All Entries in the "Opinion" Category
Show a little professionalism, please
By APRIL GEORGE
I recently finished performing in an amateur children’s show at Valley of the Moon. To be honest, the last two nights were the most fun, mainly because I got to play the role I’d originally wanted.
Not fun, however, was the reason I got the opportunity: two of the actors scheduled to play the role did not show up. No word, no phone calls to the director to explain. They just didn’t show up.
Yes, this was an amateur show but is that any reason not to be professional about it?
The director specifically told us to attend every night, so it was bad enough when actors weren’t there on nights they weren’t performing in their main roles. But to not to show up on a night they were scheduled is downright unprofessional.
Here’s the thing, though: It’s not just theater. Everywhere I go lately, I run into people who are unprofessional in their workplaces.
Listen, I don’t care if you work at McDonald’s, you need to be professional. Don’t stand around talking when you have customers. Don’t look at a line and decide to close your register. I don’t care how much you hate your job, you don’t show it to the customers.
There are plenty of people who would love your job, myself included.
A manager will not keep you if you act like you don’t want to be there. Be courteous, be professional and, most of all, smile. Pretend that you live to serve people chicken nuggets.
If you don’t, you won’t have a job and I’ll be standing in line to take it. I could use the income.
George, a self-proclaimed “professional” writer, is currently locked in her author cave trying to finish her first novel so she can stop being an unpaid one.
Delivery drivers deserve tips, too
BY MEGYN FITZGERALD
All too often, people tell me they don’t tip their delivery drivers. As far as they’re concerned, a delivery driver doesn’t do much to earn a tip. After all, how difficult is it to drive a couple of miles, walk up to a front door and ring a doorbell?
I’ll be the first to admit that being a delivery driver isn’t the most difficult job in the world. However, there are tip lines on those receipts for a reason, people.
Within the past few years, nearly every employer of delivery drivers has changed the way drivers get paid. We used to make minimum wage across the board, but now we make serving wage while on the road.
In addition, we do not get gas money and we have to pay for our own insurance and maintenance. Anyone with a car can tell you how fast this adds up, especially when gas prices are at an all-time high.
When you think about it, the profession of delivery driving came about due to pure laziness. You’re too lazy to get off your butt and pick up that heart attack you just ordered, so I’ll get off of mine and deliver it to you. Show some appreciation!
Some argue that tipping employees who are simply doing their job shouldn’t be necessary. Perhaps it’s not as well known that tipped employees rarely make more than $5 an hour. In essence, our job is to do whatever it takes to make a tip.
Some people even claim ignorance of the expectation to tip. In an effort to avoid excessive capital letters and exclamation marks, I’ll pretend they’re legitimately unaware of this well-known social standard.
Besides, we’ve all been at businesses where the receipts inexplicably have tip lines, right? I refuse to tip someone for putting a scoop of ice cream into a cup for me.
But delivery drivers, just like servers, depend on tips to live. To deny them minimum wage just to save a few bucks is selfish and rude.
Reward those who reward you– especially if their name happens to be Megyn.
Fitzgerald has delivered pizza for more than six years, both in Arizona and Florida.
Veterans Day holiday has lost meaning
By CELESTE ORENDAIN
We, the people of the United States, have lost the essence of what Veterans Day really means. If we really knew what we celebrate on this day, things would be different.
Veterans Day has been around for 57 years now, and we all take this day to do usual things and to have fun. In reality, we should use Veterans Day to honor and show some respect to the ones who gave their lives for us.
I feel that only people who have a member in their family who is a soldier or a veteran understand the feeling of going out early in the morning to show respect to the soldiers who defend our country, and those who have been lost doing so.
If Veterans Day is a day to honor the ones who once served our country, why are there some people who don’t even bother to show at least five minutes of silence? Why make this a formal holiday if a majority of people can’t be bothered to honor it?
Ever since I was little, my dad always went to work on Nov. 11. I would just stay home and not do anything in honor of veterans. I didn’t know why we never had school that day.
For me, it really sucked because I was home alone. My family was off doing different things. I wished there was school that day, because I’d at least be with my friends.
Elementary kids, and even some middle school kids, don’t care about who died or who is still suffering. They just want to have fun, and all they care about is having the day off.
But there are some of us that don’t have anything to do and would prefer to be at school, in the company of friends and instructors.
