Hands On (Reflective Essay)

8/12/2019 Hands On (Reflective Essay)

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Maria Fernandez

Ms. Gardner

English 10 2.

24 January 2014

Hands On

Hold my hand while we cross the street, my mother said as we walked home from

school. As an independent seven year old I sighed and grabbed her hand, waiting for the second

we got to the other side to let go. I realize now that to her, holding my hand was a way to pull me

away from possible danger, provide comfort in knowing I was safe (and some sort of personal

comfort for me too, knowing she was there because well, she was holding my hand,) and to

guide me across the street.

We use our hands for everything. While flipping through pages of the H encyclopedia

until I get to hands, I come across Human Beings. Looking at the picture I see peoples hands in

different places: around each others shoulders, holding an umbrella, praying, listening to a

heartbeat, and speaking with emphasis. When you have a career, you will use your hands.

Whether you sit in a desk typing all day, operate on a patient, hold a camera, teach a class, mix in

ingredients, hit a home run, or hold up your hands to add emphasis on a speech, you will use

your hands. Maybe you enjoy helping others, so you spend your time volunteering, using your

two hands to give food to someone in need.

One quarter of the part of the brain that controls the movement of your entire body, is

used for your hands, what you choose to do with your hands is your decision and hopefully

consists of helping the world in some way. The wrinkles that make up your knuckles, are only

there because you move your hands; so, if you decide to do nothing with them, let them sit there

useless for the entire time you are alive, those wrinkles that make up your knuckles will actually


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fade away and become non-existent.

I got older, and slowly holding hands with my mom became less frequent, I began to use

my hands for things other than playing with toys in a sandbox while letting the rough, small

rocks fall through my fingers. I began to use them for other things such as learning to add

numbers on my fingers, or my first time on an upside-down roller coaster holding on for dear

life.

Only a few years later did I find myself 15 feet above the ground holding on to a small

piece of plastic on a rock wall and hoping that I wouldnt fall. If I did fall (which was more than

likely considering it was the first time I was trying an actual dyno, where I would somehow

allow my hands and feet to leave the wall,) it probably wouldnt hurt, considering the 3 feet of

cushion I would be falling on. I started to swing back and forth to get the momentum needed to

get myself the distance to the next hold marked by pink duct tape. I was relying on my hands to

grab that hold; at least its a big one, I thought to myself; even though when rock climbing, a

large hold does not necessarily mean its a good one. But I still tried to reassure myself that I

would make it, I knew that it would be difficult to do. So I took one last swing and reached up

for the hold, touched it with my hand, failed to actually grab it, and enjoyed the quick fall to the

ground where I feared for a second because no rope had caught me, but before I could worry a

lot I hit the blue mat with a plop, was pulled up by friends and congratulated with: Good try

Maria! and You almost had it! (when in fact, I did not almost have it, it was more of a high-

five to the rock) but, the words of encouragement were enough to allow me to try again.

So I finally grabbed the rock instead of a high-five, and, of course, hung on for life

(although my life was not actually in danger), and after that, the rest of the climb to the hold

boxed in pink duct-tape seemed easy. Later, when trying a dyno 50 feet in the air and attached

to a rope this time, it was more of an adventure because, somehow when attached to a rope, with


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a figure eight knot tied myself, if I high fived a hold instead of grabbing on, my hands reached

for the rope and held on while I swung in the air and was slowly lowered down to the ground.

Maybe that was unusual, to be more scared 15 feet off of the ground rather that 50, but when I

know that I can cling to a rope instead of air, there is some sort of comfort in that.

A few years later, there I was, a new school where I didnt exactly know anyone. Many

small, and seemingly unimportant fears crossed my mind. On one hand, I wondered if I was

going to make friends; on the other hand, my mind wondered how much harder high school

would be from eighth grade. I kind of let the friend making thing go for the day to see if things

would happen on their own.

I walked into my third period class only knowing from previous students that Mrs.

Moquete was supposed to be a good teacher.

Whats your name? A girl looking at me and then the seating chart asked.

Maria, I answered to the girl now staring at the seating chart.

You sit in the front of the last row, she pointed to the seat all theway across the room.

Okay thanks, I walked to my desk and sat down waiting for the bell to ring while

reaching into my backpack to get out my binder just in case I needed to write something down

(or maybe to seem occupied while kids flooded into the room as the crowd around the girl with

the seating chart grew larger.) After going through her simple rules of the class, my teacher

explained that we needed to complete 10 hours of volunteering in order to pass the class.

You have two hands, one for helpingyourself, and one for helping others, Mrs.

Moquete said to our class. I started thinking of what I could possibly do for these volunteer

hours, or the Do Good Project, as it had been named. No actual ideas came to mind as the teacher

suggested ideas with contact information written on the whiteboard. I decided to think about

what I would do later, as I moved on with the day.


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I had trouble coming up with an idea, so I decided to ask her for other ideas that

hopefully half of the class wouldnt also do. My teacher suggested I come and help with Food

Pantry on Tuesdays. Many of the people that attend to receive food also brought their children

who were often unoccupied. My teacher had this idea where another student, Jordan, and I could

do arts and crafts with the kids to keep them occupied. The idea seemed like a fun way to help so

I agreed and awaited the next Tuesday.

The next Tuesday came and I walked towards my seemingly busy teacher and awaited for

an appropriate moment when she seemed slightly unoccupied to ask her where to start. I found

myself passing out paper and pencils to the kids that could draw and color on their own, and

assisting the younger ones by showing them how to put stickers on their paper as they were

interested with the small thin object that felt sticky on one side and smooth on the other.

Can you draw me a car to color in? Aidan, a boy with a blank sheet of paper asked.

I can try, I said taking the paper and grabbing the pencil as I laughed to myself because

I was not the best artist, and Jordan, the one who could draw, was very well occupied. I moved

my hand with the pencil in the shape of what I hoped would look like a car. He seemed satisfied

with it, and proceeded to color it in. When I returned home, I decided to sort through old boxes

to see what coloring books and other supplies I could find to add to the supply for the kids at

Food Pantry next week. After completing my 10 hours of service needed for the class, I decided

to continue going to food pantry because I came to the conclusion that I enjoyed helping people,

and seeing the kids return to their parents waiting in line with a huge smile on their faces as they

handed their artwork to their parents to keep.

Every time you pick up a pencil, give a child a colored pencil, make some soup, or give

that soup to someone else, you could turn a doorknob that opens the door to a new opportunity.


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Works Cited

Charles, Eaton. "Interesting Facts about Hands." Interesting Facts about Hands. N.p., n.d. Web.

21

Jan 2014.

The New Book of Knowledge. Volume 8, H. Published by Scholastic 2006.Human beings (page

281-282).

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Hands On (Reflective Essay)