• Log In
  • Log In
Science Leadership Academy @ Center City
Science Leadership Academy @ Center City Learn · Create · Lead
  • Students
    • Mission and Vision
  • Parents
  • Community
    • Mission and Vision
  • Calendar

Margaret Hohenstein Public Feed

Maggie Hohenstein Capstone

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Capstone - Hirschfield - Wed on Thursday, May 21, 2015 at 8:26 pm

I created a book full of stories collected from my family members. The stories are organized by date so that when read front to back the book tells the story of our family with as much detail as possible. There are pictures throughout that match with some of the stories, and add a visual representation of us and our lives. At the end of the book is a large selection of blank pages so that people can continue to record stories and memories as they happen. The most important part of this project was collecting the stories. I did this through an interview process. My family is very large, so I only managed to interview approximately half of them. Each person told a story that they thought of when they heard the word family. Then I transcribed what they said, and organized it all into a book. Not only did I learn about my family through this process, but I also learned about how to encourage people to open during an interview, and how to format other's stories into a cohesive piece. This project represents an important part of how I became the person I am, and is set up to continue so that future members of my family will be able to look back and see how we, as a group, have changed through the years. 

Hohenstein Family Book Excerpt
Anotated Bibliography
Tags: capstone, Hirschfield, 2015
Be the first to comment.

Stats Book Talk 1

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Statistics - Miles - B on Friday, May 8, 2015 at 8:42 am
Maggie Hohenstein
Lisa Kang
Q4 Benchmark
Podcast 1
5-8-15
Title song: Coronation Day- Frozen Sound track
Stats Q4 BM Podcast 1
1 Comment

Losing

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 3 - Pahomov - D on Thursday, June 5, 2014 at 9:17 pm

It’s 2048 and the earth has just begun it’s slow demise. The sectors of North America are each experiencing painful attacks; carbon fog roams the streets of Bruhan, only Lemons will grow in Gemack, the sun glares too brightly in Sict, constant earthquakes create thunderous sounds of things falling it Horen and the sulfur burns noses in Gruch. People all over are in constant pain while scientists desperately toil over what they can do to fix it. Finally the find solutions to each of the problems, although they fear for the discomfort it may cause.


“In the new proclamation,” the man with the tie started strongly, firmly; but he tightens his tie with shaking hands and continues, “In the new proclamation there are some rules, rules that must be followed.” The crowd falls silent. They’re standing in neat rows. Children of the age of 5 stand clean and proper behind a sign with a big blue 5 on the left side of the stage. Farther to the right are sequential numbers that went all the way up to 20. Then behind those neat rows were more signs “21-30,” “31-40” and so on up to “81-90”. As the numbers went on the people in the rows got taller, and then paler, and then more shriveled.

“Ahem,” The man tightens his tie again, “These rules, are quite different than the rules we live by today. They are stricter. Safer.” His eyes harden, his confidence returns, “I know many of you have been hearing rumors about us leaving the earth, but No!” He slams his pale fist on the wooden podium in front of him, “We have found a way to keep you safe here.”

The captive audience murmurs and whispers. Energy flies through them. The man with the tie stands still, waiting. The crowd notices, and stops, in sections. The 5 year olds continue making noise until everyone else has stopped. “Ahem,” he clears his throat again, “The formal statement:” ‘formal’ straightens peoples backs and focuses their eyes. “The world has begun it’s fight against mankind, releasing toxins into our air and food. Scientists have been working hard to stop the pain caused by these toxins so that we may continue our lives as naturally as possible. The solution they have found is to remove the sense that is causing pain to our people.”

Energy surges through the crowd. The neat lines loosen and turn into globs. Sweat, nerves and power course through the man’s veins and he slams his hand again. The stress hits him that second, putting tears behind his eyes that he quickly blinks away. He resorts to the only thing he knows, “I WILL HAVE ORDER.” He screams and a vein pops out of his forehead. The crowd freezes. Two women in the 21-30 section have stiff arms against each other’s shoulders. A woman from the 31-40 section has already pushed her way through to section 7 and is clinging tightly to a child. The majority of children from sections 10 and under are merging themselves into the teenage lines, searching desperately for older siblings. The small group of men and women standing in sections 71-80 and 81+ are clearly deep in conversation, a man and a woman holding withered hands. Only one person did not move in the mayhem, a boy in section 17 stands military straight, staring at the man with the tie. Then slowly, as if molasses had spread over the crowd with an invisible knife, they turn their heads, taking steps to reform lines. They aren’t straight or clean. Everyone who used to stand with hands at sides, now stand comfortably with arms crossed or hands on their hips. Everyone, except the boy in section 17, whose arms still hang firmly at his sides.

“Better.” The voice was firm, “But not good enough!” With shocking speed the crowd mimics boy 17. Hands at sides, feet together, back straight, “Now, that’s what I like to see.” The man smiles. The kind of smile that is normally described as evil or sadistic. But this man, with the tie and the power, is happy. They’re listening because they have to, because he is holding their lives in his hands. “Good cooperation, let’s continue.

“The statement reads, ‘Although it would be ideal for the people to retain their abilities, this solution is the best protection we can offer our people,’” In the crowd hands grip behind backs, showing the whiteness of knuckles. Bodies rock forward, pushing weight into toes. “No!” Both hands slam down leaving prints of sweat on the wood, “The senses will be limited,” The man stares straight at the crowd, speaking slowly without regard to the script, “Each sector of the country will now have. Only. Four. Senses. This will vary based on location because, as you all know, attacks have varied.” His lips push upwards, exposing his teeth and spreading warmth down his body.

“You can’t even do that!” Boy 17 screams. He’s wearing faded jeans that fit loosely around his hips, a plain white t-shirt, and canvas sneakers that seem to be more holes than fabric. His face is jeering but his posture stays straight. He appears secure with this expression. It’s clear that he’s the kind of person who enjoys a good joke, especially at someone else’s expense.

The man points, the smile falling from his face, “Would you care to be our example?” He points to the boy and then to the ground next to him. The boy just stares at him “Oh, I get it,” The man says, his fat belly leaning forward onto the podium, “You’re scared.” The boys eyes narrow, the left side of his mouth twitching up.

The boy steps out of line and his faded jeans carry him forward, avoiding the stairs and jumping onto the stage.

“What’s your name, boy?” The man with the tie asks.

“Is that actually important to you?” The boy’s voice is surprisingly soft. He feels as though there’s a rock at the bottom of his stomach but he keeps his expression and body calm. His mind floods with the sensations of his life. The plush silk of his dog’s fur against his cheeks. The bright reds and blues of his 8th birthday party. Sarah’s face, the olive skin with almost black hair. Her smell, soft flowers mixed with lavender. The pungent plastic of his sister’s dolls when they were little. The sirens that bled down his street last week. The whispered word, “You look really handsome,” his mom’s voice transforming into Sarah’s through his dreams. Mac and Cheese. Garlic Bread. Sarah’s mouth.


The man laughs a full belly laugh, bringing Boy 17 back to the present, “You enjoy pushing buttons don’t you?”

The boy doesn’t respond.

“Well then, let’s show these people what’s going to happen! Boy, where do you live?”

“Bruhan” He speaks casually.

“Ah,” The man with the tie clicks his tongue and begins to circle the boy, “You, my dear boy, will lose your sense of touch.”

A gasp rushes through the crowd, but the boy doesn’t even flinch. A woman rubs harshly at her eyes. She is slim the way he is, with a similar nose and curly brown hair. She stands in section 41-50, sneakingly holding the hand of the tall man in front of her. Boy 17’s parents. He just turns his head slowly to the left, staring at the man with the tie, “How?” The word comes out slowly, loudly and the gasp dies away. The tall man squeezes his wife’s hand, a silent statement of it will be okay.

“You underestimate today’s technology.” The man with the tie’s voice sounds like a whisper on the speaker loud but soft, threatening but obvious, “In the olden days there was a disease called Hypothyroid. We found a way to cause this through a special little cream. It’s going to work like this. You’ll give me your arm and I’ll put this special white stuff all over. It may burn a little, but you’re a big boy,” The man taps Boy 17 under the chin, “You’re not afraid. Then I’ll send you away, unless you want to get undressed on stage of course, you’ll finish getting covered and as soon as your skin absorbs all the cream, you won’t be able to feel a thing.”

The majority of the crowd is frozen with shock. The smaller children have collapsed into balls on the ground, some holding their hair or their eyes with tiny fists. The adults rock back and forth, knowledgeable on the consequences of speaking out. The elders clasp hands, the strongest rebellion they can muster. Boy 17 tugs his t-shirt with forefinger and thumb, cooling his chest and stomach, “I never said you couldn’t, I just asked how, now I know.” His voice comes out clean no cracks, no shakes.

The man with the tie can see fear in his audience. He sees the rational thinking that they possess, his brain attempts at logic and fails. “You won’t ever have to feel the pain of Earth’s smoke,” the man tries to soften his voice but Boy 17 wonders what pain? “Victoria, can you bring up the first box?” he calls to the left and wipes the back of his hand on his wide forehand.

A woman in a deep purple pencil skirt steps on the stage. She has dark chestnut hair that falls in intricate braids to her elbows and carries a small metal box. She carries it to the podium and places it on top. She refuses to look the man with the tie in the eye. On the top of the box is the word “Bruhan” written in thick black ink.

The boys hands are shaking as the man steps toward the box. He slides a heavy palm against Victoria’s waist and she sidesteps to the left. He wiggles his fingers above the box, ignoring Victoria’s rejection. “Ready?” the whisper again. The boy nods, quickly. The man grabs the box and nearly shoves it open on the hinge, “Come here,” he beckons the boy closer while the woman steps farther away, all the way off the stage and down the steps, darting back behind the guards.

The boy turns toward the man, takes a few steps and stops, he looks at his shoes, “Can I do one thing first?” His voice cracks, quickly losing its softness for a twinge of fear and a pulse of anger.

“Want your last touch to be something special?” It’s mock concern.

The book looks up, his eyes heavy and dark. His voice strengthens, “Yes.”

“Well, do tell us what that is.”

“My dog’s fur,” the boy hardens his face, “It’s not a request, it’s a demand,” and hops off the stage, clapping his hands and calling, “Roger! Roger!” He hops down between the sections 20 and 21-30.They spread away from him, some with looks of shock on their face and others with looks of pride and reverence.

A large dog with thick white fur comes bounding down the aisle, “There you are,” the boy grips at his chest and buries his face in the dogs back. 3 men push between the lines, disregarding all things. The man on the far left has a bushy black moustache with shorter bristles covering his chubby cheeks. The man in the middle has a thin face but large muscles. The man on the left has slightly smaller muscles and a very clean face.

“Well isn’t this just the sweetest?” The man with the tie grabs the back of the boy’s neck and drags him back onto the stage. The dog whines and the crowd tenses. The man in the middle of the three men in black scoops the dog over his shoulder and the walk single file back to their spot surrounding the circle. The boy just lets it happen. Half walking, half pulling, the man and boy ends up back at the podium with the open box in front of them.

“I’m ready.” The boy closes his eyes and whispers while the man grabs at plastic gloves and plunges his hand into the small box.

“Hold out your arm,” the boy did as he was told and the man grabs his wrist and spreads a silvery pink cream against his hairline. The boy tries to flinch away and gnaws at his lips.

“That hurts,” he breathes.

