Junior Vanessa Penney always thought she would live her life without resigning to the traditional custom of marriage; she had seen too many divorces, too many single parents to make the commitment. But in 2003, one moment and one boy changed her mind.
Junior Vanessa Penney always thought she would live her life without resigning to the traditional custom of marriage; she had seen too many divorces, too many single parents to make the commitment. But in 2003, one moment and one boy changed her mind.
Crammed corridors require shuffled half-steps that cannot exceed the speed of the crowd's current. Long, winding food lines frustrate their patrons, who know their precious lunch minutes are ticking away. Even long waits exist to use the toilet, with the next-closest restroom a mob-laden trek away.
Beginning next fall, beverages and snacks sold in MCPS vending machines and school stores will meet new nutritional standards set by the MCPS Board of Education (BOE) in March. The BOE action follows a national pattern among schools to combat increasing child obesity by replacing junk food in vending machines with healthier options.
Parked quietly on a Takoma Park side street, Tim, a senior, takes a small cocaine-filled bag from the car's cup holder, carefully pours its contents onto the dashboard in front of him and uses his school ID to move the powder into a single, white line. When his friend in the passenger seat, Jason, also a senior, has done the same thing, they each stick a rolled-up 20-dollar bill up one nostril, plug the other one and "go down the line,” swiftly snorting the drug off the dashboard, through their noses and into their systems.
Two senior girls hold a poster high in the air for onlooking classmates. Atop the poster, in thick red marker, are the words "Teen Mothers,” a group of which these girls are a part. "We don't like annoying questions like, ‘What did your parents say?' or, ‘Did it hurt having a baby?'” one girl reads from her poster. Finishing her presentation, she looks down and begins to cry. Her classmates are momentarily silent, then burst into applause.
Mr. Roth takes pride in having a total 35-year span of teaching, 33 of which have been at Blair. He has become a major asset to Blair as a result of his teaching experience and expertise and is appreciated by students and staff for his intellect and great personality.
Her hands flip through the photo album. As if longing to touch the newborns, her fingers glide over each page's glossy surface. She has memorized the traits of the babies in the photographs—the half-closed eyes, the barely-there hair and the soft, chubby bodies. She remembers how she nursed each one and then sadly sent them out into the world. "These were my very first two squirrels,” the woman says wistfully.