VIEWPOINTS

Low gas Prices Due to Chronic Driver Apathy
Christian Mc Phate | Staff Reporter

It was one of those nights; you know the kind when everything seems mysterious and unknown. I was traveling to Bowie from Wichita on highway 287; the drive can be quite monotonous from time to time. However, one would be amazed at what a good set of tunes and a full pack of smokes can get one through. I turned on the stereo to keep from falling asleep, Metallica‘s “Harvester of Sorrow” blares through my car’s speakers. I take a slow drag off my cigarette; Metallica is thumping in the back of my head as a swirl of thoughts twist through my mind. I could feel myself slipping into what my English professor, Dr. Johnson, would call a “Coleridge Moment.”
In my mind’s eye, I noticed that the light of the moon seems to break apart the darkness that cloaks the creatures of the night, revealing some of the night‘s many mysteries. However, there was one mystery that was solved that night; an owl can fly too low. At least, that was the only explanation I could come up with when I came across an owl caught in a barbed-wire fence.
After almost getting eaten by the owl, I drove off reflecting on this unusual experience. My mind centered on a single thought; what if it was in the owl’s destiny to get caught in the barbed-wire fence and it was in my destiny to find him. In my mind’s eye, I began to follow the invisible inter-connecting lines of karma. I felt myself falling deeper into this “Coleridge reflection” when my gas light comes on and snaps me back into the realm of reality; a reality filled with dread.
I started looking for a service station with relatively low gas prices. I’m figuring I will have to pay around $2.21 a gallon; however, the task proved to be easier said than done. Everywhere I turned the evil reality of a society gone mad flashed before my eyes; $2.59, $2.69, $2.75, $2.89, $3.00 the very numbers burned away pieces of my soul, as well as, my pocket book.
I found myself in a predicament should I feed the vampiric machine of our capitalistic society or should I try to make it home on the fumes left in my tank. I decided to give in to the vampiric machine and forced myself to pull into the first haven that I came too.
 I pulled into the service station and turned the car off. I sat there running my fingers over my pocket book, enjoying the thickness one last time. I walk into the service haven bearing my pocket book, waiting for the fangs of the capitalistic vampires to sink their teeth even deeper into my life.
I had never seen an overweight vampire before, but that night there were two of them behind the counter. Slowly, I make my way toward the counter there was a line of people impatiently waiting for the bite of capitalism. The vampires, fangs extended, greedily drained the impatient customers pocketbooks dry.
Reluctantly, I approached the counter. The vampires smirked at my unease and sank their fangs deep into the jugular of my pocketbook. I watched as my pocketbook slowly withered away. The vampires smirk as they wiped their mouths. A slow rage formed in the pit of my stomach filling my mind with an unbearable urge; an urge to find out who is behind this draining of society.
It took the gas companies less than two days for their prices to rise phenomenally from $2.21 a gallon to $3.00 a gallon. Yet, it’s been two weeks since the refineries had to stop production because of the hurricane and gas prices are dropping at less than phenomenal rates.
I tentatively asked the vampires how they decide what price to charge people for gas. The vampires replied in a programmed voice devoid of emotion, “The master that provides our fuel tells us what to charge people.”
I tried to probe a little deeper, “So, your company is not influenced by the other company’s prices?”
The vampires replied in that programmed voice, “The master that provides our fuel tells us what to charge people.”
I could tell this was getting me absolutely nowhere. I turn and walk out of the service haven disturbed at the response that I was given. I get in my car and light up another cigarette; Metallica’s “And Justice for all” blares through my speakers. As I drive off into the night, I realized that the vampires cannot take all the blame; they are just doing what has been ingrained in their natures to do. Until more people get tired of the screwing that they get from the fuel industry, gas prices will continue to rise.
So, I patiently wait sharpening my stake…

 
Mentoring a Child has Unexpected Results
Michaela Lechuga | Staff Reporter

The definition of “mentor” in the dictionary is “To serve as a trusted counselor or teacher to (another person).” It’s a title, yes, but more importantly it’s an action.  I am a mentor with the P.I.E. (Partners in Education) program every Thursday to a 5th grade girl at Crockett Elementary. Her name is Valentina and in a few short weeks of getting to know her, she has not only come to depend on me, but I on her as well.
The way we met was chance. I had been meeting with another little girl who I felt I wasn’t particularly helping by means that I felt she just wanted to get out of class then really talk to me. She had moved away unexpectedly, and in the process of Crockett’s peer counselor, Betsey Hamilton, pairing me up with someone, I had become busy in my own schoolwork and personal life. Things were falling apart in my personal life, and I was not exactly at a high point. It had been a month or two that passed before one day, for some reason I felt like I should go. I know it sounds a bit over the top, but I truly had a feeling I needed to go.
Mrs. Hamilton wasn’t in her office so I went through the halls looking for her when I just happened to bump into her coming out of a classroom. As soon as she saw me, her face lit up. She said she was going to call me that night because today was a little girl’s birthday and she was crying because she felt she had no friends.  Everyone remembers how cruel children can be to each other.
I could have gone on any other day and met Valentina but it seemed significant that it was her birthday and all she wanted was a friend. I told her we could be each other’s gifts because my birthday was that following month.
Valentina is a thoughtful, sweet girl. One time I told her I had to study for a Spanish test, so she cut out pieces of paper and wrote Spanish words for objects around the classroom and made me match them to the corresponding item.
We laugh and talk about boys and even have a code word for “cute.” She’ll take her index finger and thumb and make it into what they are taught in math stands for an “acute triangle” and she’ll say, “what is this, minus the “a?”
She still gets teary eyed every time she thanks me for being her best friend.
I ran into her this summer at the store and she gave me a huge hug. I asked her when would be the best time to see her this new school year and she said, “Everyday!”
It’s good to feel like you might be making a difference in someone else’s life. Especially when in return, you realize they are making a difference in your life. Maybe I had the feeling I needed to go to the elementary that day after having not gone in so long, because I needed a friend as well. Carefree laughter and the appreciation the school and the student feels for you are worth 30 minutes of your time, once a week. Valentina has enhanced my life.
For more information on becoming a P.I.E. mentor or about the program, you can contact Crockett Elementary at (940) 720-3150.


Staff Editorial: Freedom taken for Granted

A week that should have been soundly celebrated seems to be passing by with little or no fanfare.
Banned Book Week honors our American heritage – a heritage that is unique in the fact that the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution is the only constitution in the world that guarantees freedom of speech and of the press.
This week is meant to remind us that we, as Americans, can read virtually anything we want. We can read about and explore subjects that are prohibited in other countries – topics such as sex, violence, racism and religion, just to name a few.
But just because we are in the United States doesn’t mean we’re free from the threat of censorship. Controversial issues will always illicit criticism, and those who strongly disagree with a viewpoint will always try to silence it. Banned Book Week is meant to remind us that just because a subject offends someone, doesn’t mean it should be censored. All voices have the right to speak and be heard in the United States.
Sadly, though, many students seemed to have missed the point of Banned Book Week. They either don’t understand the significance of the occasion or don’t care. Either option is unacceptable.
College students – indeed, all people – should know and understand their rights and take an active part in protecting them. The fact that many students seemed to be gripped by apathy when it comes to such an important issue is alarming.
What has to happen for students to wake up and realize how important their rights are? In this post-9/11 world when our freedoms are under attack from all sides, shouldn’t we be celebrating and protecting what makes us unique and, indeed, free?