Papers

Memoir
Zachary Ahmed
Language Arts & Composition
11/7/14
	Picture the scene. A boy, 14ish twiddling his .07 led pencil between his index and middle fingers almost expertly. That boy, sitting in the room of education looks around in his desk towards the front of the room. The teacher, leaning for support on her cane, cranes her rubber neck to confirm the reoccurring suspicion that her disciples are not causing mischief in her classroom. The teacher, after becoming satisfied with her search, returns to her lessons on the French Revolution. The boy, after being under the scrutiny of the cursed teacher, restores his attention to his all important task of pencil twiddling. In between twiddles, it seems as if his fingers freeze more and more. The dangerous thought of frozen fingers enforces his reoccurring decision to zip up his jacket to escape the cool airs of winter. The teacher, preaching to class about the March of Versailles, notices the boy seemingly not paying attention, but she is not bothered, as she knows that even if this boy is seemingly not paying to her lessons, he is memorizing important information such as the 40 thousand casualties of the revolution. To the inattentive eye, this boy, is in his own galaxy. However, an eye, and only an eye that could notice and record the subtle happenings of his surroundings, would catch the way this boy moves is not one of a boy who is helplessly lost in his own world. The eye would catch that the way this boy focuses, is similar to one of the “straight A nerds” of the room. The owner of the eye, would after mulling over information would come to see that this boy is miraculously focusing on the lesson. How could this be though? History is boring, right? This boy, mysterious boy, is actually remembering facts that the teacher is spoon feeding the classroom. This boy could be known by the class as the jokester, however, they would recognize him as the history loving jokester. To the reader, whoever this reader is, most likely have come to the conclusion that the boy mentioned and I are one and the same. The assumption would be correct as my math teacher would say. To the readers who are sometimes labeled as “not the sharpest knife”, yes, I am that boy. The question may be asked, how could I like history? To answer that, I would tell the questioner that even though I always had a healthy interest in history, an experience in my life caused deeper inquiring in the versatile subject of history. The great pyramids are one of the wonders of the world. What could a young kid experiencing the pyramids do to him? I wonder.

	It was early September, as hot as can be in Egypt, and it seems as dirty as it could be too. My brother, dad, grandma, and I had to face the horrendous task of crossing a busy road. There was always something in our way, whether it be dirt trying to create a shelter on our clothes, all important taxi drivers, self-conscious horse riders, or the puddle filled with mysterious contents. After escaping the road, we check to make sure we didn’t somehow get a stain on our clothes. My grandma checks her black coat, shirt, pants, and her scarf that shows she is Muslim. All of which do nothing to but compliment the wrinkles that adorned her face. My dad inspects his green shirt while hoping nothing light got onto his darker shorts. Slicking his curly hair back, he takes a look at my brother. Adam; my brother, seems to have somehow gotten some dirt on the white lining of his red shorts. Thankfully, it didn’t go as far as to land on his grey shirt. After we checked ourselves, and in Adams case, cleaned himself, we walked through a fence.

	Through the fence, it was as if we stepped in a whole different world. We stepped off of granite and onto sand. Off the left, I saw other tourists talking with someone about renting some horses to ride around a trail. Looking back, I heard my dad haggling with someone else about renting some horses and a carriage for my grandma. After getting our horses, and in my grandmas case, a carriage, it was time to go. Of course, never riding a horse before caused me a bit of trouble getting on. Once we got rolling, I can look back and say I lost my breath at least a few times. Golden sand hugged the pyramids so well. The sun peeked right over the biggest pyramid, which I later learned was named the Great Pyramid of Giza. Trying to inspect a pyramid from so far away, I thought that each block used was at least as long as 2 doors put together! Some parts of the blocks were chipped off. We passed by a couple taking pictures on a fractured pyramid. Each pyramid looked so fragile, yet so determined to stay up as long as they could. Taking a majestic trip to a pyramid, they asked us if we wanted to go in. Of course, we said yes! Who would pass up the opportunity to go in one of the few pyramids!

	Getting ready to go in the pyramid, I was a bit hesitant at first. It is one of the oldest things still standing, It could fall anytime! Bending low to fit through the doorway, we look down with little lighting we had. There were two ropes going parallel to each other all the way to the floor. On the way down, it was smooth except for little bricks for us to keep our footing at. Getting down was fun in itself. We cracked so many jokes about everything we could think of. Finally having our feet touch something solid, I felt an immediate different in the air. It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room, and there was just a tiny holy for air flow. Which, essentially there was. Taking my mind of the subject of air I take a moment to look around. Everything was a grey color. The walls were smooth, as if sand was hardened together. Our feet glided across the floor. It made me stop and think for a second, how was this possible back in their time? How did they build this? What was used? Why a pyramid? These questions raced through my head as I struggled to think of an answer to ease the thoughts in my mind. After a while, I decided to come back to them and enjoy the wonderful opportunity I had. Stepping into a bigger room, one has to think what all this space was used for? I remember sitting down for a few minutes and just imagining the process and how it was all that time ago. All of us were left speechless. There was a silence in the room, but it wasn’t awkward. It was an “I am so amazed I cannot think of anything to say” silence, and it wasn’t unwelcomed. Deciding that we wanted some fresh air and sun, we tearfully decided to go back outside. The climb up was still fun. I remember hitting my head on the roof many times. I was probably only 5’2 as well!

