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Los Seres Queridos en Mi Vida!
Posted by Bailey Britton in SP1-007 onLobbying Blog Post #4
Posted by Natasha Ashby in AMGOV-004 onIt is time we start focusing on contacting and connecting with our representative to start making progress, because during this season is the perfect time to advance in getting more bike paths. People are only focused on certain types of transportation such as cars or buses. However, there are many people who are still biking in the cold and need their own space. By working with the bicycle coalition and staying updated with their progress, we would definitely see where they are taking this issue.
I want to make sure that people are not losing interest in this issues. It is extremely important because it deals with the safety of Philadelphia citizens. They need to realize that if they want more bike paths and more of a change in the transportation system for them, they have to continuously fight to receive more attention. Without bike paths, bikers are forced to bike in the street with other cars. Sure, they have the "share the road" signs but many drivers ignore that. Biking to school, work, etc is much more efficient, does not involve gas and is a great source of exercise. Like on highways, you have the slow lane and the fast lane. How about in the city we have the vehicle lane and bike lane?
It would be much easier to speak directly with Mayor Nutter about this issue.
It would be much easier to speak directly with Mayor Nutter about this issue.
I decided to use twitter because social networking sites is the most efficient way to get the word spread. I search for Mayor Nutter directly, and depending on how many mentions he receives on a daily basis, he could find time to answer my tweets. I also posted on his facebook page, in which he may check as well.
Many people use social networking sites as a way to communicate their ideas. By using these, hopefully more people would come across this issue and look towards finding ways to support and solve it. Uyen and I plan on writing letters to the councilman William Greenlee petitioning the idea of having more bike paths. By the springtime, we hoped to have had some progress in issuing more bike paths in the city for that is a time when people are out and about getting to their necessary destination.
Los seres Queridos en Mi Vida
Posted by Angelina Pingitore onLanguage Autobiography Isabela Aznar
Posted by Isabela Supovitz-Aznar in ENG2-008 onLanguage Autobiography Introduction:
This Language Autobiography is about my life growing up and how the things i've experienced have made me more aware of culture and language. Growing up in a bilingual family, and loving writing from a young age always brought me to notice how people spoke, and it what languages they spoke. I also talk about finding my path as a girl growing up in the world with the struggles of being extremely consious of my culture and the way I spoke, and how I over came them with a new perspective.
Language Autobiography Reflection:
When I started this paper I really didn't have many expiriences to write about, but what I learned as I wrote more and built my paper was that language is all around me. I have had about 10 encounters with people from all over about the way they speak and the way I speak since I started this paper. I took a lot from this project and really enjoyed it, I just wish I had known what I know now when I started!
Isabela Aznar
Be the first to comment
This Language Autobiography is about my life growing up and how the things i've experienced have made me more aware of culture and language. Growing up in a bilingual family, and loving writing from a young age always brought me to notice how people spoke, and it what languages they spoke. I also talk about finding my path as a girl growing up in the world with the struggles of being extremely consious of my culture and the way I spoke, and how I over came them with a new perspective.
Language Autobiography Reflection:
When I started this paper I really didn't have many expiriences to write about, but what I learned as I wrote more and built my paper was that language is all around me. I have had about 10 encounters with people from all over about the way they speak and the way I speak since I started this paper. I took a lot from this project and really enjoyed it, I just wish I had known what I know now when I started!
Isabela Aznar
Copper Stream
December-16-2011
Q2.
I was born bilingual, and I was born a writer. Words spill out of my brain, they drip on my lips, and leak dow my heart. All I’d ever known was that I had the urge to write them down. I guess it’s like the real entrance into my heart, when my parents divorced my only way of coping was writing word after word, page after page, diary after diary, and although I kept my mouth shut, I was constantly speaking. My words were powerful, spiteful, raging, hurt, vulnerable, and the emotions I had were sealed up on the pages of my over emotional, over flowing heart. Poetry poured out and anything overwhelming I ever felt I let float out onto the paper. I wrote songs, diaries, stories, and poems. The words just never stopped coming, that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
When I finally realized that the way people speak is really something to embrace was on my cruise over winter break. I made a group of lovely friends who will forever be close to me, from all over the world. One night we all went out to dinner together at a restaurant on the boat named “the blue lagoon” and we all talked about the way we spoke. We were a group made up of boys and girls from all over New York, Conneticut, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mexico, Canada, and Massachussets. don’t remember how the conversation came about but we started talking about the slang in where we each lived. In New York they say “You’re buggin’” to say “you’re crazy” or “what are you thinking?” In Pennsylvania we all say “You’re drawlin’” to express the same thing, and in boston they say “You’re wacked”. We all exchanged slang and taught each other different pronunciation of words.
December-16-2011
Q2.
I was born bilingual, and I was born a writer. Words spill out of my brain, they drip on my lips, and leak dow my heart. All I’d ever known was that I had the urge to write them down. I guess it’s like the real entrance into my heart, when my parents divorced my only way of coping was writing word after word, page after page, diary after diary, and although I kept my mouth shut, I was constantly speaking. My words were powerful, spiteful, raging, hurt, vulnerable, and the emotions I had were sealed up on the pages of my over emotional, over flowing heart. Poetry poured out and anything overwhelming I ever felt I let float out onto the paper. I wrote songs, diaries, stories, and poems. The words just never stopped coming, that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
The day I was born into the world, different languages were already bieng poured into my newborn delicate ears. My mother is Mexican, and speaks Spanish as her first language and English and French as her second and third. My father is American, but speaks Spanish too. Growing up in a household with multiple languages made me very conscious of the way I spoke and the way others spoke as well. I used to resent my background because I thought it was bad to be different from everyone else. I started hating the fact that I was half Mexican when my parents began to separate. I guess the heat of a divorce, the drop in my stomach that told me that I wasn’t like all of my friends with two happy parents, that tragedy had struck me? made me completely resent being “different”. I told everyone I was American, and completely denied that fact that I was Latina at all. I was more aware of the connection between culture, judgement and language than the other kids my age. By this I mean that I had a strong sense of knowing what I spoke and how I spoke, and I knew it would define me in the world. In my mind, It already
The first time I really felt proud of myself for speaking two languages, I was at the movies with a bunch of friends for a birthday party. we were watching harry potter, I remember it clearly. Two of my friends whispered across the isle to me that they had to go to the bathroom, and so I decided to tag along. When we got out of the bathroom, we began looking for the theatre in which our movie was, but they all looked the same. We ran in and out of maybe five theatres frantically searching for ours, and being only about twelve years old it was scary.
Finally we saw people who worked at the theatre, and my friends were on the verge of crying. Emma walked up to the woman and said “excuse me do you know which theatre Harry Potter is playing in??” The woman shrugged and looked confused, but I noticed she looked Latina so I walked up to her and asked her in Spanish. “Compermiso, estamos perdidas. usted sabe cual es el teatro en donde estan enseñando Harry Potter?” I let her know we were lost and that we didn’t know which theatre was the one we had come from, and immediately she understood and smiled, lit up her flashlight and signaled us to follow. She walked us back to our seats in the correct theatre and we were extremely relieved. “Oh my god Isabela, if you hadn’t spoke Spanish...” I remembered my friends praising me for getting us back safely, and that was the first time I truly felt proud of my heritage and language speaking abilities. It’s silly how people try to forget who they are, to become just like everyone else. On that day I promised I'd never resent who I am again.
What makes people embarrassed or afraid of speaking in other languages is being thought of as different, which society advertises as bad. In the cities, it is said that southern accents are bad, because it’s slow and unsophisticated. But in the south, people think that people in the city talk like their angry or in a rush constantly. It’s almost like society tells different cultures all around the United States, and even in other countries that they have to speak a certain way to be seen a certain way, and anything else is bad or a nuisance.When I finally realized that the way people speak is really something to embrace was on my cruise over winter break. I made a group of lovely friends who will forever be close to me, from all over the world. One night we all went out to dinner together at a restaurant on the boat named “the blue lagoon” and we all talked about the way we spoke. We were a group made up of boys and girls from all over New York, Conneticut, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mexico, Canada, and Massachussets. don’t remember how the conversation came about but we started talking about the slang in where we each lived. In New York they say “You’re buggin’” to say “you’re crazy” or “what are you thinking?” In Pennsylvania we all say “You’re drawlin’” to express the same thing, and in boston they say “You’re wacked”. We all exchanged slang and taught each other different pronunciation of words.
I can honestly say that sitting around a table in the middle of the ocean with people from all around the world made me really appreciate all the different languages we consisted of. We opened up to new cultures, and talked about our languages.
