ISKL+Jiwoo

**Introduction:**
Include some or all of the following, as well as a link to your blog: first name, what you like to do in and out of school, favourites (food, sport, hobby, TV show, video game, etc.), places visited, future plans, claim to fame.

Hello everybody! :) I'm JiWoo Choi from South Korea and I was born on December 30th 1996. I love meeting new people and I am frinedly... I hope I am. The hobbies I love to do during my free time is going on the computer and chatting with my friends, checking my facebook. I have probably wasted 1/5 of my time on MSN and Facebook. :) Another thing I like to do is go out for a run. I really like running because it helps me release my stress. When I'm really stressed, that would be a problem because I would just start screaming my head off and trust me..... that is NOT a pretty sight. :D I love acting too. About 4 months ago, I was in a middle school play. The play was about 'The Nightmare Before Christmas' and it was a BLAST. It gave me a chance to improve my acting skills and meet other people in middle school. I love to listen to music while I do my homework and I can't live without my iPod or my computer. :) I hope to meet new people from other places around the world. Tata~ :D.

Arms constantly moving up and down, spring as fast as I could, with a big grin on my face, I rushed over to meet my friend and neighbor. “Hi! It’s so good to see you again Tyler !” I him who was crouching down there all alone beside the swings while everybody was running around the playground like crazy animals. Tyler  raised his head from away from the ground slowly and looked to see who I was. After a while, he finally managed to stutter, “Oh…… Umm. Hi Fiona.” Every time he said something he looked like he was unsure of what he is saying or as if… somebody was going give him a big punch. I was always curious why he acted this way but I would always just give him the same big smile everyday. Whenever I look at him, I always saw, fear and depression in his eyes. When you try finding him during recess, he would always be alone, only with his shadow, next to the swings that nobody goes on anymore because they’re broken. If you tried talking to him, or start a conversation to him, it was hard because he would always be scared. It was so heart breaking to me to see him always like this while he could be having fun like other kids did. And another thing that was really unusual about him was in the hot sunny day he would always come to school wearing long sleeves and long pants. He was so different from others. “Tyler  you wanna go play basketball with me?!” I was waiting for an answer but he just stared at the ground blankly, without any expression. As if he didn’t even know my existence. That kind of bothered me so I told him, projecting my voice, “Tyler ! I said! Do you! Wanna go play! Basketball with me?!” I waited for five seconds but I still didn’t hear any reply from him. That’s when I got to my boiling point and grabbed his wrist. I couldn’t feel any fat. All I felt were bones. “LET GO OF ME!” That was the first time I’ve ever seem Tyler scream like that. He yanked my hands away from his wrists and ran away from me. I was shocked because I never thought Tyler  was capable to even saying something without hesitating. I was shocked for a second but I felt so rejected. I was only trying to be nice and just play with him because he was so lonely. ‘Why did he just run away from me like that? He just could’ve told me politely that he didn’t want to play. Geez. How rude.’ I started thinking to myself. The fact that somebody just screamed at me when I just tried being friendly made me mad and sad. “Hi guys! Nice to meet you after the weekend. Today in class, we will be drawing what we did during our weekends.” Our teacher, Ms. Allen told us. While I was trying to focus on my work, I looked over at Tyler shoulder and observed what he’s drawn. I was still bummed about what he did to me during recess. When I looked over at his paper I was surprised to see a sandwich crossed out in red and a baseball bat and nothing else. There was definitely something wrong with Tyler. With how he acted today when I grabbed his wrist and what he’s drawing now. I looked over at Tyler again and he hands were shivering and he was looking around the room nervously, twitching. I couldn’t stand watching Tyler  in fright so I quickly as fast as possible, without being noticed, went to Ms. Allen. “Ms. Allen! Look at Tyler. Maybe there’s something wrong with him. He’s been twitching, and have a look at what he drew on his paper. It’s kind of weird.” After I finished explaining how he’s been acting and what he did during recess, she gave me a weird look and walked over calmly to Tyler. As soon as Ms. Allen crouched down eye level for Tyler and put her hand against his back, Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> bursted in tears, crying out loud. This was unquestionably, without doubt, NOT normal. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> As I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened today with Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">. Today was just such a weird day for me. It took me a while to realize that my mom was waiting right in front of me with her car parked. I stood up from the benches I was sitting on, and walked over to the car absent mindedly, still thinking about what happened today during school. I grabbed the handle and pulled the car door and sat down quietly without saying anything. Normally, I would be happy to see my mom, but today it was such a weird day for me. From the corner of my eye I took a peek at my mom and she was staring at me. I tried looking away from her but it was too late. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">“Fiona. Are you ok?” my mom questioned me. I didn’t answer. I just looked out the window when I saw Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> there. Once again, he was sitting alone. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">“I’ve had the weirdest day ever mom. And I’m afraid something’s wrong with Tyler and today when we had to draw what we did during the weekend all he drew was a baseball bat and a sandwich crossed out! I’m afraid something wrong with him! What should I do?!” I noticed that everything that I’ve just said just came out. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop. I was scared. “And during recess, he was all alone so I offered to play basketball with him and he wouldn’t answer so I just grabbed his wrist and he screamed at me. Also I told Ms. Allen that he was acting weird today so she went up to Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> to talk about it and as soon as she put her hand on his back he just started crying. What if something bad happened or happens to him?! What are we going to do then? I’m scared! I have to do something about this mom. He’s my friend!” <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">After I’ve screamed everything out, I observed my mom to see what her reaction was. Her face was full of concern and she looked at me like I was delusional. