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Outside the Books

When you think of college the first thing that comes to mind is classes, books and homework.   In reality, however, college has much more to offer than just working on assignments and studying. Going outside the books and realizing that we do have free time makes college life so much better and easier to manage.  College students tend to spend their free time in different ways than other students.  In this blog posts, we will be discussing unique ways students spend their free time which includes cheering, going home on the weekends and being involved.

The Face of Kutztown

When it comes to representing something, you always want to make sure it's in the best way possible.  When I first made the Kutztown cheer team, the first thing I was told, was that I am now representing the university, and anything that I do will reflect on the team and the school.  Our coach tells us that we are the face of Kutztown.  Besides leading the crowd, the Kutztown cheer team also makes appearances at events throughout the school year, as well as compete for national titles.  Cheerleading is a very prestigious and competitive sport, we are more than what you see on the sidelines.  Myself, and 26 other members of the cheerleading team spend our free time practicing, at games, volunteering, and many other things around campus.

Ashley, who is a fourth year member on the Kutztown cheer team, can justify what the team is all about, and how we spend our free time.  As well as being a leader to all of the other teammates, Ashley also is in charge of representing us on social media.  In the free time of a college student, typically, a student would usually spend any time they get doing homework or studying.  So, how does being on the cheer team affect our academics?  For any college athlete this might be a challenge, however, “Because of cheerleading, I have to manage my time well to get everything done along with all of our practices and games.”  Ashley also talks about the mandatory library hours that the cheer team is required to complete every week.  If you fail to do so, the cheerleader who didn't complete their hours will sit at the next game or event.  Because time management is so important, “As a team we also attend management seminars to keep our schedules under control.”  Of course, the first priority in college is the school work, so it is super important to have a plan.  

As well as the importance of school work and time management, being involved with the school and community is also a very big part in the lives of Kutztown cheerleaders.  Ashley has spent tons of time invested in the community during her free time these last three years, “As a team we volunteer for many different events, such as: Special olympics, Angel 34, KUBok, summer golf outings, cleaning up Kutztown, Relay for life, The girls run, and many others.”  When we show up to these events, we are expected to be representing the university with pride and class.  Wearing the same thing and looking presentable is very important.  Not only is this expected of our coach and fans, “We also as a team work hand and had with the president of the university to spread school spirit.”  So, in the free time as a Kutztown University student, the cheerleading team, participates in year round events as well have practices, games and performances.  

-Karlie Doyle

Home Again Home Again

Monday through Friday I have classes that I attend to, this mostly consisted of me doing homework, finishing a project or spending time in the library. When the weekend comes around I  have a lot of free time to do what I please. A lot of the time going home is what I tend to lean towards instead of staying up at Kutztown. I am not the only student who decides to go home on the weekends.

Today I asked a 19 year old Freshman Meredith what she tends to do when she has free time and her answer was very similar to mine, She likes to spend most of her weekends at home where she spends time with her family, friends and pets. Many people think that we should stay up at Kutztown on the weekends and get to know more people but for Meredith that's not the case. “I have friends here at KU and at home, I don't get to see my friends back home as much as I see my friends up here, so I go home to spend some time with them. Family is super important to me, I want to spend time with them as much as I can”  Meredith likes to go home to see her dog Bentley who she thinks of as family. She also mentioned that the main reason she goes home is to work at her job in a deli called Donnie Mac's. At Kutztown Meredith is just one example of how people spend their free time, she does what makes her happy and the most important thing anyone could do is to do what makes them happy.

-Emily Truhan

Sista Sista

When I first decided to attend Kutztown I knew that once recruitment started I was going to join a sorority. Being in a sorority is much more than just parties and socializing, it’s being part of something bigger than myself  and raising money and awareness for our philanthropy. Being in a sorority has provided  me with countless opportunities to get involved and spend time with sisters while also raising money. Today I interviewed a sophomore in my sorority Kelly what she thinks of our sorority. “I just love everything about our sorority and how there are so many opportunities to become involved”  

-Victoria Tennyson

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Broken Wrist

Kevin Kuti Broken Wrist What's your favorite thing to do in the world? That's a really broad question, but just think of the one hobby you have that is by far your favorite thing to do. Now imagine if in the span of 2 hours you went from doing the thing you love the most to not being able to do it again. The answer to that question for me is easy. I love playing football, it's my favorite sport and in high school I played with my best friends. It was only the second game of the season and the first one on our home field. I was nervous before the game but that was nothing new. I was nervous before every game. Our coach would always say if you aren't nervous there must be something wrong with you. For me all my nerves went away after the very first play. After that I would be able to calm myself down and just play football, and this game was no different we came out ran the ball the first play and just like that i wasn't nervous anymore. This should be the start of a new paragraph.The second play I turn and run to block and trip over my own player. I put my hand down to brace the fall and i felt the sharpest pain of my life rush through my body. When i stood up i couldn't move my hand I knew something was wrong. I went over to the trainer and he could tell by just looking at my wrist something was wrong. He cut my glove off and immediately wrapped my hand and my grandmother who was at the game took me to the hospital. When i got to the hospital they took xrays and told me i needed surgery that night. I woke up from surgery with my arm in a cast but the doctor said the bad news was i needed to come back in a few days to have another one. Where they had to put rods in my wrist to hold my bone together. Just like that my whole season was gone.This is also a new paragraph. I came to every practice and every game sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else. Get to play football with their best friends. This should go with paragraph below. I now look at my injury as a blessing in disguise because even though I missed my entire junior year of football, I was able to come back the following year and not take any of it for granted. When the rest of the guys on our team would complain that it was too hard or they were too tired I would always think back to last year when I wanted to be out there so badly. ly .

