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ORIGINAL COMPOSITION UNITEFFECTIVE USE OF LANGUAGE

The foll owin g essay writt en by a grade 12 student won a UBC Essay Competition.Read the essay and compl ete the assignment on effectiv e use of language.

JUNK

And be sure to throw this junk out, too, my mother says to me as she throwssomething at my feet. Ah, junk. I sigh. This is a painful moment for me, the junkconnoisseur. Today is spring cleaning day, and I am being forced to purge mycollection.

I bend down and pick up the object that my mother has so unceremoniouslyhurled from my crowded closet. Its a small boxcar, old and black, giving off a dull sheen,one side scratched and dented from an accident long ago. I sit down on my bed andstare at it. I see my mother give a puzzled frown as I break into a wide grin.

This little toy, nothing more than piece of junk to my mother, is a treasure to me. I runmy fingers over the dent in its side as I am transported back to when it came into mypossession.

It was Christmas, and I was six. On Christmas Eve, I had gone to bed withvisions of sugar plums and Barbie Dream Houses dancing in my head. The object of mydesire was a three foot high dollhouse. replete with all the trappings of 1980s styleexcess. That night I went to bed, fully expecting to spend the next morning celebratingthe milestone of Barbies moving into her first home.

Crash, boom, thud! That was the sound of my hopes, tumbling down. For the

package I had ripped open in such feverish haste was not a dollhouse with his andhers vanities. It wasa train set!?! What could my parents have been thinking? Atthe tender age of six I had not yet heard of terms like gender neutrality.

Miserable, I started at the worthless piece of junk in front of me and silentlycursed my parents. Then, suddenly, I saw the look on my brothers face. Distractedfrom his own gifts, he was staring at the train set, his cheeks slightly flushed, his mouthslack and his eyes all aglow as they stared soulfully at my gift. He had the air of firstlove about him. Choo-Choo Deluxe, he read off the box, his mouth curling lovinglyaround the syllables.

Abruptly, possessively, I put my arms around the box. He stared at me, his eyes

blinking, his face twitching and he was forced to avert his gaze, while inside he wasseething with jealousy. He was smitten.

And he wasnt the only one. Word carried fast around our neighbourhood, andsoon we had a gaggle of young hopefuls on our front stoop, hoping to get a chance toplay with the monster train as it was being called, since it filled up almost all of our backyard.

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First, however, we had to get the stamp of approval from Tirath, ourneighbourhood sage. He could make or break somethings reputation by the strength ofhis proclamation. An expectant hush fell over our gathering as a place was cleared forhim to inspect the train. Sweat glistened off my brow and my body was twisted into atight knot of anticipation. What would be his verdict?

Tirath slowly turned around and we all leaned forward to hear the pearls ofwisdom falling from his mouth. This is a good one, he said, its big. Oh, the elation!

The trickle of children outside our door soon turned into a torrent. I, convincedthat now was the time to display my irresistible wit and charm, stood by and yelledinstructions. And the train, once my reviled piece of junk, was now my revered trophy.

But, alas, after having drunk up all this success I was left with a bitter taste in mymouth. One typical cloudy afternoon, the children were gathered at my house, while Isat, oblivious to the weather, basking in the warm glow of contentment. This mood wassoon broken, however, by Tiraths bursting into the yard.

Hey! he yelled. Sonnys dad bought him a trampoline! the results wereimmediate and thunderous. The kids galloped off, leaving me trampled in their wake.So it had come to this. Friends! On that day, I discovered the depth of evil that couldlurk in six-year-old souls.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and I turned my fury onto the source ofall my troubles: the infernal choo-choo. I didnt even want you in the first place! Iyelled as I promptly kicked it against the wall.

I remember all this as I sit and finger that large dent I made. The train had to beput out of commission that daya little accident, I told my mother, you really cant trustthose neighbourhood hooligans.

As I look down at the little piece of junk my mom has thrown to me, I realizenow as I realized then that value is in the eye of the beholder. I pick up my precioustrain and put it back in my closet.

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SCORE OUT OF 6: _________Reasons for your score from the scoring guide.

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