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">Still looking shocked, the only thing my mom said “It’s okay honey. It’s going to be okay. Now buckle your seatbelt.” I just gave her a nod and buckled my seatbelt but it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> was my friend and neighbor and there is obviously something wrong with him. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> The day was getting darker and darker and I got ready to go to bed. Tired from a very weird and long day, I hurried up to my bedroom and fell on my bed. Until I heard something. I heard screaming and crying. I was wondering where the noise was coming from. I tried ignoring them and closed to sleep but the screaming wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t just one scream, it was constant. Now worried I dashed down the stairs, being careful not to trip on my own foot, scared and worried. I opened my mom’s and dad’s bedroom door and shrieked, “I HEAR SCREAMING AND CRYING IN MY BEDROOM!” As soon as my mom and dad heard my screeching, they got up in a blink of eye and went up to my bedroom. While my dad and mom were going up to check, I thought to myself, ‘Can this day get any weirder?’ I was waiting downstairs for my mom and dad to come back from observing my room. I finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I looked back. My mom’s face was pale and it was sure that something was surely wrong and she was about to tell me about it. “Fiona. Don’t’ freak out when we tell you this. You have to stay calm.” My mom looked liked she was going to pass out any second. My dad ran over to get the phone. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">“Fiona. I think… it might it one of the neighbors who was causing the screaming. And…” my mom looked at me for a long time. I was waiting. Then something came up in my head. Tyler. Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> was one of my neighbors. I flinched at the thought and tears started swimming in my eyes. One drop at a time, my tears would drop on the carpet, making dark stains. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">“Fiona. I told you not to worry. It’s going to be okay. Just stay calm. I’m sure you’re in great shock right now and so am I. Stay calm. Your dad is calling the cop.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);">I couldn’t believe this. Now everything made sense to me. Why Tyler <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; color: rgb(64, 140, 79);"> always acted like that. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;">**<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;">*** ** <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;">  <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;">  **<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">It took a while for the cops to arrive here after my dad called. By the time the cops arrived, the crying and yelling and screaming stopped but I was still devastated by the thoughts of Tyler <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> doing that. What had happened to him? Who’s doing that to him? Why?! I couldn’t think straight and all types of questioned were going through my head like poison spreading. I was feeling sick, my stomach was in knots, and my head was dizzy. I lied down on the couch and fell asleep while my mom and dad were explaining what they heard to the cops. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> Conscious, I slowly opened my heavy eyes and observed where I was. My whole body was aching from all the running since last night. I found myself lying down on my bed, in my bedroom. I looked out at the window and saw the bright sunshine and birds singing and guessed I was sleeping for a long time. I bit by bit I stood up on my feet and that’s when I realized something… Tyler <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">. I was too busy sleeping, I totally forgot about him. I rushed down the stairs dying with curious of what happened after I slept yesterday. When I found my mom and dad in the kitchen I screeched,   <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">“WHAT HAPPENED TO TYLER  <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">?” As I just stood there, frozen like a statue, I starred at my parents waiting for an answer. <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">My dad put down the newspaper that he was reading and beckoned me. I walked up closer to my breakfast and sat down on the hard wooden chair. My mom took off her rubber gloves, put the plates down, turned off the sink and looked at me very concerned. My instincts told me that this was not a good sign. <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">“The police found out what happened. They found bruises all over his body” I gasped and covered my mouth with both of my hands. I couldn’t believe what I have just heard. “Seems like it was all his mom’s fault and he hasn’t been eating for days. He was abused. Poor kid he’s all alone now without a dad or a mom. His dad died a few days ago. He’s frightened. Can’t say anything without stuttering.” <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">I was shocked of what I’ve just heard. Now everything made sense to me. How he started screaming when I grabbed his wrist, what he was drawing and the way he always talked like. So far, I only thought all moms were caring and loving to their child, but this was far worse than that. I don’t get why someone would do such a thing to their child? Tyler <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> was only a innocent child who did nothing. Why did he have to deserve such things? <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> <span style="font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);">“But don’t worry honey.” My mom interfered with my thoughts going through my brain, “He’s going to be alright now. He’ll be somewhere where it’s safe and get lots of love. He’ll be fine.” I was relieved to hear that but still petrified from the thought of his mom abusing him like that. Why do people always use violence? This was not fair and I want to stop this. Later when I grow up, I want to stop child abuse and give the right to kids who aren’t getting loved. Who could be receiving love but instead getting abused and starving just like Tyler did. <span style="color: rgb(50, 143, 79);"> **

Questions for Peer Reviewers**
(Think in terms of questions you would like to ask the author.)

1. Think of plot—is it original? (If an adaptation, is it creative or interesting to you?) What suggestions do you have for the author(s)?

2. Think about problems that the characters face. Are there complications that add enough suspense, tension, or interest? Is there a climax that satisfies you? Is the resolution satisfying? What could be added or changed?

3. Think of characterization—are the characters life-like? Are characters likable and enjoyable? Do we get a good sense of character from many of these: description, dialogue, narrator's opinion, discussion from other characters, the character’s own actions?

4. Think of imagery and details. Do they help you //see// and //hear// and //experience// the story? What details would you like to see in the next revision of the story?

5. What areas of the story need the most improvement? What suggestions do you have for the author?