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Newsflash:

Elie Klein

Elie Klein was a 19-year-old college sophomore when he wrote this. Today he works for an international public relations firm.

I had terrible study habits in grade school, as was very obvious from my report cards. As the subjects got harder, and as the workload got heavier, I realized that I would have to have a solid study plan. The following are ten study tips that helped me improve my study skills, and ultimately my grades: 1. FEED YOUR BRAIN. After a long day in school, your body is overdue for a well balanced home cooked meal. Sit down and enjoy your food, don't just take your dinner to go. You'll be giving your body the nutrients it needs to function.
I like going back to visit places that I had been when I was younger. I always remember things much bigger and more impressive than they actually are. It helps me put things in perspective and realize how much I've grown. But relating to people of different ages as you move from one stage of your life to another can be very confusing. Though you are physically bigger than you once were, it's hard to decide who you truly relate to. While others went home or to the beach, I decided to spend my spring break spending some quality time with my older sister and her family. Living under the assumed name "Uncle Elie", I immensely enjoyed being the fun and silly, if not utterly ridiculous, "kind of a kid and kind of a grownup".

A clique, as we all know, is a group of tightly woven friends who pride themselves on simply being together at the exclusion of everyone else. The only thing more uncomfortable than approaching a clique (usually a group of giggly or snobby girls and self-intoxicated guys) is being shot out of a cannon directly at a brick wall. Had I only been shot at brick walls as a teenager, I might be a little happier today. I've noticed that friendships in general are a lot easier to form and maintain for guys than they are for girls.

Today was possibly the worst day of my life. Things were going pretty well in school, but my day was quickly ruined as soon as I got home. The second I stepped foot in the house, my mom asked me to drive Joey to baseball practice. Ever since I started driving, my parents constantly use me as a car service. Parents and Teens: The Age-Old Battle Explored I must confess. I, too, was once a teenager. So was my older sister. I owe a lot to her. I would sit on the stairs and watch her and my parents go at it.
I had always been one of the smaller kids in my class throughout grade school. In fact, it wasn't until my ninth grade growth spurt that I finally towered over the giants that are my mother and sister, standing five feet, two inches and five feet, no inches tall, respectively. To say my size irked me would be an understatement. Besides for being physically irregular (read: the size of an action figure), I was also painfully shy by nature, and the lack of attention from my peers didn't improve the situation.

One of my surprisingly vivid childhood memories comes from my days as a short and mildly uncoordinated centerfielder for my Little League team. I would spend the majority of the games standing in the outfield eating my baseball glove and counting dandelions. Very little could snap me out of my outfield boredom trance. I would realize that it was our team's turn to bat when a guy in a different colored uniform would be standing next to me in the outfield. Yup, I was oblivious to the world. But I did notice Super Coach. Super Coach, as he was known by all the Little League parents, was a Little League father and coach, as well as a walking advertisement for his son, the Boy Wonder.

"Oh My God! I'm my father!" my best friend screamed as he bolted into my dorm room. He had been shaving his beard and had left just the mustache to see how it would look. He ran straight to my bathroom and stood there staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Your mirror is not malfunctioning, my friend," I said, as I looked over his shoulder, "you do look like your father." He quickly shaved off the mustache and headed back to his room. "That was way too scary," he said, "remind me never to do that again." Parents: More Than Just Genes? My friends and I talk about our parents all the time.

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