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A Storybook Win

We shuffled one by one on the bus, earbuds in, heads down, searching for the few team mates we each could stand to sit next to. Seniors got the back of the bus; freshmen went to the front. However, I filled in next to my sister in the middle, avoiding the girls that made playing the sport I love depressing. I slumped down with my knees pushed up against the seat in front of me blocking out my coaches attempt to get us to try as hard as we could in tonight's game. I had no doubt in my mind that I was not the only one mentally blocking out my coaches’ plea. We knew that night's game would be difficult, especially with the lack of teamwork. The field hockey game was against Oley...the toughest team in our district. Brandywine Heights had not won a game against them in over five years.

Despite our differences over the hockey season we all had one thing in common: we loved the sport.  It wasn't so much that we were a bad team because we weren't. We were egotistic and self centered. Some of us only passed to our friends regardless of the good play we could have had and some didn’t pass the ball at all. However, when we got on the field it brought out the giddy, little children in us. When we stepped on the field we were constantly smiling. Smiles stretched so wide to our ears that if I hadn’t known any better I thought they might have got stuck there.However, we each played for ourselves, not for eachother. The fact of the matter is that field hockey is not a one man sport. It takes teamwork, passion, and eleven girls that can work together to overcome obstacles thrown at them. This game, we thought, would be no different than the last.

The eleven of us took our positions on the turf and tapped sticks with the few that we hoped to see play well. It was my senior year and while most wanted the season to be over I just wanted to play the sport I love. The whistle blew and the ball glided across the turf to our midfielder, who spun around the opponent and then hit the ball wide to our left wing. While the adrenalin was high, once we stepped on the field all the negativity disappeared. In that moment two players who had their differences off the field found one common interest: defeating the undefeated team. Momentarily, we scored the leading goal of the game. The two embraced in a hug and the rest of us swarmed the net to tell them good job with smiles on our faces.

In that moment  we were not playing for each other, but for the team. I knew I was playing for myself, my parents, my teammates and I was playing to make our mark. Despite the downs our team had faced that season, how cool would it be to finally be the senior class to overcome one of our biggest rivals?

By the end of the first half the score was two to one, Brandywine leading. We hurried off the field for water, while our coach gave us an inspirational speech and congratulated us on how well we were all working as a team. By the end of the speech our coach looked more breathless than half the girls that just ran up and down the field. She jumped up and down more excited than ever to see the change in all of us. The buzzer went off signaling the start of the second half. Energy levels were high from both teams. I felt it was my duty to be the best I could be for my team or I would let them down.

During the next half the opponents came out stronger than before. Apart of me felt that if we lost the bond that we created throughout the game it would vanish into thin air. We ran up and down the field chasing the ball like a dog would its’ tail, struggling to keep them away from our net. The score board illuminated two to one, Brandywine still leading. It flashed under a minute left with one of Oley's players barreling down the field to our net. She swiftly maneuvered around our offense, then our defence, passing it to her wing. The board read ten seconds left. The opponent raised her stick and pushed it into the corner of our net. They scored and I knew I was not the only that felt a pang in my chest.

Overtime rolled around and our strongest players were put on the field. We huddled together and chanted louder than before, showing them we would not give up. As I ran to my position I heard cheers from parents, coaches, and most importantly teammates. One girl in particular, who I had my differences with, shot me a glance and reassured me that we got this. It was an equal game; both teams competing to win. Voices roared throughout the field. Goalies alerted players to mark and voices echoed “pass”. We sprinted till our legs felt like jello chasing the best player down the field. She was fast and swift and ran with her head high. She maneuvered around two of our defenders and took a shot, aiming to the left of the net. Our goalie, too slow with her stick, lunged her body at the ball. However, she was too slothful. Oley had scored the winning goal.

As we gathered on the bus to head home a different vibe filled the air. I didn’t put my head down and stare at the floor. I kept my head raised high and smiled at the faces before me. This time I sat at the back of the bus with the rest of the seniors. On the way home we cried. However, it was not a sad cry that made stomachs turn in knots. It was a happy cry that made us laugh when we looked at each other. In that very moment we did win. We might have not beat the best team in our district, but we won the friendship of each other. 

Taylor Baxter

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In A Blink of An Eye

The carefree life I was living was about to end exactly one month before I would start my senior year of highschool. My mom took the entire family out to dinner at The Grill, a local restaurant in my town. This wasn't uncommon for my family though. We always had gatherings like this, but they were planned. This one wasn't planned at all which set off this warning in my head. As my sister and I were texting one another trying to figure out what was going, we noticed our moms facial expression changed. Her face turned red and she started to cry. All the tables around us were laughing and having a wonderful time, while we were sitting there in complete silence wondering what she had to tell us.

I wondered what in the world was going on right now and why we were all sitting there while my mom was crying. After sitting and waiting for what felt like 100 years, she started to talk. She began by telling us all how much we mean to her and that she would need our support in the upcoming months ahead.

She continued to say, “Kenz and Cierra, I love you both so much and no matter what happens I’ll always be by your side and I will always be your mom.”

She told us that she has been to six different doctors and they all have said the same thing what she was about to tell us would change my sisters’ and my life forever.

“This is probably one of the hardest things to tell you all, but it needs to be done. I have ovarian cancer,” my mom said.  

Now to you this might not seem bad because this type of cancer can be removed, but what we didn't know was after it all had been removed it would still continued to grow and they would still continued to take it out. Ovarian turned into cervical and cervical turned to abdomen, in what seemed like a blink of an eye.

