The James Logan Courier

By Ron Poblete, Courier Staff Writer

I've been going to James Logan High School all four years. I've been an average student for most of my educational career. During classes, I would do most of the work, and homework. Still, there are a few classes I've managed to fail in the past, but I've been able to make those classes up. I could say I'm proud of most of the things I've done in my high school career, but still regret many other things. Now being a senior, there is one major issue that I regret, and that is the constant class cutting.

By Rebecca Soltau, Courier Entertainment Editor

Sitting in second period, students are forced to sit through cruel and unusual punishment. No, it’s not the lengthy lectures on the Dark Ages that bores them to tears, nor is it the dreaded realization that they didn’t finish the homework that’s due in five minutes.

It’s the horrible performances on Logan Live.

With a disregard for the quality of a performance evident in the majority of the cast, the EMP Academy has managed to destroy everything that the previous years of EMP classes have strived for. Fed up with students reporting the news with muttering tones and monotonous voices, students at Logan have finally decided that enough is enough.

By David Collins, Courier Opinion Editor

The basis of all societies is a standard of what is right and wrong. For a society to become stable and also to grow, it must have law, or a standard by which all within that society judge life. The nature of our law is derived from the Romans, who took most of their early ideas from the Greeks. The Greeks greatly believed that the growth of society depended on the wisdom of the people and the ever-growing knowledge that grew from this belief founded a basis for one of the greatest empires the world has ever known.

By Emily Low, Courier Staff Writer

Think about what a stereotypical image of a nerd looks like. Unkempt hair, with a pencil or two sticking out behind one ear. Crooked glasses, grimy with fingerprints from countless attempts to push them back on the bridge of the nose which seems to be permanently stuck in a book. Slumped shoulders, rounded out by years of dutiful humping of backpacks, heavy with graphing calculators and textbooks. Fingers stained with ink and crisscrossed with paper cuts from flurried research…the list goes on.

Do nerds like that really exist? Consider this: In a school of more than 4,000 diverse students, if such a nerd existed, we would have seen one around the school. However, in the three years that I’ve been here at Logan, I’ve never even glimpsed such a being. I can also claim that I have never heard of this nerd, either. It can logically be concluded that this stereotypical nerd does not exist.

By Christine Surna Khayat, Courier Staff Writer

Event 1: I’m sitting in the mall food court, waiting for my friend to get off of work, simply looking around, observing the people in an attempt to occupy my mind. As my eyes continuously wander from section to section, I can’t help but notice one table in particular. A young, mentally disabled man, no older than eighteen, sat in a wheelchair next to a middle-aged woman. The woman had sunken eyes and a frail figure. Yet, her protruding cheekbones illuminated her fatigued smile—not forced, just exhausted. On the table in front of them sat a tray of Burger King, barely eaten. As the two of them sat, I witnessed something so wonderful and beautiful. The woman was tearing the food into small, manageable pieces, feeding the young man, slowly and patiently. His head would be continuously falling, and there was often food falling out of his mouth, but the woman sat there feeding him and wiping his mouth, smiling patiently--lovingly. In between bites she would whisper in his ear and kiss his cheek. She would tickle and hug him and they would smile and laugh together. They seemed completely and happily oblivious to all the commotion around them. It was then that I realized that I was witnessing true, unconditional love.

By Emily Low, Courier Staff Writer

The classroom is still. The clock ticks almost inaudibly from its spot on the wall, a slow, steady sound that never wavers. Out of the corner of your eye, something moves, and startled you glance over. Nothing. On your other side, something scratches; you jump. It’s beginning to get distracting. Suddenly…BOOM. You jump, eyes wide—oh, the air conditioning has come on.

Such are the horrors of STAR testing, one might sigh. There is complete and utter boredom and silence, broken only by the monotonous task of filling bubbles or other such annoying things. It’s a small wonder that students happen to be uninterested in the week standardized testing.