Category: Opinion

By Kyle Musser –

The name is Kyle Musser, but I’m known as “little T-Muss” by all of my brother’s friends.  For a long time that was a bad thing.

T-Muss was the nickname that Tyler was called ever since elementary school.

To all the older kids I lived in the shadow of my brother Tyler and it used to make me very mad.

All I wanted was a name. I just wanted to be considered cool by his older friends.

We would play sports in the backyard and as the tag-a-long brother, I was always the last pick and of course, like always, they didn’t use my real name.

Instead, they called me, “little T-Muss.”

It’s not that I was bad at the sports we played such as football, basketball and baseball. I felt I must have been just too uncool to the older kids.

As the little brother, I was sometimes picked on and I sometimes got discouraged – to the point where I would run home with grass stained pants and tears streaming down my face.

The infamous line I used to hear was, “If you can’t run with the big dogs then stay on the porch.”

I loved sports though so I continued to play with the big dogs whenever I could.

But no matter how well I did and no matter how hard I tried, I was always called “little T-Muss.”

I never despised my brother for it, although it still really upset me that they just wouldn’t call me by my real name.

Then in 2009 my perspective on people calling me “little T-Muss” changed for the rest of my life.

Tyler was a standout senior football player at Penn Manor that year.  He played linebacker and wide receiver.

It was a chilly night, with the bright lights shining and the smell of the turf rising into the air. The Comets were the away team at Exeter High School.

My brother used to be the class clown and was always pulling pranks and joking around with the team.  So when he didn’t get up after one of the plays, I thought he could be playing a practical joke.

He stayed face down on the field.

Something just didn’t feel right. This wasn’t one of his stupid little pranks that he had been pulling all his life, this was serious.

After the training staff brought him off the field they started checking him for a concussion.

All the time Tyler was begging to go back in the game because he had such love and passion for the game.

He wasn’t allowed to go back in the game and had to go to the doctor’s office the next week.

They found out he didn’t have a concussion.

The cause of him collapsing on the field was because he had a problem with his heart called Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome (WPW).

This occurs when you have extra electrical pathways in your heart.

The doctor who checked out his heart said that this was one of the worst cases he had ever seen and that Tyler should have never walked off the field that chilly Friday night.

I couldn’t have imagined losing my brother. He was the one person I could always rely on no matter what. No matter if we were fighting or if we were completely fine, I knew I always had him.

He had to get a surgery to eliminate the extra pathways.

While he was in the hospital, Penn Manor had another game. It was killing Tyler not to be out there.

This game had a different feel to it because I knew I wouldn’t be seeing my brother playing out there.

Instead everyone on the sidelines decided to wear the number 21 written on their taped up wrists, cleats, and even on one player’s cast.

I was asked to lead the team on the field while wearing his jersey, number 21.

I finally felt cool and accepted by his friends because it was their idea to let me do it.

In the locker room before we took the field his friend, Sean Noll, called back to me, “Hey little T-Muss get up here.”

I ran right up to the front with chills, sweaty hands and the image of my brother lying in the hospital bed running through my mind.

As I was standing there I realized that when he called me the nick name I wasn’t upset that he didn’t use my real name.

I finally realized that I was respected and that I was the brother of a very respected kid in the Penn Manor community. I realized no matter what name I was called as a kid I was just happy to be able to see my brother everyday. It didn’t matter that his friends didn’t respect me then and it didn’t matter that they didn’t call me my real name. It just mattered that I had Tyler.

The name is Kyle Musser, but if you call me “little T-Muss,” don’t worry, I won’t get mad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 By David Mohimani –

When AP psych teacher Maria Vita told us about the rat project, everybody was excited. That is, everybody but me.

Although I have never seen the Michael Jackson movie “Ben” or any other rat drama, it seemed that handling rats could soon become my worst fear.

And then they arrived as promised.  Scores of rats with their ratty smell as they went lurking around and over each other in a vast lump of ratdom.  They were separated into individual cages waiting for their new owners.

I peered through the wire cage at one of them and I must say that I was less than thrilled. Staring back through the cage were two beady little black eyes of a rat.

