Reflections: A Book

Enders Game

EnderFaiths' Game

I've heard of people hiding scary books in freezers to escape the vivid imagery of the pages.

I don't like horror so I've never wanted to hide a book, throw it across the room maybe because a fav character died, but never hide.
I think this may be the first book I've ever considered banishing to a chilly exile.

Perhaps I can blame the encroaching menstruation. Maybe I've just been cooped up too long and once again I'm thinking too much. But Enders Game (EG) isn't a horror story or a suspense thriller. It's a psycho analyzer and that, more than any axwielding sociapathic seriel killer is scarier beyond all reason.

EG most so for me because I can relate on a few levels. I'm no genius but I enjoy learning and thinking, always have, always will. But I didn't grow up around thinkers. I was seldom nurished at the tender elementary school age to excell outside of standard course work. I attended the SAGE classes and ultimately graduated highschool #14/340ish. I took the long away around obtaining my Bachelors after 5 interesting college years. I am no Ender. But I find in him... in his story, a kinship. A questioning. Would I be one of those to hate him simply because he's better than me? Would I go so far as to wish him harm? Do him harm?

No, I know myself well enough to admit I suffer from jealousy from time to time but I also wish to encourage others. No matter their skill level.

**Spoiler alert**
What prompted me to begin writing this after reading 213 pages of this 324 page book I've acquired is Ender's fight with Benzo. When he's crying afterwards because he didn't want to have to hurt Benzo. He hates himself for doing it and he hates 'the world'/circumstances/the teachers for making him have to do it.

I can't say 'we've all' had to deal with this at some point, but I imagine a fair few of us have. My time came when I was in 3rd grade, my assailant was a Kindergartner (maybe first grade?), just another strike against my moral aptitude, why couldn't she have been my age or bigger? Maybe because those my age knew better? *shrug*

She was the kid on the bus that did whatever she liked because she had a ton of friends and family to back her up. I had been having a particularly awful day in the world of a 7/8 year old and her jumping into my seat with that malicious grin on her face was just the icing. To my credit I had warned her multiple times, at least three, yelled at her even, that just goaded her on. Finally I had enough, braced my hands on the back of my seat and the one infront and kicked her squarely in the chest with both feet. She flew into the aisle, the wind knocked out of her undoubtedly. Bus driver slammed the bus in park, I knew my day was about to get worse. The driver slammed the crying girl none too gently into the seat next to me then returned to the front of the bus without so much as a glance my way. By the time her stop came up the little bully had got her breath back and was using it to threaten me 6 ways from Sunday (correct phrase usage?). It was my turn to cry then. I remember the perplexed looks of the other kids on the bus. What was I crying about? I had won! All that did was make me feel dumber, stupid for crying, stupid for hurting someone younger than me.

To my surprise the driver actually smiled at me when I got off. Talk about a mild shock to the system. I guess she wasn't going to tell my parents. I don't remember much leading up to that night when I walked in on my parents brushing their teeth in preparation for bed. I emptied my sinful little heart out then, expecting some sort of backlash. Clearly as the little bully and my busmates, I remember the perplexity of my parents faces as they silently regarded each other as if to say "what are we supposed to do/say here?" In the end they said I shouldn't have done it (more so to assauge my guilt than out of true conviction i'm sure) but it was good for me to stick up for myself. And that was that.

I never saw that little girl again and I haven't been a physical altercation since. But Kickboxing, Krav Maga, and other defense disciplines remain my physical poison of choice. I have no interest in hurting others but have no doubt in my mind that I'll do my best to defend myself and those I care for.

Another interesting point: Had I kicked the wind out of that girl in the protection of someone else I doubt I would have felt a moments guilt. It's only when I feel the need to protect myself that I question my methods. Why is this? Don't I deserve the same protection I have no problem affording others? Is this just another example of how I don't fully value myself in 'the grand scheme' of things?

I'm not sure, I'll have to think on it.......


Note to self: I thought SAGE meant Student Academics for Greater Excellence or something but in WI it meant Student Achievement Guarantee in Education (SAGE). GA had a modifed version, I wasn't poverty level and neither were my friends, it was def higher advancement of a sort for 1st-3rd grades.
http://www.promisingpractices.net/program.asp?programid=117