Prompt: Moon Party – There is a party taking place on the moon, and everything is “going bananas”.
This was by far my least favorite of the contest prompts, but it still held a merit of potential. We had to include the specific phrases: “Party on the Moon; Everything’s going bananas”, “K, like potassium”, “Hey look, math! … and feta!”. We also had to include one monkey, and one balloon in the story. It was a sort of odd collection of submissions. I wrote an essay-style story from the perspective of a student writing an assignment for school. It depicts one view of educational/social systems, highlighting the life of a victim of abuse. It was not written for a specific instance of injustice, but it’s interpretation (I believe) is loose enough to encompass a wide range of people. Looking back, I now feel that it holds some value- especially after the recent chaos across the nation.
Remember, I wrote this as if you were a teaching reading a students essay. The formatting is a bit off as I intended for the essay itself to be hand-written and for notes or strike-through’s marked in red pen. An additional, missing portion of this story is the grade Emar received. In the top right corner of the paper there is supposed to an image of a circled “B+” in red ink. After you read through you might wonder why the kid got a high B. Interpret that how you will. Feel free to offer any criticisms of your own. This prompt wasn’t something I felt I did well on, but the overarching theme (discrimination and bullying) is something I am strongly against.
Name: Emar Daher
Essay Topic: What do you think of the education system in effect today?
You may believe in what you are doing, you have that resolve and constitution. Though, I think it is safer to say you are simply weak, scared to try and even think. Nothing here will ever be pure whilst you bathe in muddy waters and wipe your feet inside the door.
Hey look, Education! There is math, science, and social exploitation. K is the element Potassium, P is Phosphorous, and C is Carbon, but KPC means keeping parents clueless, which is why at the end of the day, your resources and efforts leave you useless. No one outside knows why we hide, behind these walls of brick and stone, you are the only ones who know that we’re truly alone.
The rich enjoy their dainty treats… feta, and fine aged wine, while the poor wallow in the broken streets searching for a dime. Just last week I witnessed something worse, my brother’s name cursed as fists and feet buried him deep- almost to the hearse…
Here we’re supposed to be equal, learning at your pace and striving to be worthy of contributing to this free society, yet they don’t respect me anymore than you respect yourself for allowing their indiscretions. Is it my skin? No, you liberated the blacks. It must be my sin, the hungering mar scarring the tracks.
Freedom is to me, as a balloon is to the monkey- foreign and just beyond reach. I doubt we will ever be that lucky. We live in a world where logic and reason are thrown out the window. Everything is going bananas, I can’t even tell who the monkey is and who understands this. I’d rather exist in a place far away, away from this torment that follows each day. A party on the moon, that’s what I want; just me and my brethren, and no more abuse-riddled taunts.
So fuck your essay, this is a waste of my time. I’d rather be crawling and searching for that dime, because money talks in ways that you can’t. One day I’ll have my party on the moon, but until then I guess I’ll settle for you.