The idea of playing with a filthy little rat is not enticing. I mean who wants to spend an entire class period trying to train an animal whose brain is the size of pea?  I looked around at my classmates who were excitedly bonding with their rats.  So apparently everybody wants to train a rat but me.

Miss Vita did not help soothe my anxiety by letting us know there is a chance that the rats may nibble on a little more than cheerios.

Our group was one of the first to select a rat, we got a baby boy named Dexter. I had to admit he was kinda cute except for the fact that its testicles were about half the size of his body.

Apparently they have large testicles due to some sort of sexual competition between males, to see who can produce the most sperm so they have a higher chance of impregnating a female rat.

How was I ever supposed to train a rat for a psychology experiment when the rat was busy training for the sperm Olympics.

At first I was hesitant to even touch the rat, let alone hold him. My partner on the other hand took a shine to Dexter immediately which was fine by me.  He could train the rat.  I would watch – from a distance.

Then Miss Vita dropped the bomb on me. Both partners would have to get the rat to complete the trick to get credit.

Great. Just Great.

There was no avoiding it now, I was going to have to interact with this rat.

I scooped the little critter off the desk, he kicked and clawed trying to get me to relinquish my grip, I didn’t budge. I would show this rat right away who was boss.  As I placed him on my arm, I began to feel his small claws scale across my skin. In a jolt he scurried up my arm and I held my breath with nervous anxiety. Dexter perched himself on my shoulder turning his tail toward me. I could not see him in my peripheral, in fact all I could see were two giant floating orbs. I swallowed hard.

Dexter then worked his way back down to his to my coat pocket and burrowed himself inside it.

I expected him to dart out of my pocket, but to my utter surprise he was calm.

He poked his little head out as if he was inviting me to pet him so I obliged.

Those same beady black eyes that had pierced my iris less than an hour before were now looking back at me, no longer did they appear menacing, but now they looked reassuring and kind.

I smiled and though to myself maybe this won’t be so bad after all.  Olympics here we come.

 

 

 

By Alex Kirk –

I am a summer person without question.  The instant the winter temperatures roll around and it drops below fifty degrees, I throw on a jacket.

Yet on the first day of each year, at the strike of noon, I head outside, take off all my warm clothes in the freezing weather and go for a swim.

But I don’t do it alone.

The Willow Springs quarry in Myerstown, PA, has hosted its annual Polar Bear Plunge for the last twenty-two years.  Every year, hundreds of humans of all shapes and sizes gather around the frozen bank of the water and await the countdown to noon.  Once the clock hits noon, the crowd, including myself and my group of loyal polar bears who plunge annually, charges into the brisk water.

The objective is to swim about ten yards, in water that is approximately forty degrees, out to a floating dock.  Polar Bears then must completely submerge their bodies before returning to shore.

Why participate in such a frigid activity you might ask?

The cost to plunge is $20. Upon entering the gates of the quarry, each car must pay this fee in order to park in the facility. These funds all go to the Developmental & Disability Services of Lebanon Valley Foundation. According to their website, this charity is all about empowering children with developmental delays and persons with disabilities to lead more productive, satisfying and or independent lives.

“We believe that through greater independence, individuals are able to experience a higher quality of life,” according to the foundation’s web page.

After parking the car, we stake out a spot big enough for our group of twenty or so on the far right of the bank.

There is waiver signing, hand stamping, and interviewing conducted by the local news stations that cover the event.  The TV crews of Fox 43 and Channel 8 both do interviews of all the interesting characters preparing for the plunge.

I have been asked many questions by reporters regarding why I do the plunge every year and what the charity means to me.

“A little sacrifice is the best way to start off a new year,” I answer them.

Next comes the most unbearable part of the escapade.

Everyone strips down to the clothes they plan to plunge in five minutes before noon.  The temperature change is shocking. The worst part of the whole day is standing half-naked on the river bank in January, waiting.

First, your toes go numb. Then your feet follow.

And at last, you hear the dreaded countdown until noon.