The first month after surgery went by fast. My mom was doing great. We all thought that she would be able to start radiation within the next few days, and we hoped she would be in remission. But, boy were we wrong. Completely wrong. This wasn't the end this was just the beginning of something we thought wasn’t ever going to end. A month later, she had to go back for a checkup to make sure she was healthy enough to start radiation. It turns out the doctor “missed a spot” and that spot now had grown to her cervix, meaning she would need two more surgeries to remove what got missed and what was new. When my mom told us what happened, all I could think was how the hell does a doctor who has been doing this for 40 years miss a spot? . Well as it turned out, he didn't necessarily miss a spot. The cancer was in a very rare location: her lymph nodes. Meaning it wasn't able to be seen when they were doing the surgery. Because it was in her lymph nodes it was very possible for it to spread to her abdomen quickly. They put her in the hospital to monitor her closely. After this, things started going downhill quickly.

My mom is and always has been a fighter, but when she was told she would have to stay in the hospital until things started getting better, she slowly started to give up. It was to the point where she was refusing treatment and at one point in time she even signed a DNR or a “do not resuscitate” form. Being in the room when she asked for this was a major turning point in my life. It made me realize that this was no longer just “baby cancer” as it was first described to me by my mom, this cancer was kicking my moms ass to the point where there is nothing more she can do about it. She had her last few surgeries and she was waiting for the doctor to okay her radiation treatment so that she could finally come home.Things were finally starting to look up. December 5th, 2015 was the best day of my life. My mom was finally able to come home after putting up the fight of her life.

Fast forward a year, seven surgeries, and thousands of doctors appointments later, my mom is slowly getting better, thankfully. Sadly, due to all the treatments and surgeries that she has gone through, she is at risk for all different types of infections. Whatever we do, we have to be careful. It has been a difficult year for us, but if this wouldn't have happened, I would still be living the same carefree lifestyle that I was a year ago, thinking that nothing bad would ever happen to me. This entire life changing experience has made me realize that anything can happen in a blink of an eye. I never to take anything I have for granted because it can be taken away from me right before I know it. Nicholas Sparks once stated, “In a blink of an eye, something happens by chance- when you least expect it- sets you on a course that you’ve never planned, into a future you’ve never imagined.”

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Practice post 

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This is a photo of the beach at Bodega Bay, California.

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Life Upside Down

I’ve always been told that one day I could wake up with my whole life flipped upside down. Like anyone else, I usually brushed that saying off my shoulders because it was just a thought and didn’t seem real. I was your average teenager, school by day and with friends by night. It was my normal everyday routine, until one day seemed completely different from all of the others.    

I was fifteen at the time, a sophomore in high school, waiting for my all my questions to be answered. I sat on the bed in the doctor’s office, examining all of the aspects of the room, comparing them to the last one. That’s when the doctor walked in and introduced herself. I was expecting the formal run down like all of the previous doctor visits. Instead, the doctor genuinely listened to me and shortly became interested in how I was feeling. Before she questioned anything, she told me to stand and close my eyes.

“Watch her.” the doctor whispered to my parents.

After opening my eyes, I saw a weird look on both of my parents faces. What I hadn’t realized is that when I was standing there with my eyes closed, my body was swaying back and forth. I almost fainted and that’s when I found out I had P.O.T.S.

P.O.T.S. is short for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. In other words, I have orthostatic intolerance, which is comparable to that feeling everyone gets when they stand up too fast. Except for me, I dealt and still deal with that on a daily basis. Along with the feeling of being light headed, I also experience dizziness, migraines, chronic fatigue, and weakness. I could list the ten other things that I feel, but that just sounds like a sad story and that’s the moment people look at you differently. Everyone has a story, and this just happens to be a part of mine.

Considering my illness is rare, and, at the time, was found in only 1% of teenagers, it wasn’t one doctor’s visit and all my questions had been answered. It took time, patience, and several doctors telling me it was all in my head before I found the right one. The odd part is that when several doctors told me that it was all in my head, I started to question and believe in their instinct. As frustrating as it was, I walked out of that doctor’s office and into the next, hoping this would be that one.

As a sophomore in high school, my biggest challenge was talking my parents into letting me see a midnight movie premiere on a school night. All of the sudden, I went from being able to do the things I once loved, to having reached my goal if I was able to get out of bed. School went from being surrounded by my friends to sitting at my dining room table with one teaching instructor. My sport turned into sleeping, and, more unfortunate hanging out with my friends shortly became replaced by countless doctors appointments.

Of course almost fainting wasn’t the only way Dr. Stevens knew of my diagnosis, but she began with something different from all of the others. She began with making me feel as if I wasn’t the only one in the room feeling those symptoms. Dr. Stevens put herself in my shoes and tried to imagine what it was like. I’ve walked into plenty of doctor’s offices in my lifetime. I’ve encountered the three hour wait. I’ve had the appointment where I see the doctor’s assistant more than the actual doctor themselves. Trust me, I’ve been there. Before I was truly diagnosed, there were two types of doctors that I had previously visited. I either had the doctor who looked at me with a sympathetic look or the doctor who wasn’t good enough to handle a rare case. I’ve always hated the idea of being pitied. Having an illness doesn’t make you any less of a person nor does not having one make you any better. I can admit that it does make a person stronger.

 I knew that I had two options after knowing my diagnosis. I could choose to fight it or I could choose to let it control me. The idea of letting something other than myself control me wasn’t exactly in my book of options. It wasn’t that simple, though. I’ve always been used to getting a cold or a stomach bug that eventually went away. It was different now; I didn’t wake up one day with my symptoms magically disappearing. I had to learn to cope and adjust to them. It was difficult to see people give up on me, but it was always because they couldn’t handle anything other than a normal lifestyle. I wouldn’t call it being thankful for what happened to me, but it gave me something that most people don’t have the chance to experience. I saw what it was like to live life in a harder way and because of it have I a better outlook.