At the same instant a girl in section 17 cries, “He’s still a kid!” She has olive skin with heavy dark brown hair waving over her left shoulder. Boy 17’s eyes widen and he sways. “This isn’t okay.” The same three men are walking towards her, Boy 17’s knees hit the wood of the stage.

“Sarah,” he whispers, “Don’t.” The three men stand to her side, the one with the moustache touches her arm softly. Boy 17 bends in half, a ball on the stage. The children of the audience scream and the adults begin to talk to each other. A teary-eyed Sarah is being led away from the audience. She seems quiet, not up for a fight, only the people around her saw the way that moustache man looked at her. The way his hand held her wrist, angry and passionate. They saw the fear that hit her face, they saw the defeat.

“Everybody, quiet!” The man in the tie called, “We’re not done yet. The girl will be fine. She was merely experiencing hallucinations because of the earth attacks.” The man in the tie has officially decided to try and soothe the crowd, this is getting too intense, they will see his power later. He crouches next to the boy, “I promise she will be okay, but you must be strong. He holds a hand out to Boy 17, who stands up without taking it. “I think we need some positive energy here. This meeting is about happy news, let us cheer for, you never told me your name.”

“Alex.” Alex’s eyes bend down toward his holey shoes, defeat spreads across his shoulders and lips, red bags already forming under his eyes.

“Let us cheer for Alex!” Children try to wipe their tears. Teens and adults clap respectfully. The elders frown, still holding each other’s hands. The man in the tie smiles broadly, raising his, and Alex’s hand above their heads. Then he turns his head, “Are you ready Alex?”

Alex closes his eyes, breathes deep and inwardly cringes at the squish of the man’s hand against his, “I’m ready.” It’s barely a whisper and he only manages it for Sarah. The man covers Alex’s arms in the burning cold pink cream. He wipes it around his neck. Alex’s mind flicks to the idea of strangling, Please he closes his eyes, please kill me if Sarah is not okay. He thinks for a moment it’s happening when the burning pierces through his skin, but he keeps breathing.

The man scoops one last section of cream from the box with his right hand. Using his left he spreads it across Alex’s forehead. Alex lifts his eyes, holding some kind of connection with this man. The cream is placed along his hairline, jaw bone and nose, “You have to stop crying,” The man says it quietly but harshly, not into the microphone, “Your tears will stop it from working.” Alex just stares at him. The man takes the edge of his shirt and pushes at Alex’s cheeks. The touch isn’t rough which frustrates Alex, he hadn’t even realized he was crying. The cream is spread across his cheeks but this time he doesn’t feel the burn.

“It’s time for you to go, there’s more skin to cover that we don’t want to see here.” The man with the tie puts his hand on the small of Alex’s back and leads him off stage. Alex can feel the pressure and realizes that this may be the last time that happens. He looks down at his arms, swaying against his sleeves and realizes he doesn’t feel anything. “People of Bruhan, follow Alex.” Alex stumbles down the three stairs into the arms of Victoria, she smiles at him but still, he feels nothing.

Men in full black walk down the aisles from the back carrying tall wooden signs. Each sign has a word. Bruhan. Gruch. Gemack. Sict. Horen. The crowd flounders for their family, desperate to go through this pain with the people they love.

The children cry quietly, unsure of what’s going on. They’re carried to proper sectors by parents or older siblings walking with a nervous confidence. A few try to run but the men covered in black tighten around the crowd, standing so close that their shoulders touch. People of all ages plead with the guards, begging them for escape. The guards only looked ahead, pretending as hard as they can that they can’t hear. People shake violently, they know what’s going on. The man’s words on the stage did nothing to help. The elders walk calmly through the crowd, touching the shoulders of people crouched on the ground. They held hands and elbows, they hugged and wiped tears, whispering words of confidence to the children it will be okay. Then leading them to where they belonged.

The man with the tie looms behind the podium. The noise of the crowd increases and nervous faced citizens step up to the men holding the signs who pointed them to tables now set up in front of the stage. These faces, connected to shaking bodies found their way to the tables and slowly, slowly, lost one sense. Often the one they revered the most. A young girl with a passion for singing becomes deaf. An up-and-coming chef loses his taste. One artist loses her sight while another loses her touch.

Women holding children push to the middle. Trying desperately to save their children who cling with small fists to the cloth on their mother’s breast. A father steps into the circle, grabbing his wife’s shoulders and kissing her. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “They’re only taking our taste. We’ll be safer.” He doesn’t believe it but he knows that now is not the right time for a fight.


Alex was led to a small room behind the stage. Victoria followed him inside, closing the door and turning to a counter-top. “You’ll have to take off all of your clothes,” her voice was soft and afraid.

Alex made no movement to take off his clothes, instead saying, “What happens to you?”

“What do you mean?” She whispers.

“What happens to you?” He repeated himself, his words void of emotion, “You’re in the government. Are they doing this to you too?” Alex can see her hands tense against the countertop. He’s hitting a nerve but he doesn’t care.

“I have to go.” She moves her hands to the doorknob, “I’ll be right back.”

“You can’t leave. Then they’ll definitely do something to you.” Alex could sense bitterness within him but he was unable to understand it, “They won’t if you do what you’re told, will they?”

“They already have.” Her soft voice deepened and her muscles clenched inward.

“You’re lying.”

Victoria turns around, tears sitting on the cushion of her eyelashes, she sticks her tongue out, showing the raw skin that it is made of. “It hurts,” she said. Alex feels no sympathy.


In the end no one was saved. In the end, everyone had four senses. In the end, everything was different.

That wasn’t all the change North America faced that day. Fences were constructed. Fences that you couldn’t see in Sict. That you couldn’t feel in Bruhan. Couldn’t smell in Gruch. Couldn’t taste in Gemack. And couldn’t hear in Horen.

The world changed and it hurt. The people hurt. But years passed and things got better. People who were alive that tragic day struggled to recover. The government tried to maintain peace by providing counseling and support. They gained fighters for their reign and people soon began to think of it as natural. Years later the earth stopped producing it’s harmful substances and so the government changed the rules. Losing a sense became a right of passage when you turn 5. A right of passage, the way it was for Alex.
2 Comments

La Silla Azul

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Friday, May 30, 2014 at 6:40 am
Erase una vez era un silla azul. Todas las otras sillas eran rojo, entonces la silla azul estaba diferente. También él estaba único porque no estaba azul por todo su vida. Cuando él era niño, era rojo como las otras sillas. Este es el leyende de que pasa para el silla cambió entró azul.

Era un dia normal. Tommy era encima de una mesa cuando los luzes encendió. Un minuto después un estudiante movió Tommy y el era en el suelo. Durante el día muchos estudiantes fue a la clase de VK. Este es la clase de Tommy estaba. Los estudiantes ponió sus pies en las piernas de Tommy. Tommy le gustaba esto porque esta significa el trabajo de Tommy y el le gustaba tenió el sentimiento de estar útil.

El día pasado a normal pero después de la escuela, estaba estudiantes en el cuadro. Tambien estaba un profesor que se llamado VK. En este hora nadie sentía en Tommy, pero sentía en su amigos.

Un niño puntió a Tommy, “¿Podemos usar el blanqueo en esto?”

“¿Porque?” VK dició.

“Por que quiero saber que va a pasar.”

“OK, vamos.”

En un seguna Tommy era encima de la mesa de laboratorio y todos los estudiantes era alrededor de él. Tommy tenió miedo pero no podió hablar. VK vertió el blanqueo en el medio de Tommy. Algunos estudiantes boqueió y Tommy querió hacer el igual pero no podió. Hació un fuedo en el piel.

“¡La silla cambia a azul!” Un estudiante gritió.

“Es muy interesante,” VK dició, “¿Quieren saber porque?” Todos los estudiantes quierión. VK dició, “un segundo, quiero todo el silla estar el color igual, sí.” Ello usió un cepillo para extender el blanqueo. Todo el piel de Tommy cambió en el mismo color, el color azul. VK empezió explicar porque eso pasar, pero Tommy no podió escuchar porque tenió demasiado dolor.

En el proximo año, Tommy olvidió este evento. Tommy olvidió porque todos los estudiantes tenía amor por Tommy. Cuando clase empezió todos los estudiantes attemptió tomar Tommy, porque él es más interesante de los otros sillas. Aunque los otros sillas no le gustaba Tommy, porque él estába diferente, Tommy estaba contenta porque tenió un trabajo.

Tambien de la amar de los estudiantes Tommy tenió la amar de los professors. En el primer día de escuela, después del verano, todos los professors tenió un lucha para Tommy. Los professors le gustaba tenió un silla diferente en sus cuadros.

Aunque Tommy experienció dolor muy extremo, él vale la pena porque ahora tenía attención y amor.

 

Powtoon de La Silla Azul está aqui


1 Comment

Threads- Q4 Benchmark

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Storytelling - Rami - B on Wednesday, May 21, 2014 at 8:41 am
photo (4)
photo (4)
​
Poem:

Threads pulling pushing aching across the story
Ideas tugging 
through my mind
piercing through
one piece
then two
Hold 
everything 
together
now pull
piece by piece 
coming together
ideas coming together pushing pulling aching.

  • What did you set out to do?

I wanted to find a way to incorporate storytelling into quilt-making. I decided that I wanted to keep it simple and include words in this process. My goal was to show people, including myself, how the process of storytelling was similar to the process of quilt making. 

  • How does your work incorporate the art of storytelling?

I hope my work incorporates the art of storytelling by exploring the story that happens when a creator is making their story. It is also incorporating storytelling because it is the result of a story. 

  • What do you hope your audience gains from your work?
I hope my audience sees that storytelling isn't just one thing. Storytelling can be the actual process of creating something but it can also be the something that was created. Storytelling is complex but the process is manageable and interesting. 
  • What did you gain from doing this work. 
I gained practice in storytelling. I also gained insight into this particular world of storytelling. By researching similar project before starting mine I got to discover what other people were doing with quilts and how they used them to create or tell stories. 
Be the first to comment.

Los Primer Días de Primavera - Silvana

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Thursday, May 1, 2014 at 6:09 pm
the-first-days-of-spring
the-first-days-of-spring
image
image

Mi nombre es Silvana. Soy un niña en el clases baja en Chile. Tengo un vida difícil porque eso. Me gusta los ideas del presidente pero hay demasiado manifestaciones para esos ideas trabajar bien. Para mi, todos los personas en la clase alta son ruidos y estúpido. Tengo un amigo que era en la clase alta. Ello se llama Gonzalo pero el es un poco estúpido también. Pienso que escuela no es necesaria porque hay cosas que yo vale más. Para mi es más importante para trabajar y recibiendo dinero. Muchos personas no está de acuerdo con yo pero no es importa porque sabe que soy correcto.


Cuando veo en el obra de arte de Salvador Dalí veo muchos colores. Sin embargo estos colores no son muy brillantes. El cielo hay muy brillante pero todos las otras cosas son oscuro. Hay muchas cosas pero todos están independente. Porque eso aparece que no hay muchas cosas. Los cosas son un poco extraño. Hay mucho gris y no me gusta esto. Gris es un color deprimiente porque está oscuro. Aunque este gris es tiene más luz de algunos grises aún deprimiente. Pienso que los colores son muy apagados. Todos de los colores aparecer sucio.