5…..4….3….2….1…….0

Pins and needles stab your legs from every direction as you rush into the cold.  If you hesitate, you risk getting pushed around. So we ran as fast as possible until we were waist-deep in the water and could not run any longer.

I submerged my entire body under the freezing pool of water.  I felt completely breathless for about ten seconds after resurfacing.

Twice as fast as I was in, I sprinted out of the water for dry land and warm clothes.  Some tougher polar bears stay in the water for a much longer period of time.  I have tried to stay in longer with the veterans but find it almost impossible.

As I dry off and regain feeling in my limbs, which is very painful I might add, I feel a great sense of self satisfaction.  My $20 and uncomfortable dip in ice water is helping a kid, who would be otherwise unable to do so because of an irreversible disability, live a more normal life.

To me, that is what sacrifice is all about.

 

 

By Eric Schlotzhauer –

I’ve spent my whole life saying good bye to my friends.

I was born in a small townhouse out of Alexandria, Virginia, with my mom, dad, and brother.  Several weeks into my blossoming life, we boarded a plane to begin one of the many steps of living a military life.

My dad was in the Marine Corps, dedicating 21 years of his life to the service.  On average, every three or four years we would have to relocate to another base depending on where he was ordered.  It just so happened that I would be moving to the coolest place I could ever imagine.  Hawaii.  At such a young age, everything was a blur.  The best moments of my life are — well, I don’t really remember.

I traveled the country with my family from that point on.  Three years were up, and I was only three years old, still lacking the ability to know how awesome the places I lived in were.

Driving over the Golden Gate bridge, my mom turned to me and my brother trying to explain what the significance of it was.  Her explanations were drowned out by the constant whining question of “Are we there yet?”

I grew to hate traveling.  Any trip in the car longer than an hour was like a century in hell.

After two days of flying back to the continental USA and traveling the country, we arrived at the next location that we would

continue are life in.  San Francisco, California.

I was finally starting to get to learn what friendship was — whoever had the coolest toys, of course. I met a few kids from my neighborhood and chose wisely (the kids with the Nintendo 64 gaming system). The friendships were nothing more than occasionally hanging out, but they were still friends.  When it was time to move, I didn’t understand why.  “We just got here,” I thought.  Although we have lived in California for four years,  it felt like nothing to my current worry-free, no responsibility, play-all-day, seven-year-old self.

Saying good bye to people we grew to love was new to me.  I didn’t understand why, but all I cared about was the length of the ride.  Two days of traveling later, I was ticked. We opened the door to our new house and our new life.  Stafford, Virginia, was our new residency.

A new location, a new school, and a completely new experience.  I had to start all over again and meet new people.  I was finally entering the public school system.  I was nervous and scared.  I didn’t know a single person and I did not really know how to meet new people very well.  It took some time, and a lot of sacrifices (like giving up my snack or lending the girl I had a crush on my nap time mat), but I eventually started to fit in.

In a flash, three years were up, my dad came home and told us that it was about time to leave.  This time I was devastated.  I was old enough now to fully understand what this meant.  Only being in second grade, I had already started over twice.  Luckily this time, we stayed within Virginia, but on the whole other side.

Most think constantly relocating and meeting new people would get easier after a while.  They assume that I should know how to easily get friends, but that was not the case.  The older I got, the harder it got, mainly because I got a lot more stubborn.  I was mentally tired and emotionally drained. The friends that I worked so hard to achieve were now nothing but a memory lingering in my mind.

It turns out that this would be the last move that is forced by the military.  My dad would be retiring that year.  Twenty one years is a long time, and it wasn’t easy for him to give up his current Marine lifestyle.  It was a sacrifice he made my brother and I.

My dad was now retired from the military, and we had control of our destiny, so we lived happily ever after in Virginia.

Not.

My parents were not satisfied with our current location.  They both decided that they wanted to move back where all their memories derived from, Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  Lancaster, Pennsylvania, am I going to have to go to school by horse and buggy?