My dad understood this too. Previously, my dad was the first in the United States to be diagnosed with Mantle Cell Lymphoma cancer of the spleen. Being stage four, my dad taught me a lot about strength and overcoming my challenges. With my dad being able to pull through when every doctor except one thought he couldn’t, I knew I could too.

Looking back at the spring of my senior year as everyone was preparing for college, I was hesitant. I didn’t know if I could handle being away from my doctors and the people that took care of me. I was scared not because they were my safety net, but because I was letting the illness control and hold me back. The first day of my freshman year of college seemed more terrifying than anything. I kept wishing to be in my room back at home, away from anyone who didn’t understand. Each day got a little easier and my life started to flip back, this time just with a few adjustments.

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In a Split Second

There had been a tackle made at midfield, closer to the Essex sideline than to ours. I saw Sean Lincoln lining up on the short side to take a quick pass and instinctively lined up across from him on the defensive line. We had met previously on the field, and it was a strange encounter. I had never competed against anyone who so closely resembled the way I play; it was almost as if I was playing against myself. We were both probably the tallest people that either of us had ever played against, we weighed close to the same, and we knew the game on a similar level. I waited patiently as the ball made its way to the back of the ruck to be passed out.

For a brief moment I took my eyes off the hoard of bodies from both sides, wrestling each other to maintain possession. My focus shifted to the right where he stood, in a split stance, prepared to receive the pass. He too broke his stare from the pile, and for a second, we made eye contact. We exchanged intense facial expressions, both saying that we would not be beat in the imminent collision. The ball rolled out from beneath the last tackle. He looked back and extended his arms in preparation to take the pass. James, the Essex scrumhalf, precisely shot the ball out towards Sean as he began to run at me.

People often speculate what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, and this situation may have replicated the result of that question. I lowered my stance and dropped my shoulder in preparation to make the hit. We violently collided causing a stalemate, which is when neither player goes forward nor backwards. As we made contact, my right knee collided head on with his, and I felt excruciating pain under my kneecap. I finished the tackle and we both hit the ground hard.

The stakes were at their highest and I should have been more careful. South Burlington vs Essex. A rivalry game every year. We were playing on their turf, on a Wednesday under the lights for the first time in Vermont high school rugby history. It was 53 degrees and clear skies; perfect conditions as the sun was setting over the Green Mountains. The first half felt like a movie. I was having the game of a lifetime. Scoring, big hits, and the satisfaction of beating a team on their field in front of all their fans. I felt unstoppable until, I made the tackle that would change the rest of my season.

The collision had fractured the cartilage under my kneecap, leading to swelling, copious pain, and a seat on the bench for the rest of the season. I went through months of physical therapy to reinforce the strength around my knee. At times I questioned if I would ever make a full recovery. It made me nervous to think about reaching my athletic potential so early. I worked my ass off, lifting, stretching, and biking to gain back what I had lost. Luckily, eight months later, I was able to walk back onto the field to play my senior season.  

Throughout this experience, I realized that I may have taken my health for granted. I hadn’t fully appreciated what I had until it was taken away from me. What meant so much to me had been taken away in a split second. After going through my rehab, I changed the way I played by playing smarter and taking less risks that could lead to another injury. I’ve been around rugby my whole life, watching my parents play when I was younger and starting myself in high school. It means more than most people understand to me, and I play the way I do now so that I won’t miss another second of game time.

Casey Renaud

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I C U

One week after eighth grade graduation, I was thirteen years old about to go to highschool, then I woke up in the hospital with tens of people standing around me. The first thing I learned was that a car had hit me, and I received massive trauma from a depressed skull fracture. My mom tried to not freak me out because I just underwent a four and a half hour skull surgery, where they needed to play tetris with the skull fragments and use a titanium plate to keep them together. The less extensive injuries are two broken ribs, a collapsed lung, fractured hip, and I was blind for a few hours. When I learned that, I thought my regular life would be over. Laying in a hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit for 72 hours, without power for 24 of those hours, left me with a lot of time to think.

What truly changed my perspective was what my surgeon said to me, “I’m a doctor, a man of science, I don’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife or the supernatural, but someone was looking over you because truthfully it’s a miracle you are still alive.”

How can one go from being one of the best upcoming athletes in the state, to just being so powerless and worried for their life? I have never been as scared as I was the first hour after my accident. My uncle was a police officer and received the call from my mom that I had been in a terrible car accident. He threw on his sirens and flew down the highway so fast that he actually beat the ambulance to the hospital. As I arrived and was being pulled out of the ambulance, he put his hand on my shoulder and like a scene from a movie I awoke blind, gasping in a panic.

“Bruno it’s me, Uncle Tom. Don’t worry I’m here,” he assured me.

Responding in sheer horror I grabbed his hand, “Uncle Tom I don’t know what’s going on please don’t leave me,” back to unconsciousness I went. I woke up one more time blind before surgery begging for water, but they could not give it to me.

“Then just knock me out again,” I pleaded.

Hours later, about 10 pm I gained consciousness with full sight, all i saw was the clock and all the people in my room. I stayed awake long enough for them to notice that I was up, but it was no longer than a minute or so. Early the next morning at 5 am I needed to go take a CAT scan and without any help or hesitation I moved myself from the hospital bed to the CAT scan bed.

All I remember is the nurse looking at me in astonishment asking, “Are you okay? is anything hurting?”

“Yeah! I’m fine; why what’s wrong?” I replied, not knowing why she was so surprised.

“You were in a car accident and sustained major injuries, no one, especially not a kid should be able to do that,” she replied.  

