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Herstory Poem
He is the apple of his father’s eye, like a gift from his mother.
He was sent from the heavens to lift his family from burden.
He was loved and cherished, this was certain.
His eyes were curious, brimming with the possibility of what laid ahead.
His lips were rough, they never did learn to speak words of love.
His mind was sharp, slowly learning what it meant to be a man.
She was her father’s worry and her mother’s biggest mistake.
She was a punishment from the man upstairs.
She was thought to be fearful, quiet and scared.
One day she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and spoke her mind.
All of humankind simply turned a blind eye.
Laura's Herstory Poem by Ari
She is from motherhood, from daughterhood and sisterhood.
She is from a childhood with two brothers.
She is from education, and hard work.
She is from responsibilities, part-time jobs, and bullshit from brothers.
She is from the heart of an activist and the mind of a fighter.
From women’s rights and equality for all.
She is from Judaism. From prayers over shabbat candles, her mom’s famous kugel, and a b’nai mitzvah for every kid in the house.
She is from
From the nights in high school completing homework after a shift at the local art store.
She is from the love of art and from her parents not understanding her passion.
She is from the hundreds of pictures from her life neatly organized in albums; not daring to mix up her compartmentalized life.
She is from every person in her life that told her she was not good enough.
She is from a life of being put down because she is a woman.
ME Magazine
Kyianna Thomas ME MAG......
Tylier Driscoll Media Fluency Slide
Me Magazine
Poema- Ashton Reigner
Hola
Me llamo Ashton
Soy muy divertido
Soy de y vivo en Filadelfia
No me gusta escribir
Me encanta comer
AdiosMedia Fluency Slide by Nick Ryan
Media Fluency - Lauren Nicolella
Paxton's Me Poster
Me Megazine
Jake Watson
I designed my slide based on all of my favorite things. I put everything I like in this slide and obviously Lil Herb is my favorite rapper and I take a lot of influence from him so revolving the slide around him is the best way to describe who I am.
My Me Magazine Project
Ethel Goldberg: My Grandmother's Story
Poema- Leo Cassel-Siskind
Slide about me
Schedule for conferences 12/02-12/03
8:15-9:10 D
9:15-10:10 E
10:15-11:10 A
11:15-12:10 B
12:15-12:45 Advisory
12:50 lunch
1:30-3:30pm ILPs and TFI
3:30pm - 8pm conferences
12/03 Thur: Afternoon conferences (half-day)
8:15-9:05 C
9:10-10:00 D
10:05-10:55 X/Y
11:00-11:50 E
11:55-12:45 A
12:50 Lunch
1:30pm -4:30pm Conferences
Advanced Essay 2: The Detrimental Impacts of Forced Assimilation
Advanced Essay #2 (The Foreignness Of My Speech)
The Foreignness of my Speech.
Never did I feel the need to silence my voice or to conduct myself knowing that I have so many great things to offer to this world. When I was in the third grade, my classmates disagreed with my ideas based on my accent. They refused to hear what I had to say because my English did not sound like theirs. They said that I sounded “African” or that I spoke funny. Those words became scars and I lost all my confidence. I didn’t want to be the person everyone turns to look at because I sounded different. I did not enjoy that sort of attention.
Back then I wasn’t able to let them know that I have the same rights as they do, being that I was also born here, the only difference is that I grew up in a household with more than three languages were being spoken. At the age of nine, I didn’t know that being multilingual and having an accent wasn’t a bad thing. Gloria Anzalda has this concept of “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out.” Her idea has assisted me by making me realize that my classmates too had the intentions of cutting out my tongue. They too dislike the existence of my foreign speech. They wanted me to be just ordinary. My accent made me stand out in a way that I used to think was awfully embarrassing. I can’t really understand why this set me back. Why it has kept me sort of silent, determined that no one wants to hear my multilingual tongue. Having to pause a moment because I had mixed up the words in my brain, thinking of the same sentences in Fulani, French, Sou-sou, Mandingo and Arabic.
