The Phillies are more than just a baseball team. They are people who inspire other people. Yesteday when the Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series, it brought together a since of unity, and love to Philadelphia. Seeing people gather in the streets was exciting, it an enjoyable site to see, rather than the usual violence. I think that not going to the parade would just be horrible, I would feel like I wasnt apart of the team. I would feel like I was missing out on History.

A quick video explaining my learnings for humanities 2007-08

This is my Humanities Portfolio for 2008. This portfolio shows the work I have completely for english and history. It also shows how much of an understanding i have gained throughout the school year. The video below is a verbal and audio demonstration as to what i learned.

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My tenth grade humanities portfolio 

Victoria Monahan's 10th Grade Humanities Portfolio that describes and reflects upon learning from the year in both English and World History.

This is my humanities portfolio 

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This is my humanities portfolio

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10th grade Humanities Portfolio that describes and reflects upon learning from the year in both History and English

Here's my Humanities portfolio about the things I remember most about . I couldn't record because my mike didn't work so I just wrote down what I was going to say under the slides...you'll see it. So I thought there was no point in making it into a movie since I don't have my voice in it...So HERE YOU ARE ENJOY!!     

Dormir- 5 horaz de dormir

Horas de Sueño por Noche:
Dormí 7 horas.

El Desayuno:

aqua

El Almuerzo:

sopa de poyo

La Cena:
oreos y leche

Las Meriendas:

dónut 

Ejercicio:
nada

The organization is the Arts & Spirituality Center . Its mission is to demonstrate arts through many different cultures. As such, that’s where the word spirituality comes into play.

I work along with the coordinator to plan activities, and events. I would review plans, and proposals, and add stuff that would make it more appealing to teenagers. I also work on a larger scale on documenting the way that teenagers respond to new ideas, and the methods of presentation that works best.

You would need to be reliable; out spoken, confident – since there are many adults in the meetings, a great understanding of your peers, self aware, organized, and very open minded about new ideas.

Depending on what type of program you are involved in, you will learn different things. However it’s a great organization if you would like to gain poetry, drama, or any artistic, and cultural exposure.

Be very open minded, and impulsive enough to be comfortable with coming up with exciting ideas on the point. Not all events go exactly to schedule, so when something goes wrong, don’t panic, just come up with a better plan. It is not the busiest of places with thousand of things to do, so your mind may wander away from work very often. Be focused, and basically you will be fine.

Horas de Sueño por Noche:
Anoche, dormí 8 horas

El Desayuno:
Comí nada
El Almuerzo:
Comí un sopa con poyo

La Cena:
Comí nada

Ejercicio:
Corrí 27 minutos

My experiences at Yo! Darkroom for the most part of have been very positives. On either Wednesdays or Thursdays I get to go into the real of creativity. I work on a project called Bureau of Workplace Interruputions which is essentially performance art. I create and find little interruptions like letters, toys, games, ect. The purpose of this art is to bring a little bit of enjoyment to people who are not excited by their careers or jobs. I think this project is quite powerful seeing as a lot of people become disconnected with who they truly are when they enter the work place. Being able to bring a smile to someone's face is a good feeling to have as a young person I suppose. For the most part I enjoy my ILP and I am thankful that I have this opportunity to contribute to a performance art project.

Sunday, April 6th, 2008

Joseph Rainis

Horas de Sueño por Noche:  Anoche, dormí 11 horas.

El Desayuno:  Comí donut.

El Almuerzo:  Comí un bocadillo de bistec.

La Cena:  Comí estofado de carne.

Las Meriendas: Comi patatas fritas

Ejercicio: Nada.

Horas de Sueño por Noche:
Dormí 10 horas.

El Desayuno:
el sopa 

El Almuerzo:

pastel

La Cena:
pollo y tallerines 

Las Meriendas:

oreos, soda 

Ejercicio:
nada 

Horas de Sueño por Noche:
Dormí 7 horas.

El Desayuno:
nada

El Almuerzo:

tipo de panecillo 

La Cena:

pan, agua 

Las Meriendas:

 oreos, helado, fritas

Ejercio

 corrí cinco minutos 

Horas de Sueño por Noche:
Dormí 5 horas.

El Desayuno:
chiflado

El Almuerzo:

Nada

La Cena:

pan, agua

Las Meriendas:

 oreos

Ejercicio:

camina 20 minutos

Mackenzie Drust

4/1/08
Horas de sueño de noché-
Anoche, dormí 4 horas

El desayuno-
Nada

La almuerzo-
Nada

La Cena-
Comí un pizza de queso y tomé pepsi.