Culture is tied into everything, it’s become linked to religion, belief, location, and language. With language, it’s almost as if people think in their heads “since these people speak this certain language or with this certain accent they must have grown up in a very conservative culture, or a very provacative one, etc.” which will define the way someone might look at someone else. Unfortunately, I think this has become true, but I also think it’s something to embrace, and that people shouldn’t be so afraid of learning and experiencing new things, maybe then they wouldn’t have to differentiate themselves through the way they speak.
I once was laying in bed, dreaming of beautiful things, my head rested on a blue pillow that was being smothered under my hand. I saw colors, and laughter, and then I was in Mexico. I was next to my friend Valeria and we were walking back up from her house to meet Fernando who was picking us up in his car. The sky was a vivid blue as we walked around the asphalt roads of Queretaro, chattering about the heat that pressed into our bodies and foreheads. There were bright palm trees and flowers all around as we walked down past all the big houses of our small town. We passed my grandmothers house and sat down on a curb near by waiting in the heat. The hot rays were coming down thick, but comfortable and not sticky. Fernando rolled up in his jeep and we got in “como estan?” he said, giving each of us a kiss on the cheek “Bien” we both responded smilling. All of the sudden the colors faded out again but I was still driving with Valeria and Fernando.
Culture is tied into everything, it’s become linked to religion, belief, location, and language. With language, it’s almost as if people think in their heads “since these people speak this certain language or with this certain accent they must have grown up in a very conservative culture, or a very provacative one, etc.” which will define the way someone might look at someone else. Unfortunately, I think this has become true, but I also think it’s something to embrace, and that people shouldn’t be so afraid of learning and experiencing new things, maybe then they wouldn’t have to differentiate themselves through the way they speak.
I once was laying in bed, dreaming of beautiful things, my head rested on a blue pillow that was being smothered under my hand. I saw colors, and laughter, and then I was in Mexico. I was next to my friend Valeria and we were walking back up from her house to meet Fernando who was picking us up in his car. The sky was a vivid blue as we walked around the asphalt roads of Queretaro, chattering about the heat that pressed into our bodies and foreheads. There were bright palm trees and flowers all around as we walked down past all the big houses of our small town. We passed my grandmothers house and sat down on a curb near by waiting in the heat. The hot rays were coming down thick, but comfortable and not sticky. Fernando rolled up in his jeep and we got in “como estan?” he said, giving each of us a kiss on the cheek “Bien” we both responded smilling. All of the sudden the colors faded out again but I was still driving with Valeria and Fernando.
“Isabela?” I heard a familiar voice and felt my eyes open “Si?” I responded “Are you awake?” I turned and saw Emmi who had slept over at my house, sitting next to me “tuve un sueño tan lindo” I said, letting her know I had had a lovely dream as I came back to reality “what was it?” she asked and I thought back to what words we had just exchanged, confusion washed over me. “Was I just talking to you in Spanish?” I asked my best friend, who had picked up a little bit of Spanish from being around me and my family so much “Yeah hahaha, but I understood you so it’s cool” I put my hand on my forehead and laughed “that is so weird…I just woke up speaking Spanish” I said, and we both laughed again incredulous at our moment that had just occurred.
Emmi is an example of someone who embraces language as well, her parents are both white, but her mother was raised in Italy. She embraces culture, and does her best to adapt to it without resenting the cultures she grew up with. When she comes over and my mom is playing Latin music, or cooking us some sort of Mexican dish, Emmi is always the first of my friends to understand the transition and not feel uncomfortable. I think that this is the point that everyone should reach, when they can be invited into a different language environment, and not be intimidated by it but instead try and grasp a better understanding of it and take things from it.
Emmi is an example of someone who embraces language as well, her parents are both white, but her mother was raised in Italy. She embraces culture, and does her best to adapt to it without resenting the cultures she grew up with. When she comes over and my mom is playing Latin music, or cooking us some sort of Mexican dish, Emmi is always the first of my friends to understand the transition and not feel uncomfortable. I think that this is the point that everyone should reach, when they can be invited into a different language environment, and not be intimidated by it but instead try and grasp a better understanding of it and take things from it.
HTML5 Canvas - bouncing ball example
Posted by Chris Alfano in CSE-003 onE3_Shuman_Spanish
Posted by Sarena Shuman in SP2-005 onReflexión
What grade would you assign yourself for each category?
| Exceeds Expectations 20-19 | Meets Expectations 18-16 | Approaches Expectations 15-13 | Does not meet expectations 12-1 | |
| Design | 18 | |||
| Knowledge | 17 | |||
| Application | 18 | |||
| Presentation | 19 | |||
| Process | 19 |
Strengths of your process or product | Weaknesses of your process or product |
| Creativity. Choose of words nicely. | I had family problem so I couldn't focus on the project. I wish I could have expanded my vocabulary. |
If you could do your project all over again, what would you do differently/the same?
More creativity, and I would have added several pictures
http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12821413/Conjunto%20-%20Large.
Mis Seres Queridos
Posted by Melanie Harrington in SP1-005 onLanguage Autobiography
Posted by in ENG2-008 onIntroduction and Reflection:
Essay:
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The purpose of this project was to write a “language autobiography” about how language is a part of ourselves, and connect it to a larger idea. At first when writing this, I wasn’t sure what larger idea I was going to connect to, but as I wrote my scenes and about how my language is a part of me, I started to realize how language is a huge part of people’s identity; how it makes them different from everyone else. As I started to write about this, ideas flowed easily, and the essay seemed to write itself at that point. The part I had the most difficulty with was writing my descriptive scene, and about my experiences with language, but the rest after that was much easier for me.
Essay:
Languages are unique; they change and differ in many ways. When most people hear the word “Language,” they think English, Spanish, French, or other languages. Languages are a lot more than just that, whether it’s a dialect from Texas, or the Xhosa click language. Different languages can be have different words, or sounds, or grammatical syntax’s, but the one thing all languages have in common is that it tries to express something; an idea, or desire. If you ask someone from Alabama what language they spoke, they would probably answer with “Regular English”, and if you asked them what language someone from New York spoke, they would most likely answer with “English with a New York accent.” Everyone thinks that their own version of English is correct, and that everyone else is speaking differently.
Everybody speaks his or her own version of English, even people who live in the same neighborhood. If you look at the world, only some countries speak English. If you look at the English speaking countries, only The United States speaks “American English.” If you look at the US, only New York speaks with a “New York accent.” If you look at New York, only Brooklyn speaks with a “Brooklyn” accent. If you look at the families in Brooklyn, each individual family speaks differently, and everyone in the family speaks differently. This narrowing process can be done for any one person in the World. If you were to listen to everyone in a family speak, you would assume everybody spoke the same way, but the differences are very subtle, such as word used frequently in between pauses, or the speed they talk. All of these differences can separate that person’s individual way of speaking from everybody else’s.
When I think about how I speak, and how my family speaks, I always think that I speak “normally”, and that my words and sentences are “correct”. But what do “normal” and “correct” mean? When it comes to language, there is no such thing as “normal”. If everyone speaks differently, how could you single out one language to be the “normal” language? This also means that everyone is “correct” in the way they speak; you can’t decide that one person’s way of talking is “incorrect”. I then tried to think of how I speak differently from others, and various words and phrases came to mind; things that me and my family said that I doubt any other people used. For example, we sometimes call my brother Colin “Scooterby”, a nickname he got when my family went skiing. It was our first time as skiing, and my 6 year old brother was standing there completely bundled up in coats, snow pants, goggles and a helmet. He was practically unrecognizable in all those clothes. Around the end of the day we had gotten all the way down a hill, and were waiting for my brother. We didn’t see him, and we were worried he might be hurt. “Where is Colin?” my dad asked me, as I had gotten down after him. “I don’t know I replied, I didn’t see him fall though.” My dad was concerned, and said “I hope he’s alright.” We waited a few more minutes, and my dad said “I’m going back up to see if I can find him, wait here.” I said “Wait! I think I see him!”, and sure enough, my brother, came slowly sliding around the bend in the hill, covered in jackets. “Scooterby’s fine!” my dad said, and even though he had never said that word before, I knew exactly what it meant, and we still call my brother “Scooterby” to this day. My dad will also sometimes call me and my brother “Skraelings”, and while this is an actual word that Vikings used to describe the indigenous people of North America, my dad gave it a new meaning that only we know.There’s a reason everyone’s language is more similar to those they are around a lot. When you are a baby, you learn a language by listening, and repeating what you hear. In a sense, you are copying someone else’s language; but because you are copying from more than one person, your language will be a combination of more than one person’s language. It will be similar to all of them, but different, and therefore unique. It’s not just from your parents that you learn language though, you learn it from friends, teachers, television; you learn it from anything that you can hear the language from. The more time you spend with one specific thing, the more it influences you. Your language is constantly developing and changing, and it will never stop unless you separate all contact with the outside world.