It seems that people are somehow afraid of change. People hate what they don’t understand. Most people like to cling on things they are already used to, so it gives them an excuse to dismiss new things. When my classmates were exposed to the way I spoke, they dismissed me and my ideas because they couldn’t relate. The way they reacted to the change was to make me not want to speak. My classmates feared my wild tongue because it was something new to them.
When I was in the third grade my teacher, Ms. King asked me to read. This was my greatest fear. I had no choice, there was no way around this one. So I began, my heart pounding. “Th..The boy went to.. the park” I stammered. As it became more difficult to distinguish my letters. “Ha-ha” laughter rose from my third grade class as tears stung at my eyes. I could feel myself shaking. “How are you in the third grade and can’t even read.” One of my classmates shouted as I had a sudden urge to pee and chills ran down my spine. “Ms. King may I please use the bathroom.” I asked. “You asked to used the bathroom too many times, what is wrong with your bladder Aissatou? You know what just walk to the principal's office afterwards. You get on my nerves. I barely understand anything you say.” I rushed out of my seat tripping as a girl with two ponytails sticks out her foot for me to fall. I ran to the bathroom, my eyes blurry full of tears. I hated school. I wiped my face and walk to the office ready to get a phone call home.
In order to meet the requirements of my classmates, I would go home everyday and read. I read about things that made me happy. I grew to love books because that was the only part of the day I could looked forward to. It helped improve my English. Reading taught me words my classmates could not even comprehend. The more I read the more I wanted to wash out my own tongue. However, I realized that attempting to perfect my English, in order to get rid of my wild tongue of its foreignness or to please others is useless. Drowning out my native background wasn’t worth it, limiting myself to only speaking English was holding me back a lot more than trying to juggle with them all.
Getting rid of my ability to speak many languages was pointless. I took to heart this feeling when I met a girl in the eighth grade, who spoke Fulani just like me, however she couldn’t speak much English. I became sort of a translator for her. I walked up to her after class when I found out that her name was Amirah. “My name is Aissatou and I’ve noticed you don’t talk at all in class.” I stated. “I no speak much English.” Amirah answer looking down, ashamed. We began to walk. “Then what do you speak?” I challenged. “I speak Fulani.” She reply. I beamed as we entered into the lunchroom. “Me too.” I said excitedly in Fulani. This was one of the times I felt proud about being multilingual. Someone was in need of my talent when I was trying to hide it. I learned that accepting my capability instead of disregarding it was not only helpful to myself but many others. The idea of trying to fit was not worth it, while it made me lose so much of my identity.
"Key Advantages and Disadvantages of Being Bilingual." Key Advantages and Disadvantages of Being Bilingual. Torri Miller, 1998. Web. 29 Nov. 2015.
Me magazine slide- Vivian Pham
I made this me magazine the way it is, by trying to make is simple yet artistic like combining the words like independent fits into Expression because the “n” is also in Independent. And the word Slide can fit into Learner because of the L in Slide that is also the first letter of learner. And I added very few pictures because I mainly wanted the focus to be on the words but I chose those pictures because it pops it when you look at it, it isn’t a series of small little pictures but bigger and more simply pictures. And I chose the picture that says dance and it shows 3 dancers because dance was in my me magazine and I described that as my passion and in the me magazine I talked about my experiences regarding dance and why I love it so much. I also purposely chose that picture of 3 dancers because when I danced it was always with my 2 bestfriends and I felt that it represented us in a way. Then I chose the family like tree because in 2 of my entries in the me magazine I talked about family and how they impact my identity and how they’re a big part of me that defines who I am today, not entirely but it is definitely a part of me. And I chose the picture that says projects because in my me magazine I talked about how projects are something that I really enjoy to do, and I learned better and more effectively when it comes to putting all that I’ve learned into a project. And I would easily choose a project over something that requires turning in papers. And I chose the word energy and put it in within the word learner because it had that E in it and i chose that word because when energy is really important when it comes to dancing and the way it looks when on stage.