Las meriendas-
Comí unos raisonettes

Ejercicio-
Jugar baseball por 90 minutos y monopatin por 120 minutos.

Mackenzie Drust

4/1/08
Horas de sueño de noché-
Anoche, dormí 4 horas

El desayuno-
Nada

La almuerzo-
Nada

La Cena-
Comí un pizza de queso y tomé pepsi.

Las meriendas-
Comí unos raisonettes

Ejercicio-
Jugar baseball por 90 minutos y monopatin por 120 minutos.

Mackenzie Drust

4/1/08
Horas de sueño de noché-
Anoche, dormí 4 horas

El desayuno-
Nada

La almuerzo-
Nada

La Cena-
Comí un pizza de queso y tomé pepsi.

Las meriendas-
Comí unos raisonettes

Ejercicio-
Jugar baseball por 90 minutos y monopatin por 120 minutos.

Mackenzie Drust

4/1/08
Horas de sueño de noché-
Anoche, dormí 4 horas

El desayuno-
Nada

La almuerzo-
Nada

La Cena-
Comí un pizza de queso y tomé pepsi.

Las meriendas-
Comí unos raisonettes

Ejercicio-
Jugar baseball por 90 minutos y monopatin por 120 minutos.

Horas sueno a noche
Dormí siete horas

Desayuno
No comí nada

Almuerzar
No comí nada

Cena
Comí un pizza con una soda

Las meriendas
Comí  cereal

Ejercicio
Nada

Mackenzie Drust

4/1/08
Horas de sueño de noché-
Anoche, dormí 4 horas

El desayuno-
Nada

La almuerzo-
Nada

La Cena-
Comí un pizza de queso y tomé pepsi.

Las meriendas-
Comí unos raisonettes

Ejercicio-
Jugar baseball por 90 minutos y monopatin por 120 minutos.
v

About a year ago my friends and I were walking home from school. We were all talking about the new computer game that had just come out. “Dude that game is completely awesome,” said my friend Andrew. Then on the other side of me, my friend Aaron asked, “Dude what’s your favorite part?” “That’s easy, it’s got to be the violence.” Aaron looked up and at Andrew with a confused face on. “Every time we talk about video games you always say the violence is the best part.” “Well think about it, the violence makes the game. Without it, what grabs your attention?” I looked at both of them knowing that this discussion was going to get heated. “The challenge of the game. It’s about you and the computer and who is going to come up on top.”

They both looked up at me and said “Jim, what’s your opinion on this?” I looked up and said, “You’re both right. Think about it: the violence grabs the attention but it’s the challenge that I play for.” They both looked at me with smiling faces and went back to what they were talking about.

By this point I was near home, so it was my time to break off from the group and head my own way. I interrupted Aaron and Andrew, “Dude, I am heading out. I’ll see you on the flip side.” I stuck out my fist for a pound. That’s basically our way of saying hello and goodbye. As I walked away, I could hear them arguing in the distance as they continued to discuss the point of video games. I giggled to myself as I walked away.

With my friends I feel more free to say what I want. I know if I say something that it won’t be judged too much. Even if I say something they don’t agree with they do not put me down or make me feel bad. I am free to say what I want, when I want. But I don’t always talk like that. There are times where I have to change the way I talk.

Just then I stepped in a puddle of mud in the field across from my house. I quickly pulled myself back trying not to get a lot of mud on my shoes. However that didn’t help that much; I looked down and my white shoe was a nice shade of brown. Frustrated, I ran to my house. I opened the door and walked in the house. Before I could take more than 3 or 4 steps my dad stopped me. “Jimmy! Take those muddy shoes off before you come in here.” I looked at him and said nothing but. “Yes dad.”

I took them off and went to the kitchen to get something to drink after my long day at school. As I opened the fridge to see if there were anything sweet to drink I heard my dads voice, “Jimmy I’m going to start cooking. Can you get me the pot out?”

“Ok dad.” I stopped what I was doing and go to get the pot. I opened the cabinet and reached in to grab a pot, which was a simple task, right? No, who ever put the pots and pans away last put them away very messily. I had to take out all the pots and pans to get the one that we needed. I handed him the one that he asked for and he looked at me and said, “You’re going to put those away right?” I looked up at him feeling like I was going to hit him and said, “Yes dad.” I put them back as neatly as I could.

