Collection of Essays by Nathan Shepard

[Nathan]

Nathan Shepard
February 17, 2004
Ms Scheer - Emerging Europe
Block 5

Muslim Essay

Somewhere in Missouri, there lived a tiny Muslim girl named Tasneemie. Tasneemie had many friends who liked to look at her homework. She was devoted to her religion, and never had problems with her friends, until she started high school.

Tasneemie’s friends were not Muslim, so they had very different lifestyles. They included Sheryl, who was freakishly devoted to Christianity, Nathaniel, who’s strange jokes and stories made everyone feel uncomfortable, Fieser, who spent his free time nose-deep in fantasy books, Emilia, who they all suspected of doing drugs, and Matthias, who liked to make everyone feel bad with sarcastic comments.

The problems started when Sheryl began to ask questions about the Muslim religion. “Why aren’t you Christian?” Sheryl would ask. “Not everyone has the same beliefs as you,” Tasneemie would say. Then one day, Sheryl finally replied with “What’s so different?” “Well, while you call your lord God, I call mine Allah,” said Tasneemie. “Also, I don’t know if you believe that Muhammad was his prophet.” “What’s a Muhammad?” asked the confused Sheryl.

One day, Emilia walked by and noticed Tasneemie counting her money. “I know exactly what to do with that money!” said Emilia with a wink. Tasneemie knew exactly what she meant. “No,” she replied with a glance of disappointment. “Oh come on!” said Emilia. “Live a little! Who’s stopping you?” Tasneemie gave a disappointed stare and replied, “First of all, I’m not a junkie. Second of all, my beliefs require me to give 1/40th of all my possessions to charity every year.” “I’m glad that I don’t have to give away my money,” said Emilia. “We all know where your money goes,” replied Tasneemie.

The next day, Matthias passed Tasneemie in the hall. “Everyone’s going out for Chinese food tonight at six. Do you want to come?” “I can’t,” said Tasneemie. After five minutes of nagging, Tasneemie finally told him to be quiet. “I’m Muslim,” she said. “Right now it is Ramadan, which is our holy time. I have to fast from sunrise to sunset.” “No wonder you’re so skinny!” replied Matthias. Tasneemie just rolled her eyes.

A few days later, Nathaniel found Tasneemie before school started. “Does your dad have more than one wife?” he asked. “No!” yelled Tasneemie. Nathaniel replied, “But I heard that all Muslim men had a lot of wives!” “It may be legal, but not all men do it! That’s just a stupid stereotype!” said Tasneemie. “Oh. Well, never mind then,” said Nathaniel.

Later on at a friendly party, Fieser noticed Tasneemie in a corner. She was on her knees, bowing up and down. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m praying,” replied Tasneemie. “Well, stop and come watch this movie,” he said. “I have to finish. I have to pray five times a day,” said Tasneemie. “Why,” asked Fieser. “Because I believe in it!” yelled Tasneemie. Stunned by the sudden increase of volume in Tasneemie’s voice, Fieser slowly withdrew.

Reflecting on the past few days, Tasneemie began to wonder. Finally, she concluded that, “My friends are losers!”

[Nathan]

Nathan Shepard
September 23, 2005
Mrs Robinson - College Composition
Block 2

“The Guilt of Abundance”

It was a pleasant evening in October. Friday or Saturday night, the exact date escapes me but it really doesn’t matter. I was walking into the homeless shelter and food pantry with two other people whom I had only met the previous day. Stephanie, a Methodist with blonde hair and wide, inquisitive, blue eyes, and Ken, a Ba’hai with black hair and a very kind smile and voice. I only mention their faiths because we were involved in an inter-faith volunteer program. Part of the weekend we were to discuss similarities between our varied religions, and then we were to work together at a volunteer site. The director of the shelter, a kind old woman wearing obviously second or third or maybe fourth hand clothes, terribly faded and terribly of the 1970s greeted us. “Hi ya’ll, we are so glad to have you here tonight, the kids have been expecting you for awhile,” she said; always with her bright, resilient smile. We were lead down to the basement, twisting down a damp, bare concrete staircase to a hallway with all the paint pealing off. “Now, the kids are up at their lessons right now, so I’ll give you the grand tour,” she smiled as she indicated with her hand the entirety of the shelter’s playroom. The room was entirely visible from the doorway; a reading corner with an alphabet carpet, a rocking chair and shelves of tattered books were immediately to the right of the door. Long tables that I later learned were for crafts and board games, stood immediately to the left. Dead ahead sat five very old computers. A man told me later on that they were always breaking down; they were lucky if two were running at once. Most of the older boys were attracted to the computers and crowded around the one lucky boy who managed to get seated at the randomly working computer. To the right of the computers were more long tables surrounded by shelves of toys and board games with an old, chipped, chalkboard at the head of the last table.

After the lady left, Stephanie, Ken and I walked around a bit, but the kids came running in like water breaching a dam before we could orient ourselves. We were immediately besieged with requests for this and that. I played checkers with a boy who wore a blue and red hat. I let him win most of the time, taking time with my moves, pretending to concentrate. Then a little girl, with pink plastic flowers in her hair, grabbed onto my hand and proceeded to pull me around the room. She would entangle herself in my arm and then I’d push her around in the office chairs they had. The little girl, whose name I’ve now forgotten, proved a point the event organizers told me before I left for the shelter earlier that evening; homeless children are the most affectionate children you will ever meet. They truly appreciate even taking 3 hours out of your life to just play with them.