Advanced Essay #2: Languages are Worlds
Language is more than just a way to communicate. Language is a way to see the world, a kind of reality. Speaking, writing, or reading a language is a way of experiencing and perceiving that reality, and each language is a different reality.
My first experience with language (other than English) was Spanish, at my Spanish-immersion school. It’s all a haze of memory, but kindergarden was one big blur, all coming together like a mix of two colors of playdough, or a trix yogurt. I distinctly remember the room, with a connected bathroom and brightly colored walls, plastered with drawings and numbers and letters like any other elementary classroom. The teacher, Maestro Arturo, or Mister Arthur, is from Chile, a country I haven’t heard of in my narrow five years of existence. He speaks a few words of English, mumbling and fumbling through introductions and first lessons. He makes such an attempt to speak well with the English parents, and he is so patient with the children, as are we with him, that even though I don’t remember much from this year, I can easily say that he was a great teacher, and one of the best I’ve ever had. Over the year we stumble through Spanish words, and then Spanish phrases, and then Spanish sentences, finally ending the blur of a year with a grasp of Spanish and still having learned what every other kindergartener learns in a year. I remember not speaking much English with Mister Arthur, and him not speaking much English with us, and to this day I believe that it’s the best way to learn a language: immersion.
To plunge into a language, to be urged to learn the language simply out of necessity, is the only way to learn a language. Not in the classroom writing a word fifty times, or on a computer, yelling into the speakers. The only way to learn a language is to live in it, to marinate in it over time, and to want to learn. Through this immersive learning I have learned two languages other than English, and I plan to continue to grow.
My immersive experience with Spanish was a way to experience and understand this new language, and in turn this new reality. Having learned Spanish, I can say that I know of another side to life, and another world completely different from English. I also learned German from my mother and her family through this immersion.
As I lay in my bed, my hands clasped behind my head, I look out into the night sky through the tiny little porthole window in the ceiling. It is not quite darkness, and it never will be. The light will never fully fade, but just dim until it is barely recognizable. You could still walk and see the world around you. It is late in the night, or early in the morning, and the time blends together. One moment I look into the clock, seeing an eleven, and the next minute I look over to see a two. I lie awake like this for what seems like hours, but I can never quite tell, and the clock is always lying. Everything in this country is new and off in a way that can only be experienced in another country. My body is telling me it’s afternoon and that I should look out of the window and see a sun dipping towards the horizon, but my eyes tell me the truth.
This window in the slanted roof is my only view of the outside world, but in my head, I can experience other worlds. I can hear words and stories, and I can see pictures and places, but there’s still a distinct language to what I hear. I struggle my first few days in this new country, trying to get back the German I once learned, trying to brush off the dust that has fallen over that crystal ball. As I blow it away, the language comes back, I begin to speak with ease, and I can feel a different world around me. I lay in my bed each night, and I slowly feel an evolution come over me. I begin to sleep locally, and my body adjusts its clocks to match the ones on the walls. The thoughts and worlds in my mind slowly switch language, becoming new worlds as I experience them in German.
Each time I go back to visit Germany and my family there, I have to make the evolution from English to German, and it’s a noted change in the way I experience the world, and also the world I am in. Just changing the language I speak and think in changes my world and changes my reality. An ancient Chinese proverb states that:
“To learn a language is to have one more window from which to look at the world.”
Each language is a window to look at the world, but also a reality in and of itself that you can experience. Language is a way to experience, and a way to be. Languages are their own realities and to learn a new language is to learn a new reality.
Works Cited:
Ager, Simon. "Proverbs, Quotations and Sayings about Language." Proverbs and Quotations about Language in Many Languages. Web. <http://www.omniglot.com/language/proverbs/language.htm>.
Literary Robots?!?