I finally finished that up and I got up and made my way out of the room until I heard him call for me once again. “Hey Jimmy, can you go down stairs and get me some noodles?” I looked at him, wanting to say no but I opened my mouth, “Yeah dad.” Disappointed in myself I went to the basement to get the noodles. When I got down there I looked at the mountains of crap that my parents decided to keep over the many years that we had been living there. I made my way over the hill; I don’t even think that people that climb mountains for a living could have even conquered that task. However I did make it to the shelves. I looked around for the noodles. I took me a little bit however I did find them. Then I made my way back over the pile, and finally made it back on to the concrete floor of my basement.

Trying to make the best of my situation, I went up the steps. When I was mid-way up, my dad called down to me, “Hey bud, can you get some tomato sauce too while you’re down there?”
“Yes dad.” At this point I wanted to scream. I just wanted to sit down but I had no time to stop. I want back over the pile of crap and started making my way over. This time I felt as if I were having more trouble getting over. But I still got to the shelves. This time the sauce was in plain sight, so I grabbed it and started back. Then all of a sudden I fell in to a hole. I was only there for a few seconds but it felt like forever. I did get out either way; I went upstairs and gave my dad the items that he had asked for. “Thanks Jimmy.”
“ Anytime dad.”

That was one of those times that I couldn’t talk the way I felt most comfortable. There are times that I must keep my mouth shut for the greater good of my own sanity. People such as my father don’t like when people talk back to them. So I must change the way I would prefer to talk, in which I would more freely and openly respond with my opinions, so that there is peace in my home.

In everyone’s life, people practice this ability. It may not be as drastic, but it is still present. This skill, known as “code switching” allows people to have their free sense of speaking when they are with friends, however it also lets them change the way they speak in a more formal or business-oriented environment. People engage in code switching to fit with the parameters of the given situation, especially situations in which people would need to be accepted and respected.

Perception And Reality

            I never really cared about language or the “power” its supposed to have. A lot of my life, especially before high school, kids in all my classes would say the same thing over and over again: “Why do talk like that?” or maybe “You talk really white.” At first it was annoying, but I got used to it after a while.

A lot of people think that certain people of certain backgrounds are meant to speak a certain way. Most of the time, it was just the kids in my class or some new person I just met. But it meant a lot more when it came from an adult. And it made me feel really uncomfortable when they said something like “You speak well.” Or worse: “Where are you from?”. I didn’t know why it made me feel the way it did back then but now I think it made me feel somehow invalidated. I mean, to say something to a person or have a conversation and try to seriously express yourself, and then all they can think of how you speak is frustrating. It’s more like people care more about how you talk more than what you’re actually saying.

When I think about it I don’t think language has any more power than we give it. People choose to separate themselves, whether it’s by class, race, or language. We like to stay within our comfort zones, and we do that by instantly judging people and deciding whether or not we’re comfortable with what we experience. There are some of us willing to resist the urge to do that, but we’ll get into that later.

Because we develop regions of separation between different kinds of people and make the concept of different people important, it has power. As a result, the ways that we identify those different kinds, those categories, has power. The way someone talks is just one of the ways we identify a category. If we didn’t judge language to identify a person, then language wouldn’t have the power that it does. We give language its power. The first thing people see when they meet a person is how they dress and speak. These two things almost always match up. For example- jeans and a baggy sweatshirt usually goes with some kind of slang. Example number two- a suit and tie goes along with what’s considered “Standard English”. Because of stereotypes regarding these two categories, some people may think that they know what kind of person they’re interacting with is. It’s actually funny how people think that they understand everything about a person after a few moments of interaction.

One time in English class, we were watching a documentary on language across the United States. There was one person in the movie hat I really sympathized with:

It was a woman with a Jersey accent. She was talking about an experience she had while applying for an office job in New York: “When I was in the interview I was explaining my experience at my last job. And when I was done talking they just giggled and asked “Where are you from?”. They didn’t take me seriously. I was just some comedy act.” From the interview you could see that the woman was pretty intelligent, regardless of her accent. This is the kind of thing I’m talking about when I say that language only has the power that we give it. The whole reason that the people laughed at her and thought she was strange was because they decided that what they experienced wasn’t in their comfort zone. So they expressed their discomfort through laughing, and asking an alienating question like “Where are you from?” But that whole comfort thing… Is it really a conscious feeling? Could it be human nature to separate yourself from things that you find strange? Why not? Maybe it’s some form of self-preservation. The urge to “protect” yourself from what you’re not familiar with- from what you don’t understand. That brings us back to what I sxaid earlier, that there are people willing to resist the urge to judge people instantly based on just a few moments of interaction. But it can be difficult so get past the concept of first impressions and think of everyone as a person with a clean slate.

