FoxFire Project

The Foxfire Project, begun by Eliot Wigginton and his students in the 1960s, was designed to save from oblivion the local color of a particular Southern region: the dialect, customs, recipes, antiques, manners, clothes, games and rituals of a particular area.

As a class, the students enrolled in Ms. Rojo's AP English Language and Composition class have compiled their own stories for their own version of a “Foxfire E-Magazine” renamed "Leafing".

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Busiest Day of My Life


In eighth grade I met a girl named Victoria. I thought the world of her and I adored the ground she walked on. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, she had a similar feelings for me;most likely not as strong as my feelings for her. Victoria and I appeared very happy for about three months until she started to act quiet and awkward around me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she had a man on the side. She was seeing her ex-boyfriend: Jordan. 
I didn’t realize what had happened until a month later. When I did found out what happened I was furious. Enraged, I confronted him about the situation between him and my girlfriend. I probably shouldn’t have said some of the things that I said to him, but none the less said what was on my mind and Jordan responded as what some would describe as ghetto. 
Jordan replied to my small speech angry; he said, “If you can talk like a man you can fight like one. Meet me at the park after school”.
Still enraged and running on my ego, I accepted his challenge. The only other words I said to him were that I would go at four thirty because I had to take basketball pictures. He, of course, didn’t care. He said he would be waiting for me. 
After my basketball pictures I walked to the park with the basketball teamI brought them along as insurance. I only insurance because I’ve seen Jordan fight prior to this, like I said before he’s a little ghetto, and he didn’t like to fight fair; his friends would always jump into the fight to help him win. I told the team not to jump into the fight unless his friends started to jump in; I didn’t want to start a small riot at the park on accident.  By the end of it I guess you could say that I won the fight, his face looked worse than mine by the end of it. I did not feel a sense of pride mainly because I fought out of anger and pride, not for a justifiable reason such as self-defense or to help prevent a murder. 
After the fight I proceeded to walk to my soon to be ex-girlfriend’s house. When I arrived she only scolded me for fighting him, I replied by simply breaking up with her. On my way home I felt certain self-awareness, not just my throbbing cheek where Jordan hit me but a certain loss. This loss was not just a loss of pride but the loss of a weight of having to hold onto someone who did me wrong when I did nothing wrong to her. Then I grew aware of the day I had: I won a fight, I tried to hurt someone and succeed, I broke up with my girlfriend, and I took basketball pictures.

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