Now sitting here typing this story, it is obvious I survived high school. Barely.  I met all new people and have had a lot of good memories here.  After constantly moving, I thought I would be happy to remain in one place, but I guess I just can’t stop complaining.  Six years has gone by and I can’t wait to get out of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  College is coming up, and I am counting down the days.

I guess in life, you just have to constantly find the good in good bye, because everything is a series of new comings and homecomings.  There is nothing wrong with a fresh start in a new location.  Traveling the world is something these Lancastrians should learn.  They’ve been here for too long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Kevin Holton–

I don’t think I’ve ever sat through a day of high school without hearing someone mumble to themselves, “When are we ever going to use this in real life?”

It might even have been me that said it numerous times. Well, you’re right, many people aren’t going to ever care about quadratic equations or figuring out when a train leaving Chicago at 1261 mph will meet up with a train coming from Los Angeles traveling 932 mph. But I discovered that is not exactly the point of coming to school.

Over the years I’ve learned that it’s not about being a genius and knowing or remembering all the information you are taught but it is about being challenged to push your brain to levels it wouldn’t normally go in order to achieve and develop the power to solve problems of higher difficulty.

Being a young kid in the middle of my high school career, I acted the same as any teenager my age would act with my dark shaggy hair flopped over one eye, conducting pointless text messaging under my desk, my tight jeans sagging below my butt, telling myself this is ridiculous – I’m never going to be a scientist or an archeologist or even a mathematician.  I probably will never even be on a train leaving Chicago.

Then one of my teachers during my sophomore year told my class, “It’s not about being able to use this when you grow up, it’s about developing your brain and being able to solve complex problems.”

I thought to myself, ‘I’m no Einstein, but that sure sounds like the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.’

Yet I couldn’t get those words out of my head.  What if that teacher was right?

And then it hit me like a kid on a bike caught in a hail storm.  The calculus teachers know that the majority of their students will never use trigonometric functions outside of the classroom. The English teachers know you will not always remember how Lenny killed the puppy in Of Mice and Men.  The science teacher knows more than likely you won’t have to remember the empirical formula or the molecular formula to identify different types or elements in an atom.  And yes, the history teachers know you probably will never have to remember that Ulysses S. Grant was inaugurated as the 18th president.

They already know that’s not the point of being in school.

I began to realize and believe that the main reason teachers make us solve annoying atomic mass problems and write ridiculous 10-page Anne Frank research papers is not so you become the next Leonardo De Vinci, but so you expand your horizons and obtain the ability to overcome and figure out tough problems that make the real world just a little bit easier.

So all those hours spent in that lousy English class weren’t exactly a waste.  Yeah, you may never again have to give a speech about Shakespeare, which you stayed up until  2 a.m. writing, but when you have to give a nerve-racking job interview in front of a potential boss, you won’t be sweating bullets and peeing yourself, hopefully.

How about taking out a loan to buy that fancy new sports car or a down payment for a house.  You need to be able to manage your money and be able to pay a certain interest percentage each month while most likely also holding a job and worrying about the gas money you need to save for that new car.  So, stop complaining about having so many classes and whining about all the homework because it’s only preparing you for the real world.

And how about the social lessons you are forced to learn in school?

Getting stuck with a group of weird-looking kids that I have no association with has always been one of my worst fears, especially in gym class.  You are forced to get along with that purple haired so called “loser” with the 4-inch gauges in his ears that look like onion rings.  But, in all reality, no matter where you go with your life or what career you pursue, you’re going to be around all kinds of different people and you will have to get along and make things work – even with creepy looking people who appear as if they just came out of jail or are living in a box in an alley.  For all I know, my “loser” in gym class may not of wanted to be on the same team with the “lazy kid” who couldn’t stop staring at his ears.

Next time you’re siting in that grueling economics class or that nerve-wracking algebra course, take a second look at the main reason you were forced to be there.  Instead of saying to yourself, “there is no point in doing this” just think to yourself “what is the actual point in doing this?”

You’ll be surprised with some of the things you come up with.  I know I sure was.

 

By Adam Rohrer –

The Occupy movement started as a grass roots response to our government’s handling of the 2008 financial crisis. The government, instead of allowing the free-market to take its course, gave trillions of taxpayer money to the failing banks and industries.