But maybe all the blame doesn’t fall on the person making judgments. Some of it might belong to the person that’s being judged. What I’m trying to say is that if you know you’re being judged, being perceived as something that you know your not, why not do something about it? Why not do something to be perceived as something you want people to think you are? Standard English along with a suit and tie is associated with intelligence. You won’t change the world, or at least you probably won’t. You yourself probably won’t change everything so that people don’t judge based on how one looks and speaks. You probably can’t make everyone think of everyone else as someone with a blank slate. The only thing that you can do is change yourself so that you’re judged positively. But what if you believe that language is part of who you are? Should you really be forced to change yourself just to satisfy others? The woman applying for a job- why should she change the way she speaks just to make the people who laughed at her feel comfortable? Why should she change who she is just to satisfy others? You and I- should we have to sacrifice ourselves just to make others feel better? If so, then should we “change” based on every situation? We probably do it already. You probably won’t change how everyone thinks, which is why you probably wouldn’t wear sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt to a job interview. And why you probably wouldn’t say “what’s up” to the person interviewing you. You want to be perceived a certain way- a way that’ll get you the job. Regardless of what the reality of who I am is, I might temporarily change who I am to satisfy someone and have them judge me a certain way. It might be because of a fear of rejection or it could be because I’m willing to accept that people judge me and conform. Or maybe I’m just willing to give up a part of myself. Because when we make a decision on what we think of a person, it’s usually just perception. And it takes more than first impressions to find reality.

Kyle Foglio

                        Languages the key to ever bonding

            A connection in language in my life is not easy to explain. Where I live my family and me don’t speak to each other very often and if we do we all speak just English and no other languages except me and a few cousins. Our communication ethic is through an intergraded version of inversal, witch is speaking backwards, created by us as a way to talk behind the rest of the family. Sure, I know that this to many people is not a language, but to us it was the only way to speak where no one but us could find out what it means. I could go into the basics of Disversal, our language, but I rather explain the origin.

            It was summer time and there was no school so I spent most of my days at my cousin Alex’s house. I walked along the newly hardened and paved sidewalk staring at my feet as always. It occurs every so often that when I go to his place his father is angry with me. Both our fathers were kind of like rivals since they were young, but we got along just fine. I knock on the door hoping that his father would not answer or I will get lectured on just being here. My aunt answered the door and greeted me with a nod of the head. That was how we said hello to each other just a nod of the head.

            I did the same in respect and walked up the spiral stairway up to the attic where my cousin’s room is located. When I entered he asked me why I looked so down, but it would be hard to explain that I hate how our family does not speak to each other. “Why does the whole family not speak to each other?” I asked him concerned about how wrong this is. He just glared at me and shouted something backwards into the ceiling. I looked at him puzzled at what he said. He explained that it was inversal and showed me how to say some words so we could talk in front of his parents when I visited. Eventual our parents caught on and we needed another plan and thanks to my friends and other cousins we invented the language of Disversal.

In public I try not to speak it and only speak English. But sometimes I use it outside the family, but only the basic words like O-Pongho (Hello) or Stagterai (Thank you). People don’t mind it as they just go on like I said it in English, or just give me a dirty look. I feel as if the world does not see this as a language but to me it is. I use it very frequent at home and don’t see it a second language but a first one. As if I were raised to speak it and not even notice that I am when talking out loud or in certain circumstances.

            Just as something extra to learn about the way I speak I will show you some of the basics of Disversal. There are five base classes of words and they are: the O-Pon family, the Hoor family, the Mev family, the Quwck family, and the Stilk family. Each of these families are the basis of Disversanary and do have conjugations. Conjugations are very different from other languages, and to give one example I will use O-Pongho (Hello) and O-Pongha (Good bye). Depending on the base class of the word depends on what type of word it is. Enough of the Disversal lessons back to the autobiography.

