Public Service Announcement
I asked some students to share some work samples that they would like to be published. This is what they choose. Check back often to read more.
One of my grade 10 students just demonstrated a perfect example of what I call “less is more” by creating this PSA using iMovie template. I think you will agree that it is an extremely professional presentation.
The Boy in The Booth
by Caily P.
I sit at a rustic style table sipping coffee from a starfish mug at a charming little café, I had only just found last week but something about it draws me in. The coffee is delicious, the smell of the ocean breeze is beautiful, and I find myself watching a boy who I have noticed every time I have visited sitting alone in the same seat looking off into the distance. I am not sure why he stands out to me but something about him seems familiar. The boy seemed almost lonely the way that I can’t help but feel every day because of the guilt that haunts me.
I sit comfortably at my regular booth watching the ocean waves roll. I have had so much on my mind lately concerning my mother. When I look in the mirror, I cannot help but wonder how much I look like her, if we have similar interests, and most importantly why she had to be taken away from me so long ago. “Happy twelfth birthday Lucas” I hear off in the distance which snaps me out of my lull. I look up to see Amy, one of the cafés waitresses with a big smile plastered on her face as she held a brownie with a candle planted in the centre along with a glass of milk. “Thank you, Amy,” I respond with as much joy that I can muster up. Birthdays are usually exciting but today is my twelfth birthday, this was the day my mom and I had planned to go on a road trip to Coney Island because I had never been to an amusement park before and because my mother had felt that I was far too young at the fearless age of six to go to one.
I walk into the café promptly at twelve P.M, I go to sit at my regular seat, but I notice that the booth the boy regularly sits in is left empty which draws me to want to experience why he finds that booth so special. I walk over, sit down, order a black coffee and begin to look out the window over the horizon at the beautiful beach. I must admit the landscape is beautiful, but why is it so special to the boy? I began to question once again why I am so intrigued by the boy and his familiarity. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I did not notice the boy standing in front of me. When the boy noticed that I was directly staring back at him he cleared his throat and sheepishly said, “Hello Sir, I do not mean to sound disrespectful but that is my seat, the seat I sit in every day.” I smile and nod at him as I head toward my usual seat, but I was stopped in my tracks when I heard the boy’s response, “Thank you, Alfred.”
I enter the café to find an older man sitting in my booth, the seat I have sat in for years. He was looking off into the horizon and it seemed as if he was in a deep haze. As I approach the man, he becomes familiar to me. His face is the face I have wanted to see for years, the face I have come to know, and the face that shattered my world to pieces. Pain began to overwhelm me, but throughout my hurt I hear my mother’s voice in my head saying, Forgive. As I stand in front of the man, I try to recall his name, the name I had seen plastered in the local newspapers, the name my grandparents had tried to shield me from for years, and the name of the man that killed my mom!
And suddenly the memories from that night come flooding back, hitting me like the car that hit her. It was a gloomy morning and I was on my way home from working all night, I did not even remember closing my eyes until I felt the impact of our cars colliding. Now before me stood the woman’s son, the boy that was in the picture sitting in the dash of her car. Tears begin to tug at my aged eyes, the eyes that have never gotten a full sleep since that night, the eyes that saw her lifeless body against the steering wheel, the eyes that saw the picture of the little boy that was left motherless. And before I could speak a word the boy said, “I forgive you!”