Why would our government do this?  Well consider how our government officials are elected with the use of corporate money, which often causes to often serve their interests over ours. They can do this because of the U.S. Supreme Court ruling on corporate person-hood declaring corporations to have the equal rights of individuals. To those who still think the Occupy movement lacks goals, this is one of the Occupy movements main complaints. It is also the root of many of their other complaints.

“The Constitution does not allow the government to eliminate any corporation on the terms that they “keep people misinformed and fearful through their control of the media” or ” block alternate forms of energy to keep us dependent on oil,” said another another editorial about Occupy Wall Sreet.

Both are forms of competition in the business world and competition is a key part of a market-system that runs on private businesses.”

Both of these examples are not fair market practices but are examples of corporate interests undermining the polices of a democratic government. Furthermore nobody in the movement wants to  eliminate corporations. The real issues in the forefront of the Occupy movement are income inequality, America is ranked number 52 in the world, and corporate influence in politics. The reason you are unaware of this may be because of corporate ownership of the media.

Amy Goodman a journalist and host of  the television show ‘Democracy Now’ on Corporate ownership of major media: “These are not media that are serving a democratic society, where a diversity of views is vital to shaping informed opinions. This is a well-oiled propaganda machine that is repackaging government spin and passing it off as journalism.”

Oil and green energy are not major issues in the movement whatsoever, contrary to misconceptions.

“With the outbreak of violent crimes at camps in major cities requiring police force, the government is becoming less and less inclined to do anything to help the sorry protesters,” Again from other editorial.

The opinion comes from someone who may only watch Fox News or who doesn’t  understand the nature of political movements. Nearly every disturbance during these peaceful demonstrations has been incited by the police themselves who show up in riot gear, then pepper spray and arrest anyone who steps off the sidewalk. Police actions during this movement have been brutal and oppressive. There is photographic evidence of police detaining protesters lining them up on the ground and spraying them all with pepper spray. Don’t buy that, just Google it.

The crackdown has been viewed so brutal over seas it was used by a military-ruled Egypt to justify their own crackdowns when Egyptian state TV said, “We saw the firm stance the U.S. took against OWS people & the German government against green protesters to secure the state,” This was after the killing of two demonstrators in Cairo.

Of course there may be a few people causing trouble but to attribute that to the entire movement in general is misleading and shows a lack of understanding of populous movements and their diverse nature.

Many ask what do they expect to happen? That question is asked as if the responsibility to fix our problems directly falls upon them.

America is a representative Democracy. We elect representatives to make these decisions in our name by our authority. The point of the movement is to put pressure on those whose job it is to fix our problems but continue not to do so. They continue to not do so because the money given to our representatives in order to get elected comes primarily from corporations. It’s to let them know next time around on election day they are going to lose their jobs. This is why one of the major goals of the Occupy movement is to get money out of our political system.

I am not biased in favor of the movement, I am a Libertarian so I appose strict government regulations as well as many other liberal stances the Occupy movement holds. However I have become involved in the movement because anyone who is informed can see this country is being led in a horrible direction, and our representatives nearly all seem to serve corporate interest. Occupy is a movement and in democratic countries nothing should be more important then defending others right to express their concerns about the way their country is being run.

The fact the argument is not about their ideas themselves, but on the moral integrity of having a protest at all, is a clear sign that traditional American values have been lost.

“I might not agree with what you say but ill defend to death your right to say it,” used to be one of America’s greatest ideals.

There are real intelligent reasons to be critical of the movement, like the fact that the Supreme Court has ruled in the past that tents are not protected by the First Amendment. Or the fact the movement claims to represent 99 percent of the population while also being liberal in its stances. This editorial did not touch on either of these.

By saying people shouldn’t be politically active and claiming corruption is just part of the market system is to give in to the failure of this country’s original ideals, ideals the Occupy movement is fighting to retain.  It’s fine to be against something for the right reasons but these are the wrong ones.

For a different opinion, read this editorial: https://www.pennpoints.net/?p=39938