Surviving Without Music

Tenth graders at Dreyfoos School of the Arts in West Palm Beach, Florida, recently got a challenging homework assignment: go a full 24 hours without TV, telephone, junk food or music, and then write about it. Two students shared their experiences with Extra.

A Junk-Food Queen Goes Cold Turkey
By Sarah Cornwell

I'm what they might call a survivor. No, I didn't win a million bucks or tell someone that I wouldn't help them if vultures were making a meal out of them. I didn't walk around buck-naked or eat fried rats.
C'mon, I'm not that insane.

No, I'm a survivor against a much stronger force than any deadly island or harsh Australian climate could ever present. I faced a formidable enemy and vanquished the odds, and here I stand triumphant…with a bag of Fritos in my hands.

Let's put it this way: Out of all the Western countries in the world, Americans are the fattest and most junk food driven culture alive. Hey, we might as well admit it. While poor kids in China are digging through worm-infested marshes for rice to supply them enough for one measly meal, we're getting impatient with the poor kid at McDonald's who's a little shaky at flipping the burgers.

We stuff our mouths full of Twinkies and french fries while our waistline protrudes, and we whine incessantly when we can't find the remote control and actually have to get up to find it.

And I'm an American; one of the worst, if I do say so myself. However, having to survive for 24 hours without junk food seemed to be a task that my pompous ego could handle. After all, it's just one day, right?

5:45 AM--I awake to the smells of my dad cooking his famous omelet on the stove. No problem, I don't usually eat a heavy breakfast, if I eat at all in the mornings. A quick piece of toast later, I'm out the door, visions of celery sticks and protein bars dancing through my head on the way to school.

11:15 AM--Chemistry class. My stomach starts to rumble, and when the lunch bell rings, I grab my things and saunter to the lunch line. No sooner was I facing the football player of a lunch lady when I realized that my daily lunch of a muffin and chips would have to be put on hold. Oh yeah, no junk.

I settle for a healthy little Nutri-Grain bar, but it doesn't feel the same. In no time, the tiny morsel was gone and I was left forlornly sipping from my water bottle while my friends wolfed down pizza, chips, and cookies. The dancing celery sticks were gone. Instead, all I could feel was my stomach gnawing from the inside of my gut.

1:30 PM--Math class. I look around. By now, my stomach had gone from a dull whisper to a roar, and kids were sending quizzical glances at me, asking in disbelief, "Was that you?" My friend's scrunchy sitting neatly around her wrist began taking the shape of a donut, and I was almost tempted to snatch the chips bag out of the hands of my classmate and just shove it in, plastic and all.

By the end of the day, I'm about ready to cry. It seems as if every commercial on television is advertising some sort of food that is so disgustingly wonderful that I have to quickly change the channel.

By the time the 24-hour mark rolled around, I was desperate. I can't exactly recall what happened, but my mom tells me that she found me the next morning munching away on Cheetos, purring happily to myself.

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