Teen Leadership Council

We’re Taught to Always be Prepared0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Eli 

A father tells his son to always be prepared in a polite
conversation as they rush down a five-lane highway, choking
the birds and the bees. Always be prepared. We’ve always been
taught that, a little ironic isn’t it? While they were busy preparing
us for life, teaching us how to tie knots and make bracelets,
they sentenced us to death. They weren’t prepared. Our cars
pollute the air, suffocating us. Our foods are polluted with hormones
and toxins, cold blooded murder for a nice warm steak.
Animals fear people, people fear people. Be prepared for what?
There’s no way to prepare for this future.
All these words that they’ve spoken seem to be nothing
more than controlled noises working for their own benefit. It
feels poorly planned. A building, a song, a verse. It’s all about
you. It’s all about me. No, it’s all about them.
I tell you my every single thought. Well that’s overdone.
They all seem the same. They all spawn from the same original
thought which was borrowed from someone else’s mind. It’s
kind of guilt ridden, angst ridden, ridden with something. A
laugh, a song, a smile, a glare. A hook, something to keep the
mind intent on watching, not processing, to make sure we think
less about what has happened and more about what will. We
can’t live in the moment because the moments already passed.
It’s time to keep it inside myself. They say that makes a
little bit of the soul die each and every day, well I don’t know.
I think that maybe it’s time to admit that my soul is meant to
slowly die off with the panda bears and the glaciers and with
humanity. I think the world will keep going ‘round, whether I’m
picking up trash or throwing out more and more. I feel like most
ideas die in a person’s voice box.
Smiles turn into frowns which turn into blank stares
which turn into smiles; it’s a cycle. A person gets offended and
they can’t cope. Well that person doesn’t realize that they offend
others, there’s no way around that. We’re all offensive. The offended
offend, that’s a cycle also.
Maybe it is better to live from day to day, looking out
windows onto busy streets, walking down streets looking into
cars, watching everyone watch everyone else. Waiting for something
to happen, waiting in lines, waiting for gas, waiting for
food, waiting for news, simply waiting. And while we wait we
can practice tying those knots and making those bracelets. We
can talk to our children, in our nice big cars, driving down those
nice big streets, remembering to always be prepared.

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FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna’ Be Friends0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Amy
He looks like such a jerk. Did she just glare at
me? Oo what a hottie! Emo. Jock. Stoner. Preppie.
As I walk down these typical beige halls laced with
blue lockers, not one face do I know, not one face
recalls memories of an inside joke, not one face has a
name for me. I push my way through these nameless
faces and resort to what I do know—stereotypes.
She’s obviously a b****, just look at that scowl on her
face. He would totally have been an Emo at my old
school.
As I walk down these halls, the kids split,
divide, add, subtract, all into their little cliques and
all conforming to the preconceived idea that I have of
them. I told myself this time I wouldn’t do this, but
it’s so much easier.
As I walk through these halls I look for
anyone, anyone who dresses like they did, anyone
who laughs like he did, anyone who jokes like she did.
But they’re not here. The people who are here are
nameless but full of first impressions. They remind
me of photographs, you need no words to interpret
them, just eyes.
And as I walk through these halls I hope they
are judging me the way I want to be perceived. I am
fierce. I am outgoing. I am scared.

Cemented Judgements0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

Since third grade my classes have consisted, essentially, of the same thirty individuals. Throughout the past seven years I have seen many facets of the classmates who continue to surround me in high school, but their varied personas fail to adjust my initial perceptions. To me, their elementary antics have merely matured to high school pranks and their childish snickers have become teenage teasing.
Hypocritically, however, I expect my classmates to adjust their idea of who I am. I request they cast aside the image of a lanky girl with straight blonde hair, clad in the pink sweater I wore the first day of school. I insist that they, instead, recognize my physical and ideological changes—the fact that I have become fervent in
my political beliefs and would no longer dawn a sparkly, pink cardigan.
Still, I question the insistence that I should erase the first impressions that have been cemented in mymind through the years, the judgments which, I believe have become reinforced through actions. The first conversations and visions of these individuals will continue to imbue my vision.