            Now I want to show the true message of my autobiography, witch is that language can break bonds and also can fix them as well. I think with our efforts to talk to each other we can fix this broken. That language has mad countries unite, but just as it can unite some it will break the others away. Just the way we speak could determine our social statuses and where we come from. We rely on our language to write the story of us to others. This is very deep to me, as it is the only thing keeping my family together. Without this strange language my generation of the family would hate each other to no existent. This might be the sappiest part of my autobiography, but I wanted you the reader to feel my pain.

Just understand what it is like in a family at each others thoughts and the way a language could be the ray of light for the bonds between people. This might be the key to stop war and tarnish between the countries. I know this is a false dream and all that I said could just be my own experiences. Only if people would listen to what I have to say, and someday they will. Just another day in the life of an average outcast wanting to unify the world with what he has to say. Language it is our true key to getting through the gates of heaven.

Jasmine Thomas
Iron-English
1/8/08
Language Autobiography

The System In that Robs

As I watch the children walk in carrying projects that represent them as students I get excited and at the same time I am angry and filled with rage. I watch these children walk in whose transcripts read, “mentally gifted” and “post high school reading level” but when you meet them and begin to really listen to them you then understand what “mentally gifted” means in the School District of Philadelphia. My school is one of the new schools that has opened up in the district and has taken on the philosophy of progressive learning. With this in mind, our school interviews potential students to kind of get a feel of who they are as people and not just as students. I try to make the question sound as friendly as possible “So tell us why you decided to bring this project here today?” “I brought this project in because…um well I don’t know…I got a perfect score on it”. Sometimes the questions are not even answered and sometimes they are answered with looks of helplessness and confusion. You can read the nervousness of the interviewee from the hives covering their necks. While the fear and anticipation runs down their faces in droplets of sweat I begin to understand the language that is coming out of their mouths, bodies and spirits.
During these interviews that I partake in…I am so amazed and thrilled that a school like Science Leadership Academy exist it is a chance for kids from the city to show people just how phenomenal they really are in the world of learning. To show the system that they are not failures and to show “them” they do deserve a quality education. I am filled with rage at the same time…because some of these kids have not been taught. They have not been taught how to be brilliant students, they have been taught how to come to class, wear their uniform, to not cause school fights, these kids have simply been taught not to become “another problem”. The reward for not being “another problem” is being granted “A’s” and being placed in the mentally gifted program. The system is just pushing these innocent children along who really do long and wish for a quality education. During these interviews you can feel the their spirits and potential radiating from them, its such a strong presence in the room, it’s a language that many people choose to not understand.
I turn to my fellow interviewer and tell her “It’s not his fault, he has not been taught like he should have, and has not had the chance to have educational privileges and resources like he should have”. The language that is spoken at a lot of these interviews is the language of confusion, helplessness, nervousness, and most of all potential and beauty. These children drip like water with the potential to become top students who can do well and who can go off to college and become the next oncologist or lawyer or artist. They have the ability and determination but the system robs them of their educational rights and privileges. The system is unjust and is made up of a majority people who sit in their offices deciding whether or not the children of The Philadelphia School District deserve a quality education. They sit in their cubicles contemplating whether or not these children should have the dream to be doctors, teachers, or mayors. Why is the language of doubt spoken from the mouth of the system about these children? The criminal act here is having doubt about such amazing souls and spirits.
“I am sorry what do you mean how can I contribute to your school community?” I respond to the question with an “If you were to come to Science Leadership Academy what would you bring to the table” The interviewee then replies in a surprised and confused tone, “Wow that’s a hard question, I never thought about that.” The real question here is how come these kids are not taught to look at themselves as beings who are extraordinary and who are capable of becoming doctors and lawyers just like kids who go to Lower Merion High school? How come these kids are not taught that they are important parts of this world and without them there is no future. Why can’t these kids be seen as kids who want to learn and not as kids who “make trouble”? When is the time going to come for the people of the system to stop robbing the children of the city their rights as students? When is the time going to come when inner city kids are not seen as threats but as assets? When is the language of excitement, curiosity, confidence, and pride going to be spoken at the majority of the SLA interviews? Will the time ever come for me, as a young activist, to not question the rights of education in our system that victimize innocent children …when will my rage for the people of the system cease?
The language that I hear spoken by these children is what fuels me to be a student activist. An activist who stands with other young activist to voice our opinions to the system, which provides us with our educational institutions, we stand to make a change and a difference. As a young person I feel like it’s my generation that speaks the language of change and revolution. My generation also speaks a language of hurt, pain, and empathy. This language we speak is not something we had to learn in high school for credits, it was not a class we decided to take over the summer, but it was the world in which we lived and live in that taught us this language. The society we live in has so much going on is it really surprising that the most common dialect between people is that of pain, oppression, and sadness. Is it surprising that my friends and I have many times where we feel like there is no hope for the future and that there really is no value in setting future goals. On an individual level I have many moments where I feel as though, it really doesn’t matter because things are never going to change. I am human though, so then there are other times when I say to myself “Yes your activism and consciousness of the world will pay off Jas, you just have to be patient because like everything else life is one hell of a journey”. I have moments like these where I feel extremely empowered to be a young adult. I feel like my generation is going to change the world and we will do it in a way that is innovative, progressive, inspiring. I have faith; my soul and heart speak the language of hope and in the end that is what I use to guide me through this thing we call life.

