Sophomore Jocelyn Dowling has one thing on her mind as she fights her way through the Potomac River's raging rapids in July 2003: staying afloat. Capsizing could mean the loss of three days' worth of food and supplies tied loosely to the seat behind her. Water sprays across her face as she maneuvers through the whitewater, edging past jagged rocks that dwarf her red canoe.
"Iraq is steeped in history. It is the site of the Garden of Eden, of the Great Flood and the birthplace of Abraham. Tread lightly there.” On March 20, 2003, Lieutenant Tim Collins gave this advice to his battle group, the 1st Battalion of the Royal Irish at Fort Blair Mayne desert camp, 20 miles from the Iraqi border. Collins' words of advice to his troops could not be more correct—our involvement in Iraq should have been done with care, finesse and expertise. Instead, we refused to "tread lightly” and have tried to force our democratic ideals on a nation that continues to staunchly refuse them. In fact, the use of guerrilla warfare now by insurgents threatens to turn Iraq into another Vietnam.
There are five minutes left in sophomore Rocky Hadadi's Algebra II class, just enough time for the students to look over their grades on the last test. "Oh my God,” one of the students says, "I bombed that test so hard!” "Yeah?” one of the others challenges, "Well I got an E; how do you like that?” Two freshmen standing in the circle look sheepishly down at their A's and, in a split-second decision, cast the truth aside to join in on the bragging.
A phone in one hand and a clicking mouse in the other, senior Denise Sylla taps her foot and scans FastWeb, a scholarship search web site, as she waits on hold with admissions officers from Wellesley College at the computer in the Student Government Association (SGA) office during lunch on April 30.
Combs in hand, two black girls work diligently and delicately to finish cornrowing their friends' hair amidst the bustle of 5A lunch. Next to them, three Latino boys are sprawled out among the benches talking, and a few feet away, two white students finish their lunches before the whole group rises and joins the student body of the most diverse school in Montgomery County—a school that 50 years ago accepted only white students.
The Discovery Communications building's warmly lit main lobby smells of plastic, Windex and fresh paint. A cheerfully dinging mechanical contraption pushes and shakes rainbow-colored balls down a series of tracks. Outside, as a family passes by on the sidewalk, its wide-eyed toddler glances back five times at "Stan,” a Tyrannosaurus Rex fossil replica that glares malevolently through the glass wall.
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