Colorblind0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Lee 

You say you see no color. I say you’re full of it!
I hope when you look at me you see black a little bit,
For when you say you see me how can that really be
when part of who I am is my ethnicity?
I like my hair, my skin tone, I like my heritage;
It influences my art enriches how I live.
I like your hair and color and even your eyes too,
One of my favorite hues is that lovely shade of blue.
But I wouldn’t want to be you; I like myself just fine,
And don’t want you to be me; we’ll both get there in time.
I know you like Scott Joplin, and I love a Bernstein score,
I love good gumbo and pot pies, one flavored be a bore.
When we escape these bodies, and meet at heaven’s gate,
Then we can say no color, we’ll have nothing to debate.
We’ll be at peace in truth, and understand all things,
But until then let’s be real… Enjoy what difference brings!
And until that day in glory when we are truly one,
Let’s love ourselves in color, not pretend that we see none.
Consider what it means, to love without condition,
It means to see all sides of me, yet love is your decision.
To be high but lay down low,
And love beyond yourself is the best way to love others,
But to claim you see no color,
and smile like all is fine is to say you don’t see wholly and if so,
We see you’re blind

Neutral, Fleeting, and Senseless Dribble0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Eli
I sat there. Her words just poured out, not having any purpose, any meaning, any self-respect. She talked about how stupid everyone else was, and how unimportant their views were. He stared at her, intent on every word. He chewed his take-out pizza; every word said was followed by a very pronounced mulch, mulch, mulch.
Every word said made me cringe and wince and flinch. All night I cringed, all night I winced and all night I flinched. Every word said was a direct assault on someone else’s lifestyle. Every word said brought up avid points for an avid hypocrite. Every gulp of cheap wine, every bite that mulched away at flavorless food, every worried look, it all brought me closer to the edge of a reality known only to those who have lost all good and
bad intentions and are left simply feeling neutral.
In neutrality one is increasingly aware that every waking moment must be refunded with two moments
of sleep. Every person blamed for a petty problem should blame someone else for their own issues. A realization that, that girl who doesn’t want to change the world but will because her parents make her, is meant for it. We are all meant to do what we do, when we do it.
When I fell off this reality’s edge, I was meant to. When he mulched greasy pizza, it was destiny mulching his greasy pizza. When she flooded the room with endless dribble, it was fate’s endless dribble.
Nothing makes sense and the senseless being that made everything, intended it in an almost obscenely neutral way to never fully make sense. To never find the lost puzzle piece, to never truly say never. To never be here, be real or be true. To always be senselessly neutral and to always be aware of it in others. I sat there neutral for a fleeting second, then I moved on.

She’s Special0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Eli

She’s special. She’s not the smartest and she’s certainly not the prettiest, but she’s still special. It’s that hidden kind of special that has to be searched for before it’s realized it’s even there. You can see it in her eyes when she breathes. See, some people exhale simply because they inhaled. Others exhale as soon as they inhale simply because it’s a chore, its routine, it’s expected, and it’s all they know. But her, she’s special. She inhales not simply because it’s necessary for her survival, and not simply because it makes delightful whooshing noises as it enters her nostrils, she inhales simply, because. The best part of people, who inhale simply because, is that they make the exhaling bit all the more worthwhile. It’s people like her that the world needs more of; the ones who appear to live life on the sidelines, yet somehow live their life to the fullest through their nostrils, the people like her who get some sick twisted abnormal happiness from just breathing, the ones who never really smile unless their nose is buried in a book, the ones who wake up and breath, simply because. It’s those people that seem to make the day worthwhile, they just make things like breathing and laughing, and glaring, and yelling and living all the more surprising.