El obra de arte The First Days of Spring por Salvador Dalí es un poco confusa. Hay muchos personas que hay diferente y similar para yo. Hay un hombre que sentarse en un silla en la izquierda del obra. No entiendo esta ello porque no entiendo por que hay solamente. Aunque entiendo ello porque aparece triste y mucho tiempo tengo este sentimiento.  En la derecha del obra hay un niña que habla con un hombre. Pienso que ella es similar para yo. Ella habla con el y para mi es porque quiere un situación diferente. Este es igual como yo. En el medio del el obra hay un calle. No entiendo eso porque no hay casas ni edificios en el calle. ¿Por qué hay un calle? Tambien en el centro del calle hay un mujer. La mujer tiene un pescado en su medio. Entiendo pescado representa la primavera pero no entiendo porque hay en su medio. Mi primer pensamiento es que el pescado represente un bebé. Muchos personas cree que el primavera representa nueva vida pero para mi, primavera representa nada porque no es importante. Personas investa demasiado tiempo en el arte y los simbolizaciones. Desde mi punto de vista es más importa para pensar en el moneda y los situaciones del mundo. Personas necessito trabajar más y pensar en arté como esto menos.


Por este obra de arte no no estoy de acuerdo ni estoy de acuerdo. Para mi no es importa. No obstante, escoge este obra porque pienso que es ridículo y quiero explica porque.


Be the first to comment.

Selfies

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Storytelling - Rami - B on Tuesday, April 29, 2014 at 9:56 pm
I decided to take three similar selfies that represented different situations in my life. The first image is a picture of me while at school, the second at home and the third in the airport (a very public place where it is more or less acceptable to not look your best). I chose these place because they were very different but I find myself acting very similar in all of them. I often sit cross-legged because i find it comfortable as well as secure. I also chose not to include my face because I believe that body language shows just as much as facial expressions. I believe that by showing myself cross-legged I am saying that part of me is shy and wants to sit folded up and secure. However, by showing that this is how I sit all the time (even when alone in my room) I am saying that this is just a part of who I am but not all of who I am. The rest of who I am isn't shown in these images, it remains unsaid. 
image (1)
image (1)
photo (3)
photo (3)
image
image
Be the first to comment.

3 Obras de arte

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Friday, April 11, 2014 at 10:46 am
1. Mona Lisa- Leonardo Da Vinci
2. The Scream- Edvard Munch 
3. Starry Night- Vincent van Gogh
url
url
url-1
url-1
url-2
url-2
Be the first to comment.

Un Perro y Guernica

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Thursday, April 10, 2014 at 12:22 pm
Soy un perro. Tengo un familia muy buen y soy muy emocionado para todos los cosas. Me gusta la comida y cuando personas dame atención. Veo en la obra y veo dos perros muy grande. Tambien veo muchos personas y todos era triste. Todos colores estan aqui. Me quiero decir el artista "¿Por que era triste?" No me gusta el obra porque era muy triste. Pienso que todos los personad necessito perros mas pequeña. Yo quiero estar aqui para creada un sonrisa a todos los personas. No entiendo porque triste porque no es necessario. Ademas este obra tiene signifcado para mi porque era muy diferente de mi vida. 
Be the first to comment.

Un Gran Ruptura

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Friday, April 4, 2014 at 2:58 pm
Screen Shot 2014-04-04 at 2.59.52 PM
Screen Shot 2014-04-04 at 2.59.52 PM
Be the first to comment.

Un Canción de Inmigración

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Tuesday, March 25, 2014 at 4:46 pm

El nombre de la canción era Ave Que Emigra. Este canción por Gaby Moreno. Gaby Moreno es de Guatemala. Era un artista famoso en Latin American. Ella era una nueva artista y mucho personas les gustan. Cuando Gaby Moreno era un niña, sale Guatemala. Este canción se trata de un niña que sale su casa en Guatemala. El canción comparado ella y un ave. Dice que los dos sale sus casas y fue muy lejos. Este canción tiene sonidos tranquilo y es un poco lento. Pienso que el cancion se trata de cuando Gaby Moreno era un niña pero nadie sabe esto.

La instrumentación tenía un tono muy calman. Usa dos guitaras. Conviven porque es un canción tranquilamente y la guitarra acústico es un instrumenta tranquilamente. Libertad, y orígenes esta dos temas muy importante en este canción. Para este canción los temas juega el papel de la mensaje. Una parte que Gaby Moreno repite mucho es “Cansados de estar corriendo/ En tiempos de cacería/ Alzo en alto mi vuelo/ Como el ave que emigra.” Este canción tiene el mensaje de libertad. Los lineas creada una idea de inmigración es como ir su casa pero ahora tiene un libertad más de tendría cuando esta en casa. También este canción tiene el mensaje de reconcer sus orígenes, especialmente cuando no vive en su casa original. Un liña que me gusta mucho es "Vengo desde muy lejos, buscando el azul del cielo." Significa el niña quiere un vida nueva. Es un momento de esperanza. Esperanza tiene signifación cuando piense en imigración porque era un tema un poco triste. Era un poco triste porque irse su casa.


Me gusta esta canción porque está calma. También es un poco diferente de muchos otros canciónes de inmigración. Muchos otros canciónes tienes temas un poco deprimente. Está canción se trata de la libertad de inmigración y me gusta el contrasto. Para mi este canción tiene mensaje de libertad. Para mi este canción no se trata de inmigración. Se trata de libertad y esperanza y un vida nueva. Me gusta el mensaje pero pienso que no es todo del mensaje de inmigración. Desde mi punto de vista necessito un tema poco deprimente para tener todo del mensaje en este situación. Por un lado está un situación con muy libertad y felizidad pero por otro lado está un situación cuando personas fuiste sus patrias. Aprendio información de inmigración. Ahora entiendo más de los sentimientos de inmigración. Esté canción enseña me todos personas no está triste cuando piensa en inmigración.


Be the first to comment.

Arboles Tranquilamente

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Tuesday, February 11, 2014 at 5:32 am
Photo on 2-11-14 at 7.54 AM
Photo on 2-11-14 at 7.54 AM

Vivo en el noreste de filadelfia. Mi barrio es Frankford y vivo allí todo de mi vida. Me gusta el parque detrás de mi casa y mi primera escuela. Sin embargo no me gusta los otros personas que viven allí porque ellos solamente están en casa. No se que temas es importante en mi barrio porque no sabe los otras personas para me barrio. No obsante sabe que la escuela es muy importante. Ese es el verdadero porque todos años a Thanksgiving es un partido muy grande y todos gustan eso. Cuando pienso en mi barrio, pienso en las imágenes de mi amigas cuando erán pequeño. Mi familo y mi amigas pasado es personas importante de mi barrio. Yo cambiaría los sentimientos de las personas en mi barrio porque nadie quiere hablar con los otros personas. Cuando pintaría el mural quiero está en la pared de la estadio de la escuela Frankford High School. Quiero eso porque todos personas sabe este estadio y es importante para todos.


El arte puede estar todas cosas pero creo arte necessito un mensaje. Sin embargo un persona puede poner un mensaje a todas cosas. Creo que mi mural es arte porque tengo un mensaje para mi mural. Quiero pintar un lugar muy tranquilamente. Quiero pintar eso porque mi barrio es muy silencio y quiero expresar eso. Eso no honría nadie pero honría el tema en mi barrio. Me motivo hacer este mural porque mi barrio es casi aburrido y este es un espacio mas interesante. Para esto necesito los imágenes de un espacio tranquilamente, por ejemplo los flores y arboles o los animales. El papel de arte público es creada los sentimientos de los personas de la communidad.


Para mi mural quiero muchas aspectos diferentes. Para los arboles quiero muchos cosas para creadar. Quiero muchos cosas marrón porque quiero todo esta el color correcto. Quiero eso porque creo eso es más bonita y creo mi barrio necessito más cosas bonita. El cielo es un espacio de palabras. Quiero eso porque pienso que mi barrio necessita más palabras. Ese es un buen lugar para un mural porque es un espacio muy largo. Sin embargo, los patas no eran buen materiales para un mural. Pero no hay paredes mas bueno en mi barrio. Adémas ese pared es un espacio muy especial porque erá un pared de la estadio de la escuela en mi barrio. Eso es el arté publico porque represente la comunidad y tiene un mensaje. Muchos veces los personas de mi barrio caminan sus perros cerca de este pared. Pienso que los personas gustan un imagen bonita cuando caminan sus perros.


Pienso que mi mural es un bien ejemplo de arte público. Sin embargo mi mural es un poco diferente de otro ejemplos de arte público. Mucho veces arte público es facil para entender porque tiene palabras o personas. Mi mural no tiene personas ni palabras pero tiene un mensaje. El papel de mi mural es para creada sentimientos de los personas en mi barrio.
Be the first to comment.

Mi pared

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Tuesday, January 28, 2014 at 7:40 am
pared
pared

Ese es un buen lugar para un mural porque es un espacio muy largo. Sin embargo, los patas no eran buen materiales para un mural. Pero no hay paredes mas bueno en mi barrio. 

Be the first to comment.

Tarea 1-24-14

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Friday, January 24, 2014 at 12:06 pm
Screen Shot 2014-01-24 at 1.03.09 PM
Screen Shot 2014-01-24 at 1.03.09 PM
Yo soy Porfirio Díaz. Soy el presidente de México y soy un buen presidente. Sin embargo mis persons no les gustan mí. Pero yo no se por qué. Soy fuerte y estoy inteligente. Yo se que yo soy un buen persona. Las opinas de los otras personas no importa. 
Be the first to comment.

Oda de Margarita Neri

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Friday, January 17, 2014 at 1:43 pm
Soldaderas-The-Women-of-the-Mexican-Revolution-Photo2
Soldaderas-The-Women-of-the-Mexican-Revolution-Photo2
Margarita Neri era una mujer de las soldaderas. Ella también era un commander del miltario de Zapata

Una Oda a la confidente Margarita Neri

Valiente. Fuerte. Feroz.

Cuando yo te veo pienso en tu creencia que sí puede.

Me haces pedir ¿qué es fuerte?

Tú, mi inspiración para estar confidente



Be the first to comment.

Mi Marca

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Saturday, January 11, 2014 at 7:36 pm
photo
photo
Esto es mi marca. 
Be the first to comment.

Does In Charge Mean In Charge?

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 3 - Pahomov - D on Monday, December 9, 2013 at 2:11 pm

"The Taming of the Shrew” portrays the idea that men desire relationships for control and do not have a conscience while they are ‘taming’ their ‘shrew.’ Throughout this play a money-driven Petruchio plots ways to lure Katherine into his control. In “Ruby Sparks” a lonely author Calvin has control of his girlfriend Ruby from the start. This is because Calvin wrote a story about a girl who then came to life, claiming to already be his girlfriend. Calvin promises -to himself- not to abuse this power. However he breaks this promises and in the end frees his girlfriend from his control. Although Petruchio and Calvin are not originally after the same thing it is clear that they both want control over their romantic partner. For Petruchio when this control is official it is pleasant but expected. He feels no guilt for what he has done to cause this, only pride that it has happened. “Ruby Sparks” shows that these emotions have not lasted through to today. Calvin receives the power that he thought he wanted. However, he does not enjoy it and feels only guilt. These texts reflect that men’s emotions and ideas on romantic relationships have changed. They now view women as people and therefore have new ideas on what a ‘tamed’ woman is.


