This was my first English paper that I wrote in college. After how amazing it turned out and considering I got one of the only two A's in the class I am proud to say I wrote this high, and that marijuana is harmless if used the right way. Go ahead and judge me by that statement but I'm the one who got an A on my paper with it's help. For those of you who actually know me I guess you could say i exaggerated a little bit. And for those of you who don't for example my English15 teacher I'll sign autographs later.
Beliefs of an Hidden Role Model
Written by G.TheTruth.
At first glance my neighborhood looks like any other town in New Jersey. Sure there may be a few more high schools, one too many malls, and a train station that more then 1000 people pass through daily, but it still manages to keep the homely feel to its residents. This “melting pot” of a town that I am referring to is Woodbridge Township. With diversity being a driving factor in our area, there aren’t many types of people you won’t find. There is no dominant majority or minority; therefore I can honestly say diversity hasn’t been an issue growing up.
Middle school is an important time for the youth in our town. Unlike most current day students that are taught to idolize scientists and dead presidents, the role models in my school were leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. Although our school is big on academics, the most important lesson learned in middle school was the acceptance of others.
There was an unspoken understanding of mutual respect throughout the halls. Most people choose to live blind and ignore the differences in people, while others, like me, try to embrace and learn from our differences. This is just one opinion on why I was viewed as a leader in my middle school. Being a leader in 8th grade meant everything. I was looked to for problems and solutions and was pretty much considered a guidance counselor to my peers. Our 8th grade class was said to be a special one.
Overtime we developed a phrase that most students in the school lived by: “Treat others the way you want to be treated.” As our graduating gift we had that quote painted over the doorways leaving the school. Subconsciously these are the last words that every graduating student will associate with our school as they began their transition into high school and become mature adults.
Three years later, junior year is about to begin and I was put back into a very similar situation. I was officially an upperclassman, finally at the top half of the food chain and the only other predators and teammates in the animal kingdom of high school were the more experienced seniors. I had nothing to worry about.
The best part of the upcoming school year may have been the underclassmen, my past disciples from middle school. The 6th, 7th, and 8th graders from three years ago were are all in the same building once again. Nothing could go wrong. I was worshipped by the underclassmen and respected by the upperclassmen. The school as a whole was set for a great year, and I wasn’t looking too bad myself.
The first day of school started and our annual senior orientation was about to begin. I was selected as one of the few seniors to talk on stage in front of a large crowd of my fellow schoolmates. We entered the auditorium and walked toward the stage. I was selected fourth in line behind my three good friends, followed by a couple kids I didn’t really know. As we marched on stage the crowd began to roar and I was reassured that this upcoming year would be great. I waited in line eager to start. We began roll call and started introducing ourselves to the adoring fans. We started at the front of the line, but before we could get to the first person something happened. “Back of the line, Rosa Parks” I heard whispered closely to my ear. A few seconds later, I knew something was wrong. The room went silent, my friends on stage stepped behind me, and the kid who said it to me even seemed sick to his stomach with shock. At that moment I understood what everyone was thinking. We all had microphones clipped to our shirts and that comment was just announced to the whole student body of my high school and no one knew how to respond.
Everyone had their own reason why they kept comments like that to themselves. Some honestly believe it is wrong, others out of fear, and some out of respect. I could tell that the crowd, along with the administration, was still shocked and was waiting for the next move. “Your dead,” my first friend snapped immediately to the kid. With everyone equipped with microphones, the situation began to quickly escalate while the audience, along with teachers, tuned in to watch in suspense. Why was no one stopping this I thought to myself? I knew I had to think quickly on my feet because the whole student body was watching an uncontrollable sitcom unfold, and my friends are on the verge of being at this kids throat.
“I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean it,” he said speaking as if he was all of a sudden my best friend. I felt as if all eyes were on me, just waiting for a response. I knew what I had to do.
I looked at him and said, “I understand you’re sorry right now, but I can’t forgive you”. The state of shock on the audience shifted to awe. As I glared out into the audience I saw a swarm of blank faces hidden behind unanswered questions. I had the attention of everyone in the room. “Right now you’re not actually sorry because you did say it, so I know you meant it. You’re sorry that I either, one took offense to it, two sorry out of fear of being beaten up right now, or three sorry that the whole student body just heard your last comment.” At this point I now officially had the attention of the whole student body, even my friends on stage stood in shock.
“And to be honest, none of those reasons seem legit to me. You should feel guilty because you know deep down, what you said was wrong, and next time you think of saying something like that to someone you won’t say it because of the consequences. You won’t say it out of respect for that person”. As I finished my rant, I turned to the kid offering him a handshake, while what just actually happened began to take effect in the minds of audience.
As awkward glances on stage turned into smiles, we knew as a group what we just accomplished. We taught a new lesson to the not only the students of our school but the staff also. Everyone knew to keep their comments to themselves but not everyone knew for the right reason. What started out as a horrible incident, finished as one of the best orientations ever presented at our high school. There was still a sense of uncertainty coming from the crowd. I knew it was the unanswered question of was what just happened real or scripted? Everyone on stage knew what had just happened was real and spontaneous, and in some sense, they were sort of proud that they were involved.
We reformed the line that we walked onto stage in, waiting for an administrator to add their input into what just happened. I stepped forward and looked back at the line, with a look of trust and took a bow. Instantly the awkward and confusion of the room disappeared. As I looked to my left, the kid who was, for a short time, the villain of the school, stepped forward and bowed with me. Soon my friends followed, and then the whole line stepped forward and bowed together as one. This notion was followed by an instant uproar of applause that seemed to last for ever.
Eventually our principal walked on stage with a look of slight confusion on his face. “I want to thank the upperclassmen for their little skit on the importance of not only accepting, but respecting your classmates. Please now report to your second block class.” The students scattered and the auditorium quickly emptied. What just happened was over just as quickly as it stated.

