For my Capstone, I choose to focus on social media marketing specifically for YouTube channels. Before starting, I had a YouTube channel I had created years ago where I uploaded art and filmmaking tutorials. This original channel had an unprofessional name and inconsistent branding. The channel had also become jumbled by making videos about both filmmaking and visual arts.  Instead of continuously making new videos each week as I have done for years, I took a break in uploading to create a new channel to put the filmmaking tutorials on. I named the new channel Amity Filmmaking. Amity means friendly relations, and I choose this word after seeing so many filmmaking tutorials that do not keep audience in mind by not explaining terms for beginners or being almost an hour long for something that takes minutes to do. I wanted to make my channel a student centered educational resource instead of just showing what I could do.  In the process, I learned a completely new application, Adobe Illustrator in order to make my own professional logo, channel art, and thumbnails.  I also learned it is okay to take time to make the videos I want instead of just uploading often, since my subscriber numbers on my original channel continued to grow even though I had not uploaded a video in months. It was better to build a professional channel and launch new videos when ready than rush to upload frequently.

Recipe

Ingredients:

• Two eggs

• Two slices of bread

• Two pieces of cheese

• Unsalted margarine

• ¼ cup milk

• Cinnamon

Instructions:

1. Crack two eggs into a bowl and scramble until all of the egg is one color.

2. Mix milk into the eggs.

3. Heat a flat pan and melt a piece of margarine in the pan to coat the bottom.

4. Place a piece of bread into the bowl so one side is completely covered in egg. Then flip, and sprinkle cinnamon on top.

5. Lift bread out of bowl. Take bread out before it can get very soggy and start falling apart.

6. Put the slice of bread into the pan cinnamon side down. Then, sprinkle cinnamon over the other side.

7. Flip the bread once the side that is faced down no longer looks like raw egg.

8. Once other side is cooked, place the slice onto a plate.

9. Put one piece of cheese in the corner of the slice of bread. Then, rip the other slice of cheese in areas of the top of the bread the first piece of cheese did not cover.

10. Coat the second slice of bread in the remaining egg and cook like the first one.

11. Place the second slice on top of the cheese.

12. Let the sandwich cool for a moment, and then cut it in half if you desire.

Analysis

50% of the ingredients in this recipe are processed food while the rest is whole food. Eggs are a whole food since they come directly from chickens with little done to them except cleaning and packaging. Cinnamon,  type of tree bark that is just grated, is another whole food. Milk is almost a whole food, except it is pasteurized and sometimes has added vitamins.  Meanwhile, bread, margarine, and cheese are highly processed. It is possible to get cheese that is more of a whole food, but I tend to use cheese from Kraft.

This meal is unhealthy to eat everyday. Margarine almost only has fat, which is not healthy. Eating eggs too often causes high cholesterol, but it is a good source of protein, which the body does need. Cheese has calcium, but Kraft has added dyes and other unnatural ingredients. Arnold Whole Grain Oat Nut bread, which I use, gives protein, fiber, and whole grains, but also has added vitamins. Added vitamins are not as good as eating naturally occurring vitamins.

This meal is inexpensive. A dozen eggs, gallon of milk, jar of cinnamon, package of cheese, and box of margarine cost a few dollars each, and of each ingredient, only cents’ worth is being used. This meal only costs $1-2 approximately. This is about the same price as a burger on a fast food value menu, but with more whole grains than the rolls used in fast food. Both still are cooked with fat though.

Is Who Someone Marries their Parent’s Choice?

Comparing “Taming the Shrew” to “Monster in Law”

In this scene from “Monster in Law,” Viola complains about Charlie to Viola’s friend Ruby. Viola states, “My son the brilliant surgeon is gonna marry a temp.” Then, after some screaming and going to upstairs to lie down, Viola complains, “She is going to destroy him. It is so clear. She’s got no money, no career goals. She was just waiting for a rich innocent to step right into her path.” Viola does not see Charlie as a good match for Kevin because while he makes a significant amount of money from a successful job, Charlie is at a lower class part time job. Viola even assumes Charlie is partly marrying Kevin because he is wealthier than Charlie.

In order for Kevin to have become a surgeon, Viola must allow Kevin to live independently. Kevin would not have been able to study to be a surgeon and then work at a hospital without being able to make large choices without his mother. This is very different from the lifestyle of Baptista’s daughters, who cannot travel somewhere or meet with people without their father knowing, even though they are adults. By giving adult children the freedom to leave home and have careers, parents have given up the right to control who their children meet like in the times of Shakespeare. This allowed Kevin to meet and date Charlie without his mother knowing or approving. However, parents such as Viola still consider it as a part of parenting to make sure their children make good long term choices in life, such as picking an appropriate person to marry. This belief causes Viola to interfere with the wedding, but not ban the marriage altogether.