If we aren’t going to do anything to honor the veterans on this day, why make it a national holiday? It just seems like wasting a day that could be otherwise used for normal activities.
Orendain loves listening to music, writing poems and reading. She hopes to someday own a radio station.
My Tucson: City in the sun embraces struggle
By ALLIE PEOT
I saw Tucson for the first time at 18. Immature and indignant, I had recently moved from the Bluegrass state to northern Arizona.
My story had been told: impossible youth flees to the fabled west coast. But through California beach towns, Oregon farms and many oh-so-lonesome highways, I found only the desert fierce enough to stop me in my dusty tracks.
I was shaped by the drastically new environments I encountered, and the degrees of change between them. Compared to the soft hills of my home state, the desert was bright and bold.
I remember the stunning lava fields in the snow outside of Flagstaff, like a yin yang the size of a crater. I obsessively inhaled the butterscotch scent in ponderosa pine.
I was immediately captivated by the unyielding stance of the granite in the central mountains, the sheer drama of the Mogollon rim, the way the sharp sun glinted in the eyes of the border town locals.
My imagination unfolded. I took a job restoring hiking trails, allowing me to travel across some of the wilder parts of the state.
Although I worked and played everywhere from ritzy Lake Havasu to the depths of the Grand Canyon that year, it was Tucson and the surrounding desert that began to transform the fury of senseless rebellion.
I saw in the cacti a quiet resistance to a nearly desperate environment. The missing rain, the burning heat, all seemed in opposition to life. The mountain outcroppings of sunbaked rock beckoned no butterflies.
But I began to learn, the saguaro doesn’t long for rainforest. There was no diamond to find in the rough mosaics of stone and lichen.
Within the city of Tucson, I met the same quiet strength. The people, I found, held the same steadfast resilience within them. Their diversity and cooperation appealed to me, as did the ample conflict and friction.
Only in Tucson, compared to the many states and few countries I have visited, do people embrace struggle in such a ready way. People here do not expect lush abundance; there is an understanding that life will not come easily.
With that, people adapt as naturally as any wild desert plant or animal. Instead of concentrating on the way things ought to be, people organize to create something unique and new.
There is so much room in Tucson for expression. Only here, in a place with ironically few natural resources, is the human capital vibrant enough to offer something for anyone trying to make a change.
The art in Tucson reflects an awareness of death and a respect for morality, but not without a toying mockery. It speaks for anyone touched by the desert.
We will die, yes. But first, we will live.
It’s time to stop the hyperbole
By CHELO GRUBB
These days, it seems as though there is no middle ground.
Everything is categorized as wonderful, life changing and revolutionary, or as a direct path to the downfall of society.
It’s easy to get so wrapped up in the fight and in making others see flaws in their logic that we forget the basics of human interaction, which we were all taught in grade school.
Everyone is different. Everyone has led his or her own slightly unique and slightly conventional life. That leads to varying opinions on everything from the best brand of mac’n’cheese to what should define marriage.
This is not a groundbreaking notion. These are simple truths that I doubt anyone would defy in casual conversation.
However, I can’t think of the last time I heard a debate—be it formal or a simple disagreement between friends—that ended with someone peacefully conceding.
The purpose of conversation is to gain insight into someone else’s mind. Unfortunately, there seems to be a breakdown between listening to someone’s words and actually considering the content.
That’s not to say I am indifferent about everything. I support same-sex marriage, I lean towards Kraft mac’n’cheese and I can hold my own in a debate about whether Mordor is an evil place. (Yes, I’m also extremely geeky).
Making observations and having opinions about the world is a part of living. Taking time to gain insight into someone else’s mind is a part of functioning.
I don’t want people to stop thinking for themselves. I simply believe that we, as a people, should take the self-satisfying enthusiasm and aggression down a notch.
Just imagine a world without the aggressive enthusiasm and mockery that surrounds the Twilight movies. Imagine a presidential election that doesn’t end with a candidate being likened to Hitler.
I’m tired of living in an environment where everyone is obsessed with absolutes.
Absolutes do not make for progress and—perhaps more importantly—they do not make for intelligent conversation.
By all means, rally for your causes. I’m merely hoping to spread the thought that very few things in life deserve anyone’s absolute condemnation or praise.
When Grubb isn’t reporting for the Aztec Press, she reads, writes for her blog and outlines potential novels. She is quite a text-based person.
