Some eighth grade essays:

"A current event about which I feel strongly."

Ranny

In 1992, under the order of then President Clinton, U.S. planes fired thirteen missiles at a pharmaceutical plant in Sudan. This action was taken in response to evidence that this plant was producing nerve gas for Al-Qaeda. Now, thirteen years later, the company still awaits an apology from the U.S.
Every year, on the anniversary of the attack, the company demands an apology from the U.S. They also make the U.S. look like the bad guys. This is because this pharmaceutical company is the only one that does research on a "nodding disease" unique to a small portion of Sudan. Many people agree that the U.S. was wrong to attack the plant, but I am divided on the issue.
I think that the U.S. was wrong and right to attack the pharmaceutical plant. First, I think they made the right choice to attack the plant because the owner is Osama bin Laden's best friend so he is probably a terrorist too. But I also think that they were wrong because the U.S. didn't have any solid evidence that the company produced nerve gas.
I also think that the U.S. should just apologize to the pharmaceutical company because there is already a lot of anti-American feeling in the world. I think the U.S. should try to make more friends and decrease the number of enemies it has. I think the U.S. should apologize because the company will not clean up the debris left from the attack until a formal apology is issued.
In conclusion, I think the decision the U.S. made was right and wrong. But when it comes to the issue of apologizing, I think the U.S. should apologize.


The attack took place in 1998, but otherwise I'm impressed that he had all those facts at his fingertips. (This was a write-an-essay-at-the-drop-of-a-hat assignment — they didn't have a chance to prepare.)


C—

"Describe a family meal — not only the food, but the people and the conversation as well."

During the blizzard of 2006 my parents and I trudged through the snow to satisfy our seafood craving. The restaurant was lit up in a cheery yellow glow in the midst of the gray-and-white wintery [sic] atmosphere, so we chose to eat there. I braced myself for another mundane evening with my family.
As soon as we were seated on rickety wooden chairs, my father opened his mouth and I was positive that he would initiate another boring conversation about high schools. To my relief, he slipped a piece of kimchi into his mouth and didn't say anything. The rest of our stay at the restaurant went on this way, with me dreading the moments he opened his mouth, but him using that time to eat a bit of sashimi, fish, or tofu and chewing back what he wanted to say. My mother was quite the opposite. She was engaged in her own eating frenzy, chewing for no longer than five seconds per mouthful as if she had been fasting for days. Her ambition was to eat, and save the thinking for when the bowl was clean.
I was caught between the two silences, and so I resorted to judging the dishes. Our appetizers were the usual mixed with a few innovative ones: kimchi (naturally), a block of tofu marinated in soy sauce, vegetables fried in tempura batter, eel, and potato salad. The sashimi was slimy and smelled of tap water. Besides that, the other dishes were mediocre but what they lacked in taste they made up for in portion.
At that moment, my dad decided to talk (in Korean). "Did you know I bragged to so-and-so's father about your acceptance to X—— and Y——?" I nodded and tried to seem happy with what he had done, but inwardly I was exasperated.
[unfinished]

Daniel, the eighth grader who supposedly got into Harvard, told me before class that he liked Browning's "My Last Duchess." (The class was somewhat resistant to it when we read it a few weeks ago.)
And I read the first chapter of Pullman's The Ruby in the Smoke to the eighth graders. As usual, I was full of trepidation: would they like it? Were they bored out of their minds? When I finished I asked if there were any questions. Silence. Any comments? Amitoj raised his hand. "Amitoj?" "That's a good book." His classmates nodded, and I felt very relieved.

I have a wonderful new student! He's a fifth grader too — just what I need, good fifth graders to get me excited about next year, when I'll lose my wonderful 6th and 8th graders. He knew about Hitler's Beer Hall Putsch. World War II started, he said, when Germany invaded Belgium. Me: "That's was Germany's first move in World War I." Pakdee: "Oh — Poland! Poland!" He smacked his forehead in embarassment. He even knew that the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem in the 1930s was a Nazi sympathizer, and spent the war in Germany!
(Little known fact I just found out: the Grand Mufti was Arafat's uncle.)
I realize that history is more than a collection of odd facts, but the reason I'm so delighted when my students surprise me with their knowledge of the past is that it seems a symptom of insatiable curiosity. I let Pakdee read National Geographic under his desk (as long as he doesn't do it too much) because I know he doesn't need to have things explained to him two or three times.
Most of my students are Korean; the exceptions are Chinese, Japanese, Indian, and Pakistani. Pakdee and his sister are my first Thai students. They have a long and melodious last name — six syllables long! It's quite a change from "Lee" and "Kim."