Petruchio “I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; If wealthily, the happily in Padua.”


(Act 1. Scene 2. Line 76.)


Petruchio claims to Hortensio that all he wants in a bride is that she is rich. He claims that this will be enough because he will be able to ‘tame’ a woman no matter how cruel. This shows that Petruchio expects a woman to be able to be ‘tamed’ and for her to bend to his every word. However, since this is an expectation and not a request or desire it is not an important part of his choosing a woman. He believes that right now all he requires is someone who is rich and he will be able to make them into whatever else he wants.


In the movie “Ruby Sparks” Calvin shows what his expectations are before meeting Ruby.


Screen Shot 2013-12-05 at 9.30.43 PM
Screen Shot 2013-12-05 at 9.30.43 PM

Harry "Quirky messy women whose problems only make them endearing are not real. Period." …. "That honeymoon shit doesn't last. Women are different up close. I love Suzy but she's a weirdo. Sometimes, she's mean as fuck for no reason. She's a person, you haven't written a person."

(18 minutes)


During this scene Calvin has his brother Harry read a manuscript that he’s written. It is a manuscript of a love story where he mainly describes this one girl, Ruby. His brother claims that Calvin’s expectations are too high, that he has not written someone who has the possibility of being real. Calvin gets defensive and states that he’s not finished yet. However, it is clear to see that Calvin disagrees with his brother’s claim and believes that everything he has written is a perfectly reasonable expectation for him to have.


Both Calvin and Petruchio have high expectations for what they want in a woman. However where Petruchio’s are vague Calvin’s are specific. Petruchio believes that he will be able to make a girl into whatever he wants at any given time. Calvin has already done this, he already decided what he wants and has written it down, trying to make it real. Both men are showing that they have control over the situation and they have the ability to create any girl that they like.

Petruchio “Why, there’s a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.”


(Act 5. Scene 2. Line 197)


Katherine gives a long speech about respecting her husband during a dinner party. This is the first time that she is openly showing that he has power over her. Petruchio responds to this speech by calling her both a wench and Kate. Kate is a nickname that he gave her when he was first trying to gain control over her. He clearly feels no remorse about what he has done to change this girl. However, he is also not surprised by the fact that she changed. This is what he expected, for her to become someone entirely different solely because he wanted her to.


In the movie “Ruby Sparks” Calvin ends up in a very similar situation but he handles it much differently.


Screen Shot 2013-12-05 at 10.00.49 AM
Screen Shot 2013-12-05 at 10.00.49 AM

Ruby: (in french) "But I don't know how to speak french

Calvin: See. Ruby speaks french.

R: (in french) what's happening?

C: I told you I could make you do anything."

(1 hour 25 minutes)


During this scene Calvin shows Ruby, his girlfriend, the immense control that he has over her. He shows her that whenever he writes anything it becomes true. Ruby gets angry and upset, she begins to cry and scream. Calvin clearly feels bad but can no longer control himself. The following scene shows him writing that Ruby is free. She then leaves the house and Calvin is left alone. Although Calvin had control over a girl he allowed her to leave. This is different than what Petruchio did. It shows that although men may still expect control it is not always what they want. It is more likely that they will think about what they have done and how they are affecting this other person. There is more guilt and more conscience.



Society’s, specifically men’s, view on society has changed since the time of Shakespeare. In the play “Taming of the Shrew” it is portrayed that men only want to control their women. This is the expectation so it does not evoke any emotions when it occurs. “Ruby Sparks” portrays that men today still have the same primitive desire to have control in romantic relationships. They believe in the beginning that this is what they want. However, if these men actually gain control it causes them confusion. A realization occurs that this is not what they were expecting. They are more able to feel emotions such as guilt. In some cases, such as the one in “Ruby Sparks,” men use this guilt to lose control. In today’s relationships men do not expect to have full control over their significant other although they may still desire it as an idea.  


Works Cited


Ruby Sparks. Dir. Colin Trevorrow. Perf. Paul Dano. 2012. DVD.


Shakespeare, William, and Thomas Goddard Bergin. The Taming of the Shrew;. New Haven: Yale UP, 1954. Print.


Be the first to comment.

Sí Puedo Vivir Nuvamente

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Tuesday, November 12, 2013 at 7:13 pm

Sí pudiera vivir nuvamente mi vida,

Me sonreiría mas
Me lloraría mas
Me sentiría mas

Sí pudiera vivir nuvamente mi vida,

Jugaría mas y 
trabajaría mas y
viviría mas

Sí pudiera vivir nuvamente me vida,

Hablaría mas y
Eschucharía mas y
Sabría mas

Sí pudiera vivir nuvamente me vida,

Me querría hacer mas


384125_473033926051002_1404713815_n
384125_473033926051002_1404713815_n
Be the first to comment.

E4 U1 El Búho en Mi

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Thursday, October 31, 2013 at 8:57 am
IMG_1206
IMG_1206
IMG_1207
IMG_1207
IMG_1208
IMG_1208

Margaret Mazick Hohenstein. Me nombrado por mi abuela paterno pero me llama Maggie y se llama Marge. Nacio en filadelfia de Joe Hohenstein y Brandice Mazick a 15 de Abril 1997. Tengo 7 gatos y 2 perros desde era un bebé. Attende 3 escuelas en toda mi vida y me gusta escuela mucho.

Yo soy un persona ni alta ni baja. Tengo pelo y ojos marron, igual a mi padre. Neccesito las gafas pero llevo contactos porque me gusto estos mas. Me gusta llevo un poco maquillaje y llevo mucho el tiempo. Porque me llevo un collar de Harry Potter puede ver me gusta Harry Potter mucho. Me llevo la ropa un poco simplicil mucho el tiempo porque me gusta mas. No obstante me llevo los v100estidos a veces y me gusta estos muchos. Se puede ver me tropienza a veces porque tengo los cardenales. Igual a es posible ver me gusta los libros mucho porque me siempre tengo un en mi bolsillo. Cuando en mi casa me gusta lleva los pantalones y camisas muy largo porque me gusta mucha pero no me gusta llevo fui de la casa porque esas ropas es un poco fea. En general yo soy un person normal cuando vee a me. 

En cuanto mis relaciones académicas, mis profesores y yo nos llevamos bien. Me da risa el Señor Baird porque el es muy gracioso. La Srta. Pahomv me cae bien pero no es muy especial. A veces me molesta el señor Sherif porque el es muy permisivo y me gustan los profesores mas autoritario. Me entiende la señorita Echols porque se caen cuando yo era una freshman y hablamos mucha. La señora Rami me cae bien porque ella era simpática y cariñosa. La Señora Rami gusta En total mis profesores y yo nos llevamos bien. 

Me da risa mi mejor amiga, Lisa. A veces me está enojada o triste y me da risa ella. Ella y yo tenemos humor igual. Ella es muy graciosa y intelligente pero ella es introvertida. Lisa es un mejor amiga muy bien.

Me entiende mi hermana. Sin embargo mi hermana se gusta estar sola y me gusta el otro personas mucha del tiempo. Me dan risa mis padres y me inspira mis abuelos. Cuando yo voy a la casa de mis abuelos me siempre feliz. Mi abuela y yo gustamos hablar y ella tiene mucha preguntas. Igual a me caen bien todos mis primos. Mi primo Riley es muy graciosa pero ella también nerviosa. Ella tiene 16 años igual a mi. Nosotros hablamos mucho cuando está juntos. 

Me gusta escribir y soy inteligente. Me gusta trabajar. A veces yo soy madura pero no es todo el tiempo, con mis amigos nunca estoy tímido pero cuando las personas no se yo soy un poco tímida. Yo soy una persona introvertida y extrovertida. A veces me gusta las otras personas mucha y aveces me gusta nadie. Cuando me gusta nadie me leo o escribo. Valgo mucha las palabras y en el futuro, quisiera estar una persona que escribo libros. Ahora me escribo tres novelas pero soló gusto dos. Me molesta mucha cuando puedo escuchar un persona comida. Mis compañeros dicen que yo es cariñosa pero solamente cariñosa a veces. No obstante yo soy simpática y graciosa. Pero a veces mis amigos dicen que mis chistes es horible pero me gusta mucho. Me dan risa todos de mis amigos y mi familia. Tengo mucho miedo de las peliculas horror pero me gusta las peliculas comedias. Sin embargo no me gusto veer muchas peliculas porque me siempre quiero hacer algo. Cuando me está muy aburrida me gusta fui al parque y veo los personas. No veo un persona mucho solamente veo los personas en general; es muy interesante porque los personas muy interesante mucho veces. 

Mi máscara es de búho. Está dos razons para porque me eligo este máscara. El primero razon es búho son muy intelectuales y yo soy intelligente. El segundo razon es de búhos son el animales favoritas de mi abuela materna y mi. 

Be the first to comment.

Write to Connect

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Reading, Writing, and Rising Up - Rami - B on Monday, October 21, 2013 at 9:45 am

I write to connect. That is the main reason why I write. I write because it exposes myself. Writing allows me to do this because it lets me share things that I never thought I could talk about without showing people everything about who I am. People know me without knowing me. Writing out these moments and stories that live in my head put myself in a new, slightly uncomfortable position; having others read them becomes even more uncomfortable. For some reason I continue sharing my writing; I continue to expose myself in this way because I love it, it's worth the uncomfortable feeling.

I also write to connect with ideas. Nearly every night I write in a journal. This is an attempt to connect with the ideas that are flying around in my head. Writing them out allows them to form fully and fully formed ideas are much easier to connect with. Even though no one else reads this writing I feel as though I understand myself better.

I am a writer, I am a novelist. My writing has put my into a world full of all types of people. I have met and connected with people over the ideas that we put into words. I have been exposed to new challenges and experiences because of words.


Be the first to comment.

Diario #5

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Wednesday, October 9, 2013 at 10:29 am

Yo soy una persona introvertida y extrovertida. A veces me gusta las otro personas mucha y aveces me gusta nadie. Valgo mucha de las palabras y en el futuro, quisiera estar una persona que escribio libros. Me molesta mucha cuando puede escucho un persona comidas. Mis compañeros dicen que yo es cariñosa pero solamente cariñosa a veces. No obstante yo soy simpática y graciosa. Tengo mucho miedo de las peliculas horror. Sin embargo me gusta las peliculas comedias. 
Be the first to comment.

Diaro #4

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Tuesday, October 8, 2013 at 2:49 pm

Statement: Me da risa mi mejor amiga, Lisa.

Evidence: A veces me está enojada o triste y me da risa ella. Ella y yo tenemos humor igual. Ella es muy graciosa y intelligente pero ella es introvertida.

Conclusion: Lisa es un mejor amiga muy bien.


Be the first to comment.

Diaro #3 Las Relaciones Académicas

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Thursday, October 3, 2013 at 1:44 pm
En cuanto mis relaciones académicas, mis profesores y yo nos llevamos bien. Me da risa el Señor Baird porque el es muy gracioso. La Srta. Pahomv me cae bienu pero no es muy especial. A veces me molesta el señor Sherif porque el es muy permisivo y me gustan los profesores mas autoritario. Me entiende la señorita Echols porque se caen cuando yo era una freshman y hablamos mucha. La señora Rami me cae bien porque ella era simpática y cariñosa. En total mis profesores y yo nos llevamos bien. 
Be the first to comment.