Over the next 48 hours, that’s when I had all my time to think and think and think. Just my mom and I for the most part in the quiet ICU section of the hospital. Even though there was two of us I still felt like it was me within my own thoughts. All I could think about is; What am i going to do when i get out of here? When can I get back on the mat? How long till I can run again? There’s no way I’ll ever play football again. Never just taking a step back to be thankful that I’m even still alive at this point. I was borderline angry that it was going to take this long for me to heal. 6 months of not doing anything?? This doctor’s out of his mind. But there was one single moment that forced me to start thinking about more than just sports and training. It was the first time I was able to walk and go to the bathroom all by myself, and on my way back to my bed I felt a sneeze coming. This sneeze felt different, probably from the two broken ribs and collapsed lung, but different nonetheless. The sneeze came and immediately I dropped to the floor.

Crouching down next to me was my mom and all she had to say to me was, “Didn’t tickle did it?” I can’t believe this; did my mom just say that to me? No sympathy, not even from my mom.

“No it didn’t fucking tickle!” is all I wanted to say but the lack of oxygen mixed with pain halted me. She was right, something as simple as a sneeze had me holding my side with tears in my eyes cringing as I felt my collapsed lung try to fill with air.

Within the last 24 hours is when I did my ‘soul searching’ if that’s what you want to call it. Yes, I was EXTREMELY lucky; most people especially a kid would have died from the very same accident no question. For some reason though I didn’t, and when the doctor told me that there was someone watching over me, the only two people that ran through my mind were my grandpas. Growing up the three of us were best friends and I had the best individual relationship with both of them. Alive or dead I knew they would protect me and keep me safe to the best of their abilities for the rest of my life. Without them I would not be here right now; had I not gone through that experience, I would not view the world as I do now. Now, I don’t worry about things as much because I know that in reality every situation could be so much worse. Realizing that really helped because looking at all situations, no matter what, from a calm clear perspective without getting flustered makes a world of a difference. With every decision I do make I know I have my guardian angels watching over me.

Bruno Gerardi

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Who Needs a Hand?

“Shake hands wrestlers!” The ref announced then blew the whistle.

It was the semifinal match of the PIAA regional tournament. If I won this match I was going to States, which was held in Hershey Pennsylvania. I knew it was all on the line. It was my senior year in high school and my last chance to make my dream become a reality.

          Boom! Head club, fake shot, both putting everything on the line like it was win or die. It was still the middle of the first period and tied at 0. He shot me out of bounds and all of a sudden I can’t squeeze my hand into a full fist. I shake it out at first. But I knew something wasn’t right and so did my coaches. There was around 45 seconds left in the first period and I had to call injury time, my hand was screaming. If my coaches didn’t know something was wrong now they definitely do because I have never called injury time once in my high school career.        

          I walked over to my coaches and the trainer comes running on to the mat and does a few tests with my hand and in a very low pitch voice I hear the words “it’s broken” come out of his mouth.

There was nothing I could do it wasn't going heal right there, nothing was stopping me from finishing that match because I knew it was my last chance to get to the state tournament. So I did what any determined teenage boy would do, and bounced back out there to finish the match. There was still some time on the clock in the first period.

          The referee flips the coin and it landed on tails, it was my choice. I chose neutral and the second period was on its way. I had 4 more minutes of hard work to make my dreams come true and once that whistle starts my adrenaline is so high I barely feel my hand. We were hand fighting on our feet for about a minute before I was able to take him down with a slick ankle pick, but shortly after he escaped. The score was two to one when the second period ended.

          Going into the third period my opponent choose bottom and all I had to do was hold him down for 2 minutes and I was off marching my way to the state tournament, sounds easier than done. After thirty seconds of riding him on top he escaped and the match was tied at two, so the next takedown was most likely going to win the match.

          But that didn’t happen and we went into overtime. The first takedown scored in overtime decides the victor. I was in so much pain by now with my hand but I already made it this far into the match and I wasn’t going to give up now. The referee blew the whistle and the overtime period was on its way. My opponent could see the pain I was in by now because of the weird faces I was making and I kept grabbing my hand. He kept attacking my hand. Eventually after hand fighting and circling in the middle of the mat. My opponent gets in on my leg and brings it up to his feet. Now I was in defense mode on one foot trying to peel his hands.

“Two whistle drill!”, my coach screamed.

I don't usually hear anything while I'm wrestling because of my headgear, but man was I able to hear him say that. Immediately I go into the two whistle drill and my opponent tries to foot sweep me and he lost balance and I was able to quickly snatch his ankle and score my takedown! I come firing up like a rocket launching into space and run to my coaches to give them a hug. I shook my opponent’s hand and ran off to hug my parents. I had done it, I was finally going to the state tournament. After the match my adrenaline was eventually gone and I was in so much pain in my hand and it started to swell up like a balloon. I quickly put ice on my hand to get the swelling down. That’s when I took myself-back to the day my life was changed and all the baby steps and sacrifice I had to take to get to this moment.

   I realized how much this sport changed my life and I would have never had this opportunity to make this happen if I never went to my brother’s practice. I was 5 years old and I would go to my brother’s practice every time he had it just to watch him wrestle with my father. I was sitting on the side one practice fooling around with my dad and tackling him. Then all of a sudden I see the head coach come walking our way.

“Chad how would you feel about being our 45 pounder!”, Coach Ehlo announced.

   They needed someone to fill the spot because they didn't have a 45 pounder. He figured I've been watching for so long that I would have an idea of what to do out there on the mat. So I immediately jumped all over that opportunity because I was so excited to be on the same team as my brother. I never knew what this sport had in store for me but it ended up changing my life and the day I fought so hard to win the match despite the pain was the day I realized just how much the means to me now. 

-Chad Haegele

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Disappointing My Family

“Police! Hands where I can see them!”  An officer shouted.

My body froze. I desperately wanted to throw my hands in the air but there was no way I was going to drop this boom microphone especially since it was the University’s equipment. Everybody tried to hit the ground while balancing equipment that was worth more than our lives, praying they didn’t see us.