Language is just another thing that makes individuals unique. If you look at the way you speak, the words you use, the way you say them, your language stops feeling “normal”, but it doesn’t seem wrong. You can trace the words you use, and your speech quirks to different groups. I generally speak “calmly” with my words evenly spaced, which is something that my dad does. I sometimes say the word “like” a lot to fill blank spaces in my speech, which is something my friends would do in elementary school. My mom and dad have had the biggest impact on my language, I use similar words to them, have similar speech patterns, and combine the differences in their speech to make my own language.
Lobbying Blog Post #4
Posted by Donna Survillo in AMGOV-004 onLobbying Blog Post #4
Steps:
Dominate Something: talk to district leader via email or phone or even in person
Do a few things well: give a few good reasons why he should support this issue and help to lower drinking ages. Provide sources and information that can help to persuade him.
Make the strategy personal: talk about why the issue would be personal and useful to yourself/your community.
Force multiply: find more people my age and older to support this issue and
Still need to add to this
Isabela's Language Auto
Posted by Isabela Supovitz-Aznar in ENG2-008 on
Language Autobiography Introduction:
This Language Autobiography is about my life growing up and how the things i've experienced have made me more aware of culture and language. Growing up in a bilingual family, and loving writing from a young age always brought me to notice how people spoke, and it what languages they spoke. I also talk about finding my path as a girl growing up in the world with the struggles of being extremely consious of my culture and the way I spoke, and how I over came them with a new perspective.
Language Autobiography Reflection:
When I started this paper
Isabela Aznar
Be the first to comment
Language Autobiography Introduction:
This Language Autobiography is about my life growing up and how the things i've experienced have made me more aware of culture and language. Growing up in a bilingual family, and loving writing from a young age always brought me to notice how people spoke, and it what languages they spoke. I also talk about finding my path as a girl growing up in the world with the struggles of being extremely consious of my culture and the way I spoke, and how I over came them with a new perspective.
Language Autobiography Reflection:
When I started this paper
Isabela Aznar
Copper Stream
December-16-2011
Q2.
I was born bilingual, and I was born a writer. Words spill out of my brain, they drip on my lips, and leak dow my heart. All I’d ever known was that I had the urge to write them down. I guess it’s like the real entrance into my heart, when my parents divorced my only way of coping was writing word after word, page after page, diary after diary, and although I kept my mouth shut, I was constantly speaking. My words were powerful, spiteful, raging, hurt, vulnerable, and the emotions I had were sealed up on the pages of my over emotional, over flowing heart. Poetry poured out and anything overwhelming I ever felt I let float out onto the paper. I wrote songs, diaries, stories, and poems. The words just never stopped coming, that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
When I finally realized that the way people speak is really something to embrace was on my cruise over winter break. I made a group of lovely friends who will forever be close to me, from all over the world. One night we all went out to dinner together at a restaurant on the boat named “the blue lagoon” and we all talked about the way we spoke. We were a group made up of boys and girls from all over New York, Conneticut, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mexico, Canada, and Massachussets. don’t remember how the conversation came about but we started talking about the slang in where we each lived. In New York they say “You’re buggin’” to say “you’re crazy” or “what are you thinking?” In Pennsylvania we all say “You’re drawlin’” to express the same thing, and in boston they say “You’re wacked”. We all exchanged slang and taught each other different pronunciation of words. I can honestly say that sitting around a table in the middle of the ocean with people from all around the world made me really appreciate all the different languages we consisted of. We opened up to new cultures, and talked about our languages.
Culture is tied into everything, it’s become linked to religion, belief, location, and language. With language, it’s almost as if people think in their heads “since these people speak this certain language or with this certain accent they must have grown up in a very conservative culture, or a very provacative one, etc.” which will define the way someone might look at someone else. Unfortunately, I think this has become true, but I also think it’s something to embrace, and that people shouldn’t be so afraid of learning and experiencing new things, maybe then they wouldn’t have to differentiate themselves through the way they speak.
I once was laying in bed, dreaming of beautiful things, my head rested on a blue pillow that was being smothered under my hand. I saw colors, and laughter, and then I was in Mexico. I was next to my friend Valeria and we were walking back up from her house to meet Fernando who was picking us up in his car. The sky was a vivid blue as we walked around the asphalt roads of Queretaro, chattering about the heat that pressed into our bodies and foreheads. There were bright palm trees and flowers all around as we walked down past all the big houses of our small town. We passed my grandmothers house and sat down on a curb near by waiting in the heat. The hot rays were coming down thick, but comfortable and not sticky. Fernando rolled up in his jeep and we got in “como estan?” he said, giving each of us a kiss on the cheek “Bien” we both responded smilling. All of the sudden the colors faded out again but I was still driving with Valeria and Fernando. “Isabela?” I heard a familiar voice and felt my eyes open “Si?” I responded “Are you awake?” I turned and saw Emmi who had slept over at my house, sitting next to me “tuve un sueño tan lindo” I said, letting her know I had had a lovely dream as I came back to reality “what was it?” she asked and I thought back to what words we had just exchanged, confusion washed over me. “Was I just talking to you in Spanish?” I asked my best friend, who had picked up a little bit of Spanish from being around me and my family so much “Yeah hahaha, but I understood you so it’s cool” I put my hand on my forehead and laughed “that is so weird…I just woke up speaking Spanish” I said, and we both laughed again incredulous at our moment that had just occurred.
Emmi is an example of someone who embraces language as well, her parents are both white, but her mother was raised in Italy. She embraces culture, and does her best to adapt to it without resenting the cultures she grew up with. When she comes over and my mom is playing Latin music, or cooking us some sort of Mexican dish, Emmi is always the first of my friends to understand the transition and not feel uncomfortable. I think that this is the point that everyone should reach, when they can be invited into a different language environment, and not be intimidated by it but instead try and grasp a better understanding of it and take things from it.
December-16-2011
Q2.
I was born bilingual, and I was born a writer. Words spill out of my brain, they drip on my lips, and leak dow my heart. All I’d ever known was that I had the urge to write them down. I guess it’s like the real entrance into my heart, when my parents divorced my only way of coping was writing word after word, page after page, diary after diary, and although I kept my mouth shut, I was constantly speaking. My words were powerful, spiteful, raging, hurt, vulnerable, and the emotions I had were sealed up on the pages of my over emotional, over flowing heart. Poetry poured out and anything overwhelming I ever felt I let float out onto the paper. I wrote songs, diaries, stories, and poems. The words just never stopped coming, that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
The day I was born into the world, different languages were already bieng poured into my newborn delicate ears. My mother is Mexican, and speaks Spanish as her first language and English and French as her second and third. My father is American, but speaks Spanish too. Growing up in a household with multiple languages made me very conscious of the way I spoke and the way others spoke as well. I used to resent my background because I thought it was bad to be different from everyone else. I started hating the fact that I was half Mexican when my parents began to separate. I guess the heat of a divorce, the drop in my stomach that told me that I wasn’t like all of my friends with two happy parents, that tragedy had struck me? made me completely resent being “different”. I told everyone I was American, and completely denied that fact that I was Latina at all. I was more aware of the connection between culture, judgement and language than the other kids my age. By this I mean that I had a strong sense of knowing what I spoke and how I spoke, and I knew it would define me in the world. In my mind, It already
The first time I really felt proud of myself for speaking two languages, I was at the movies with a bunch of friends for a birthday party. we were watching harry potter, I remember it clearly. Two of my friends whispered across the isle to me that they had to go to the bathroom, and so I decided to tag along. When we got out of the bathroom, we began looking for the theatre in which our movie was, but they all looked the same. We ran in and out of maybe five theatres frantically searching for ours, and being only about twelve years old it was scary. Finally we saw people who worked at the theatre, and my friends were on the verge of crying. Emma walked up to the woman and said “excuse me do you know which theatre Harry Potter is playing in??” The woman shrugged and looked confused, but I noticed she looked Latina so I walked up to her and asked her in Spanish. “Compermiso, estamos perdidas. usted sabe cual es el teatro en donde estan enseñando Harry Potter?” I let her know we were lost and that we didn’t know which theatre was the one we had come from, and immediately she understood and smiled, lit up her flashlight and signaled us to follow. She walked us back to our seats in the correct theatre and we were extremely relieved. “Oh my god Isabela, if you hadn’t spoke Spanish...” I remembered my friends praising me for getting us back safely, and that was the first time I truly felt proud of my heritage and language speaking abilities. It’s silly how people try to forget who they are, to become just like everyone else. On that day I promised I'd never resent who I am again.
