Softball And Much More Essays - Therapy, Free Essays, Term Papers

Softball And Much More Essays - Therapy, Free Essays, Term Papers Softball and Much More Lisa O'Grady I was sitting alone on the front step of the school, worried about what I was getting myself into. It was the first day of softball tryouts my junior year, and I never even met my coach. I skipped the team meeting two weeks prior to tryouts, so I never got to meet her face to face. She is a gym teacher at the school, so I had seen her around all of the time. I was just too intimidated by her, so I never tried to talk to her. It turns out that this person that I was afraid to talk to at one point, has now had the biggest impact on my life, and taught me about softball and so much more. Before I move on, I would like to give you some insight into the aspects of my coach's life. Her name is Kristin Politi and she lives in New York. She graduated from Rutgers University where she played softball for the Lady Scarlet Knights. She started to teach at Roselle Catholic right out of college; she was only 22 years old. She teaches gym and health, coached boys junior varsity soccer, and varsity softball. Last I heard, she was a few months shy of obtaining a Masters from Montclair State University. She is now engaged to be married in May. The first day I met Kristin was at tryouts. As soon as she got there, she took attendance and introduced herself and her boyfriend to us. Her style of practice was one that I have never been introduced to before. We started off practice by taking a 15- minute run, and ending with sprint after sprint after sprint. I will never forget my first memory of Ms. Politi. It started to rain during the middle of practice, so the grass was slick. She was showing us how to round first base and head towards second the proper way, almost. She took the inside of the base while her friend, and former teammate, took the outside. She was making her turn and fell flat on her face. Everyone laughed at her-especially her boyfriend. It was at that moment that I realized two things: she had a great sense of humor and that softball would be fun. The first time that I ever spoke to her was the day before she made the final cuts. I went up to her and asked her very sheepishly if I could talk to her after our next practice. First she asked me if I was going to quit. After I said no, she said, "Well then, sure you can talk to me." At this point in my life, I was having a lot of trouble and I was in therapy. This would require me to miss at least the first or last half -hour of practice once a week. I felt it necessary to tell her about this dilemma before she made a list of the final team. I was very scared. She was very understanding though. She asked a few questions, but she really seemed to understand. I had only known Kristin for about a week or so when I went to her and trusted her with my deepest, darkest secret. I will never forget what she did for me, and the effort she put into helping. She might not think she did much, but she did in my eyes. She gave me a sense of security. I knew that if I ever needed to talk, or cry, she was there. I also knew that she would be honest with me and tell it like it is. I don't know how many times I found myself in her office sharing with her my thoughts and my fears. When I became a senior, I was really scared of graduating and leaving her, and her guidance, behind. I was not sure yet of what college I was going to attend; she helped with that too. I did know that I was no longer going to be living in New Jersey. I think what scared me the most was knowing that I could no longer walk down that hallway everyday either before gym class or