“Your father hath consented that you shall be my wife, your dowry ‘greed on, and will you, nill you, I will marry you.” 

(Act 2, Scene 1, lines 284-286)

In this quote, Petruchio is speaking to Baptista’s daughter, Katherine, after making a deal with her father that Petruchio can marry Katherine if he has her love, and negotiating a dowry. Petruchio fakes the love, but honors the rest of the deal with Baptista before marrying Katherine. Petruchio is so confident on the deal he made with Baptista that he tells Katherine he will marry her whether she likes it or not. This eliminates Katherine from making decisions over her own marriage.

Similarly, Charlie makes a deal with Viola before the wedding, but not over a dowry.

Charlie is about to call off the wedding when Viola convinces Charlie to speak to her alone. Viola tells Charlie, “Don’t blow your chance for happiness. You’ve never needed my approval. He’s loved you from the very beginning. And I promise I will get out of the way and let the two of you be happy."

“That’s not what I want. I mean, there just has to be some boundaries, Viola,” Charlie replies.

“I can do boundaries! I don’t love boundaries but I can do them,” Viola says,

“How about the number of times you call Kevin a day? Can we limit that, to, like, one,” Charlie asks.

“Oh, I need at least four minimum,” Viola counters.

“He’s 35 years old.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“Deal,” Viola settles.

In this deal, the genders are switched. Instead of the father negotiating with the groom, the mother negotiates with the bride. Also, Viola is now persuading Charlie to marry Kevin due to Charlie giving up, instead of being a future spouse persuading a parent. The deal is over how much Viola will influence Charlie and Kevin’s relationship in the future, instead of a dowry. Viola now accepts Charlie because she realizes Charlie makes Kevin happy. Viola even gives up her right to approve the match in order to make her son happy. Now, it is more about what the children want then what the mother wants.

Since Viola is the person who makes sure the marriage happens in the end, it shows parents still feel responsible for ensuring each of their children have a good marriage. However, happiness now is a bigger factor than economic status when parents consider a match. Katherine is married to an abusive, yet rich husband. Meanwhile, Kevin marries Charlie in order to have a joyful love, even if Charlie is not as wealthy as him. While Viola did not control as much of the marriage situation as Baptista, the new couple actually wants Viola to be involved in the process. If Charlie’s parents had not died when she was young, they would likely be just as involved in the wedding.

Stop, put me down. I don’t need you to drag me along, even if I am paralyzed. Every little movement scrapes another layer of graphite from me. If I were like the human hand which controls me, you would be scrapping my skin off. This graphite tail of mine will not grow back if you rub it away. You are pulling out my hair when you grind my rubber against paper.

You leave me in the worse places, zippered into dark spaces. Every time I am left alone, I pray you will forget me, and it will all end there in peace. The darkness is better than when you hold me down against that blade, and cut away my wooden surface.

Oh, what could my purpose be? To be tortured into recording all your ideas without pay. Am I supposed to work my life away?

Wait, what did you just write?

(looks down) “I’m sorry that this may be our last dance across the paper. Thank you for recording the words I was too scared to say aloud. You pay the bail to get my thoughts out of the jail that is my mind, with your life, writing in your graphite blood. These words are mine, but you wrote them.”

(gasps) Is that a thank you note to me? A love letter. I remember writing these before, while held in the warm embrace of your hand, and dying in your fingers with every sharpening.

Without you, I would be sitting alone, growing cold. I can not move, speak, or do anything on my own. You are the murderer that rescued me from a life on the shelf, like an unwanted puppy in a shelter. I was not the nicest one available for adoption, yet you chose me. You could have taken that smooth, long lasting mechanical pencil, which could be refilled with new graphite, but you were environmentally conscience, choosing me, the biodegradable wooden pencil. To you, I was never number two.

Or maybe you were scared that the mechanical pencil would outlive you. It could be past down as a family heirloom, with every new stick of graphite prolonging its life way past yours. Even if it ran out of led and you threw it in the trash, its plastic shell would still be sitting in a landfill a thousand years from now. You and me are made of organic materials; dirt and trees. The only exception is a person created me to be with you. I’m sorry it couldn't last forever. With all the sharpening, we were bound to reach my metal end one day. It will be alright. Go ahead, and find another pencil. It’s time to let me go. You don’t have to scrape away at the millimeter of graphite left to finish this letter. 

Unless. You could leave me in my bag, and when the new pencils arrive, I can tell them our stories. I will convince them to not fear you. Then, they will not screech in protest against the paper as I did. Your pencils will dance across the page if you let me be the one to encourage them. I’ll be an old pencil, the grandparent to the new ones, who never leaves the house, our pencil bag, but is always there for them when they come home. In those moments, I will have found my purpose. I wish you luck in writing your life story, my love.