Diario #2

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Wednesday, September 18, 2013 at 10:29 am
medium
Maggie Mazick Hohenstein: nombrado por su abuela paterna. Nacio en filadelfia de Joe Hohenstein y Brandice Mazick a 15 de Abril 1997. Tiene 7 gatos y 2 peros desde era un bebé. Attende 3 escuelas en toda su vida y le gusta escuela mucho.
Be the first to comment.

Diario 1 como soy

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Friday, September 13, 2013 at 2:59 pm

Yo soy una persona símpatico. Me gusta escribir y soy inteligente. Me gusta trabajar. A veces yo soy madura pero no es todo el tiempo, con mis amigos nunca estoy tímido. Me entiende mi hermana. Sin embargo mi hermana se gusta estar sola. Me darisa mis padres y me inspira mis abuelos. Me llevo muy bien con mis professores. Igual a me caen bien todos mis primos. Mi primo Riley es muy graciosa pero ella también nerviosa. 

Be the first to comment.

Español 4

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 4 - Manuel - E on Thursday, September 12, 2013 at 9:08 am
Estoy emocionado continuar español 4 porque quiero hablar español fluente a un tiempo. -Maggie
Be the first to comment.

Humanities Final Portfolio 2013

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 2 - Block on Monday, June 10, 2013 at 1:27 pm
Screen Shot 2013-06-11 at 8.39.59 AM
Screen Shot 2013-06-11 at 8.39.59 AM

Every person in the world sees everything, every particle every atom, differently. These differences may be small, smaller in fact than the atom itself but, they are there. The reason this happens is because each and every person lives an entirely different life. They experience different things in different combinations and they hear and see different stories. In 10th grade English and History class this topic was an underlying theme that varied in importance depending on the assignment.

As a class we spoke about Language, and what it means to each individual. There were many different beliefs and ideas flying around the room. However, when we were to told to write a Language Autobiography each child in the classroom successfully came up with their own idea, and used their own stories to back it up. I personally wrote about the language I grew up with. Although it was English, it wasn’t the same English that so others use. I grew up originally because my family taught me with words.

This teaching through language led to so many other things in my life. I grew up loving words and the father I get in my life the more I love them and the more I want to share them with others. When we were assigned to write an Op-Ed, a persuasive news piece, I knew immediately I wanted to write about Creative Writing. I’ve always believe that creative writing is something that all people need, something that schools should be teaching. During my Op-Ed I stated, “The ability to express yourself creatively in an environment like school is the kind of opportunity that not enough people get but everyone should.” This statement was one of my chances throughout the year to expose people to my way of thinking, my lense.

We did get a chance to explore creative writing in my class. In the beginning of the year we learned about a project known as the Keystone Pipeline. This was a proposed pipeline that would be built from Canada all the way to Texas. We explored a lot about the effect this pipeline would have on many different people. To explore this more thoroughly we had to write 3 or 5 monologues, depending on if you had a partner, from different perspectives. My monologues, written with a partner, gave me a chance to go through all of the different experiences that this pipeline was causing. I got to see through the different lenses of many different people, and even objects. The first monologue I wrote was from the position of one of the natives being kicked out of her home, I wrote, “ I’m not worth it, and this is my only chance. I may never be allowed to leave again but, (pause) well I’m taking advantage of a bad situation. It’s not a good thing. At least, that’s what they told me.” This young girl was in a hard position. She wasn’t sure what was right or wrong and she wanted to run away but was faced with the question, ‘Is now the right time?’ Because we had to write more than one monologue I got to explore another lense. I decided to follow a different path. One of an adult male who had gotten a job working on the pipeline, I wrote, “Oh but let daddy tell you about this new job. (stop rocking both kids, hold out) Daddy’s building a pipeline, that’s right. For all the oil way up here in Canada to get all the way down to Texas. Probably the longest pipeline in history.” This man was in a completely different situation than my previous character. Just writing this I felt a different lense snapping on, for a moment.

The fact that each person has a different lense is something that I feel like I have always known. However I have never explored it quite the way I did this year. As a class we each delved deep into our own personal experiences and then shared them with each other. This sharing was what really led to my own understanding of other people’s lenses. Because I began to hear some of the stories that people told, because I began to recognize the way they told them. I began to see through their lense. I understand that because of my lense it is unlikely that I will ever get a perfectly clear picture of how they see the world but I know that it is not the same as me. No one sees the world just the way that I do. I, like everyone else that has ever existed, am an original, I see things the way I see things because I am me.


Other pieces of my work:

Journal about the Pledge of Allegiance

Journal about defining freedom

Literary Lens Explanation
Be the first to comment.

English Journal #42

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein on Thursday, May 23, 2013 at 9:14 am
What prevented adults from acknowledging the simple truths of a 12 year old boy? Can you think of other examples of groups of people failing to recognize rality?

To say that they have no not acknowledged his truths is inaccurate. They simply did not acknowledge them as true, their truths are different from his. The adult's truths were to see 'liberty and justice for all.' That was what they wanted to, and did, believe. That was their truth and because many people disagree with their truth does not make it untrue, in the same way that it does not make the 12 year old boy's truth untrue. They are simply true in different ways.
Be the first to comment.

English Journal #39

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein on Thursday, May 23, 2013 at 9:02 am
How do you define freedom? Provide an explanation for your definition.

I do not feel that I am in a place where I can define freedom. Freedom means different things for each person and cannot be confined by one person's experience. I have yet to decide/ discover what my definition of freedom is but I hope when I find it I do not let it overpower the word and force me to see only my way of thinking.
Be the first to comment.

Group Podcast

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 2 - Block on Friday, March 1, 2013 at 9:01 am
Group Members:

Alex Held
Alisha Rothwell
Klarissa Hudson
Jeremiah Cunnigham
Maggie Hohenstein
Final Group Podcast
Be the first to comment.

Crossing Boundaries Podcast

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 2 - Block on Tuesday, February 26, 2013 at 5:41 pm
My podcast talks about crossing the boundary of language as well as culture. As a sign language interpreter my mom has to stay on the boundary to keep accurate and honest translations.
Interview reedited
Be the first to comment.

Language Autobiography 2013: Double Sided

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 2 - Block on Monday, January 14, 2013 at 12:53 pm

In my 10th grade English Class we wrote Language Autobiographies. This entailed writing scenes that showed how you communicated. Each person focused on a different topic that went along with language. To continue with our exploration of language each student made a digital story that could go along side their autobiography but was not identical. We each created extremely different projects come from the same main idea.


“I understand what you’re trying to say but...” The most common words in my family. We always start the same, ten o’clock, the t.v. turned off and we’re all ready to go upstairs and slide into our beds. Then someone remembers one last story, one last thing that happened that day. They begin their story and out of courtesy we all stay to listen. 


“So, today in class we were talking about women in advertisements.” Today is my turn, I begin but my family only listens with uninterested faces. Yet I know they care, “It said that owning an image of a nude woman is the same as a desire to own the portrayed woman.” They’re listening now so much so that it’s their turn to talk.


“That’s ridiculous,” My mom starts angrily but with a smile on her face, “I mean if that’s true then we own a lot of women.” 


“Yeah I know, so I spoke up afterwards when we were talking about it saying that I disagreed and Block responded, ‘So you think putting porn on your wall is different than a nude portrait, interesting.’” I know I’ve lost my story now because they’ve all started talking, saying more or less the same thing.


“He actually said that?” My sister questions, rolling her eyes, “Well that escalated quickly.” This is how it starts, this is how it always starts. And then we get further into the ideas and principles behind the event and we each take our own stance.

“I’ve never understood the fascination with Barbie though,” I start a new side of the argument, “I mean I understand what you’re saying but there are a lot of people who take that too far, I mean you guys let me play with Barbies and I didn’t ever want to be like them, nor do I know anyone who did.”


“That’s true,” my dad starts, ready to counter but my mom cuts him off quickly, “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t girls who do.” We could go back and forth forever.


This is how it always was and I hope will always be in my family. My parents have never told me my opinion is wrong but they often attempt to convince me of their opinion. However because of the argumentative strategies they’ve taught me, I rarely back down, in fact I oppose them as well. Language for me has always been able to give me the ability to oppose and to stand up.


Language can give you the power to convince others you’re right. To explain to them what it means to be you, and what it is you believe. I have always been in an environment that allows me to express what I’m actually feeling. This isn’t to say that there aren’t times or moments when I am not interrupted or yelled at. I just always have someone I can go to to explain what it is that I meant or what I was going to say.

It can and should be this but that does not mean it should always be this. There are times when you need to relax, to be a part of something simpler and easier.


The front door opens as I sit on the couch. I can see who is there, just that there’s someone. “Spies!” I scream towards the shape coming through the front door that I hope is my sister.


“Dinkleberg!” She calls back, confirming it’s her.


“Maybe you should sell me and buy a rabbit instead!” I scream again, sprawled on the couch.


“At least a rabbit would be better than you!” My sister walks into the room calmly.


“I bet it’d be smarter than me too!”


“And quieter!”


“You’d like it cause it’d be stinky like you!”


“Go to your room!”


“I’m already in my room!” I laugh as we finish the scene so often recited by our tongues, the scene from Lilo & Stitch. 


This other side of language, the side of love and happiness. The way that my sister and I can speak to each other and know how we’re feeling just by the quotes we say or the songs we sing. We’ve always worked as a unit, knowing where to be and what to say because of all the things we’ve said in the past. However each time is different. Each word can take on so many different forms, creating endless options. Language has connected us in a way nothing and no one else has. Similar to Gloria Anzaldúa in How to Tame a Wild Tongue, “My ‘home’ tongues are the languages I speak with my sister and brothers, with my friends.” This is how I feel when I speak with my sister, I feel at home. 


Because of this I am a rare one. I am different. Others do not have to freedom and support that I do when it comes to language. They are restricted and kept in by it. They often do not get the chances that I get to speak out. I do not know what this feels like. I do not know the thoughts that you might think. However, I know how good it feels to have this freedom, and I respect it. I know I am lucky.


Language can transform from something all about power and the ability to stand up for yourself to being able to connect with someone. I have been lucky enough to learn both sides of that in the same household. I have grown up appreciating every word and syllable I and others use and know. I have grown up with the idea that you must be careful with what you say but you must also be willing to take a break, to go “without a filter” as my mother says. You have to know when to say what  you want, what makes you comfortable, and when you must say what you mean.

Anzaldua, Gloria. Borderlands/La Frontera. San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books, 1999. Print.

My First Project from Maggie Hohenstein on Vimeo.

Tags: Language, English
Be the first to comment.

Language Autobiography 2013: Double Sided

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein on Monday, January 14, 2013 at 9:04 am
​In my 10th grade English Class we wrote Language Autobiographies. This entailed writing scenes that showed how you communicated. Each person focused on a different topic that went along with language. To continue with our exploration of language each student made a digital story that could go along side their autobiography but was not identical. We each created extremely different projects come from the same main idea.

“I understand what you’re trying to say but...” The most common words in my family. We always start the same, ten o’clock, the t.v. turned off and we’re all ready to go upstairs and slide into our beds. Then someone remembers one last story, one last thing that happened that day. They begin their story and out of courtesy we all stay to listen.

“So, today in class we were talking about women in advertisements.” Today is my turn, I begin but my family only listens with uninterested faces. Yet I know they care, “It said that owning an image of a nude woman is the same as a desire to own the portrayed woman.” They’re listening now so much so that it’s their turn to talk.