Look at Your Fish! by Samuel H. Scudder

'Look at Your Fish!' by Samuel H. Scudder Samuel H. Scudder (1837-1911) was an American entomologist who studied under the noted zoologist Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz (1807-1873) at Harvards Lawrence Scientific School. In the following narrative  essay, originally published anonymously in 1874, Scudder recalls his first encounter with Professor Agassiz, who subjected his research students to a rigorous exercise in close observation, analysis, and description  of details. Consider how the investigative process recounted here might be viewed as an aspect of critical thinking- and how that process can be just as important to writers as it is to scientists.   Look at Your Fish!* by Samuel Hubbard Scudder 1 It was more than fifteen years ago that I entered the laboratory of Professor Agassiz, and told him I had enrolled my name in the scientific school as a student of natural history. He asked me a few questions about my object in coming, my antecedents generally, the mode in which I afterward proposed to use the knowledge I might acquire, and finally, whether I wished to study any special branch. To the latter, I replied that while I wished to be well grounded in all departments of zoology, I purposed to devote myself specially to insects. 2 When do you wish to begin? he asked. 3 Now, I replied. 4 This seemed to please him, and with an energetic Very well, he reached from a shelf a huge jar of specimens in yellow alcohol. 5 Take this fish, said he, and look at it; we call it a haemulon; by and by I will ask what you have seen. 6 With that, he left me, but in a moment returned with explicit instructions as to the care of the object entrusted to me. 7 No man is fit to be a naturalist, said he, who does not know how to take care of specimens. 8 I was to keep the fish before me in a tin tray, and occasionally moisten the surface with alcohol from the jar, always taking care to replace the stopper tightly. Those were not the days of ground glass stoppers, and elegantly shaped exhibition jars; all the old students will recall the huge, neckless glass bottles with their leaky, wax-besmeared corks, half eaten by insects and begrimed with cellar dust. Entomology was a cleaner science than ichthyology, but the example of the professor, who had unhesitatingly plunged to the bottom of the jar to produce the fish, was infectious; and though this alcohol had a very ancient and fish-like smell, I really dared not show any aversion within these sacred precincts, and treated the alcohol as though it were pure water. Still, I was conscious of a passing feeling of disappointment, for gazing at a fish did not commend itself to an ardent entomologist. My friends at home, too, were annoyed, when they discovered that no eau de cologne would drown the perfume which haunted me like a shadow. 9 In ten minutes I had seen all that could be seen in that fish, and started in search of the professor, who had however left the museum; and when I returned, after lingering over some of the odd animals stored in the upper apartment, my specimen was dry all over. I dashed the fluid over the fish as if to resuscitate the beast from a fainting fit, and looked with anxiety for a return of the normal, sloppy appearance. This little excitement over, nothing was to be done but return to a steadfast gaze at my mute companion. Half an hour passed- an hour- another hour; the fish began to look loathsome. I turned it over and around; looked it in the face- ghastly; from behind, beneath, above, sideways, at a three-quarters view- just as ghastly. I was in despair; at an early hour I concluded that lunch was necessary; so, with infinite relief, the fish was carefully replaced in the jar, and for an hour I was free. 10 On my return, I learned that Professor Agassiz had been at the museum, but had gone and would not return for several hours. My fellow-students were too busy to be disturbed by continued conversation. Slowly I drew forth that hideous fish, and with a feeling of desperation again looked at it. I might not use a magnifying glass; instruments of all kinds were interdicted. My two hands, my two eyes, and the fish: it seemed a most limited field. I pushed my finger down its throat to feel how sharp the teeth were. I began to count the scales in the different rows until I was convinced that that was nonsense. At last a happy thought struck me- I would draw the fish, and now with surprise, I began to discover new features in the creature. Just then the professor returned. 11 That is right, said he; a pencil is one of the best of eyes. I am glad to notice, too, that you keep your specimen wet, and your bottle corked. 12 With these encouraging words, he added, Well, what is it like? 13 He listened attentively to my brief rehearsal of the structure of parts whose names were still unknown to me; the fringed gill-arches and movable operculum; the pores of the head, fleshy lips and lidless eyes; the lateral line, the spinous fins, and forked tail; the compressed and arched body. When I had finished, he waited as if expecting more, and then, with an air of disappointment: You have not looked very carefully; why, he continued, more earnestly, you havent even seen one of the most conspicuous features of the animal, which is as plainly before your eyes as the fish itself; look again, look again! and he left me to my misery. 14 I was piqued; I was mortified. Still more of that wretched fish! But now I set myself to my task with a will and discovered one new thing after another until I saw how just the professors criticism had been. The afternoon passed quickly, and when, towards its close, the professor inquired: 15 Do you see it yet? 16 No, I replied, I am certain I do not, but I see how little I saw before. 17 That is the next best, said he earnestly, but I wont hear you now; put away your fish and go home; perhaps you will be ready with a better answer in the morning. I will examine you before you look at the fish. 18 This was disconcerting; not only must I think of my fish all night, studying without the object before me, what this unknown but most visible feature might be; but also, without reviewing my new discoveries, I must give an exact account of them the next day. I had a bad memory; so I walked home by the Charles River in a distracted state, with my two perplexities. 19 The cordial greeting from the professor the next morning was reassuring; here was a man who seemed to be quite as anxious as I that I should see for myself what he saw. 20 Do you perhaps mean, I asked, that the fish has symmetrical sides with paired organs? 21 His thoroughly pleased Of course! of course! repaid the wakeful hours of the previous night. After he had discoursed most happily and enthusiastically- as he always did- upon the importance of this point, I ventured to ask what I should do next. 22 Oh, look at your fish! he said, and left me again to my own devices. In a little more than an hour he returned and heard my new catalog. 23 That is good, that is good! he repeated; but that is not all; go on; and so for three long days he placed that fish before my eyes; forbidding me to look at anything else, or to use any artificial aid. Look, look, look, was his repeated injunction. 24 This was the best entomological lesson I ever had- a lesson, whose influence has extended to the details of every subsequent study; a legacy the professor has left to me, as he has left it to many others, of inestimable value, which we could not buy, with which we cannot part. 25 A year afterward, some of us were amusing ourselves with chalking outlandish beasts upon the museum blackboard. We drew prancing star-fishes; frogs in mortal combat; hydra-headed worms; stately crawfishes, standing on their tails, bearing aloft umbrellas; and grotesque fishes with gaping mouths and staring eyes. The professor came in shortly after and was as amused as any at our experiments. He looked at the fishes. 26 Haemulons, every one of them, he said; Mr. - drew them. 27 True; and to this day, if I attempt a fish, I can draw nothing but haemulons. 28 The fourth day, a second fish of the same group was placed beside the first, and I was bidden to point out the resemblances and differences between the two; another and another followed, until the entire family lay before me, and a whole legion of jars covered the table and surrounding shelves; the odor had become a pleasant perfume; and even now, the sight of an old, six-inch, worm-eaten cork brings fragrant memories! 29 The whole group of haemulons was thus brought in review; and, whether engaged upon the dissection of the internal organs, the preparation and examination of the bony framework, or the description of the various parts, Agassizs training in the method of observing facts and their orderly arrangement, was ever accompanied by the urgent exhortation not to be content with them. 30 Facts are stupid things, he would say, until brought into connection with some general law. 31 At the end of eight months, it was almost with reluctance that I left these friends and turned to insects; but what I had gained by this outside experience has been of greater value than years of later investigation in my favorite groups.*This version of the essay Look at Your Fish! originally appeared in both  Every Saturday: A Journal of Choice Reading  (April 4, 1874) and the Manhattan and de la  Salle Monthly  (July 1874)  under the title In the Laboratory With Agassiz by A Former Pupil.