Introduction:
The main focus of my essay is the lack of creativity encouraged in writing. I touch upon the way writing is taught to students in the academic atmosphere and what the outcome of these teachings leads to. My introductory paragraph created a strong opening for my topic which was very satisfactory to me. However, as a writer I must improve my ability to build evidence and develop my larger idea.
I am a literary impostor. Of course I know how to write a traditional academic essay, I am not discounting this skill. Yet I struggle with the ability to insert individuality into my writing. This is why I feel that I am not truly a literary for one aspect of being a writer is to project personal thoughts. I feel that this struggle is mutual among my classmates, whether they recognize it or not. At my previous school the students obtaining honor roll could produce a mediocre essay including a vocabulary pull from the seventh grade and thematic cliches, but with the use of the traditional academic format, thrill the teachers and gain an A. When students are praised for this type of product time and time again, their writing will never evolve since personal exploration is never encouraged. In this way students of the 21st century are being raised as literary robots, defeating a fundamental objective of writing.
Reflecting on my literary education, I have concluded it to be very simplistic and sparse. In elementary school the format of a paragraph was first introduced to me through the “hamburger paragraph”, a diagram that illustrates a paragraph’s construction. As elementary school progressed, we worked on strengthening our skills in creating paragraphs using other systems such as TAGS. Up to that point I was successfully advancing with the curriculum. However, the change of school in fifth grade took a toll on my growth in literacy. Throughout middle school writing was treated by the teachers as a minor aspect, as if it were self explanatory. I remember constructing paragraphs for assignments to be a very step-oriented process. Upon beginning high school I carried with me that process, it being the only thing I knew. Every paper I produced seemed to be comparable to the previous, just shedding light on a different topic. No teacher came to the rescue for it appeared that since I knew the traditional academic formatting all was well. Yet I felt worn from the repetition of spewing the same ideas with no distinction from one to the next.
The bud of the problem is that when the format of a paragraph is taught, there is no elaboration on content and construction. With no guidance students may assume that the format of a paragraph is the basic knowledge needed to complete an essay, unintentionally disregarding the composition. These circumstances could result in a plethora of identical essays. When students are not taught to imply individuality, the same set of ideas tend to be recycled throughout their paper without any progression. This can create an exhausting and mundane atmosphere for the writer, causing them to lose interest in their topic. In his book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire stated that “it is the people themselves who are filed away through the lack of creativity, transformation, and knowledge in this (at best) misguided system. For apart from inquiry, apart from the praxis, individuals cannot be truly human. Knowledge emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other.” Freire’s statement is similar to mine in which he touches upon the detachment people have developed through education, which includes literacy in relation to their creativity. With the absence of creativity there is hardly any chance at inserting individuality, giving the produced writing more of mechanical quality with no personal essence.
I sit in front of my computer willing my fingers to type, yet they won’t budge. For an hour and a half I have been staring at a blank page, chasing tantalizing thoughts that dissolve before I can manage to type out a coherent sentence. Another year of tenth grade would not have prepared me for the writing assignment given on the first day of school, for I have never been given such loose guidelines. Teachers were always so exact about what they wanted. Now for the first time I am given the control to have creative ownership over my work, something I have longed for greatly and there is an emptiness. My ideas are missing in action. So I turn to my alternative, using the guidelines given and applying the basic paragraph format. The instance I describe is not a past dilemma, this conflict occurs daily. The fact that I share this problem with fellow students is alarming for the reason that many are unaware. Even more alarming is the fact that some educators deem it acceptable to not expand past the basic paragraph formatting. Writing is an art that captures opinion, personality, and soul propelled by the creativity and individuality of the mind as well as source of analytical text. If writing is further encouraged in this way, new ideas will cease to be produced, and the art of writing will become a myth.
Citation(s)
Freire, Paulo. "Philosophy of Education -- Chapter 2: Pedagogy of the Oppressed." N.p., n.d. Web. 27 Nov. 2015. <http://faculty.webster.edu/corbetre/philosophy/education/freire/freire-2.html>.