Superficial Judgements1
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Hannah
In today’s society we are judged constantly fr the way we look, whether it’s clothing, or even our hairstyles. Dressing a certain way can either be to make a personal statement or to try to impress someone, it depends on what you are trying to accomplish. We are all guilty for passing judgment and we are all victims of being judged.
I am a perfect example. I was fourteen years old, and I had a short pixie haircut and dressed “punk”; I was trying to make a statement. I wore ripped clothing, clothes that didn’t match, vibrant colors, and studs- the typical punk look. Since I had short hair and had a so-called “butch” look to me, often I was immediately labeled a lesbian. One day, when I was walking with one of my girl friends, who had long hair and dressed more
girly than I did, this boy, about my same age, came up to us and asked us if we were lesbians or bisexual. I told him “no” and that I had a boyfriend and he was shocked. Now that I have long hair and dress differently then I did, I never get questioned any more. I notice that we all get judged just by the way we present ourselves. We do this because it’s in our human nature to express who we are and to step outside of the box, but we have to be prepared for judgment. We want to express who we are, or we want to impress people. The reason why I dressed the way I did was because I didn’t want to be like every other girl. I wanted to be me and I expressed myself through fashion.
Since I’ve started Hairstyling School I have learned that we have to dress to impress people. At school, we work with other people all the time, so we have to wear a uniform so we look more professional. As we enter the real world and start searching for jobs we have to wear many masks to get the job we yearn for. Personal appearance is the key to first impressions. For example if you go in for a job interview at a top-notch restaurant wearing dirty ripped jeans and a t-shirt; most likely they won’t hire you. You could have been the best employee they would ever have had, but because you dressed that way you didn’t get it. However, if you went in with nice black dress pants and a nice blouse then you would have a better chance of being hired.
The world is very complex and judgment is unavoidable in our society. Everyone wants to be unique and standout. We just have to understand where to draw the line in our judgment on ourselves and others. No matter what we do we’ll never make everyone happy. As the old saying goes “don’t judge a book by its cover,” because when you open the book you may find a beautiful story.

Don’t Judge an Album by its Cover0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

By: Zach
Music defines us. Music is how we live. Music is who we are. Why? Music can be summed up in the simple phrase, “Don’t judge a book by its cover;” or in this case, don’t judge an album by its cover.
When has the rhythm or beat of our music made us act irrationally? I can see that music has an effect on our attitudes, but I’ve never heard of a kid threaten a school with a bomb because of the music he or she listened to. The newscasters have never said “today at Conifer, a bomb threat, by so-and-so, and he listens to Metallica.”
We can’t turn a blind eye to music’s negative affect on easily shaped minds, though. We each have our preferences of genres, and how we talk or how we act sometimes can be portrayed by the music we listen to. Sure, I hear kids talking about their crazy weekends, I look and see that it’s the group that listens to rap, or maybe I’ll overhear someone talking about what they smoked, and they listen to 70s’ rock. But this is a small minority in a vast society of music lovers. I myself listen to what is considered Indie music, as well as classic
rock, but you won’t find me talking about doing drugs over the weekend.
Music doesn’t define us, we define music. The term “emo” exsisted before the music about depression and hate was discovered. It is assumed that the music of our generation is rap, emo, and hardcore. Now as you look around and examine a little closer the playlists on our Zunes and iPods, look at the name Radiohead, the inspiration of the Beatles, and the eclectic rhythms of Remy Zero.
Don’t judge an album by its cover.

Credentials0
FleetusMcGee posted in Snapshots on April 20th, 2008

tell it to the poppy, the blue flax swaying
or the ponderosa leaning into
my window, do they need approval
to bloom? and the elks’ velvet antlers
at sundown, do they ask permission
to sprout their honeyed seduction?

the hummingbird pleasuring its feeder;
the flamingo or harp seal coaxing from
the shore, einstein and dickinson in their
mind’s cloister or louis armstrong,
his trumpet moaning and teasing its strut
across stage, do any of them need
parchment to stun us?

and the sun the sun
taking its time to wake us

none of these need credentials.
Copyright 2008 by Rita Brady Kiefer