Skinny comments are rude, too
By LABREAL YOUNG
More than one-third of American adults are obese, according to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention.
Even though we recognize it when we see it, we don’t usually mention it. To tell people they’re fat, obese or overweight is considered rude, mean. It’s an unwritten rule in our society and one you don’t break.
But what about the other side of the spectrum? The underweight people, the people with fast metabolisms? The people who, no matter what they eat or do, can’t seem to gain an ounce?
I’m one of those people. I’m 5 feet 8 inches tall and weigh 110 pounds.
People seem perfectly content to point fingers and whisper, “Oh my god, she’s sooo skinny.” And those are the nice people.
I’ve had others (people I do and don’t know) come up with their “stank face” and ask me if I eat, or suggest what I should eat. The real ridiculous ones assume I have an eating disorder.
What makes this OK?
I call this a double standard. You can voice your opinion about one body type but not the other.
Why is it such a big “no-no” to call people fat to their face? Well, you would be stating the obvious. You’d be reminding the person of what they might not be comfortable with, the issue they know they have, maybe the situation they can’t fix.
Is it the not the same with an underweight person? What decent person wants to make people feel uncomfortable with their appearance?
If you’re not catching where I’m coming from, grab on to this example: A girl came up to me and said she could fit one hand around my waist. Would it be OK if I came back at her, and said I wished I could put my arms around her waist?
Double standard much?
Yes, we have free will to voice our opinions. But next time you decide to do so, take a minute and think about what you’re really saying.
Skinny people have feelings too!
Young has been thin all her life. She’s learned to embrace it and loves herself just the way she it.
Guest essay: Be a guide
By KATTA MAPES
Whether on a trail or in life, it always helps to have someone to guide you on the path. So it is with high school students.
Think back to your high school days. Was there someone who said or did something that inspired you to get on your career or education path?
With all the budget cuts at Pima Community College, the staff members who used to guide students are no longer available to visit high schools and assist with the transition to college.
That’s where you can volunteer to help.
If you are studying engineering, offer to speak to a high-level math class. If you are a member of the Native American Student Association, meet with the Native American students at a high school.
You can choose the high school audience to guide. Anything you do will help— either on a one-time or ongoing basis.
Whether you are a student, staff or faculty member, your voice of encouragement and experience can make a difference to high school students.
There are three messages I believe students need to hear from a variety of sources:
- Education is your gift to yourself. The more education you have, the more likely you will obtain the career that you feel passionately about.
- Take advantage of high school classes— take all you can while you can. That is likely to be the last free education you will have. Don’t slouch and go part time your senior year.
- Make a plan for your education and you career. You can always change it if you change your mind, but having a plan and a path will lead you to success.
So how do you get to speak at a high school? If you went to a local high school, start there. Contact the counselor there and offer your services.
Join your alumni association and organize an alumni day. For example, at Pueblo Magnet High School, Pueblo Warrior alumni are invited to speak to students at the annual “Si Se Puede” day.
If you did not go to high school in Tucson but want to be a guide, contact me at creeya@comcast.net. I will steer you in the right direction.
Guest essayist Katta Mapes retired last May after 34 years in the Tucson Unified School District. She is now a Pima student.
Outdoor work more rewarding than office job
By VANESSA AVILA
There I was, preparing morning coffee for customers, already tired, cold and dreading my long day.
Standing behind a counter, taking customer’s tickets for their car washes, was easy. Doing it four days a week for 10 hours each day was just plain boring.
Even though I had time to complete homework, I felt miserable.
Looking outside through the few windows in the chilly office, I would see male employees scrambling like ants to clean cars at a fast pace.
I wondered why so few females worked outside, trading fancy heels and office suits for a plain shirt, pants and shoes.
Eventually, an outside job became available. I pleaded with my manager to give the job to me. I wanted to be a part of what the boys did.
I had something to prove to myself. It seemed that if I could work outside for 10 hours at a car wash, I could work anywhere.
My manager was skeptical, but let me give it a try.
The first day I arrived wearing shorts and no makeup, with my hair pulled into a ponytail.
Within weeks, I mastered cleaning, detail work and running cars on the track. There wasn’t one minute when I just stood. I became one of the little ants working until dawn.
Some employers might hesitate to place women in jobs that require heavy physical labor, but every willing worker should be given a chance.
