My Hero

Remember in elementary school when your teacher made you write about your hero. Of course they were specific about your hero being a real person who affected your life. At the age of nine I only knew “superheroes” like batman, superman, and power rangers. I really couldn’t think of anyone so I decided to look into my history book for the coolest mother ducker out there. Henry the VIII? Way too promiscuous. Napoleon? Way too French. Aha! Just the right guy. I had flipped right onto Joseph Stalin. According to history, he helped defeat Hitler, built one of the largest armies at the time, and then competed with the US for nukes. And he had a city named after him; where’s your city Mr. Obama? Then I proceeded to write about how he saved the world from Nazis and if it weren’t for him, we would all be German. It actually turned out to be a decent paper and I was pretty proud of it.

At dinner time, my dad asked me about school, and I told him I had just finished an essay and I would like him to proof read it. After we ate, I handed him my masterpiece and watched his face intently. Within moments of reading he almost threw up: “Are you seriously writing about Stalin? Do you know who he is?”

“A Russian leader? Are you rascist against Russians dad?”

“What? No I’m not, Stalin is a genocidal dictator”

“That’s why he’s my hero! Wait what does genocidal and dictator mean?”

“It means he’s a bad guy who killed a lot of people.”

“So the paper’s not good?”

“It’s worse than the one where you quoted rap. Try writing about someone who actually made a difference in your life instead of some tyrant in your history book.”

I went back to my room and thought long and hard about what to write. After awhile, it suddenly became clear who I should write about. I picked up my pencil and proceeded: Although he doesn’t like Russians, my dad is still my hero…