the great wall of washington | Teen Ink

the great wall of washington

January 18, 2011
By preston keller BRONZE, Phoenx, Arizona
preston keller BRONZE, Phoenx, Arizona
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

“O.k. class, get in groups of seven. There should be three groups,” Ordered Mr. Darrow, my government teacher.
“Ugh! I cannot believe I have to stay here for two more hours,” I thought to my self with dread. However, I could barely hold in a smile when I realized some of my pals were joining my group. We got into our groups and began organizing, hole-punching, and string tying as Mr. Darrow had demanded.
Veteran’s Day was in a couple of days and our school is well known for our show of appreciation to the soldiers. Every year we tie cards along the fence with the names of the soldiers who have fought in the war.
So, after the tasks were completed we shambled towards the front of the school. Some kids were rambling on about their day, while others were secretly texting while the teacher was distracted. We arrived at the fence that stretched along the west side of campus.
“All right, in your same groups start hanging the cards along the top of the fence. Neatly! If it is sloppy we’ll take it down and start over,” instructed Mr. Darrow.
After about an abundant amount of team work, laughs and of course more texting when the Mr. Darrow’s head was turned, our wall of cards was finished.
Glad that we were finished, I took look at the wall that seemed to have stretch as far as the Great Wall of China. Wow! I thought to myself.
The cards were signed by students of brave family members who severed in all branches of the military. I had filled one out as well, so I decided to search for mine. What had stared out as a glance evolved into me reading every card; even when I had finally found my own, I continued to read others. I suddenly felt proud to have volunteered myself, and to have contributed my time to this memorial for veterans. I had helped build this wall of proud cards that stretched as far as the eye can see.
Only moments after we finished cars had pasted by honking their horns happy to see memorial. Not to be cliché, but after that day I saw volunteer work completely different.

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