What makes people embarrassed or afraid of speaking in other languages is being thought of as different, which society advertises as bad. In the cities, it is said that southern accents are bad, because it’s slow and unsophisticated. But in the south, people think that people in the city talk like their angry or in a rush constantly. It’s almost like society tells different cultures all around the United States, and even in other countries that they have to speak a certain way to be seen a certain way, and anything else is bad or a nuisance.When I finally realized that the way people speak is really something to embrace was on my cruise over winter break. I made a group of lovely friends who will forever be close to me, from all over the world. One night we all went out to dinner together at a restaurant on the boat named “the blue lagoon” and we all talked about the way we spoke. We were a group made up of boys and girls from all over New York, Conneticut, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mexico, Canada, and Massachussets. don’t remember how the conversation came about but we started talking about the slang in where we each lived. In New York they say “You’re buggin’” to say “you’re crazy” or “what are you thinking?” In Pennsylvania we all say “You’re drawlin’” to express the same thing, and in boston they say “You’re wacked”. We all exchanged slang and taught each other different pronunciation of words. I can honestly say that sitting around a table in the middle of the ocean with people from all around the world made me really appreciate all the different languages we consisted of. We opened up to new cultures, and talked about our languages.
Culture is tied into everything, it’s become linked to religion, belief, location, and language. With language, it’s almost as if people think in their heads “since these people speak this certain language or with this certain accent they must have grown up in a very conservative culture, or a very provacative one, etc.” which will define the way someone might look at someone else. Unfortunately, I think this has become true, but I also think it’s something to embrace, and that people shouldn’t be so afraid of learning and experiencing new things, maybe then they wouldn’t have to differentiate themselves through the way they speak.
I once was laying in bed, dreaming of beautiful things, my head rested on a blue pillow that was being smothered under my hand. I saw colors, and laughter, and then I was in Mexico. I was next to my friend Valeria and we were walking back up from her house to meet Fernando who was picking us up in his car. The sky was a vivid blue as we walked around the asphalt roads of Queretaro, chattering about the heat that pressed into our bodies and foreheads. There were bright palm trees and flowers all around as we walked down past all the big houses of our small town. We passed my grandmothers house and sat down on a curb near by waiting in the heat. The hot rays were coming down thick, but comfortable and not sticky. Fernando rolled up in his jeep and we got in “como estan?” he said, giving each of us a kiss on the cheek “Bien” we both responded smilling. All of the sudden the colors faded out again but I was still driving with Valeria and Fernando. “Isabela?” I heard a familiar voice and felt my eyes open “Si?” I responded “Are you awake?” I turned and saw Emmi who had slept over at my house, sitting next to me “tuve un sueño tan lindo” I said, letting her know I had had a lovely dream as I came back to reality “what was it?” she asked and I thought back to what words we had just exchanged, confusion washed over me. “Was I just talking to you in Spanish?” I asked my best friend, who had picked up a little bit of Spanish from being around me and my family so much “Yeah hahaha, but I understood you so it’s cool” I put my hand on my forehead and laughed “that is so weird…I just woke up speaking Spanish” I said, and we both laughed again incredulous at our moment that had just occurred.
Emmi is an example of someone who embraces language as well, her parents are both white, but her mother was raised in Italy. She embraces culture, and does her best to adapt to it without resenting the cultures she grew up with. When she comes over and my mom is playing Latin music, or cooking us some sort of Mexican dish, Emmi is always the first of my friends to understand the transition and not feel uncomfortable. I think that this is the point that everyone should reach, when they can be invited into a different language environment, and not be intimidated by it but instead try and grasp a better understanding of it and take things from it.
Yeast at 400x Video
Posted by Nikki Adeli onLanguage Autobiography
Posted by Alexis Babcock in ENG2-007 onIntroduction to Essay:
Mr. Block asked us to write a descriptive scene having to do with language. We weren't sure what was in store for us when we were asked to write a second descriptive scene. Later, the assignment was given to write a language autobiography. I wasn't sure how to connect language and my life. I speak plain english and have a regular Philly accent; nothing special. It was then that I realized that I wanted to write the impacts of language and words. I am a strong writer; therefore, I held nothing back. My goal was for others to read this essay and feel the reactions to words and language.
There’s something about the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” that always stuck with me. In my mind, scars heal, bruises clear up, blood is washed off, but words carry with you for long periods of time and haunt your innermost thoughts. Bell Hooks once said that language “speaks itself against our will, in words and thoughts, that intrude, violate even, the innermost private spaces of mind and body” in her essay, “this is the oppressor’s language / yet I need it to talk to you”: Language, a place of struggle.
Bitch. Slut. Fat Ass. Ugly. Whore. Liar. Drama Queen. Intelligent. Hard-working. Beautiful. Sweet. Compassionate. I’ve been called many things, both good and bad; however, it was never easy for me to shake them from my memory. I’ll never forget when my mom, dad, and I sat in the living room watching television as we always do. I rose from the couch to get a snack only to be tormented by my father.
"Whatcha getting there, fat ass?"
I turned and looked at him in shock of what he just said, but continued what I was doing.
"Hey fat ass, didn't you just eat?"
I quickly turned around and our eyes met, "can you stop calling me that?"
Suddenly he stared right into my eyes and simply said, "Fat ass. Fat ass. Fat ass."
I remember the thoughts that rushed through my mind at the moment. I felt as though what he was saying was a truth that I've blinded myself from. Was I really fat? Do I eat too much? For the next few days I attempted not to eat at all but instead, overate hoping that the food would fill the emptiness I'd been feeling. To think that the combination of fat and ass could turn my world upside down in one night drives me crazy to this day.
I associate language with negativity based on years of being bullied and teased for what I would say or what others would say to me. I can still remember a friend of mine calling me a Gossiping Queen back in fifth grade when I asked her to stop trash-talking an unpopular girl in my school. How is it that five years later, I can recall that exact moment? Does language really have that strong of an effect? Looking at the present, a trouble-making girl who has a problem sent me a harassing text last month. Her exact words were, “you f***in ugly bitch.” This girl means nothing to me but I can’t help but think about those words and cringe.
Ever since she sent that text message, I can’t look at my friends the same when they joke around and call me ugly. Every insult someone has ever told me is still in the back of my head and has a way of creeping back up and revisiting my life. Negative words have changed my life and they change who I really am, causing me to go from blissful to melancholy.
From years of hearing the same degrading words slip into my ears, I’ve changed my language. I knew how it felt to have people you see everyday harass you and how their words echo through everything you do. I wanted to make sure I never made someone feel the way I used to; I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Now, I continue to watch what I say and stay cautious when talking to new people.
One day, I walked through the hallway and passed two friends joking around. That’s when I heard a phrase I’d swear I would never say to anyone. He said to his friend, “go kill yourself.” I knew he was joking but who’s to say that the person you’re saying it to isn’t suicidal?
It’s language like this that puts guns to heads, ties ropes around necks, pops pills in throats, and slices a pure wrist. Three thousand people commit suicide a day because of the language of the ignorant and cruel. Is it even possible that language could impact change for the better?
Therapists are paid to sit and listen to you for hours and to give you advice to eventually help you. I always wondered if the therapist’s words were changing the patient or if the patient was getting better by releasing their secret language. Language positively impacts groups of people by uniting them as one. Many foreigners come to America not understanding the English language, but instead of helping, most tease them and push them away. If we used languages and connected them together, the impact might fix racism and take care of global issues.
My favorite positive impact from language is a compliment. Walk down the hallway and tell someone his or her hair looks great. You’ve changed their day completely. The thing about the brain is that it likes to collect and save. If you compliment a person in any way, it will be saved in their brain long enough to keep them from giving up. Sometimes I have days where it seems like no one cares and I feel alone; however, there’s always one person that makes everything okay.
I was out for two days sick and was having one of those days, and then I got a text message. “Hey lovely, how are you feeling? I miss you! Are you coming to school today?” followed by a heart at the end; it was Sara. Later that day, Drue posted on my profile on Facebook. My entire mood changed because of those little moments where it sounded like I mattered and meant something to someone.
Language can be distorted and have a different impact based on the way it’s said and the context it’s placed in. An example would nigger and nigga. If a Caucasian person called an African American “nigger” it is used as an insult; however, when one African American calls another African American “nigga” it’s a nickname, like cuz or dude. Another word that’s meaning changes is “ugly.” Many friends greet each other that way as a joke. On the other hand, “ugly” is used as a common insult and may cause people to change the way they dress, look, or the way they perceive themselves.
