I can still remember the feel of that smooth hexagonal writing utensil that deposited its lead content upon the blue-lined paper, three holes on the left and a red line just an inch from those holes that made it’s vertical-journey down the paper. My hands perspired while gripping the pencil, I could feel the tense pressure of the utensil pressing upon my right middle finger’s top joint as the diagram took shape on that notebook-style paper. 

 

    The purpose of this advanced diagram was to present it to Mr. Welch, My third-grade math teacher, and state the purpose of its creation. “Mr. Welch?” I approached his desk which was to the left of the entrance and exit to the classroom, which was a moderately medium-sized room that held at least 13 students, “yes?” He replied as he watched me approach with paper in hand and a vacant expression upon my face, to which my eyes surely gave the same feel as if one were not present. 

 

    I showed him the paper with my creation presented in that smudged grainy-greyish color that held the diagram of a geometrical y and x-axis with multiple lines intersecting at their respective points of a rounded pulsation sequence. The main drawing on this paper held a robot of some kind as I then replied, “I want to create robotic police officers. “  

 

    The look on my teacher’s face presented me with shock and awe, his green eyes widened when he asked me, “And what would be the purpose of these robotic police officers?” I would reply to him with a monotone voice still feeling like I was out of my body looking down at a 20-degree angle but somehow, I was still present inside my brain cavity.  

 

     “To allow people to operate them and program them to catch bad guys. They would be used not just for crime but to replace normal police officers so that way they will not get hurt.” Mr. Welch now had a look of concern about him as his teacher’s aide, who looked to be in her early twenties would be completely silent as the teacher would say to me, “This sounds like really advanced stuff, so tell you what. I will keep this picture safe for you while you go home, okay?” 

 

     He slid the paper towards him on the brown desk with that wooden pattern printed desktop, I nodded then like a lightbulb clicking on in a darkened room, I felt back in my body and feet picking themselves up again to move in front of each other to allow me to exit the room through the entrance that was to my right.  

 

     The hallway was now empty at this point with some students in classrooms still earning their extra credit or involved in AP classes. Some students I could even see in the computer room which was to my left by the exit to the school, which was a short but wide flight of steps leading to the double doors that had an exit sign above them in green lighting. I took one more glance back and could see to the left a narrow staircase that led to the basement where the music teacher’s classroom was located down in the pure white squared section, with pipes that ran across the ceiling vertically if one were to look up. 

 

     The paint everywhere was thick from multiple paint-overs through the years that this academic institution for young children had been around for. The basement smelled even more like funky dust and old paint, but the music class was fun to go to. Satisfied with my double-take, I pushed the door to the left open and walked out into the grey light of the outside world, a small town called Murray, Nebraska. 

 

    Traveling down the schoolyard and onto the sidewalk of the street the school was positioned in, I would not think much about what happened. I gazed at the ground seeing my brown high-top shoes that were only for school as each foot would come in front of the other, Carrying me home. And while I was not looking where I was going, I knew the way through pure muscle memory having gone this route on a regular basis with no deviation from that path traveled. 

 

     Back at home, which was a modular home positioned on a hillside street, second house down from the one on the corner of a four-way intersection and overlooking a grain elevator built over train tracks. It was heavily used, each day we would hear the train coming in and leaving hours later after filling of corn grain from the neighboring farms. This town was practically positioned in the middle of nowhere with groves of pine and elm trees everywhere, giving the town the feel of isolation yet family-friendly sensation to it. 

 

    Grandma was in the kitchen preparing the salad, the chopping noise filled my inner ear which let me know salad would be served with whatever the main dish was. Grandpa was nowhere to be seen which meant he had not come home from work yet, entering the door from the deck of the front porch of the dark-brown house with green painted shutters that never closed but gave it a decorative feeling to complete the real home feeling of this rectangular-shaped house. 

 

    At the entrance on the inside, I would bend down to place my thumb in-between the back of the shoe on the inside and my heel, then slide my foot gently out to place the shoe on the long squared deep dished black mud mat. The other shoe would be treated in the same manner as the previous one was, with the backpack sliding off my shoulders and down my arms to be caught in the fingers of my brown smooth hands. The carpet as I walked was soft and thick that calmed me from all the energy used to maintain educational studies, The smell of tomato in the air made my lips widen vertically, with the corners lifting to express pleasure of the pleasant aroma in the air of the house. 