I gingerly sat down at a chair as I waited for the dean to trail behind and sit at his desk. The tiny room looked as if it was put together in the seventies with muted oranges and yellows sprinkled in the small space. A poor contrast to the rich cherry and mahogany wood that composed the hallways. I was sitting in an orange leather chair with the side facing the front of the desk. I quickly remembered I was still being briefed on a few things as I observed the room through peripheral vision.
"So, did, you have a good day?" I quickly recalled the day shadowing a student.
"Yes, it was great. I saw a few people I knew." I said in a confident cheered
"Greaat." His voiced dragged as he processed the paperwork in front of him. "Great. So, what would you say if we were not going to accept you here at CHA?"
I replied breezily in an overly confident voice, "Well, I know I'm a good student and if you didn't accept me, I would just say it's your loss." I said this with truth behind my voice because I actually believed it. I knew this school would be a higher step up to a more quality education. Ivy Leaf was no place for a truly quality education.
"Alright, good answer."
The interview went on for 20 minutes longer with me growing more conscious of the tight collar and Hilfiger tie wrapped around it. A teacher had commented on its colors, featuring the school's blue and light blue colors, "smart brown nosing," he had mentioned as I was put on the spot at the beginning of that class. I walked out of the school feeling like I was for sure not going to be denied a spot.
A couple of weeks went by when my mom mentioned to me the status of me at CHA. Not accepted. I didn't mind, there were better schools that I might have liked. Plus we had gotten wait listed at Shipley... But I couldn't help but think about the things they didn't like about me enough to not accept me. I spent a long time, I couldn't figure out who wouldn't have accepted the recipient of student of the year. Of course I didn't get that title until after I chose a school, but there must have been some reason.

I came to realize what was gold standard at the school I was transitioning from, would have just been mediocrity at real private school. I went in there thinking I was the best, communicating that through my language. Maybe even strutting it in my step. I eventually came to blame my school for its lack of long-term preparation.
Two years earlier I had come The Meadowbrook School in Abington. I graduated under a cloud of average grades, kid-like antics and a rep that wouldn't invite me into a private school. It was the summer and each one of the students from my old school had already chosen a new school. Me, being behind on the application process, in early august had no school. So my mom set up an appointment for an open house/admissions sort of day. There was an entrance exam that I passed with flying colors. They said later on that there were scores of kids whose parents would give up anything for their kids entrance, so it made me feel good about myself and academic quality. At any rate, it was half a year after I realized that I math class wasn't going to get any harder. Along with that decline in my education, the people in my environment were from the city. So in order to be down, I reformed almost everything about me. I had to talk like them; I dressed like them and even changed the person who I was. Over those two years, the young Jerome who had once been on the way to be the proper talking straight edged token, became Jerome who was on his way to being the angry black man who would have never thought to associate with white people. Ivy leaf was the best cultural experience I could have had, but it didn't teach me about the world, and mine had become something as small as my immediate surroundings.
It had been two years after that when I applied to real private schools to transition from middle school to high school. I applied through "A Better Chance," a program that helps minorities apply for a better chance at getting into boarding schools and private schools. It was there that I got formal training in interviewing with potential schools. I started to notice my horizons widen with what I was starting to believe. While I was learning how to interview I was following the methods by which I was to impress school administrations: by speaking properly. Quickly the space in-between the newer Jerome and the older Jerome began to open up.
It isn't until now that I can realize how much my environment influenced the way I talked. For me, I hold other people's perception of me pretty high. So, trying to fit in by code switching, or basically changing the way I talk can happen in my daily life. In my case, I can tell that humans in general, when it comes to language, conform to their environments. And after realizing this and reflecting on my life, I can really believe that.