	Getting back outside was like sitting in a jacuzzi for 10 minutes, then jumping in a cool pool. It was as if we came back to earth from a 30 minute break. I remember while getting back on my horse, thinking to myself that going inside was the high of our journey today, and everything else would just be as if I was a zombie, still traumatized from the experience. Even during the horse ride back, I was still dazed. My mind was still pondering about life thousands of years ago. I didn’t even care I got the dreaded dirt on my shorts while getting a taxi to get back to our hotel. During that night’s rest, my dreams were dreams of a kind I have never experienced before.




Memoir
Zachary Ahmed
Language Arts & Composition
11/7/14
	Picture the scene. A boy, 14ish twiddling his .07 led pencil between his index and middle fingers almost expertly. That boy, sitting in the room of education looks around in his desk towards the front of the room. The teacher, leaning for support on her cane, cranes her rubber neck to confirm the reoccurring suspicion that her disciples are not causing mischief in her classroom. The teacher, after becoming satisfied with her search, returns to her lessons on the French Revolution. The boy, after being under the scrutiny of the cursed teacher, restores his attention to his all important task of pencil twiddling. In between twiddles, it seems as if his fingers freeze more and more. The dangerous thought of frozen fingers enforces his reoccurring decision to zip up his jacket to escape the cool airs of winter. The teacher, preaching to class about the March of Versailles, notices the boy seemingly not paying attention, but she is not bothered, as she knows that even if this boy is seemingly not paying to her lessons, he is memorizing important information such as the 40 thousand casualties of the revolution. To the inattentive eye, this boy, is in his own galaxy. However, an eye, and only an eye that could notice and record the subtle happenings of his surroundings, would catch the way this boy moves is not one of a boy who is helplessly lost in his own world. The eye would catch that the way this boy focuses, is similar to one of the “straight A nerds” of the room. The owner of the eye, would after mulling over information would come to see that this boy is miraculously focusing on the lesson. How could this be though? History is boring, right? This boy, mysterious boy, is actually remembering facts that the teacher is spoon feeding the classroom. This boy could be known by the class as the jokester, however, they would recognize him as the history loving jokester. To the reader, whoever this reader is, most likely have come to the conclusion that the boy mentioned and I are one and the same. The assumption would be correct as my math teacher would say. To the readers who are sometimes labeled as “not the sharpest knife”, yes, I am that boy. The question may be asked, how could I like history? To answer that, I would tell the questioner that even though I always had a healthy interest in history, an experience in my life caused deeper inquiring in the versatile subject of history. The great pyramids are one of the wonders of the world. What could a young kid experiencing the pyramids do to him? I wonder.

	It was early September, as hot as can be in Egypt, and it seems as dirty as it could be too. My brother, dad, grandma, and I had to face the horrendous task of crossing a busy road. There was always something in our way, whether it be dirt trying to create a shelter on our clothes, all important taxi drivers, self-conscious horse riders, or the puddle filled with mysterious contents. After escaping the road, we check to make sure we didn’t somehow get a stain on our clothes. My grandma checks her black coat, shirt, pants, and her scarf that shows she is Muslim. All of which do nothing to but compliment the wrinkles that adorned her face. My dad inspects his green shirt while hoping nothing light got onto his darker shorts. Slicking his curly hair back, he takes a look at my brother. Adam; my brother, seems to have somehow gotten some dirt on the white lining of his red shorts. Thankfully, it didn’t go as far as to land on his grey shirt. After we checked ourselves, and in Adams case, cleaned himself, we walked through a fence.

	Through the fence, it was as if we stepped in a whole different world. We stepped off of granite and onto sand. Off the left, I saw other tourists talking with someone about renting some horses to ride around a trail. Looking back, I heard my dad haggling with someone else about renting some horses and a carriage for my grandma. After getting our horses, and in my grandmas case, a carriage, it was time to go. Of course, never riding a horse before caused me a bit of trouble getting on. Once we got rolling, I can look back and say I lost my breath at least a few times. Golden sand hugged the pyramids so well. The sun peeked right over the biggest pyramid, which I later learned was named the Great Pyramid of Giza. Trying to inspect a pyramid from so far away, I thought that each block used was at least as long as 2 doors put together! Some parts of the blocks were chipped off. We passed by a couple taking pictures on a fractured pyramid. Each pyramid looked so fragile, yet so determined to stay up as long as they could. Taking a majestic trip to a pyramid, they asked us if we wanted to go in. Of course, we said yes! Who would pass up the opportunity to go in one of the few pyramids!

