English Class

I know what you're thinking. No way, right? English class is the most boring class of the day, right? I mean, why do I need to take English class when I already speak English? Right? Yeah, well I felt that way, too, until last summer when English class literally saved my life.

Let me explain.

My foster family, the Jamesons, decided to take a vacation. Sounds great, huh? Maybe Disneyland or a week on the beach? No way. They wanted to go to the desert. Long story short, we drove half way across the country to camp out in the Great Basin Desert.

"Josh, be sure to pack your warmest clothing," Mrs. Jameson yelled up the stairs. "The desert is cold at night, but don't worry. It won't leave you cold. Just wait until you see the stars."

We finally arrived at the Great Basin National Park, and I have to admit it was different than I imagined.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Mr. Jameson asked me as we looked out over the desert's vast, silent valleys. I just grunted back at him and put my earphones back in. No matter what changed in my life, no matter how many times I failed, my music was always there.

Later that night, I sat inside my tent and listened to the Jamesons telling stories around the fire they made. They thought it was so easy. Telling stories. Reading stories. I couldn't even pass English class. I couldn't understand those stupid stories. Suddenly angry, I left the tent. They didn't even notice.

The air was colder, but the stars were amazing. I had to admit it. I turned off my music as I walked and listened to the desert. Coyotes howling. Owls hooting. Clawing. Scurrying. Something wet hit my face. I looked up and realized it was snowing! In the desert in July! And I was lost.

I wandered for hours but couldn't find our camp. The temperature continued to drop. I found a tree with deep crevices in the trunk and took shelter. My hands were getting numb, and I knew I was in trouble. Then I remembered Jack London and his story that we read in English class, "To Build a Fire." I knew I needed to keep warm, so I gathered up the branches around the base of the tree, piled up some dry grasses for kindling, and used the matches in my pocket to get the fire going. Just like in Jack's story. It worked!

I spent the night keeping that fire going and listening to the sounds of the desert. In the morning, the Jamesons found me. I was only about a half-mile away.
"Look at you," Mrs. Jameson said, when I told her how I'd remembered that story from English class, "making use of those 'stupid' stories from English class. Now all you have to do is write your own because your friends aren't going to believe how English class saved your life!"