 

    Grandma greeted me after seeing me heading towards my room, down the old brown wood printed wallpaper hallway, and to the left across from the bathroom. Grandpa’s study room was in the back room and closed shut, telling us not to enter when he was not home. The light switch was to the right as I entered my room, my right index finger would reach for its cold surface and flick it up giving the room the flash of constant light to illuminate the world that was my room. 

 

     My room was a small four-cornered room with white wallpaper, my queen-sized bed to the right and centered against the back wall of the room, The window was to the left of it, and the blinds were drawn for privacy. My two small blue totes with toy cars in them were stashed to the left of the window, seen as one entered the room. A boxy white 90s dell computer sat on a desk just across the foot of the bed on a folding table with a folding chair as the sitting apparatus.  

 

    The dresser was right next to the light switch which was an old Victorian-style piece with hooks that raised up in their loops as you gripped them to pull out the drawer you needed to get inside of. The 8-year-old would be Celliaen Sapien placed their backpack on the bed then made a rushing beeline upon hearing the decked porch wood produce a thudding footprint noise as the figure of grandpa in his navy blue slacks and white button-up long T-shirt came into view of the arched grand window of the living room that held a brown upholstered couch and a T.V. on a large brown entertainment center across from it, with a deep crimson burgundy floral pattern rug in between upon the carpeted floor. 

 

    He would enter through the door to be greeted by grandma, Charlotte, who wiped her hands on the white kitchen towel that had a sunflower printed on it, a hug and a kiss from her, and then back to the kitchen to set the table for dinner. The dinner table was a well-made piece having elegant fluid legs to the long oval table that could be extended with an extra piece that was stored in the garage at the very back of the deck where the cars were parked.  

 

     A China cabinet was positioned to the left of the table if you were looking at it from the living room side. The kitchen had a front door to the side of the rectangular house within a miniature hallway that held the kitchen closet once more to the left and a laundry cut-out to the right, but the position of the modular home was positioned so that the front door was on the left side facing the decked porch and the sides of the house were the ones facing the street in the back and front.  

 

     Sitting at dinner was awkward for me because it was quieter than usual, no one said a word, not even grandpa spoke. Deathly quiet, so quiet you could hear the tiny creak of the tree behind the house scratching the roof ever so slightly. I felt the sensation of the walls closing in and my core tightening, inducing the lump in my throat and heart rate beginning to increase significantly with each passing moment. I wished someone to say something, but it never happened. 

 

    The following weekend things seemed to go back to normal, only grandpa stated that he wanted to take me on a trip with him, just me and him. Now, this was unusual because grandma always went with us on trips, but this time she would not. 


     At the airport I found myself with grandpa, it was a bustling place full of all kinds of people, there were plenty dressed in A-typical suits and ties though I was too young to understand that they were businesspeople that travelled.  

 

      The noise of the aircraft’s whining as they came closer to the ground and higher still rang in my ears, though this did not bother me at all. The checkers were mostly female and Caucasian with smiling faces, “Hello there! Tickets?” Grandpa showed them our tickets and grandma waved us off as we would head to a security checkout once our luggage was checked and tagged. The overhead speakers gave the monotone automated female voice-over that would produce instructions for all passengers flying out and coming in, I could see the luggage claim off in the distance further down the front foyer of the airport where people waited for their bags to come in. Course no one had cell phones as we do in 2022, It was 1998, they were merely to dial in and out. Not built for texting, though pagers were widely available and heavily used.  

 

      The plane we got on was part of the united way airlines, but on this particular trip the people were either dressed in suit and tie attire, or they were dressed in military uniforms. I remember being instructed not to look around and sit by the window seat, so not wanting to disobey grandpa I did. I remember the plane had the cross between brown and white interior coloring with the smell of polyester upholstery on the chairs with sterile air flowing through the small circular vents just above the seats.   

 

    It was cold and warm all at the same time and I remember grandpa telling me that they served meals on the plane, though when I got my Swedish meatballs meal, it was cold. Thanks, grandpa, for not telling me was all I could think of. The plane ride did not yield much visual stimulation, but it did have a pleasant view from up high as we came in for a landing. Once the plane came to a stop and went from a whine to a low hum while ventilating air out of the jet engines, Grandpa instructed me to undo the seat belt after the all-clear was given over to the speaker of the passenger cabin, but where were we?

 

   
Add a caption

Response. 

For me, this is incredibly useful as it lays out the specific details of each element and its properties both chemical and physical so that way I can properly present them in a laboratory report. This table that I found in EBSCO is invaluable to not only my academic studies but for my own personal research data. 

Question.

Have you ever researched a diagram? if so what was the diagram for? and what is the purpose you utilized it for