Language can influence changes, both good and bad. Language is alive in our society enough that it has gained control. It’s one of the only things that separates from being savage animals. Words are very strong tools and can be harmful if not used correctly.
Dalena Bui Language Autobiography
Posted by Dalena Bui in ENG2-008 onIntroduction & Reflection
I have really never thought about language identity. All of thought of myself was a American person and Vietnamese. This paper helped me realized how language is not only a part of you but how you can communicate in many different ways with the world. Language is a used in so many ways people don't even know.
When I first started this paper i didn't really know what to write. The idea" Language Identity really confused me because I have never even thought about it. After I got my idea down the paper came with ease because my life was filled with it. The strong parts of my paper is where I have a conversation with my dad because that scene is something I never forgot. It truly shows emotions of how language is so universal. The hardest for me was just getting all my ideas on a paper and some scenes lack depth but overall I am proud of my paper. I learned that Language is done in so many different ways. Language is always in our lives but we never noticed it.
Language Autobiography
When I was young there were moments in my life where I was ashamed of being Vietnamese. I didn’t want to embrace being Asian because I didn’t felt like I would fit in with the rest of my classmates at that time or in society. It all started when I was in kindergarten. It was my first day of school. I remembered as I walk through those doors for the first time. I walked in and all these strange faces looked at me as I went in and took my seat. I was the only Asian in that classroom and I felt very isolated. I made a friend that day but I couldn’t help comparing myself to her because she was white, tall, blue eyes and blond hair, the exact opposite of me. I wondered why I couldn’t look like her blond hair and blue eyes and all. That’s not the only thing that set us apart. She spoke English everywhere she went and I spoke broken Vietnamese and English. That only made me feels even more isolated.
There was a back to school night and the parents were invited to go into the class. All around me every parent was speaking English while my dad tried to speak in his broken English but it didn’t fool anyone that he clearly only could speak Vietnamese. I felt embarrassed while other parents would try to hold a conversation with him but in the end withering away or looking in the crowd for someone better to.Someone that they could actually hold a conversation with. I wanted to trade my race with anyone in that room forever. But most of all I wanted to trade my dad. I blamed my dad for making me feel the way I felt because he just had to go and be Asian. He didn’t have to face the kids I had to face everyday feeling isolated and alone. He didn’t have to hear everyone whisper comments about his appearance “ Oh look how short she is” or “ Why does she talk differently”? So many comments everyday and I couldn’t escape them because they were all classmates. I didn’t even feel comfortable in my own skin. My image about my self-appearance only got worst and worst as I grew up. I start comparing myself to everyone thinking why I couldn’t look like them or talk in just English or why couldn’t my parents converse and talk to parents without their Vietnamese slipping out. That was one of the low points in my life.
One day my dad and I were driving in the car I was thinking about school at that time. Every painful memory came rushing back and then I turned to my dad and yelled at him “ Cha Tôi ghét là người Việt Nam!”. My dad looked shocked and asked me “lý do tại sao bạn la hét tất cả các của một bất ngờ?làm những gì có nghĩa là bạn ghét là Việt?” All the anger I ever felt and all those years built up at me as I yelled at him and blamed him for my pain” Tôi sẽ không bao giờ phù hợp với các trẻ em Mỹ. Bạn không biết bao nhiêu điều đau khổ nghe commenrs về được châu Á! Bạn không phải đi học với trẻ em nhận xét về bạn mỗi bước di chuyển.Bạn không cần phải được đánh giá hàng ngàycủa cuộc sống của bạn!”. My dad just looked at me with a sad expression and just kept driving at looked ahead. I felt horrible the whole way home because my dad didn’t deserve me yelling at him. I knew my dad was shocked and his feelings were hurt just by the look on his face. I will never forget the painful shocked look on his face. At home I said to my dad “cha tôi xin lỗi vì la hét tại bạn không có lý do”. My dad said to me “Tôi không quan tâm mà bạn hét vào mặt tôi, nhưng có bạn cảm thấy rằng tất cảnhững năm này?Bạn có xấu hổ là người Việt Nam. I couldn’t look at him in the eyes after he asked me if I was really ashamed of being Vietnamese and they way it sounded coming out his mouth sounded horrible. It made me question why was I so ashamed of being Vietnamese? Why didn’t I like my race? Did I hate myself? All these questions went through my mind as I questioned myself. At that moment I was truly ashamed to even look at myself. My dad just looked at me as tears were collecting in my eyes. I looked at my dad” Cha tôi khủng khiếp thậm chí nghĩ rằng không? Cha có thể thậm chí khôngnhìn vào bản thân mình ngay bây giờ.Tôi khủng khiếp. My dad just looked at me and said that he couldn’t make me feel anymore comfortable in my skin if he pushes me to accept me being Vietnamese. I can only make myself accept for whom I am.
Overtime I learned to be comfortable in my skin and being Vietnamese. But one day eventually I will be comfortable in my own skin. Language can be used in different ways. People communicate in so many Languages. Today the more Languages you know the better. But is it always better? You need to find the balance to use the languages you know or it can become a disaster when you are trying to use them. The short stories that I read all have the same message. All of them had a hard time using English in their every lives. People criticize them for not using English. They all eventually in the end learn to find the balance between their home language and the language they use in public. Languages can be your best friend but if you can’t find the balance between both then it can also become your worst enemy.
Language is so universal. People can talk to each other through so many forms of language. Language can be spoken but people can also use movements to communicate. People from all over the world speak different languages but weirdly we all find ways to communicate with each other. Communication through language is done in so many ways. We are all different hair eyes ,mouth ,lips but we all have one thing in common. We all want to know so much more then what we already have. We want to understand all the languages used all around the world. Language is Universal. For me Languages has always been in my life .English Outside and Vietnamese from my parents. I am happy to have both. They let me communicate with people in so many ways
I have really never thought about language identity. All of thought of myself was a American person and Vietnamese. This paper helped me realized how language is not only a part of you but how you can communicate in many different ways with the world. Language is a used in so many ways people don't even know.
When I first started this paper i didn't really know what to write. The idea" Language Identity really confused me because I have never even thought about it. After I got my idea down the paper came with ease because my life was filled with it. The strong parts of my paper is where I have a conversation with my dad because that scene is something I never forgot. It truly shows emotions of how language is so universal. The hardest for me was just getting all my ideas on a paper and some scenes lack depth but overall I am proud of my paper. I learned that Language is done in so many different ways. Language is always in our lives but we never noticed it.
Language Autobiography
When I was young there were moments in my life where I was ashamed of being Vietnamese. I didn’t want to embrace being Asian because I didn’t felt like I would fit in with the rest of my classmates at that time or in society. It all started when I was in kindergarten. It was my first day of school. I remembered as I walk through those doors for the first time. I walked in and all these strange faces looked at me as I went in and took my seat. I was the only Asian in that classroom and I felt very isolated. I made a friend that day but I couldn’t help comparing myself to her because she was white, tall, blue eyes and blond hair, the exact opposite of me. I wondered why I couldn’t look like her blond hair and blue eyes and all. That’s not the only thing that set us apart. She spoke English everywhere she went and I spoke broken Vietnamese and English. That only made me feels even more isolated.
There was a back to school night and the parents were invited to go into the class. All around me every parent was speaking English while my dad tried to speak in his broken English but it didn’t fool anyone that he clearly only could speak Vietnamese. I felt embarrassed while other parents would try to hold a conversation with him but in the end withering away or looking in the crowd for someone better to.Someone that they could actually hold a conversation with. I wanted to trade my race with anyone in that room forever. But most of all I wanted to trade my dad. I blamed my dad for making me feel the way I felt because he just had to go and be Asian. He didn’t have to face the kids I had to face everyday feeling isolated and alone. He didn’t have to hear everyone whisper comments about his appearance “ Oh look how short she is” or “ Why does she talk differently”? So many comments everyday and I couldn’t escape them because they were all classmates. I didn’t even feel comfortable in my own skin. My image about my self-appearance only got worst and worst as I grew up. I start comparing myself to everyone thinking why I couldn’t look like them or talk in just English or why couldn’t my parents converse and talk to parents without their Vietnamese slipping out. That was one of the low points in my life.