“That’s ridiculous,” My mom starts angrily but with a smile on her face, “I mean if that’s true then we own a lot of women.”

“Yeah I know, so I spoke up afterwards when we were talking about it saying that I disagreed and Block responded, ‘So you think putting porn on your wall is different than a nude portrait, interesting.’” I know I’ve lost my story now because they’ve all started talking, saying more or less the same thing.

“He actually said that?” My sister questions, rolling her eyes, “Well that escalated quickly.” This is how it starts, this is how it always starts. And then we get further into the ideas and principles behind the event and we each take our own stance.
“I’ve never understood the fascination with Barbie though,” I start a new side of the argument, “I mean I understand what you’re saying but there are a lot of people who take that too far, I mean you guys let me play with Barbies and I didn’t ever want to be like them, nor do I know anyone who did.”


“That’s true,” my dad starts, ready to counter but my mom cuts him off quickly, “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t girls who do.” We could go back and forth forever.

This is how it always was and I hope will always be in my family. My parents have never told me my opinion is wrong but they often attempt to convince me of their opinion. However because of the argumentative strategies they’ve taught me, I rarely back down, in fact I oppose them as well. Language for me has always been able to give me the ability to oppose and to stand up.

Language can give you the power to convince others you’re right. To explain to them what it means to be you, and what it is you believe. I have always been in an environment that allows me to express what I’m actually feeling. This isn’t to say that there aren’t times or moments when I am not interrupted or yelled at. I just always have someone I can go to to explain what it is that I meant or what I was going to say.

It can and should be this but that does not mean it should always be this. There are times when you need to relax, to be a part of something simpler and easier.

The front door opens as I sit on the couch. I can see who is there, just that there’s someone. “Spies!” I scream towards the shape coming through the front door that I hope is my sister.


“Dinkleberg!” She calls back, confirming it’s her.

“Maybe you should sell me and buy a rabbit instead!” I scream again, sprawled on the couch.

“At least a rabbit would be better than you!” My sister walks into the room calmly.

“I bet it’d be smarter than me too!”

“And quieter!”

“You’d like it cause it’d be stinky like you!”

“Go to your room!”

“I’m already in my room!” I laugh as we finish the scene so often recited by our tongues, the scene from Lilo & Stitch.

This other side of language, the side of love and happiness. The way that my sister and I can speak to each other and know how we’re feeling just by the quotes we say or the songs we sing. We’ve always worked as a unit, knowing where to be and what to say because of all the things we’ve said in the past. However each time is different. Each word can take on so many different forms, creating endless options. Language has connected us in a way nothing and no one else has. Similar to Gloria Anzaldúa in How to Tame a Wild Tongue, “My ‘home’ tongues are the languages I speak with my sister and brothers, with my friends.” This is how I feel when I speak with my sister, I feel at home.

Because of this I am a rare one. I am different. Others do not have to freedom and support that I do when it comes to language. They are restricted and kept in by it. They often do not get the chances that I get to speak out. I do not know what this feels like. I do not know the thoughts that you might think. However, I know how good it feels to have this freedom, and I respect it. I know I am lucky.


Language can transform from something all about power and the ability to stand up for yourself to being able to connect with someone. I have been lucky enough to learn both sides of that in the same household. I have grown up appreciating every word and syllable I and others use and know. I have grown up with the idea that you must be careful with what you say but you must also be willing to take a break, to go “without a filter” as my mother says. You have to know when to say what  you want, what makes you comfortable, and when you must say what you mean.


Be the first to comment.

Pipeline Monologue Project

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in World History - Block on Tuesday, October 16, 2012 at 6:13 pm

I. Introduction

The Keystone XL Pipeline has been the main topic of the first quater in my World History class. We started off with basic researching, finding out about the people who wanted it stopped so badly they would sleep in trees to the fact that Obama has approved some of it but not all of it. We discovered arguments for or against it and everyone slowly came to their own conclusion of wether it was right or wrong. Then once we were all firmly on our own side we were told to write monologues from different perspectives. That was the hard part, trying to think the way someone else would, trying to see why they would or wouldn't want the pipeline to be completed. I chose some people who were similar to myself because they weren't so sure one way or the other. I also chose a worker who was all for it because it meant a new job and a new house. It was hard at first but once you got into the proper mindset everything seemed to flow. In the following you will see a sample to a truly infinite number of opinions. 


II. Monologues

IIa. The Indigenous Runaway

(Kneeling in front of suitcase, calls out) “Yes mom!” God, she’s so annoying of course I’m packing. She thinks I want to -, “In a second mom! I’m packing!” god I can’t wait to get out of this hell hole. To get away from her. “MOM STOP NAGGING! COME IN HERE IF YOU THINK I’M NOT PACKING!” (pause) Aww shit, “No, mom, I’m sorry. No mom don’t cry.” Ugh. (Slams suitcase) 

She always does this. I don’t get why she’s so upset. It’s not easy living here. We finally have an excuse to leave but I seem to be the only one who sees it. That’s why I’m leaving tonight, not tomorrow, with the group, tonight. I can’t wait any longer, (re-opens suitcase) “Hey Mom! (pause) Yeah! I know I’m still sorry. Where’s my sock? (pause) Why are you crying?! IT’S A SOCK MOM CALM DOWN!” 

I guess she has a point. I mean I never really did think about why we’re leaving. That fucking pipeline. I don’t even know what it’s about, just that there’s oil and it’s coming from here.  So we gotta leave. It’s dumb really. I don’t even get the idea of transporting that much oil. Like why? Especially if it’s causing this many people this much pain. That’s all. It’s killing my family and I don’t want that to happen but.... (Closes suitcase), “MOM! (pause) No sorry I’ll stop.” I start thinking like her and then she goes and says something like that. Thanks mom, glad I’m annoying and ask too many questions. Shit though, she’s gonna make so hard to run away. Shit brain, I don’t want to see that. She’s gonna cry isn’t she, she’s gonna cry hard. 

She shouldn’t. I’m not worth it, and this is my only chance. I may never be allowed to leave again but, (pause) well I’m taking advantage of a bad situation. It’s not a good thing. At least, that’s what they told me. It just runs through everything and chops down everything. That’s what papa told me. That those other men just cut down all the trees so they can get all the oil out of the ground to use to drive their cars. I probably.... shouldn’t.... use that to run away but, but, but, I have to get out of here. No matter what.  “MOM! ONE LAST QUESTION! (pause) Please mom? (pause) Would you kill me if I ran away?”

IIb. One In Thousands

Not many people know that my “kind”, the sensors exist in the pipeline but the people that do think that we are like superstars. (One sided conversation)“Pleaseee!!! Just shut up.” (Sigh) “Momma, stop yelling at me!” I should have never said anything. “Am I even your daughter? (Pause) “Then why are you yelling at me? I just...wanted to express my feelings towards our new home. I don’t like it. Is that wrong?” (Pause) (Roll her eyes) “I don’t care if we all need a new job. (Hand gestures)There’s plenty of jobs out there that won’t have such high expectations of us.”


(Pause)(Sound apologetic) “No, no. That’s not what I mean. I didn’t...” (Pause) Mom! I’m sorry. I’m not saying that you aren’t good enough. It’s just that, I’m just afraid that if we fail... you know. What will happen to us? The company already put in a lot of good words for us and made us sound amazing and if we made a mistake...all the other sensors will blame us. And not just them but everyone else also. Mom...don’t walk away, please...” (Sigh) “Dad.. where are you going? I just..” Great just great. My parents are having another “deep” conversation. I guess, I’ll just take a walk around the neighborhood.


(Stare to the right)Look at those kids. Laughing and playing without a worry in their mind. Little do they know what they are going to grow up having to deal with. All 16,000 sensors will have to go through years of pain and hate. The company? They don’t care about us. They only think about themselves and money. Greedy people. If something goes wrong, they’ll just blame us. “Oh, there’s something wrong with our sensors.” Pathetic. Why is it that I’m the only one that could see that we shouldn’t be here?


I always knew I was different. Ever since I was little, I would express my feelings and if I disagreed with something, I would tell people why. Suddenly, one of the kids starts to brag about how awesome they are. I can’t stand it anymore. I had to talk to them. “Are you guys not scared of working here?”


(Pause) “Of course I am. You guys won’t ever understand why.” (Pause) They’re laughing at me. I’m not going to waste my time explaining to them. No one ever listens. “Hey, don’t tell me to get lost.” (Pause) “SHUT THE HELL UP!” Gosh, they are so rude. Wait..get lost? Why not? That’s a brilliant idea. If I don’t wanna stay here, I don’t have to. I’ll make it. Find a new place to stay or even go back to our old home.


(Rrrrrring...) “Hello? Oh hey aunt Sally. What’s up?” (Pause) “Really?? Mom and dad would definitely be okay with it. Nooo, you don’t have to talk to them. I’m sure they’ll let me go. Okay, see you soon. (Hangs up phone and throws it away) Bye bye pipeline.


History BM from Lisa Kang on Vimeo.

IIc. Be Like a Tree and "Leaf"

(Holding arms straight at sides, look tired eyes nearly closed)

“Ahhh the forest, so peaceful. So quiet. So... so.. lonely.” (pause) “Jimmy shut up. I wasn’t talking to you. Yeah I know you’re ‘always there for me.’ Trust me, I can tell when you’re branches come flying into me. You don’t have a choice.” (pause) “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that I’m kind of bored. Ooooh look people, Jimmy shut up.” 

Who are they? Wait, what was that they just said? Pipeline what’s that? Oil? Oh is that what that taste has been. I hope they get it out. OH GOODY THAT’S THEIR PLAN! (pause twiddle thumbs) Wait hold on, what was that? Cut down all the trees? Hold on.. Wait. Cut down? I mean- well- It’d be different scenery. Well, no scenery. Doesn’t sound so bad I guess. It’d be quieter. Actually, it sounds great. (smile) I never noticed that this is what I wanted. (frown) But it all makes sense now. Wait hold on, but the rest of the forest, and the people- the natives. They’ll all have to leave, everyone else will get cut down. 

Oh thank god they're gone, “Jimmy (pause) Yeah I know. (pause) Is it bad that I want- Is that what they said, 1700 miles long? That’s really long.” I’m not that important but if they don’t cut me down I could be here for another hundred years! I can’t last 100 years with Jimmy. I just can’t. Not that I really have a choice. I just feel like I need to have a side, “Hey Jimmy (pause) Wait I’ll ask in a second, more people are coming,” It’s the natives. (listening) Did he just say that this pipeline thingy thing would run through the aquifer? That’s not- that’s not okay. But gosh what it would be like not to have to live here anymore. Not to have to carry these branches or taste the oily water through my roots day after day after day. Wait hold on, spills? What kind of spills are they talking about? Wait like, like the oil here? Other plants, maybe even animals are gonna have to taste this? 


That’s, not good. I don’t want other people to go through this. I don’t think I have a choice in sides. Oh and there go the natives. At least I have time- well maybe not. More people.. What is that their carrying? It looks like, ladders? A little ironic of them to be carrying wooden ladders. You know through a forest and all. Ow! Get off!! (flinch arm) No one said you could do that. Why the hell are you climbing up there? That’s my branch! (Glare at arm) Excuse you! Holy shit how many of you are coming. No, no let’s stop there. Oh, oh yeah, no let’s not kick the ladder down either. Ohh kay then. Guess we’re hanging out then huh. Guess my side has been chosen, pipelines are bad... apparently.