I’ve worked at a medical clinic, day care centers, schools and retirement homes, but can safely say the car wash has been my favorite. I had to leave the job this semester due to my hectic school schedule but would go back in a heartbeat.
I traded a gloomy office for 110-degree days. I traded morning coffee and cans of Red Bull for plain water. I traded my nice blue collared shirt for a plain one, and didn’t regret it at all.
My experience was not only fun but made me feel healthier and like I earned my money.
I came home exhausted, dirty and sweaty but didn’t mind a bit. Working outside made me feel like part of a team.
Avila enjoys writing and painting. She hopes to move to New York and open a bookstore.
Occupy: A movement for the people
By KARYN WALLIKER
It looks as though the deepening economic crisis may have put a dent in American apathy.
Spurred by rebellions across the Middle East and Europe last spring, the falling dominos have reached our doorstep. Finally, we can get a piece of some good old-fashioned civil disobedience.
On Sept. 17, citizens in New York City officially waged an occupation of Wall Street. They descended in a mass of thousands and planted roots in the concrete of the United States’ largest financial district.
They remain entrenched and have been joined in action by thousands more in cities across the country.
Banks, federal buildings, public parks and plazas are being occupied by protestors willing to brave the elements and risk arrest to get their point across.
The collective voice of the people wants to be heard. We will no longer support a government that economically favors the richest 1 percent of the population.
The unjust and outright criminal practices of financial institutions cannot be tolerated. We will not idly watch our futures sneak away as war agendas and corporate predators drain the national budget into obscurity.
Financial terrorists have hijacked the economy. Our hard-won democracy has been commandeered by corporate greed and crooked politics. We demand accountability for these acts against the American people.
News of the Occupy movement has been largely ignored by the mainstream media in a blatant display of allegiance to the corrupt financial moguls who the demonstrators are opposing.
They only slow the inevitable. News of the uprising has gone viral on social networks. Multiple websites are streaming live 24-hour footage protestors’ activities. Technology has made the revolution possible.
In the traditions of Ghandi and Martin Luther King, Occupy protesters are absolute in their commitment to non-violent resistance. We will not fight; we simply will not go away.
Local citizens have organized to show their support. Occupy Tucson will begin its official occupation of downtown’s financial district Oct. 15 at Veinte de Agosto Park. Working groups have been active for weeks preparing for an indefinite stay.
Like similar groups nationwide, we do not represent any particular social faction. Rather, swelling discontent has brought Americans of all walks and talks under the same umbrella.
Never have we had so much in common.
Guest essayist Karyn Walliker is a student at Pima Community College.
Demonstrators in the Occupy Tucson movement use signs to state their views. The protesters gather peacefully and pledge not to use violence.
Spectators gather in Viente de Agosto Park downtown to learn more about Occupy Tucson. The park is located near many of Tucson's major government buildings.
Halloween more than just another holiday
By APRIL GEORGE
October is my favorite month of the year. It finally starts cooling off outside and there’s always at least one good horror movie on TV.
The main reason, however, is because Halloween is just around the corner.
Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday. I get to let my inner drama geek loose to dig through my closet in a frantic search for the perfect costume. Candy goes on sale, and it’s the only time of year I can find my one weakness, candy corn. Score!
It’s my favorite holiday for another reason as well.
Halloween marks the end of a year for me. Not a calendar year: I’m still on the Gregorian system for that one. I’m talking a full, 365-day, four full seasons year. The night of Oct. 31 is my New Year’s Eve.
As a pagan, I follow old Celtic traditions where Halloween is concerned. Well, some of them. Most people don’t give out alcohol to trick-or-treaters anymore.
Halloween, or Samhain, marked the end of the harvest season. It came to be known as scary because people believed the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. Spirits of the dead walked the earth with the living.
For me, Halloween is a time of reflection, a time to plan the coming year and prepare for winter.
It’s also a time to honor the dead. Because I live in the Southwest, I incorporate lots of Dia de los Muertos into my celebrations. I’ve noticed this seems to make the rituals more accepted.
Don’t get me wrong. I love to dress up and be someone I’m not. I offer to take my friends’ siblings trick-or-treating, and would never turn down free candy. I enjoy watching horror movies and visiting haunted houses.
But, Halloween’s over-commercialization gets irritating.
As much as I love free candy and cheesy movies, the holiday has a deeper, more personal meaning for me.