One day my dad and I were driving in the car I was thinking about school at that time. Every painful memory came rushing back and then I turned to my dad and yelled at him “ Cha Tôi ghét là người Việt Nam!”. My dad looked shocked and asked me “lý do tại sao bạn la hét tất cả các của một bất ngờ?làm những gì có nghĩa là bạn ghét là Việt?” All the anger I ever felt and all those years built up at me as I yelled at him and blamed him for my pain” Tôi sẽ không bao giờ phù hợp với các trẻ em Mỹ. Bạn không biết bao nhiêu điều đau khổ nghe commenrs về được châu Á! Bạn không phải đi học với trẻ em nhận xét về bạn mỗi bước di chuyển.Bạn không cần phải được đánh giá hàng ngàycủa cuộc sống của bạn!”. My dad just looked at me with a sad expression and just kept driving at looked ahead. I felt horrible the whole way home because my dad didn’t deserve me yelling at him. I knew my dad was shocked and his feelings were hurt just by the look on his face. I will never forget the painful shocked look on his face. At home I said to my dad “cha tôi xin lỗi vì la hét tại bạn không có lý do”. My dad said to me “Tôi không quan tâm mà bạn hét vào mặt tôi, nhưng có bạn cảm thấy rằng tất cảnhững năm này?Bạn có xấu hổ là người Việt Nam. I couldn’t look at him in the eyes after he asked me if I was really ashamed of being Vietnamese and they way it sounded coming out his mouth sounded horrible. It made me question why was I so ashamed of being Vietnamese? Why didn’t I like my race? Did I hate myself? All these questions went through my mind as I questioned myself. At that moment I was truly ashamed to even look at myself. My dad just looked at me as tears were collecting in my eyes. I looked at my dad” Cha tôi khủng khiếp thậm chí nghĩ rằng không? Cha có thể thậm chí khôngnhìn vào bản thân mình ngay bây giờ.Tôi khủng khiếp. My dad just looked at me and said that he couldn’t make me feel anymore comfortable in my skin if he pushes me to accept me being Vietnamese. I can only make myself accept for whom I am.
Overtime I learned to be comfortable in my skin and being Vietnamese. But one day eventually I will be comfortable in my own skin. Language can be used in different ways. People communicate in so many Languages. Today the more Languages you know the better. But is it always better? You need to find the balance to use the languages you know or it can become a disaster when you are trying to use them. The short stories that I read all have the same message. All of them had a hard time using English in their every lives. People criticize them for not using English. They all eventually in the end learn to find the balance between their home language and the language they use in public. Languages can be your best friend but if you can’t find the balance between both then it can also become your worst enemy.
Language is so universal. People can talk to each other through so many forms of language. Language can be spoken but people can also use movements to communicate. People from all over the world speak different languages but weirdly we all find ways to communicate with each other. Communication through language is done in so many ways. We are all different hair eyes ,mouth ,lips but we all have one thing in common. We all want to know so much more then what we already have. We want to understand all the languages used all around the world. Language is Universal. For me Languages has always been in my life .English Outside and Vietnamese from my parents. I am happy to have both. They let me communicate with people in so many ways
Dakota Foster's Language AutoBio
Posted by in ENG2-008 onIntroduction & Reflection
I never seen myself as a person that could have a language identity. I thought I spoke like everybody else. I thought that people who only spoke more than one language could have a language identity. Kids that translated for their parents or people that had to learn a new language for their public life vs. their home life. I thought I was just any ordinary Philadelphian with an Philadelphian accent. I didn't think I was judged for the way I spoke, but then I took the time to look back at my life. I remember the different schools I went to and the events that happen there. *BING* An idea came to me, I do have a language identity. The fact that I use different slangs that aren't stereotypical with my ethnicity and I found out that was something amazing to write about. Other people were writing about home language vs. public language, when I can talk about a more unique topic. The idea of slang for different races.
When, I started writing this paper, the words and scenes came with ease. I just remembered everything that had to do with the different slangs. I was amazed by the fact that I could remember everything. After writing and rewriting, I finally got my final product that I am proud. I hope you enjoy it too. (:
Language Autobiography
"She sounds like one of those little white girls, just like you."
"I think she sounds normal, Arnita. Don't be crazy."
"I just think you need to blacken her up a bit."
“Then, you are just an oddball.”
“Yeah guys, that movie was gnarly,” I squealed.
Digital Story..
COMING SOON (:
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I never seen myself as a person that could have a language identity. I thought I spoke like everybody else. I thought that people who only spoke more than one language could have a language identity. Kids that translated for their parents or people that had to learn a new language for their public life vs. their home life. I thought I was just any ordinary Philadelphian with an Philadelphian accent. I didn't think I was judged for the way I spoke, but then I took the time to look back at my life. I remember the different schools I went to and the events that happen there. *BING* An idea came to me, I do have a language identity. The fact that I use different slangs that aren't stereotypical with my ethnicity and I found out that was something amazing to write about. Other people were writing about home language vs. public language, when I can talk about a more unique topic. The idea of slang for different races.
When, I started writing this paper, the words and scenes came with ease. I just remembered everything that had to do with the different slangs. I was amazed by the fact that I could remember everything. After writing and rewriting, I finally got my final product that I am proud. I hope you enjoy it too. (:
Language Autobiography
I always thought that language was just something that people used to communicate. I didn’t know that there were different accents until I got older and on top of that; I didn’t know there were different kinds of languages. Then I found out there were slang for different races and I wasn't speaking the right slang. I remember when I was little I didn't know the difference between white and black, I thought we were all the same. However then, I went to an all white school, everything changed there.
On one hand, I hung out with all the white kids most of the time because there weren’t a lot of black kids in my class. On the other hand, I would hang out with all of black people when I went home. I started to realize that I wasn't really using the words that the other black kids used. I didn't know all the slang words. For example, 'joe' or 'outtapocket' was used by black people, it meant someone was being stupid or unfair. While on the other hand, 'rad' or 'gnarly' was used by white people, which means awesome. They are many other words like 'jawn' which is a noun for black people. Another one is 'stoked' which means excited about something for white people. I used the words that would be used by white people more often, so people said when I talked I sounded white. It reminds me of my mom, because people would always tell her that she sounds 'white'. I didn't really understand what that meant. Then, her friends started to say that I sound 'white' too. "Cheryl, your daughter sounds just like you. Hahahahaha," my mom's friend Arnita would always say.
"What are you talking about girl,” my mom asked confused."She sounds like one of those little white girls, just like you."
"I think she sounds normal, Arnita. Don't be crazy."
"I just think you need to blacken her up a bit."
I went back and forth from the white slang and Black English, as I got older. My friends always told me that I sounded different. When I was with my black friends, they would say that I sound too white. When, I was with my white friends, they would say that I sound black and they love having me around. I always thought the way I sound was just like anybody else. One day, it finally came to me; I realized that I don’t really use Black English at all. I was texting my friend Fareed and he was just using words that I couldn’t even understand. The next day, he came up and talked to me about it. “Dakota, why do you spell out all the words when you text,” he asked.
“Why do you shorten so many words? I can barely understand what you are saying!”“That’s how everybody texts, you are the only oddball. You text like a white person, using ‘dude’, ‘bro’, and spelling out everything.”
“I don’t think you are right, my white friends say I text like a black person.”“Then, you are just an oddball.”
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was either too white or too black. I felt like I was being judged everyday by my friends. What kind of friends judge because of the way someone speaks? I strongly believe that is wrong. I was just black enough to fit in with the black people, but just white enough to fit in with the white kids. While they could still be respected because they had a black friend, I felt like I was being taken advantage of by my white friends. On the other hand, I felt like I wasn't appreciated by my black friends. I could never just be enough for anybody, expect for my mom. When, my mom was younger, she had the same problem. People would tell her that she sounded like a white person. I was surprised that I was having the same problem as her. Even though, she was there to tell me what to do, I still couldn’t help but feel horrible. I couldn’t fit in with my friends and they always manage to bring it up.
“That movie was bangin’! We should go see that jawn a second time!”“Yeah guys, that movie was gnarly,” I squealed.
"What? Dakota. What are you even saying?"
"I said the movie was gnarly. The movie was awesome, duhh."
"Hahaha! Gnarly means awesome? That is some serious white language. How about you just grab a skateboard and ride off with a white boy? Hahahahahahahaha," they said and all laughed in unison.
"Why do you guys have to be so mean?!?!? I am just a person," I yelled violently.
"Dakota, we love you to death. It is just the things you say sometimes are just not the blackest things. We are going to have to blacken you up a bit. Good thing, you go to an all black school."
"Whatever, guys,” I said unhappily.
“You have to speak the slang words like us, Dakota,” my friend insisted.
“I don’t want to use slang, I like sounding intelligent and being proper.
“So you are saying, cause we black and speak slang, that we are stupid?”
“No, I am saying that since you use slang, you sound stupid.”
“Well, all black people use slang.”