“Everybody out! Yes, even you guys.”   The officer shined his light into the abandoned building, motioning for us to come out.  I looked around at my crew members, everybody looked like they were going to puke or bolt.

“One minute, sir. We have a lot of equipment to bring out here”, Owen explained, being the only one in the group who could muster up words.

Owen, Carli, Grace, Eric, and myself cautiously moved the equipment along with our personal belongings onto the floor near the window we climbed through to get into the building.   One by one all of us, besides Owen, climbed back through our break in point with assistance by the officer, who will eventually play “good cop”, Owen stayed behind to pass the equipment to the officer so nothing got damaged in the shuffle.  

As I stood along with my friends, a few things ran through my mind.  One, I was cursing Owen in my head because he claimed that he’s been there hundreds of times but has never been caught.  Two, we better have the best film in the festival. And three, how am I going to explain this to my grandmother without her brutally murdering me?

To take a step back here, we weren’t a group of criminals.  We were, and still are, just a group of Electronic Media students who loved to make movies.  So when we got that news that the film club was hosting a 48 hour film festival we wanted to make the best movie to submit. Although we changed the plot of the movie a few times due to the time constraint we finally agreed on the concept being about post apocalyptic survivors running into a deadly masked man who slowly picks them off one by one. But one thing stayed the same during the creative brain-storming, Linfield.  

Owen showed us photos of Linefield,  the abandoned whiskey factory, in my opinion it looked what most people imagined Centralia to be. We all fell in love with the location because it was so stunning  and decided to film there even though there were plenty of no trespassing signs.  But hey, every famous film crew has bent the rules, right?

Well we weren’t famous and this came back to bite us in the ass. I lit up a cigarette, praying they’d let us go with a warning when I finally noticed a few familiar faces arguing with the other officer, who will later play “bad cop”.  

Now I didn’t know them personally but only a mere 10 minutes before these three stupid kids ruined our shot by walking into frame.  I did my best to eavesdrop on their conversation hearing the “bad cop” roasting  the three teenagers about where their bag was because the caller who made the complaint said they had a bag  but I was brought back to reality by Owen.

“Hey Emi, is this your bag?” Owen asked holding up a bag that was green with flowers on it.

“Uh, no. My bag is right here.” I made a face, not recognizing the bag as any of ours.

The “bad cop’s” ears perked up, he walked over to Owen and grabbed the bag from him.

“So nobody owns this bag?” The bad cop asked.

My crew all shook their heads no. The three teenagers also responded with an annoyed no. This just pissed the bad cop off even more.

“So that means I can look through it since it’s nobody’s?” Bad cop asked, giving the juveniles  one final chance to make a confession.  

This got a rise out of the teenagers.

“What? You can’t do that!” One of the kids argued back. The bad cop opened the bag anyway.

“He can and he will. You guys are breaking the law and I thought the bag was nobody’s?” His partner, good cop, responded.  

The bad cop pulled out a baggy filled with weed, a pack of white owl cigarillos, and a glass pipe. The bad cop continued to grill the guilty party about the contents of the bag.  

My crew stood there, nervous, hoping they didn’t think we were involved with the teenagers when Grace spoke up.

“Uh, by the way we’re totally not with them” The good cop looked at us.

We all commented about how we didn’t know who they were. The good cop then took us to the side, got all of our information, then informed us about a citation we’d be receiving in the mail.

The mood was killed, we all stayed quiet as we walked back to Carli’s and Owen’s cars. The worst part is we didn’t even get to finish filming.  We were cold, hungry, and now frustrated about the impending doom of having to pay this fine.  

We hung out by the cars for a moment to collect ourselves when Carli made a hilarious discovery that eased the tension in the air.

“Oh my god, guys...the camera was on the whole time.” She informed us.

Although it was only audio of our whole exchange with the law, we all couldn’t help but laugh. We were back in action. We regrouped, trying to think of a new location to finish this film.  Owen made a few phone calls before getting a hold of his friend’s dad, who just so happened to own a warehouse.  

Still stressed out, we knew we couldn’t give up not when we were so close to finishing.  We adjusted our ending once again then after another hour we were finally finished.  We all agreed to call it a day and meet up the following day to start editing.

Did I mention this was the first time we all actually worked together as a team? The first time we all get together to hang out out and work together, we got arrested.  It’s like fate was trying to say we all shouldn’t have met.  To be honest I never thought I’d get along with these people, ever.  But now I know not to never disregard people just because on the surface they don’t seem to be my cup of tea. Sure if I rejected their invitation of joining their group I’d have an extra two hundred dollars in my pocket but that’d never compare to actually connecting with people on a creative level.  That’s something I never thought would be possible.  Plus we already planned our next crime: arson.

Emi Padula

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Cross Cannon Pride

My heart was racing, and the excitement grew as I was waiting to finally graduate.  All I could think of was how the past six months of stress, pain, and hard work had paid off for me.  My platoon sergeant finally stood in front of me, shook my hand, and pinned the cross cannons onto my collar.

The long journey started when I went through basic training in Fort Sill, Oklahoma.  The whole time I thought to myself that this was the most stressful experience I would go through in my training to becoming a soldier.  I was dead wrong about that.  After graduating basic training I moved to the other side of Fort Sill for my Advanced Individual Training.  There I found out quick that the job I chose only very few are cut out to do.  This is because of the fine detail that goes into everything the job requires me to do.

My job as a Fire Support Specialist is to neutralize or eliminate enemy targets by calling in Field Artillery strikes.  In order to do so, I have to be efficient with land navigation skills, and need to know how to get coordinates off a map in seconds.  I must know my exact location at all times mainly by using a map.  When there are enemy targets, I have to be able to find their exact location on a map and call in the coordinates to their position by basing their location off of mine.