We all went back to the boarding school where we were staying. I got ready for bed in the privacy of a bathroom. Then I went to sleep on a comfy mattress in a private room. I thought of how the little girl would be going about her bedtime rituals. Would it be in a crowded communal washroom? Would she sleep in a cot in the gym with a few threadbare blankets? I was exposed to poverty and poorness the whole weekend, but that little girl, clinging to my arm will never leave my mind. The indescribable guilt of abundance will never leave me as well.

[Nathan]

Nathan Shepard
October 9, 2005
Block 2
Mrs Robinson - College Composition (College Application Essay)

Violent Green

I am not you. I am odd, although I prefer even numbers. I am sucking out the marrow of life, spontaneous when I want to be, and an amateur vexillologist. My alter ego is Professor Ludwig von Struben, the German-speaking-chemistry-teaching-English-professor. I am emperor of a small country, Natopia. I am a kid at heart, not wanting to grow up, but realizing I am. I am a dictionary, but a pocket version. I am a history buff. I am a pirate, thus ninjas are my natural enemy. I am a monetary transaction specialist at K-mart.

I like pie. I like my violent green and blue tie. I like the clear and brilliant night sky. I like speaking in rhyme, but cannot, so when I do, I am thrilled more than one should be. I like masks of ancient cultures. I like the sound of falling snow. I like cartoons. I like art and going to museums. I like the color green, perhaps a bit too much. I like pasta. I like driving around with my friends. I like classical music, 80’s pop, and punk rock. I like going to plays. I like retro science-fiction books. I like to travel.

I believe people do not appreciate the small, beautiful things in our world. I believe our society needs to rethink its priorities. I believe in the isolating power of a hammock. I believe in the Bible, but not the Old Testament; incest and homophobia have no place in my religious beliefs. I believe we should all dance sometimes. I believe we should do things to make ourselves happy and do nothing to accentuate a bad mood. I believe we need government but less regulation on our private life. I believe mankind can produce wonderful things, despite its sometimes-oppressive nature.

I do not care for people who lie to my face and brush off the lie as unimportant when caught. I do not care for tomatoes and mushrooms; they are the devil’s candy. I do not care for the most salient symbol of teenage oppression, the mall security guard. I do not care for people who smoke, drink, or do drugs. I do not care for curfews.

I am tired of showing my work for calculating the mean in math class; it insults my intelligence. I am tired of cutting out pictures in psychology class. I am tired of having brown eyes. I am tired of “playing the game” of high school. I am tired of how society is forced to evaluate and reward an individual based on a letter, number, or single piece of paper. I am tired of area codes. I am tired of foreigners judging Americans by the politicians in our government.

I hope I have a family of my own some day. I hope college will be exciting. I hope I can raise that family alongside my current best friends and their future families. I hope environmentally friendly alternatives replace fossil fuels. I hope I love my career. I hope mankind makes contact with peaceful extraterrestrials. I hope I organize my thoughts one day and come to conclusions on important matters. Finally, I hope you are not a ninja.

[Nathan]

Nathan Shepard
November 2, 2005
Mrs Robinson - College Compostion
Block 2

The Traveler

The traveler checked his geo-spatial-chronographer; it was correct, the year was 2672, and it was Earth, and everything was frightfully equal. He walked through the streets, using holograms to instantly dress himself in the local’s attire to not cause a disruption. “People” greeted him with the exact same tone and infliction, and even greeting: “hello.” The people themselves had a gray skin tone, reminiscent of death, with pale yellow eyes, and an unnaturally gray hair, he could not distinguish a gender either. The buildings were gray, the restaurants all served the exact same foods, the stores all sold the same products (but no one had money anyway, it was too unequal), the museums were now very small, each one was able to contain one example of the traditional art mediums: a single stone block for equal sculpture, a blank canvas for equal painting.

There was a sense of total order, but the traveler could not find a center for the government. His task was especially hard as all the buildings were plain cubes, with exactly symmetrical door and window openings. He went to the library, which was, like the museum, exceptionally small. It contained all the knowledge everyone knew, and was limited to the capacity of the equalized human brain. The library was actually a shelf of several dusty books located in the back of Mr. Smith’s bakery. Mr. Smith sold rolls, as did Mr. Smith across the way, and Mr. Smith two doors down. Enough about rolls though, the traveler was reading “The Equal and Balanced History of Everything.” It was, by far the largest book, but was only 30 pages long. The traveler was able to determine that these people lived in total anarchy. He had seen so many cultures live equally, yet maintained an oligarchy of unequal rulers. These people were so equal; they knew what each other wanted, because they themselves would want that too. That allowed them to live in anarchy. There would be no strong or weak, and no one would do anything they would not want done to them, and they did not have to rely on trust of their fellows, they knew they did not need government. It was a society of one, a million times over.

The traveler was impressed by their commitment to equality; so many other cultures had hypocritically proclaimed that they were equal. Still, there was no cultural progression at all, and the traveler saw no need for the humans to keep their world. He sent a message to the expedition’s ship: “World devoid of organisms beyond class IV. Dominant species has regressed back to class II. Planet acquisition is within galactic guidelines set forth by the Ogglelyu Convention. Recommendations: Convert planet to a parking structure for the sector.”