“Well, I guess I am not going to use slang.”
I had no idea that a person could be 'blackened'. I thought the fact that I was black meant I was 'blackened'. I started to find out as I got older that it doesn't mean the same thing. People started being rude to me because the words I was using weren't the words that I was stereotypical suppose to say. Then on top of that, they are basically calling themselves stupid because they are using slang. I am not going to be called stupid because of the way I talk when I can control it. I am not going to be a stereotypical black person. Some races think that African Americans speak the language of the poor, which reminds of a quote from the story How to Tame a Wild Tongue by Gloria Anzaldua. “Chicanas who grew up speaking Chicano Spanish have internalized the belief that we speak poor Spanish. It is illegitimate, a bastard language.” Black people may not think they are speaking the language of the poor, but it is a known fact that black people don't get jobs because of the way they speak. I am not going to downgrade myself because I dream big and my dreams are going to become reality. So, my friends are just going to have to deal with the fact that I talk like 'white person', or they were never real friends.
Digital Story..
COMING SOON (:
Mini proyecto Tyler Creighton Link 2
Posted by Tyler Creighton in SP2-005 onhttps://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/Public/Mini%20Proyecto%20Tyler%20Creighton.mov?w=5bdebd72
This is the new link
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This is the new link
Mini proyecto Tyler creighton
Posted by Tyler Creighton in SP2-005 onfile:///Users/tcreighton/Dropbox/Public/Mini%20Proyecto%20Tyler%20Creighton.mov
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Language Autobiography- Rose Knibbe
Posted by Rosemarie Knibbe onIntroduction:
The project was to write a language autobiography about a way that language had effected us. Mr. Block had us read some published language autobiographies, write on a forum about some words that were distinct to ourselves. We also watched a video about the different ways that people talk. We started writing this by choosing a point and then writing scenes, and finally connecting to the point we had chosen.
The project was to write a language autobiography about a way that language had effected us. Mr. Block had us read some published language autobiographies, write on a forum about some words that were distinct to ourselves. We also watched a video about the different ways that people talk. We started writing this by choosing a point and then writing scenes, and finally connecting to the point we had chosen.
I have learned that finding your voice is an extremely important time in every persons life. Finding your voice is finding a way to say what you feel and not be afraid of who you are and what your opinions are. I found that you don’t just wake up with this sudden voice for how you feel. It takes time and you slowly gain pieces of it as you go along with your life. You get pieces of it as you go through experiences in your life. This past year has been a whirlwind of hard events and because of that I really started to get my voice.
One of the hardest things was that my family discovered that my sister has clinical depression. We spent hours, which turned into days, which then turned into months trying to find the right medicine for her. We tried it all and to each she reacted differently, sometimes she just didn't have a reaction at all. She would fluctuate from feeling OK to not being safe by her-self. I spent the year worrying and not knowing how she would be that day or the next.
One of the most vivid days was my birthday. She had a therapy meeting and then me her and my dad were going to go eat to celebrate, my mom had to work that night so it was just us. As soon as we got in the car I could tell something was wrong, her eyes were red from crying they were tired and all together distant.
"Where are we going to eat for dinner?" I asked, just trying to keep things normal whatever normal meant at this point that is,
To which Beth said, "Were going to order in."That’s all I can remember about the car ride but I do know is something was said a phone call was made to my mom and it was clear that something was wrong. When I got home my dad told me that my sister had cut the other night. I was so shocked; the air from my lungs was knocked right out of me. My dad went back downstairs to order food and I sat on my bed confused and torn, not knowing what to do. After a bit the food came so I went downstairs to eat. When I came into the dining room my sister was there, staring at me with wide horrified eyes. I’ve never seen her look so scared before. She knew that my father had told me what happened. Quickly she ran into the kitchen and hid in the broom closet and wouldn't come out knowing I was there. Because of this I ate my "birthday dinner" in my room by myself so that my sister would come out of hiding. I wouldn't say that was the best birthday I've ever had. But I did learn that sometimes you have to let go and just let things solve themselves. That sometimes your opinions are still important but don’t need to be said if they are only hurting someone else.
We continued to struggle with her depression but we had found a medicine that seemed to be working. She went to her senior prom with a bunch of friends at the end of may, got a boyfriend in June, graduated near the end of June and that’s when summer vacation came along. Summer came with a whole new realm of dealing with the depression. She was home all the time and so was I. While there wasn’t the pressure of schoolwork to stress her out there was the new pressure of her going away to collage. The first few weeks were going pretty good, but then she started feelings depressed again. Her symptoms were getting worse and not only that but she continually had these sugar binges.
Sure enough, time passed and they figured out that she is super chemically sensitive. They figured out a new medicine combination that worked and she went off to college and was doing just fine. Everything was going good, she was able to get most of her work done. Yeah, she had her bad days just like anyone else would but they weren’t so overwhelming to become a problem. I started to think that things were just going to go back to the way they were before she got diagnosed with clinical depression. That everything wouldn’t be about my sister and that we could go back to times where we could joke around with her without the horrible over reactions.
She came back for thanksgiving and things were a little different but I just kept my mouth shut and let it be. I still thought that things are just gonna have to stay the same as they have been since the depression started. But then she went back to college and stuff started getting really hard for me. I was starting to feel depressed and I didn’t know if it was depression or something else that was going on. One day it had been really bad, one of the worst days, I guess that’s the day I figured something was really wrong. I went to school and was fine in the morning, but then the afternoon came, I couldn’t do anything. I sat in class and could concentrate on the work to an extent but I couldn’t communicate with the people I sat with. They were talking and no matter how hard my brain was working to come up with something to say I couldn’t. It felt like I was suffocating with my own inability. The rest of the day kind of went like that, I wanted to talk, I wanted to have something to say but I couldn’t. So I went home and I called my sister, knowing that she had been through all of this so she could tell me what helps and what to do before the problem got to be a real problem. She answered but she didn’t talk to me for long, she had a previous commitment already and she had to go. She told me she’d call me later that night so I was OK. But then she didn’t. She texted me telling me that she had a lot to think about and just wanted to sleep so she would call me the next day. She never did. She did call my mom and apparently her depression was getting bad again. I was so frustrated because I understood that she was going through a hard time but to me it didn’t seem right that her problems always had to be bigger then mine.
One day I went to the counselor, Amy, that I go to and we were talking about everything that Beth went through and how I dealt with it and how was dealing with it. I told her everything I felt about the experience. I told her that no matter what Beth is going through she can’t use it as an excuse. We have figured out and problem solved with her about what to do in situations like this. I told her that it was time for our family to move on and start going back to how we used to be. I told her that the only way Beth could truly get over being depressed was if we all moved on and let her get over it. You can’t get over something that your still focused on.
That’s when she told me that I was the one in our family who was finding the voice. This struck me as something that was really true. Through everything I had kept things to myself for the most part because I didn’t think my opinion would be heard or even matter. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure what my opinion was. I realized that finding your voice is a time and an experience thing. It doesn’t just come to you one day, you have to go through hard times to find your voice. I’m not trying to say that I found my voice about everything but I found my voice in this circumstance, so I guess I am one step closer to finding my voice over all. You can’t always find your voice if your looking for it. It’ll come to you after time, you just have to wait for it to hit you. But finding your voice means nothing if you don’t do something with it. You have to use that voice you’ve been given. The voice you’ve found. You have to let yourself be heard.
Reflection:
The hardest thing for me was to figure out what I wanted to write about. Once I figured out what I wanted to write about I wrote a lot. Then it was hard for me to take stuff out and come up with the finale product. I learned a lot through the essays and the video that everyone talks in their own unique way.
The hardest thing for me was to figure out what I wanted to write about. Once I figured out what I wanted to write about I wrote a lot. Then it was hard for me to take stuff out and come up with the finale product. I learned a lot through the essays and the video that everyone talks in their own unique way.
Digital Video:
http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12942926/New%20Project%20-%20Medium.m4v
Mini proyecto by Roger Bracy
Posted by Roger Bracy in SP2-005 onBlog Post #4
Posted by Sekai Harris in AMGOV-003 onMy blog 4 post will cover communication. Im am writing an email to Tom Burford discussing the reason we need to abolish smoking. I realized many things such as we both have a personal view of smoking because it happens within both of our families and has had a great effect on us personally. I believe that this letter would get Tom Burford a little more interested in what I am trying to do because I tried to state many matters that I know that he stands up against. I feel as though writing an email was a great way to communicate because many people in this era use computers and technology especially people with his type of status, and also this would be a great way for him to communicate back with me faster.