To call in coordinates to the enemy's position I have to be efficient in radio communication.  I have to talk to the guys on the guns on the other end of the line and tell them the enemies coordinates so they know where to shoot the artillery rounds.  The most common round that the guns shoot is a 155 millimeter round that weighs 24 pounds.  This round has an effects diameter of 100 meters.  That means any person that is within that radius has a very high chance of death.  If by accident I call in my own coordinates, that results in death almost every time.  If I have a communication error over the radio, that could result in miscommunication.  There is little to no room for error when it comes to calling for fire.  Any little mistake on my part throughout the process can and will cost civilian or friendly lives… or even my own.

Going into AIT I had no clue about the degree of difficulty and amount of stress that comes with this job.  For weeks we trained in land navigation extensively to ensure we all were efficient with finding coordinates on any map.  There were times we would have 10 seconds to find the correct coordinates while having 3 or 4 sergeants surrounding us screaming in our faces.  We were put into the same circumstances when it came to learning how to communicate over a radio.  This all lead to call for fire training.

When my platoon finally hit the day where we started our call for fire training, the level of stress rose.  Even though we were calling with a simulator we all knew that a little mistake can cost lives in the real world.  Our instructors anger and frustration grew with every little mistake we would make as a platoon and individually.  This lead to hellish punishment PT sessions during the day.

 There were times that we all would be put into the front leaning rest position (push-up position) for 10-15 minutes during our breaks from class.  At night it lead to being woken up 2 or 3 times throughout the night.  It even lead to five nights straight of having to move all of our belongings to different rooms every night, even the beds.  But, the worst punishments came while we were at our week long field training.  We had our camp set up at the bottom of a hill while our OP (observation post) at the top of the hill.  Every time we went from camp to the OP we had to carry either a 20 foot watered down telephone pole or 20 gallon jugs of water up the hill.  There also was a huge tractor trailer tire we had to roll up and down the hill as well.  This was all while our ruck sacks (80 lb. back pack) were on our backs.  We went up and down that hill at least 4 or 5 times a day.

There was a reasoning behind the intense punishment for every little mistake that my platoon and I made.  In order to graduate and become a fire support specialist we all needed to pay attention to every little detail of the job.  Life during training got much easier on us once we figured that out.

Graduation day finally came.  The day started off like every other day.  Wake up time was at 0500 and we waited to get our rooms inspected.  Thank God room inspection went smoothly because if any little mistake was found in our rooms, that would lead to a shitty start of the day… of course with more punishment PT sessions.

We started PT at 0545 (5:45) like every other day.  It was a freezing February morning.  We walked out into the bitter cold wind.  That day was different for all of us though.  Every other freezing cold day we all would be bitching and complaining the whole time.  But not that morning.  That morning none of us seemed to care about the cold.  The only thing we could think about was graduation.  The hour of PT seemed to breeze right by, then it was on to breakfast.

Standing in line for breakfast was just one step closer to graduation.  Just like every other morning, I got biscuits and gravy with one bowl of cereal.  The terrible frozen biscuits and extremely processed sausage tasted a little better than usual that morning.  The whole time I just pictured getting back to the home cooked meals I was used to having six long months before then.

The time finally came.  It was around 1000 (10:00) and my platoon and I were all starting to put on our ASU dress blue uniforms.  I can vividly remember pulling my uniform out of my travel suit bag.  I inspected every little detail on the uniform to make sure every little ribbon, and pin was squared away and within regulation measurements.  I put on the uniform double checking piece by piece.  I was finally squared away and ready to go.

While my platoon and I stood in formation to have our cross cannon pins given to us, I could feel the family members anxiously awaiting for their sons to graduate.  I could feel their support and excitement for all of us.  With every snap of their cameras and every mother I heard crying, I could really tell that the long wait, and extensive training had made a lasting impact not only on ourselves but our families as well.

The pride and extreme confidence that I felt was unlike anything I could ever explain.  Out of everyone that started, ⅓ failed out and got recycled to the next class coming through the school.  Fire Support Specialist’s are a special breed and every single one of us knew that day that we would carry that pride and confidence with us for the rest of our lives.  That day myself and my platoon finally became Fire Support Specialists in the United States Army.  My long six month journey had finally come to an end and paid off once I had those cross cannons pinned on my collar.

Jonathon Kleiner

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Sew, A Needle Pulling Thread

Having two working parents is why all my summers as a child mostly consisted of being at my grandparents house. Luckily their house was right around the corner from me with a big in-ground pool. The pool really helped make the long summer days fly by. It was summer of 2006, I just got out of third grade. I remember drying off under the beaming sun on the lawn chair when my grandpop came up and asked a completely off guard question.

“Do you want to learn how to sew a button?” asked my grandpop.

“Um, sure,” I said a little confused.

I was taken back by my grandpops question because it was so out of the blue, especially coming from my grandpop. Thinking back I can’t help but to laugh because most grandmoms would teach to sew, not a seventy year old grandpop.

If there’s one thing I can always remember about my grandfather was he’s was little on the weirder side. He would just do stuff an unusual way. He would blast opera, because he was losing his hear.  The whole house would be filled with creations he would make, mostly out of electric tape. The only reason I can think why to save money; he was always on the cheaper end. My family always says “That’s something grandpop would do.”

My grandpop went inside to get a sewing kit, fabric and a button. I was actually pretty excited because I was never really close with my grandpop. I was a little scared of him to be honest. He was just hard to talk to, and was losing his hearing, so he would yell if we didn’t talk loud enough.  

“Tie this thread together in a knot at the end.” He said after returning from inside.

         After I did that he taught me how to sew the button on the fabric. He taught me how many times to go through each hole of the button. He taught me how tight or loose to make it. he taught me something that's going to be with me for the rest of my life.