IId. Spinning Slowly

(Surprised)(Look over to the left shoulder) “WHAT??? YOU WANT ME TO DESTROY THE HUMANS? SAM, YOU MUST BE CRAZY!!!” (Pause)(Look over to right shoulder) “What do you think, Sammy?... Okay! (Angry) NEVER MIND. STOP FIGHTING!! (Sigh) (Cover ears) Will both of you just go away? (Whining) Please.. I need time to think on my own so would you please do me a favor and leave?” (Sigh) 

(Frown and sound disappointed) What’s the point? Telling them to go away is the same as telling myself to go away. (Look straight ahead) Have you guys ever had that weird feeling...when you hear tiny voices inside you, that keep on telling you things? Oh, right it’s call your conscious. Well, I have 2 of them and they do not like each other. And when I say that they don’t like each other, (Slowly and out a lot of emphasis on the word “hate)I mean they absolutely hate each other. Sometimes I wonder how they both could be inside of me without destroying me. But that’s not what I should be worrying about. Well....at least for now. 

For such a long time now, I’ve been very stressed and it’s all because of ruthless humans. If they could hear me, I would ask them why. Just why are they still trying to destroy me. I have given them a shelter for many, many years now and they just don’t seem to care about me. That pipeline is going to harm me and all living organisms on the planet. But they don’t care. (Look and sound evil) Maybe Sam is right. If I destroy them all, then I would be a much happier planet. I could live like all the other planets. It would work. (Trying to sound convincing) Yeah, I mean if they don’t care about me, then I don’t have to care about them right? I could drown them all and that’s what I’m going to do. (Sigh) (Frown and sound disappointed) Ahhh, but I... can’t. I want to do it but Sammy also has a good point. I could wait and just watch them slowly destroy themselves. (Sigh) I guess I’m just not heartless. I can’t do it. I won’t do it... well at least not now.

IIe. A Brand New Job

(Standing stage right as if just got home) “Shut up!” (storm stage left and lift two bundles out of cradle) “You’re always crying.” (begin to rock bundles) “I guess I would be too. Living in this house” (walk to seat stage right, sit) “But don’t worry sweeties (smile) I got a job now. That’s right (pride) you’re big ol’ dad went and got himself a job. A good job too, pay me good and keep my mind off things. Awww don’t worry Lil, (stop rocking one child) Mama will be home with you. Mama works at night. That’s right. She gets to play and I gets to sleep. 

Oh but let daddy tell you about this new job. (stop rocking both kids, hold out) Daddy’s building a pipeline, that’s right. For all the oil way up here in Canada to get all the way down to Texas. Probably the longest pipeline in history. I don’t start just yet. Got to get the okay from the big man down south. (pause) That’s right Lil, Obama. He ain’t approved it yet but I don’t know why he wouldn’t. It’s a damn good thing for them to get the oil from us, they don’t need nobody elses. Anyways its cheaper up here. And you know what the man who hired me said. He say that the pipeline gonna lower gas prices. Mmmmmhhhhmmm. I mean, I heard some rumor that this oil is tons dirtier but rumors are rumors. (Sad, worried) But der sure are a whole lotta rumors. People keep sayin’ it’ll spill or that it’s all corruption. (Smile) But ne’er mind all that.

Awwwww babies why you gotta start crying again? It’s a good thing! Daddy gonna get us some real money, to buy a real house. That’s right, (begins to rock again) We gonna get ourselves outta here right when that pipelines through and we gonna get ourselves down to the U S of A. Aww yeah that’s right Joe, you stop crying cause you know things gonna get better 

(pause calls out) Naw honey! I ain’t talking to the kids again. (pause) Aw shit Bertha, you make it sound like I’m crazy when you know I ain’t (pause) They were crying is all I was tryin’ to comfort ‘em. (pause) Ain’t no reason for you to be all snippy. (pause) Now hold up! I went and got myself a new job just today so you ain’t got no right to keep callin’ me that! I ain’t lazy anyways. (pause) I know it don’- (pause) 

Aww shucks sweetie I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you or nothing. (puts babies down) Aww girl you know I love you. (pause) Yeah I know. (pause) I could drive you if you want. (pause) The twins will be fine. (pause) Alright, you almost ready? (pause) Mhm yeah I can wait.(from here on out move more freely sits down puts feet up reaches for remote, clicks on t.v.) Naw I don’t want to listen to the news right now, let’s find a show huh kids? (looks to the left, smiles clicks remote a few more times) Oh look here’s that show you guys love, Curious george is it? Nah. Oh you ready? (pause) Alright lemme just grab the kids. (pause) Yeah, I know. (pause) Hey sweety (short pause) I’m sorry I got a little angry with you. (Stands taps pocket as if checking for keys walks stage left, picks up kids, one in each arm, waits, walks off screen stage right).

History BM 2 from Lisa Kang on Vimeo.

III. Apendix

1. The pipeline would run through the biggest aquifer in America. An aquifer is a source of clean drinking water. (PBS Newshour)

2. In the course of building this pipeline over 400 protestors were arrested. People feel really strongly about this. (PBS Newshour)

3. People keep saying that it will create jobs but it won't actually create that many and once it's done being built the jobs it did create will end. (The Undead Pipeline)

4. Pipeline are the safest way to get oil from one place to another and America needs oil (PBS Newshour)

5. The pipeline in total would cost more the $7 million dollars. It would be an extreme cost for the United States. (PBS Newshour)

6. The Keystone XL Pipeline would make america less stable on foreign countries regimes (Keystone XL Pipeline)

Works Cited

"Friends of the Earth." Friends of the Earth. N.p., n.d. Web. 16 Oct. 2012. <http://www.foe.org/projects/climate-and-energy/tar-sands/keystone-xl-pipeline>.

"The Undead Pipeline Returns." YES! Magazine. N.p., n.d. Web. 16 Oct. 2012. <http://www.yesmagazine.org/blogs/madeline-ostrander/the-undead-pipeline>.

"Video: Tar Sands Pipeline Plan Renews Energy vs. Environment Debate | Watch PBS NewsHour Online | PBS Video." PBS.org. N.p., n.d. Web. 16 Oct. 2012. <http://video.pbs.org/video/2110582932/>.

Be the first to comment.

Descriptive Essay Living a Fairytale.

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 2 - Block on Friday, September 28, 2012 at 10:15 am
I stepped out of the big white door onto the steps that led to the driveway that led to the yard where my sister and her friend played in front of the izales, “Mom says you have to let me play!” I was already close to whining even though my sister normally let me play.

“We’re playing with our fairies, you have to pick one out,” My older sister grabbed my arm and dragged me to the dogwood tree that was at the far left side of our yard. The pink flowers were already mostly gone but it was still a beautiful tree with branches filling in the spots that should look empty. And I saw a beautiful fairy sitting happily on each branch, each twig, but there was one in particular who smiled down at me. She made me smile inside and out. I saw her wave a pale hand. She had a blue skirt made of petals, a simple brown t-shirt and blonde hair that waved down to her shoulders. She was beautiful and she was mine.

“I want her,” I pointed up and my sister laughed at me.

“She has to fly to you,” I watched as she folded her small legs under her into a squat and lept off the tree; she landed gracefully in the palm of my left hand, “I’m Bubbles.” My heart surged with the love for a friend that I just met and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered with wings that matched my faires.

And she stayed with me for years. As my sister and her friend moved on and began playing with other things, I kept my fairy. I enjoyed all the things kids normally enjoyed, like hopscotch and jump rope and Sesame Street. But Bubbles was there with me. I didn’t really talk to her and she didn’t really talk to me but she would sit on my shoulder and assure me that I was okay, that I was doing things right.

As time wore on I slowly realized that Bubbles wasn’t there. She was just my imagination. It hurt but I let go, she no longer sits on my shoulder or makes me smile by cartwheeling in front of my face. I felt forced to let go of this friend who had lived through everything that I had lived through. I can’t remember if I cried but I know that I wanted to. Although I had discovered that this friend of mine wasn’t real I hadn’t yet discovered all the other things that were simply my imagination.

Life was full of magic when I was a child. It had everything that I could have wanted and more. I had a man who came down the chimney once a year just to give me presents. I had a teeny woman who would slide under my pillow with a shiny quarter and slide out with my tooth. I had a castle to play in with my friends. Everything was colored with bright blues and yellows, pinks and greens. It was magical, and I got to live there.

I couldn’t sleep and as time ticked on my parents were staying downstairs. It was midnight, it was 2:00 am. They weren’t giving Santa enough time to come. I started pacing. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. I didn’t want to allow it to be true but it didn’t care if I was going to let it. It was true. Santa wasn’t real. The next hours were mixed with numb sleep and disappointment but I awoke Christmas morning like nothing was wrong and by noon that day, nothing was. Christmas hadn’t changed. I had.

By the next Christmas Eve I wondered if I had really changed as I sat in front of the computer trying to find the website on which you could track Santa. Maybe I knew it wasn’t true but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t allowed to believe that Santa would still come down the chimney that night.  So, I decided that maybe I was wrong last year, maybe I wasn’t but either way I could still picture Santa falling down my chimney and sauntering over to my christmas tree with a big black bag full of gifts all for me.

To this day I can picture these things in my mind. Sometimes I see Bubbles with another little girl, but she smiles back up at me in a way that I know means even if she isn’t real, she was there. Anyone or anything that can make you feel that happy or safe or excited is there. Maybe not physically but emotionally.

I think that’s what people don’t understand. That imagination isn’t knowing something is true, it’s believing in it even if you know it’s fake. It’s taking all the things that people say or do to prove it wrong and making them prove it right. It’s not only believing in the things that people tell you to, like Santa, but making up your own friends and being able to play or have a conversation with them.

So it’s a whole lot easier to keep your imagination. You don’t have to lose the images of these wonderful, magical, creatures just because it’s known they aren’t there. You should still be able to remember their voices and faces, and if that’s possible then they were there and they meant and probably continue to mean something. So I urge you to hold on tighter than I did because I got lucky that my images stayed close enough for me to be able to grab back on.
Tags: "AmerGovt", English
Be the first to comment.

Q4 Spanish Benchmark Hohenstein

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 2 - Gierke on Friday, June 8, 2012 at 12:04 pm
Hohenstein Spanish Q4BM
1 Comment

Change for Illiteracy

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 1 - Dunn on Thursday, May 31, 2012 at 11:53 am
For two blog posts I have talked about the problem. Illiteracy. However, this time, I am talking about the solution. What we can do to make this problem disappear. As my teacher calls it, this is the "Post for Change."

After my previous blog post I decided to email a woman I know named Monica Carnesi.  She is an author and illustrator who works at the Free Library of Philadelphia. I gained contact with her from a mutual friend named Marion, who also works at the free library. As I was emailing both of them I got some new information.

There is another program that helps with this problem of illiteracy. It's called R.E.A.D.  This program helps mostly with children who are struggling to learn these skills. They have trained dogs come in to sit with these children. The children the read out loud to the dogs. The purpose of this exercise is to give the children the confidence they need to read aloud as well as the practice to do it well.

I believe that change starts from the newest parts. In my case, the youngest generation. I found that kids are the ones most likely to change this pattern. That to stop the problem we have to stop it early on.

