Freewrites

Here are my freewrites on the Great Depression:

David Zhang 2/9/09 823 ELA [|__http://www.icis.com/blogs/asian-chemical-connections/Migrant%2520Family%2520Great%2520Depression%2520.jpg__]

9/8/1932 Dear Diary, I walked slowly around the streets of Boston, holding my newspapers tightly next to me. On the newspapers, it stated September 8th of 1932. In just two days, I was going to be a teenager! I couldn’t wait for all the presents I would get. But as I realized the newspapers I was holding, my excitement quickly diminished. The newspapers I held represented my status in my life: Poverty. I had to support my family, my two siblings, my parents and my grandma. Without me, my family would not have anything to eat nor have anything to wear. However, I don’t make that much. My sibling, Jill doesn’t even have underwear or pants! My father is desperately looking for a job, any job that could help us out! He will go on any job with the lowest wages. He will even scrub the toilets, just to support us. I envy those people that are so rich and happy. However, I hate them! They are so close minded about this poor world and so greedy not to give to anyone. I hate them! Hate them! Hate them! I wish they would all die!

2/10 [|__http://www.flatrock.org.nz/topics/history/assets/bomb_drill.jpg__]

It was a beautiful day at school. I learned many things like how to subtract today. I learned how that George Washington is the first president. It was quite peaceful. DING DING DING went the drill bell at my school. I sprang into action. I went under my desk and covered my head. My teachers told us that we had to do this every single day, just so that we would be safe. I questioned them why, but they told me that things are better left unexplained. Later today, I asked my parents why. They told me that Russia and U.S. were basically in a competition for who was going to influence the world more. They told me that I was doing the drills so that when Russia sends a missile to us, we would protect ourselves by hiding us the desks.

2/11 [|__http://atlasshrugs2000.typepad.com/atlas_shrugs/images/2007/04/02/holocaust00.jpg__]

My father. On the ground. Motionless. Dead. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I think my eyes are deceiving me. My father was a great man. He worked very hard to support my family and I. What did he do to be send to the concentration camps and deserve this? Why did the silly man with the weird moustache, Hitler do this? Everything was still. The bodies. My family. Me. Everything except the breeze that carried my tears away.