Mr. Tom Burford,
Hello, My name is Sekai A. Harris and I am a senior at Science Leadership Academy. I am contacting you because I feel as though we both stand for the same thing when it comes to Smoking. I am anti-smoking because many people I know do it and I have seen the effects of it. My grandmother, mother, Father, and many other family members are/were smokers so I have been effected by it as well. I know about what happened to your father as well and that is why I am writing you today. We need to try and find a way to abolish smoking at least starting with Philadelphia. Please try to think about if this is something your would be interested in trying help me with because this is something i feel strongly about and it is something that would benefiet a lot of people. Hoping to hear from you soon, Sekai A. Harris
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Mr. Tom Burford,
Hello, My name is Sekai A. Harris and I am a senior at Science Leadership Academy. I am contacting you because I feel as though we both stand for the same thing when it comes to Smoking. I am anti-smoking because many people I know do it and I have seen the effects of it. My grandmother, mother, Father, and many other family members are/were smokers so I have been effected by it as well. I know about what happened to your father as well and that is why I am writing you today. We need to try and find a way to abolish smoking at least starting with Philadelphia. Please try to think about if this is something your would be interested in trying help me with because this is something i feel strongly about and it is something that would benefiet a lot of people. Hoping to hear from you soon, Sekai A. Harris
BlogPost #4 Petition
Posted by Qyidir White in AMGOV-003 onSince I’m lobbying The Curfew Act in Philly, I thought it
would be good to start a petition for big names in the city to sign that are
against the Curfew Act. I felt as though if I could find enough city initials to
agree with me, one of the teens that are affected by it. The way I’m getting my petition out is thru social networking
such as Twitter, and Facebook. That is one of the easiest ways for more people
to get involved.
http://www.change.org/petitions/the-city-of-philadelphia-stop-the-curfew-act-in-center-city
Language Autobiography Teige Dougherty
Posted by Teige Dougherty in ENG2-008 onIntroduction:
The purpose of the essay was to explain my idea of what language is. I say in my essay that I think that language shows someone’s state of being. It has no representation of your IQ or of your mental capacity. One thing that was very difficult, was writing about my language. It is hard to explain to people who cannot understand it, so everybody.
Paper:
My family is a regular pot-luck of languages, everyone brings something new to the table. Everybody, knows something different. For instance, my Mom knows french, my Dad knows Spanish and Gaelic. My brothers know German, and my one brother knows french too. It’s really confusing when people speak all of their languages at the same time. I am the only one who can understand all of the languages. I can’t speak them back, but I act as an interpreter. I translate the other languages into English, for the other family members that can’t speak the language.
My parents rely on me to translate what the other parts of the family are saying. Even my brothers’ English is slurred and I am one of the only people who can understand him. I have had a lot of experience with people who cannot speak English correctly. This is because my brother suffers from a disease which causes you to have less control over your muscles. Actions like speaking are usually very slurred and most people can’t understand him. My brother and I are the only ones who can understand him all the time. It is very often that my mother with ask me to translate what he said.
Another way that I have had experience with people who can’t fully speak English, is with my cello teacher. I met him when I was 5 years old. When you are 5, you don't talk much anyway. Language is not your first priority. I was scared. I was starting a new instrument, which for me meant a new language and it meant a new teacher.
I walked into the room awkwardly with my new cello. It was a little bit bigger than my 3 foot tall body. I see my new teacher for the first time and we talked very quickly.
He said, "Hello, I named Dr. Yu. Your named?
I was confused by the question. Was he asking what I wanted to be called?
I replied hesitantly,"Teige?"
He replied “Are you sure? Confused you sound like.”
I didn’t know what to do. I then looked up at my dad. He laughed and said “I don’t think Teige can understand you”
Dr. Yu replied to this by saying “I sorry, I no help it, just way I speak.”
I have always remembered this moment, specifically when he said that he couldn’t help it, and that is just the way he speaks. That it wasn’t his fault that he spoke like that. For some reason, before he had said this, I just thought that everybody talked the same way and that some people would put on a different voice in order to make a joke, or to seem funny. It had never occurred to me that his voice was a product of his surroundings.
When I was younger, I didn’t understand English as a language. I never could understand the tones of a normal everyday voice. I always had this problem, because I have a disease. This disease is called synesthesia. Its where I see colors and taste different things depending on what I hear. This caused me to create my own language. Basically it just consisted of my favorite sounds that I could make, I also used tastes as words. Colors or tastes didn’t mean words like we use in English, but rather thoughts or ideas. Many people who have this disease, wind up like this too. An example of this, is like the taste of metal, this to me means that something is out of place or is going wrong. What this meant for a kid like me was a way of expressing myself that English couldn’t do for me. I am told that a normal person thinks in words or phrases, I however retained the language that I had when I was younger and still use that to think. It is kind of like a short hand that no one else in the world can understand.
I used to take pride in it, that I was one in 200,000 that could think like this or even see the colors that I see. The only big problem in this language is that no one else can understand it. Try as I might I could never seem to teach the language to anyone else. Around the age of 5, I gave up trying to teach it to anyone. I figured that they just weren’t going to get it, and that it must be as difficult for them as English is to me. This has always affect the way I think and the way I do math.
That is why I have always had the belief that language is more than just a way of communicating, but rather a way of thinking. Some times your language is a representative of your education, but the way I see it most of the time, language is more a representative of your state of being.
Reflection:
I enjoyed talking about current issues that I face, and to tune people into my thoughts on the subject. The issues that I talked about are important to my family and I. Most of my family believes the same thing as me on this issue.
Los Seres Queridos
Posted by Daniel Varnis in SP1-006 onMi Estilo Personal Reflexión
Posted by Tamatha Lancaster in SP2-005 onI'm really proud on how my project turned out especially with my sound acting crazy. I'm also proud of how much description I had.
The hardest part of completing this project was the outfits I was going to use and how to put it together since my sound wasn't working at the time.
If I could do this over again I would change the outfits I had and how many I had. I would also change the way my projected looked.
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The hardest part of completing this project was the outfits I was going to use and how to put it together since my sound wasn't working at the time.
If I could do this over again I would change the outfits I had and how many I had. I would also change the way my projected looked.
Rosemary Flite
Posted by Rosemary Flite in SP2-005 onWhat are you especially proud of with your finished project?
What was the hardest part of completing this project?
What would you do over again if you had the chance?
I am proud that I managed to create my video to about 5 minutes and I did 4 outfits instead of 4.
The hardest part was that I had trouble pronouncing some words.
I would try to make my voiceovers a little more clear if I could redo it all.
1 Comment...
What was the hardest part of completing this project?
What would you do over again if you had the chance?
I am proud that I managed to create my video to about 5 minutes and I did 4 outfits instead of 4.
The hardest part was that I had trouble pronouncing some words.
I would try to make my voiceovers a little more clear if I could redo it all.
Blog Post 3
Posted by Robert Broadwater in AMGOV-003 onThe ruling on the curfew law is rather sensitive at the moment Because of the flash mob attack on south street and other heinous acts during the summer, teens are being viewed as violent and sometimes criminal. The nature of the media and news reports of the event caused a form of dehumanization of Young adults. However there was only a small fraction of the teens in the city there partaking in the actions on south street; and although there were extremely awful actions taking place, for the amount of people there there was not a strong percentage of young adults present at the event doing horrible things. It would seem that in their act of highlighting certain portions of the event that teens would be put further down just for having the capability to do such things.
In retrospect I can see why the curfew was in acted. What is more troubling is the fact that if you are caught at all you can be arrested and what;s more is the fact that police are given the power to question any one who appears to be under age. This treatment can only be combated by the teens if they carry some form of identification with them when they are going to be out. This is similar in fashion to the treatment of people in Arizona durning their time under the law that allowed police to arrest people who couldn't prove their citizenship.
The public has been put in fear of the situation and because of that fear most will see the curfew as a good thing. Most adults if asked will say that there is nothing wrong with the curfew at all. They see it as a way to keep children in order. However there are some more conservative families that believe the government as no right to make laws about how to raise their children.
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In retrospect I can see why the curfew was in acted. What is more troubling is the fact that if you are caught at all you can be arrested and what;s more is the fact that police are given the power to question any one who appears to be under age. This treatment can only be combated by the teens if they carry some form of identification with them when they are going to be out. This is similar in fashion to the treatment of people in Arizona durning their time under the law that allowed police to arrest people who couldn't prove their citizenship.
The public has been put in fear of the situation and because of that fear most will see the curfew as a good thing. Most adults if asked will say that there is nothing wrong with the curfew at all. They see it as a way to keep children in order. However there are some more conservative families that believe the government as no right to make laws about how to raise their children.