To help with this I went to a building called the Friends Welcome Center. The night before I had called the director of a part of this building called FCCC, (Friends Child Care Center). She invited me to come in one day after school and read to some of the younger kids. While I was there I could tell that the kids were excited about the book. They would point things out in the pictures, and shout out what they thought would happen next. It made me smile, to see all these kids so excited about books.

It's wonderful, and extremely easy to help the next generation to get excited about reading. If it's simply reading to a younger sibling or cousin. Or going as complicated as I did and going out to a preschool to join into story time. Everything helps.
New Project 1 - Medium
To view my first blog post click here
To view my second bog post click here
To view my bibliography click here
1 Comment

Illiteracy in American Post 2

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 1 - Dunn on Monday, May 21, 2012 at 8:53 am
    I have found that illiteracy has a lot to do with poverty. In 1st grade many of the students who come from a lower income family have far smaller vocabularies then those who come from higher class families.
images-2
images-2
This is often because illiterate adults do spend the time or energy checking their child's homework of grades. Not only don't they but if they tried many of them couldn't. This sets a bad example for the child as they don't see anything else. They often don't see a reason to go to school and do well. If their parents can't read, why should they be able to?

    Being able to read will allow these people to help their community in large and small ways. They will be able to do things as small as reading a lost dog poster,
images-3
images-3
or things as big as being informed in current events. People will be able to understand what is going on in their community, in their state, in their country. They will be able to form their own educated opinions without hearing already opinionated information from their friend down the street.

    I have always had such a deep connection with reading that the fact that there are so many people who can't leaves me baffled. At first I just don't understand. How could that happen? How did you not learn to read when you were little. It's amazing how much I pride myself on my ability to read. Even when I thought it was common, I liked it about myself. I guess I liked more how much I read.

images-4
images-4
    Although there are many programs that help both adults and children learn to read many adults are too embarrassed to admit that they need help. They don't want other people to know so they have a designated person to help them. A friend or relative will write or read things for them. The thing that I find most upsetting about this is that the friend or relative often doesn't try to help them learn, they just mindlessly do things for them. It's like the proverb, "Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime." That directly describes this illiteracy problem. These relatives are "giving them a fish," doing them a favor. They will be helped for today but when tomorrow comes and a new letter or bill comes in the mail, they are still incapable. If these friends were to sit down and say, "I'm teaching you to read," it may be hard in the beginning but in a lifetime it would be less time then reading everything they need for them.

    Some of the programs that help kids and adults learn to read are the MCOL (Mayor's Commission on Literacy and Books Aloud. MCOL is an organization that helps to ensure that adults are getting a good enough education
To view my sources click here
To view my previous blog post click here
Be the first to comment.

Illiteracy In America

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 1 - Dunn on Monday, May 14, 2012 at 8:47 am
1 in 7 U.S. adults can't read. That's about 32 million people. Imagine looking at written words and being completely lost. Imagine walking through the world and not being able to read the signs around you. Imagine looking for a certain street on the way to a friends house and not being able to find it. People often don't realize how often the read, even if they don't sit down with a book every day. Reading is so much more then that. It's reading through a contract to make sure you aren't being scammed. It's looking at friends Facebook statuses and commenting in return. It's sending emails to teachers and friends.   
images copy
images copy
​ I have always had a strong connection to both reading and writing. I read everything and anything and not being able to do that would stress me out. I can't imagine 1 million people living through that every day. It may not be quite as bad as cancer but it's still a problem, and a problem is a problem.

     In 2008 upwards of 1 million people lost their jobs due to the fact that they had little skill in reading and writing. The fact that they can't do these things that we take for granted are making it very hard for people to help them. If they can't read or write there are little to no jobs that would accept them. If these people learned how to read a whole new world would open up. They would have more ability to find signs that read "HELP WANTED" and to be successful in the interview.

    It's not that people are refusing to read or dropping out of school, it's that they don't have the ability. Many of the people in America who are illiterate are below the poverty line. This often means that they don't or didn't have the chance to go to school.

    Although the rate of people who are illiterate was decreasing it is still unsure how it will be affected in the 21st century. If it raises people will be shocked but it is unlikely to be a big enough news story to really inform people about what is happening.

    I'm wondering what some of these children who don't get the chance to go to school do. Are there not public kindergartens that will allow them in? Is it the parents not being able to take them? Are things being done to help the future generate have a high literate population?

To see my sources click here
2 Comments

Illiteracy In America

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein on Thursday, May 10, 2012 at 6:23 pm
    1 in 7 U.S. adults can't read. That's about 32 million people. Imagine looking at written words and being completely lost. Imagine walking through the world and not being able to read the signs around you. Imagine looking for a certain street on the way to a friends house and not being able to find it. People often don't realize how often the read, even if they don't sit down with a book every day. Reading is so much more then that. It's reading through a contract to make sure you aren't being scammed. It's looking at friends Facebook statuses and commenting in return. It's sending emails to teachers and friends.   
images
images
     I have always had a strong connection to both reading and writing. I read everything and anything and not being able to do that would stress me out. I can't imagine 1 million people living through that every day. It may not be quite as bad as cancer but it's still a problem, and a problem is a problem.

     In 2008 upwards of 1 million people lost their jobs due to the fact that they had little skill in reading and writing. The fact that they can't do these things that we take for granted are making it very hard for people to help them. If they can't read or write there are little to no jobs that would accept them. If these people learned how to read a whole new world would open up. They would have more ability to find signs that read "HELP WANTED" and to be successful in the interview.

    It's not that people are refusing to read or dropping out of school, it's that they don't have the ability. Many of the people in America who are illiterate are below the poverty line. This often means that they don't or didn't have the chance to go to school.

    Although the rate of people who are illiterate was decreasing it is still unsure how it will be affected in the 21st century. If it raises people will be shocked but it is unlikely to be a big enough news story to really inform people about what is happening.

    I'm wondering what some of these children who don't get the chance to go to school do. Are there not public kindergartens that will allow them in? Is it the parents not being able to take them? Are things being done to help the future generate have a high literate population?

To see my sources click here
1 Comment

Hohenstein Art Negative Space

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Art - 9 - Hull on Monday, May 7, 2012 at 9:51 am
A. Negative space is the space around an object. So if there was a shadow it would be everything but the shadow.

B. I found the negative space by outlining the object in my stool drawing. This allowed me to see where the stool was and where the negative space was. For my cutout I found the negative space by creating a mirror image.

C. It helps an artist to see what is there and what isn't there. To look beyond just what you see with your eye.

D. No, because if you see in only negative space you can't see the details of the object itself.
0430120948-1
0430120948-1
0507120944
0507120944
Be the first to comment.

Hohenstein Eddy Podcast

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 2 - Gierke on Friday, April 20, 2012 at 12:07 pm
I am proud of how quickly we recorded and how well our accents sounded. I had a hard time knowing which verbs to conjugate though and if I had to do this over I would fix that and spend more time adding more information into my answers
Hohenstein Eddy Spanish Podcast
4 Comments

Hohenstein Macbeth Creative

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in English 1 - Dunn on Monday, March 26, 2012 at 12:30 am
​


For my creative part of my Macbeth project I made a diary.  I included entries that Macbeth may have written during each act.  In the beginning he talked about how much he loved power but how he wasn’t quite sure what was going to far to get it.  He then began talking of Lady Macbeth’s influence and his nervous he has been since the kill of Duncan.  At the end of the second entry he had decided to forget about it.  As he got farther into his power he spoke of more killing.  He decided to kill Banquo and then he wrote of how it scared him.  Then after going to the witches, he told the story and he told what he was thinking about what they had said and showed him.  He wrote as the prophecies began to come true and he wrote after he was killed.  As he goes on the entries become more erratic and confusing.  You don’t quite understand the details although you get the general idea.  On the side of all of these entries I drew outlined images of Macbeth, beginning as a solider, strong and proud and ending as simply a head on top of a pole. 

Hohenstein Macbeth Creative Presentation
Be the first to comment.

Hohenstein Spanish Q3 BM

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 2 - Gierke on Friday, March 16, 2012 at 3:17 pm
https://sites.google.com/a/scienceleadership.org/la-guia-de-filadelfia---group-espana/

I learned about how to give instructions in both english and spanish. I also learned about how to translate understandably.

I felt good about our final project but I wish that we had used more sidebar items.

If I could do this all over I would spend more time fitting the words with the pictures.
Be the first to comment.

Hohenstein Spanish El Rutina diaria

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 2 - Gierke on Monday, January 30, 2012 at 9:58 am
This is what I do every day.
Jan 29, 2012-Medium
13 Comments

Hohenstein Spanish Clothes Project

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 2 - Gierke on Friday, December 23, 2011 at 10:59 am
Hohenstein Spanish Clothes thing - Medium 1 2
2 Comments

Hohenstein B2, Slide again

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Technology - Hull on Tuesday, December 13, 2011 at 12:22 pm
I changed the fonts in my slide. This added more style which gave my slide a more eye catching appeal. I also changed the opacity of some of my words and pictures. This made them fade into the background which allowed my focal point to change to the items that really mattered. I made it so that people wanted to look at my slide and when they did they would see what really mattered first. 
Hohenstein Technology Who Am I slide pdf2
3 Comments

Hohenstein Technology Who Am I Slide

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Technology - Hull on Tuesday, November 22, 2011 at 12:56 pm
I followed the website "presentation zen" the most. I got ideas for my color scheme. Then I found pictures that expressed my idea and followed my color scheme. I then used ideas from Zach Holman about kerning and alpha. Once I had all of the pictures and words on mine I wanted to keep the scheme so I added little stars in the same color of the rest of my slide. I did this because it added a sense of completion that I didn't feel was there before. I chose my color scheme because it added contrast. I feel that I showed that I knew what I was doing and I didn't make it too complicated in the process.
Hohenstein Technology Who Am I slide PDF
Be the first to comment.

Mi Verano Pasado Maggie Hohenstein

Posted by Margaret Hohenstein in Spanish 2 - Gierke on Tuesday, October 25, 2011 at 12:40 pm
​- For my quarter 1 spanish benchmark we had to present what we have done in past summers. I made an imovie with 11 different pictures and descriptions of what I have done. Instead of having people read my descriptions I recored myself saying them.

-I used Inquiry by explaining what I did over the summer therefore answering the question “Que hice el verano?” I used research but finding our information from my parents about what we’ve done in past summers and looking through old photo albums to find pictures that I could use. I used collaboration but helping others with their project and getting help on mine. I used presentation by putting everything onto an imovie so that it can be easily shown to other people. I also used reflection by filling out this last part of the project.

-I learned that writing out full sentences with limited vocabulary is really hard and it’s really important to remember everything you can.

-I had a break through when I found pictures of my trips to my uncle's house in Chinquotegue. It gave me a lot to say and made it possible to have so many pictures.

-I would use more pictures for each description so that it was more of a collage and it is more interesting to look at.

-I did not because it was the same thing again and again. You just kept going through the same process for a lot of pictures.


http://dl.dropbox.com/u/44524619/My%20First%20Project%20-%20Medium.m4v
4 Comments
RSS
Science Leadership Academy @ Center City · Location: 1482 Green St · Shipping: 550 N. Broad St Suite 202 · Philadelphia, PA 19130 · (215) 400-7830 (phone)
×

Log In