“Sooo, how did you learn how to sew?” I asked shivering from still being cold from the pool.

“Back when I was in Korea.” he replied point blank to the point no other explanations.

My grandpop was a Marine vet. He served in the Korean War. He didn’t like to talk about it much, very traumatic on his life. Having two Purple Hearts,one from getting shot in the arm, the other for a reason i'll leave out for graphic reasons. He was pretty badass.

“Mom! Guess what grandpop taught me what to do today!?” I said excited when she came to pick us up.

“What? What?” my mom said with anticipation.

“This!” I replied holding up my fabric with a button attached.

“Even I can't sew a button.”

A year after my grandpop taught me how to sew that button I started taking sewing lessons at a local store. I stopped going, but continued back up my junior year when my high school offered a class. I even made a pillow with a bow made out of buttons. 

  If my grandpop never taught me how to sew a button that one summer I probably would have no intention of sewing later on in life. My grandpop teaching me this made me realize what I can make right at my fingertips. It is crazy what I am are capable of doing with a needle and some string.

Mairead Hanna

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The Six Simplest Words

As I stood at the bar watching my friend Richie chat up this new girl he had just met, I couldn’t help but wonder when the conversation would inevitably turn to introducing me to her and her group of friends. A few more seconds passed as I sipped on my drink, thinking silently that it likely would not be my last of the night.

I scanned the crowd, desperately searching for a distraction. I silently hoped I would spot someone I would recognize. Three bartenders were working; at first I found this strange but later realized that all three of them were barely able to keep up with the packed crowd of bar goers. As the crowd grew and the bartenders frantically tried to keep pace, I felt more alone than ever surrounded by a mass of strangers.

The bar itself was quite dark and was not particularly packed yet. If it wasn’t for the fact that this bar was really the basement to the larger tavern above, this bar would have fit the description of a hole in the wall to a tee.

All in all I couldn’t shake the feeling of nervousness. Going out like this wasn’t something I normally did, and when I did make the venture out, it was close to home around people I knew. I was scared, pure and simple. The dark descent into this little hole in the wall only added to my fear and trepidation. I didn’t realize this at the time, but the darkness surrounding me and my descent into what I felt was a madhouse was a rather accurate representation of how I felt inside. I knew deep down I would be asked the one question I didn’t want to answer.

Just as I started to panic and completely regret my decision to go out this night,  Richie walked up to me and said,  “And this is my friend Jimmy.”

The girl standing in front of me looked about 5’4”, blue eyes, and the bright red cheeks coupled with dark circles under her eyes spoke of a long day of drinking. I noticed that among her group of friends she wasn’t dressed up quite as much and didn’t wear as much unnecessary makeup. She also seemed to shy away from others when they got to close to her. Perhaps she was like me, and was forced to come out this New Year’s Eve?

“Hi, yes I’m Jimmy. Nice to meet you,” I said awkwardly through a semi-forced smile.

She smiled back at me and introduced herself as Lauren. I quickly learned that Lauren was 23 and a senior at Kutztown. My stomach sank a little at this news. Of course I would be meeting students who went to Kutztown; being in a college town at the one bar most people end up at according to Richie would mean meeting college students.

“Where do you go to school?” Lauren politely asked me. Six words was all it took for me to nearly choke on the beer I was sipping. The one question I had silently been dreading since walking past the bouncer at the door, hit me like a ton of bricks.  

“I’m not a student right now. I just work at a grocery store,” I muttered halfheartedly.

I’ll readily admit that at this point in my life I was 22 and worked as a second shift incharge manager at Redners. As a second shift manager, I was responsible for maintaining the store and it’s operations for eight hours a night and dealing with any problems that arose, whether they were from employees or customers.

I had been working for Redners since I had turned 20 and didn’t mind the job. 5 days, 40 hours a week,  making okay money and having health benefits wasn’t something I could easily pass up. I believed wholeheartedly that I was going to work for this company for the rest of my life. So why had one simple question like the one Lauren had asked me unnerved me so much?

“Oh, that’s pretty cool,” Lauren answered. Nothing in her tone seemed to indicate that she was judging me in anyway for not going to school somewhere. In my momentary panic I thought perhaps that she was just saying this or that she had too much to drink to really give it any thought. I looked to my friend Richie for some sort of sign as to whether he was picking up any vibes of this conversation, but to my horror he had walked off and was dancing with one of Lauren’s friends.

Now alone at the bar and onto another drink, I found myself asking Lauren about Kutztown and the time she had studied there. With each bit of information  I gleaned from her, I found myself wondering why I had thought I wouldn’t need a degree or the college life. Despite the fact that she was going into her last and possibly toughest semester, Lauren spoke highly of her experiences in college.

“I am environmental science major with a focus in biology. It’s huge dream of mine to work as a consultant for my hometown’s environmental cleanup project.” she spoke, with each passing detail bringing a bigger smile to her face.

I was amazed at just how passionate she was about her studies and goals; goals that she could only achieve by having a college degree and working for them.  I had spent years believing that it was mostly unnecessary to go to college; I was content with what I was doing. But even throughout the rest of the night, from the time the ball dropped until I made the ascent back up the stairs, I couldn’t shake the feeling that just maybe I could do with a little ambition like that.

As I stood outside, I looked around at the rest of the crowd making their way home. Richie had caught up to me by this point, and was suggesting we should do the same. I noticed that after being in the dark for so long, that the outside sky seemed bright, even for 2am. It dawned on me that maybe it wasn’t the sky or outside that seemed bright; it was me. I felt something like a spark inside me, lighting my way forward. I knew that the next time I met someone who asked me those six simple words, I would have an answer to be proud of.

James Devlin