	Getting ready to go in the pyramid, I was a bit hesitant at first. It is one of the oldest things still standing, It could fall anytime! Bending low to fit through the doorway, we look down with little lighting we had. There were two ropes going parallel to each other all the way to the floor. On the way down, it was smooth except for little bricks for us to keep our footing at. Getting down was fun in itself. We cracked so many jokes about everything we could think of. Finally having our feet touch something solid, I felt an immediate different in the air. It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room, and there was just a tiny holy for air flow. Which, essentially there was. Taking my mind of the subject of air I take a moment to look around. Everything was a grey color. The walls were smooth, as if sand was hardened together. Our feet glided across the floor. It made me stop and think for a second, how was this possible back in their time? How did they build this? What was used? Why a pyramid? These questions raced through my head as I struggled to think of an answer to ease the thoughts in my mind. After a while, I decided to come back to them and enjoy the wonderful opportunity I had. Stepping into a bigger room, one has to think what all this space was used for? I remember sitting down for a few minutes and just imagining the process and how it was all that time ago. All of us were left speechless. There was a silence in the room, but it wasn’t awkward. It was an “I am so amazed I cannot think of anything to say” silence, and it wasn’t unwelcomed. Deciding that we wanted some fresh air and sun, we tearfully decided to go back outside. The climb up was still fun. I remember hitting my head on the roof many times. I was probably only 5’2 as well!

	Getting back outside was like sitting in a jacuzzi for 10 minutes, then jumping in a cool pool. It was as if we came back to earth from a 30 minute break. I remember while getting back on my horse, thinking to myself that going inside was the high of our journey today, and everything else would just be as if I was a zombie, still traumatized from the experience. Even during the horse ride back, I was still dazed. My mind was still pondering about life thousands of years ago. I didn’t even care I got the dreaded dirt on my shorts while getting a taxi to get back to our hotel. During that night’s rest, my dreams were dreams of a kind I have never experienced before.




LA Research Paper
Zachary Ahmed
4/28/2015
	One could say, and be under the approval glances of his peers, that the United States of America was the driving force behind the ending of World War One. The speaker, could then go on to say that without the U.S.A.’s involvement, World War One could have lasted much longer with an unpredicted outcome. Again, this speaker would be right in the eyes of the onlookers that have crowded to hear his speech. The unidentified preacher, would then go on to talk about how the United States was brought into, influenced, and ended the war, all the while drawing a continuously growing crowd.
	World War One, is generally considered the most deadly of wars. Of course, a war with more than forty million deaths or injuries should rightly be considered the most deadly series of battles. Although, a continuous battle for ground and rights over 4 years would have racked up quite the injurie toll. Most deaths were on the Allied Powers (Great Britain, Belgium, France, Russia, and Italy)( Mclean 657-75). The reality is, without the US involvement in the war, the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Ottoman Empire) would have most likely won. It could be a plausible theory that angering America was Germany’s worst mistake.
	There were a few things that sparked U.S.A.’s entrance into the Great War. The Zimmerman Telegram is one of these things. Germany sent the infamous Zimmerman Telegram to Mexico. In this telegram, German forces proposed a deal. In this deal, Mexico would aid them in the war, and when the war ends, Germany would help Mexico take land from the USA. This telegram was initially intercepted by Britain, however they didn’t share the details with America until Germany’s submarine attacks on unarmored ships that caused US lives. Great Britain’s Plan: Get America into the War.
	Britain’s plan did work. Germany, even after signing an agreement that would not allow them to attack U.S ships without warning, continued their reckless behavior. Ultimately, the deaths of U.S citizens boarding ships that were attacked by German submarines, forced American into the war. On April 6, 1917, Britain’s wish was granted, America became a major factor in World War One.
	America’s involvement in the war was swift and ferocious. Germany, hoping to end the war fast, sent thousands of troops towards the Western Front hoping to overrun British and French troops stations there. They forced English and French retreats, but they ultimately grouped up and went on the offensive with hundreds of thousands of American men arriving every month. German surrenders all across the Western Front happened by August. The Allied Powers were winning the war.
	The morning of November 11, 1918, history was made. World War One ended. Representatives from across the world rejoiced. At the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, the war ended. A bit more than a year after the United States involvement, the world rejoiced.
	In conclusion, the United States of America had a huge impact on World War One. Without the U.S, the Allied powers would have most likely been swiftly dealt with by the Central Powers. America, being brought into, swayed, and concluded World War One, made our world what it is today.

Works Cited
"U.S. Entry into World War I, 1917 - 1914–1920 - Milestones - Office of the Historian." U.S. Entry into                                                                     World War I, 1917 - 1914–1920 - Milestones - Office of the Historian. Office of the Historian, Bureau of Public Affairs, n.d. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
History.com Staff. "World War I History." History.com. A&E Television Networks, 2009. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.

Pearson, Patricia O'Connell., and John Holdren. World History: Our Human History. McLean, VA: K12, 2011. 657-75. Print.

Note:

For some reason tabbing to indent is not working for the 2nd and 3rd lines. It is just shifting the whole body of text. Even pressing space 5 times does not work.