I get tired of seeing all the lame decorations in stores. I should be grateful that Dracula doesn’t yet sparkle, but the faux-horror is just tacky. And frankly, the way people depict witches is getting downright offensive.
Halloween is the most important day of my year. I just wish the candy companies hadn’t made it so cheap.
George may hate how tacky Halloween has become, but she usually starts thinking of costume ideas around Valentine’s Day.
Anti-social network is more my style
By MYLO ERICKSON
It’s amazing to see how much time people spend on the Internet, and the different ways they waste their time.
I do spend a little time online myself. I log on for the typical things: reading my email, finding answers to questions that are bugging me, doing a little shopping, viewing porn and checking my fantasy sports page.
I’ll admit to my fair share of heavy breathing in front of a computer screen, staring at… stats.
Just kidding. I only shop on the Internet when I can get an extremely better price or need something I can’t find anywhere else.
Most people spend their time checking Facebook posts or getting the latest nugget of genius from someone they follow on Twitter, like that is really possible.
What’s the attraction of sharing or reading a favorite recipe or insights into the meaning of life? Why do people seek out news or gossip about sleazy things a celebrity did?
Consider the number of alternative options you can complete in five minutes.
You could do some healthy activities, such as sit-ups or jumping jacks. You could tidy up your domicile. You could spend time with a loved one, person or pet. You could take a quick shower to be ready for a hot date.
I spend about five minutes a month on Facebook, accepting friends then quickly checking posts and photos.
It just doesn’t make sense to spend every waking hour on Facebook. Sure you can communicate with friends who live in another country or state, but too many people use social media as the main way to talk to friends they could meet up with personally.
My question is, why not go hang out with them? People exist in the flesh, you know!
Don’t even get me started on Twitter. I don’t even have a Twitter account and probably never will. Nobody I know needs to tell me constantly what they are doing in 140 characters or less.
I admire some celebrities, but not enough to care what they ate for lunch or what goofy thing they did. The only people I care about are my close friends, and I will ask them face to face about their day.
I have become part of the blogging world, but only because it was a requirement for one of my classes. I find blogging intriguing, but can’t see myself doing it daily.
Not everything that happens or every opinion is worth sharing with the world. Nobody is that interesting.
In all honesty, I don’t care what other people do with their time. People should do what makes them happy, as long as it’s not hurting someone else.
What gets to me is the pressure I feel to become part of something I have no interest in.
In addition, social media seems to consume people’s lives to the point that they just waste it in front of a computer.
To me, that’s no way to spend your life.
Erickson once made a group bet on who could stand the longest. He lost when he had to go pick up his wife from work.
Modern ‘comedy’ just isn’t amusing
By LEFTRICK HERD
I went to a local comedy club with some classmates the other night. I was looking for an evening of entertainment, laughing and enjoying the company of friends.
It was open mic night, with 31 comedians scheduled to keep me chuckling in three to five minute increments.
I expected to hear classic wit like:
A couple of blondes were driving through Louisiana when they came to a sign that told them they were almost to Natchitoches. They argued all the way about how to pronounce the name of the town.
Finally they stopped for lunch. After getting their food, one of the blondes said to the cashier, “Can you settle an argument for us? Very slowly, tell us where we are.
The cashier leaned over the counter and said:“Buuurrrrrr-Gerrrrrr Kiiiinnnnnggg.”
Imagine my shock and discomfort when instead I heard a barrage of foul language, gay bashing and sexist verbiage that I did not find amusing at all.
Even the two-drink minimum did not help the crudity and shock tactics that pummeled my ears.
Most of the “comedians” were in their 20s but a couple of older men, a dad in his 40s and another who had just turned 74, took their turn at the mic.
I thought maybe I would at last hear something more my style, such as:
One day, when my daughter was a little girl, she asked me: “Dad, where did all of my intelligence come from?”
I replied, “Well dear, you must have got it from your mother, because I still have mine.”
Maybe it’s because I grew up in a more polite generation. Adults frowned upon me using foul language, and God help me if my mother heard it. She would shove a bar of soap in my mouth.
One of my classmates defended the humor, saying we were there to laugh and have fun.
Let me be honest. The crap that some people try to pass off as humor is rude and offensive. I believe that porn on television, Internet downloads and violent video games have desensitized the younger generation.
