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Custom Leather shoes Part 1

On The Poor Mans Tailor

I'll work on this tomorrow, I have been reorganizing all of my supplies and household goods in preparation of a move in the near future. Sorry about the delays everyone.

If you would like to get to work on the project it is a good time to order what you will be needing to actually construct your shoes.

You will need a thonging Chisel

Get a leather punch

A Roll of Artificial Sinew

U of Oasis

On Frogoyodoe

College park is an island of fanciful fantasy within the sea of difficult living that is PG county. As a student of the University of Maryland this stark contrast is as visible as the end of the red and gold utopia and the start of the grey reality that border on the street right past the Applebees. We all know that we are in PG county, and most people from Maryland are aware of the prejudice that this carries; a poor county that is made up of predominantly Black and Hispanic people. If I wasn’t with Partners in Print I would not be aware of this fact. As a part of PNP we go to 19 schools in PG county to teach literacy techniques to parents in Spanish. The mere fact that this exists shows how many Hispanic people live around here. When I go to the schools, the rides are one of the most interesting parts. We pass through our haven and as soon as we leave campus we are transitioned evenly through Route 1, a bevy of shops, college bars, drunk-muchie restaurants, that shows the traditional American college experience with a little tint of grey that suggest that this is not natural to the area. Drive another 3 minutes past this and some traditionally not middle class WASPY establishments greet us. A grody liquor store, a combination pool hall-Laundromat, start to creep into your peripheral. These aren’t adorned with red and gold posters on the street, they are functional, grey and neon cathedrals of necessity. Look into the stores to see an overweight Hispanic woman in a dirty t-shirt and jeans with two kids running around her, a stroller in one hand her PCS metro phone in the other. She is waiting for her husband, a small man from Honduras dressed in jeans, a jean jacket and stock black shoes; and don’t forget the gold fillings. They are not University of Maryland students. As we continue our trip to, lets say, Cesar Chavez elementary school we pass by the subsidized apartments and Dollar Family’s. We pass “Chicken Loco”, panerias, drive in liquor stores, “La Vida Dulce” and McDonalds. As soon as we arrive at the school the site supervisor greets us. Welcome to our school, thank you for coming she says. No, thank you, we say. We set up our tables. Slowly a couple of Hispanic families start to walk in tentatively. They are not sure if they are in the right place. Their eyes light up as we say hello in Spanish and they are somewhat comforted. They are still stay tentative, not sure of what this is or why they are here. To them this in another hour out of their day that they could spend at home relaxing. They wish they weren’t here. Who would want to be taught by a bunch of little privileged university students who speak Spanish with a slight accent that indicates little to no experience in their home countries on how to teach their own kids. It is after work and school and they just want to be home. I don’t blame them. A black family walks in. The father is there or the mother, never both. The father wears a work uniform. Fast forward to the end of the workshop. We hand out evaluations of our presentations. Some of the parents struggle to read the paper, English or Spanish. Many parents are appreciative and really thank us for teaching them some things, this makes the experience worthwhile. Then we are treated to the same transition but in reverse. The ride is reminiscent of the Hunger Games. We pass through District PG county into our very own City

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