wrote, and I wrote, explaining my situation and expressing my concern. I remember drops of tears falling on the paper as I wrote my last sentences. I remember handing both my teachers the letter, nervously waiting for them to finish reading it, and the encouraging words they said afterwards. I remember feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder… Since then, writing has been a coping mechanism. Instead of bottling emotions, I wrote about them.

I love to write.

When I can’t seem to say something out loud, or when I can’t find the right words to say, I write it all out.

When I feel inspired, I take out my pen and paper and jot it all down before I lose my train of thought.

When my friends are seeking advice and encouragement, I send them a lengthy paragraph or two.

When I feel sad, I write about it. When I’m overjoyed, I write about it.

When my best friend’s birthday is a few days away, I sit on the end of my kitchen table, and start writing her annual birthday letter, thanking her and reminiscing on our past adventures.

I love to write.

Writing is one way I can help and inform people. Writing is how I deal with most of my emotions. Writing lifts my spirit.

I love to write because writing is a part of me.

 

 

Skiing Accidents & Reflections

by Rhobie Toussaint, posted in Humans of MLEC

“Every year, my family goes skiing. One year, we went skiing at North Carolina Sugar Mountain. It was the first day of the new year, everyone was happy. I wanted to go skiing again. The temperature was a little warm, so they put artificial snow on the mountains. The artificial snow plus the recent rain made the mountain slippery. As I went skiing, I lost control, and fell out of the ski. I landed on my right shoulder, then started to yell. My ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament) snapped, my MCL (Medical Collateral Ligament) tore, and I needed a temporary brace and crutches. I remember yelling at a man who was trying to help me because I was in pain. I didn’t get to do surgery until two months later, and that made my legs worse.

Since I couldn’t go up the stairs [when I got back home], I slept on the sofa bed. I thought about how I couldn’t do anything and I was worried that I would never be able to run again… I started to focus on what I wanted to accomplish before something like that happened again… It also made me value my legs.”

– Daniel Garcia, Senior, Health/EMT