People who perform in public should remember that it’s the same as a Facebook page. In a public forum, anything you say can affect the rest of your life. You will be scrutinized and possibly ostracized by your actions.
Keep it clean and funny… not vulgar.
Herd is a 57-year-old PCC student who believes in the continuing
City provides place to heal
By NINA ELLIOTT
I love Tucson. In many ways, the city has represented a second chance at life for me.
Like many people, I have had a hard life. My family life was unstable, my education was incomplete and I did not have supportive social relationships.
I led a very self-destructive lifestyle until I was 27. I used to party pretty hard. I used to drink and do drugs.
I did not have coping skills to communicate my feelings in healthy, intelligent ways. I was depressed.
In the same year, I left an abusive relationship, was kicked out of my house by unsupportive friends and experienced major financial hardship.
On New Year’s Day 2008, I tried to kill myself. When I did not succeed, I jumped off an overpass.
Because of hypothermia, I did not bleed to death. I awoke in a hospital with half my body broken, including my pelvis. I had many surgeries and had to learn how to walk again.
My family reconnected with me, and we went through counseling therapy as well as traditional Native American healing ceremonies. It was a transformative experience.
I have healed in Tucson. Although I have had some setbacks, like a recent experience with racism perpetuated by my ex-boyfriend, nothing really bothers me anymore.
Competent, compassionate, resourceful professionals at San Xavier have provided awe-inspiring health care.
Treatment and services I received from COPE have allowed me to sleep soundly every night for a year, which was not possible for years because of insomnia.
Instructors in the writing program at Pima Community College continue to work with me despite difficulties with my learning disability. Their insistent belief in my writing abilities keeps me studious.
My strong network of female friends and two male friends has helped me reestablish trust in people. Finally, I am in a healthy, loving, relationship with a good person who treats me respectfully.
I have my family and an array of community I depend on. I hike, run, do yoga, meditate, cook and enjoy life again.
When life is overwhelming, all I have to do is look up at the Rincon and Catalina mountains, wait for a beautiful sunset or walk through my neighborhood. It helps me remember that I am home and I have a purpose.
Now happy and healthy, Elliot smiles brightly while attending classes.
Opponents of new admission standards should refocus
By JAMES KELLEY
The factions opposing Pima Community College’s new admissions standards have been impressive in their persistence, but that effort has been misplaced.
The new minimum requirements say Pima applicants must have a high school diploma or GED, plus test at seventh grade levels in math, reading and writing.
The former head of adult education in Pima County wrote an op-ed piece for the Arizona Daily Star, blaming PCC for the dismal success rate of under-qualified students.
Apparently, it is Pima’s fault that students dropped out of high school, middle school or even elementary school long before PCC even knew who they are.
In response to the criticism, Pima launched a PR blitz to assuage fears about the admission changes.
Chancellor Roy Flores defended the new prerequisites in memos and op-ed pieces. In a July memo, Flores pointed out that only one in 20 non-qualifier actually completes a college-level class.
The college continued its defense after opponents listed their objections in a Star advertisement. In response, PCC ran a full-page ad explaining why people with sub-seventh grade skills don’t do well in college.
Seriously?
That money, from both sides, would be better spent helping non-qualifiers.
It may be a community college, but PCC isn’t supposed to be “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?”
The low success rate is not Pima’s fault. It is a societal problem. Students are in trouble long before they apply.
Some high schools have been reduced to babysitting sites for teenagers. They try harder to prevent students from getting pregnant than getting them into college.
That effort and money could go toward fighting the disease, not just the symptoms. That support could go in the 2012 election toward fighting Republicans, who are hell-bent on cutting programs to help the middle and working classes.
In 1980, the start of Reaganomics, the wealthiest 1 percent owned 8 percent of the nation’s income. Now, that percentage of income totals 23 percent.
President Obama recently announced a plan to end Bush tax cuts for the rich. If the super-rich paid their fair share, the deficit would shrink and we could support social programs.
Naturally Republicans pledged to fight the proposal, calling it “class warfare.” Newsflash: That war has been going on for awhile
In his memo, Flores said some people trying to enter college can’t identify nouns and verbs.
Let me help out: The rich (noun) are screwing (verb) us.
Kelley is the Aztec Press sports editor. Shameless plug: Follow us on Twitter, @AztecSports, for Aztec sports news and scores.
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