Before I took this quiz, I thought that I had a fair amount of knowledge about other cultural views because of many courses I have taken that have exposed me to different cultures. I was surprised, however, to find out that I still have a very long way to go. I answered 16 of the 23 questions correctly and many of the questions I got wrong involved practices in different cultures and how they differ from my own. I do not think that I have prejudices per say, I try to be a very nonjudgmental individual when meeting new people. I like to try to learn as much as I can abou ...continued...

I think my dad worked as jantior because he has little edction, my mom was looking job when i am 5th grader. she is ladndeist that means she is dryer for people clothes. that's not hard, also she use machices to do her job and i been her workplace two times . First i have a doctor's appiontment and second, my middle school was 2 hours dely. I love to work with my father because he said I can spend on vending machines to buy hot chips i loved. My mom's boss said i am emlpoy. ...continued...

The Haunting of Leigh Maxwell By Esther Luttrell ONE The wind was starting to kick up, he noticed. Even though the old car provided a cocoon, protecting him from the elements, he was aware of the dip in temperature. It was colder than usual for so early in October. Trees surrounding the big plant where he worked were bending in the breeze, disappearing from sight when shreds of fog shifted across the woods. He hunched down further in the seat, pulling his wool jacket tighter around him. “She’s going to be late,” he said aloud to ...continued...

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Dragon Sword-Book 3 in The Battle Wizard Saga Chapter 1 Black magic smells like nothing else. Worse than the oily smoke of a rancid grease fire overlaid with a tang of decayed meat. Its evil wrapped around and layered the tongue like a thick paste of ashes and motor oil. Only Sig could smell it. A good extra sense since his job was hunting evil. Sig walked the middle of a narrow, cracked asphalt road bordered by a cornfield to the left. Cars and pickups lined both sides. A sharp steeple rose above the whitewashed wooden building on the right. Morning sun reflected from red and gold pa ...continued...

The One Legged Snake© Written By: Dewayne Knott I suppose it was the heat of the humid August day that started it all. Tom Trueblood and I were tossing rocks on the roof of the Boxholm School bus barn out behind our house and watching them roll down the corrugated roof. Don’t ask me why this activity was one of the favorite things to do on a summer day…it just was. Perhaps it was because it was too hot to walk do ...continued...

It was very big and heavy, cardboard, cheap painted white with clasps and lock, a holiday case which I used as a school bag, awkward to hold all the books I stored, caught on my bicycle carrier. Cycling home I felt a thud and heard a guffaw: the big school bully had knocked the suitcase onto the road. A challenge, a fight in the field, fear entering my bones. A school memory which sparked the bullying incident in Peeling Oranges. http://www.amazon.com/Peeling-Oranges-James-Lawless/dp/1496007646 ...continued...

As a child, I lived in a poor neighborhood but I always wanted to help others even when I was unable to help myself. I grew up with an innate desire to one day to be able to help others to be all they could be in society. In the course of my teen years I made some mistakes that later I counts as blessings. I became a teenage mother who dropped out of school and married. My marriage was not successful so I got a divorce. I wind up working in textiles to support my children. One thing remained constant over the course of my life was the fact I never lost the desire to help others. To fast for ...continued...

Introduction I set about to clean out Mother’s house. In the spare bedroom, I opened the antique cabinet and drew out a stack of memorabilia. Halfway down the pile of old newspapers, I discovered a speckled brown ledger book with ragged edges. It crackled as I opened the yellowed pages. Each line contained a date and a comment on life in the 1880's. It was my great-grandfather Sanford’s diary. The more I read, the more I wanted to share Sanford’s story, rather than bury it in some safe place for another 119 years. The basic story line is true and the hi ...continued...

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For my cultural event I went to an event called Feed My Starving Children in Libertyville, Illionois. I attended this event on Tuesday April 11th. Feed My Starving Children was a cultural event that felt like a great fit. I volunteered and had a chance to learn about different cultures and what their struggle was like in terms of children lacking food sources. We first walked into the building where we were greeted and told to sign in, grab a hair net and gloves, and to take a seat. Once everyone was seated there was a speaker who greeted us. There was a large amount of volunteeers th ...continued...

We generally spend 10 hours (give or take a few hours) on the move each day. This means we spend the rest of the day in camp. Now when I say this I don't mean that we are sitting around a warm fire having drinks and kicking our feet up. We are generally unpacking the sled, taking the dogs off the lead, setting up tents, setting up the stove, or making water while huddled around a tiny blue flame that makes a shred of warmth that ekes around the edges of the tea kettle full of melting snow. We do have some downtime, such as now, where the tent is reasonably warm, meaning we can take our ...continued...

The big blow out! Mom entered my room, I can only imagine after grilling my sibling about her weight, spending habits and other things. She was on the war path and it just so happened that I was the nect victim. I heard a knock which lead to her helping herself into my room as though she owned it. To be honest, she pays the mortgage so every room in this house belongs to her. Immediately she went into the amount of pop cans that were all over my bedroom, and the garbage bag which she assumed was filled with crumpled up chip bags and empty pop cans. She wanted to prove that I wasnt as ...continued...

Kissee Mills, MO. 1979 This is a story I tell over and over to my kids and grandkids. It's the story of a young man we met while camping in Missouri a long time ago. Kissee Mills is in Taney County and part of the Branson community. It was summer and we were looking for a new camp site. We stopped at a fork in the road that had a little shack that sold bait. A young boy probably about 12 or so asked us if we wanted a busy camp or a not busy camp. We said we wanted the not busy camp. He said to go down the road to the left. So we did. We set up camp and were sitting around the concret ...continued...