“I’m gonna go to choir after school,” I said to my mom as she cooked dinner.

“Going. -e-ing,” my mom extended the sound.

“An I need you to sign my permission slip.”

“An-duh.”

“An I…”

“Let me hear you say the d first.”

“I don’t have time, I need to do my homework.”

“Say an-duh and then do your homework.”

“Why?”

My parents were born in a neighborhood in New Jersey where the lawns are perfectly cut, and the dialect is almost clear standard english. Ever since I said my first full sentence, my mom has corrected every mumbled or dropped consonant. While in younger grades, I thought the corrections were no different than ones from my teachers.

When I recently took a survey from the New York Times, the results showed that it is most likely that I live in New Jersey near Philadelphia based on the words I use and how I pronounce them. This accent comes from learning to speak from Jersey relatives and visiting my grandparents across the river, while living in Philadelphia..

“I want to axe you something,” I announced as I walked into the kitchen on a different day.

“You’re doing it again,” my mom said.

“What? All I said was I want to axe you a question.”

“You are talking like a Philadelphian.”

The first few times I heard this, my heart sank.

“What do you mean?”

“The word is as-kah, not axe.”

“I said [pause] ask.”

“No, you said axe.”

This discussion repeated throughout the first years of my life. The words echoed in my head, even when my mom was not around. I began to repeat myself, pausing mid sentence. This time coincided with my acceptance into a mentally gifted elective.

“Can someone tell me what [science term] is,” my fifth grade teacher would ask.

“[short answer]. I once saw on Nova [extra details].”

“That is fascinating, Miriam, although I was only looking for [expected answer].”

My fifth grade teacher encouraged my input, working the outside knowledge I connected to the lesson into the discussion.

“Haven’t you seen that episode before,” my Dad asked.

“Of course. I even know the words by heart.” I was currently sitting on the couch, watching a tv show.

“Why watch it then?”

“To refresh my memory. Besides, there is nothing else on.”

I would watch cartoons daily when I was younger. I learned to multiply from Cyberchase and vocabulary words from Martha Speaks and Word Girl. The contests on Fetch caught my imagination, and I loved the storytelling on Arthur. While watching repeats, I would draw the characters and say their lines with them.

“Who can work through the first part of this problem,” a math teacher would ask.

I was the only one to raise my hand, even though I knew my whole table had completed the class work. The teacher scanned the room as if no one had their hand raised.

“Nick, can you tell me what I should do first,” the teacher looked straight at him.

“I don’t know.” Nick glanced at the work on his paper, and then stared at the teacher again.

“Come on, it’s easy.”

“Subtract x from both sides?”

“Correct.”

I understood that my teachers wanted to encourage all the students to speak, but there were entire weeks where I was not called on in middle school. Teachers only gave me help upon request, knowing I got all As and Bs.

“Miriam, sing louder,” my music teacher said at choir practice.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Don’t you yell in the recess yard?”

“Not really.”

I became quiet, yet not unsociable. My friends often spoke softer than me, afraid a teacher would not seat us together if we talked loudly, even though my friends and I only talked about work in class. Collaboration was not valued in my middle school. In some classes, I was quiet, and in others, people thought I was shy.

“Can anyone describe what global warming is,” my engineering teacher asked. He scanned the room for a raised hand. “Miriam.”

“Global warming is caused by greenhouse gases in the atmosphere. Greenhouse gasses, such as carbon dioxide, trap heat from the sun when the heat bounces off Earth’s surface,” I answered.

During the first few days of my freshman engineering class, most of the students were quiet. Every time our teacher asked a question, only two or three people raised their hand, and I was one of them. For some reason, the teacher told me after class that I should not be shy because I know so much.

At that point in my life, I did not consider myself shy. My classmates and I were all quietly adjusting to a new school. If anything, I was talking more than I had in years. However, every once in a while, the high pitched soprano would appear in my voice, and I would pause to clear my throat. Some interpreted this as shyness. Every time someone said I should talk more, I promised myself I would. The more often this occured, the less confident I felt. This continued to occur in poetry club.

“It was bedar to wear a masq than let mounans of acne show.”

“Say it again slowly.”

“It was be-agh. It was better to wear a masq-agh.”

“We can’t have you saying agh on stage.”

“I know Mr. Kay. I am having trouble with mumbling.”

“Try tasting each syllable of your poem. Say the line again as slow as you can.”

“Maybe we should write it on the board. What was the line,” Chella, who was one of the coaches, asked.

“It...was...better...to wear...a mask...than let...mountains...of acne….show,” I said slowly.

“I heard mountains! Chella, did you hear mountains,” Mr. Kay asked.

“I thought it was mounds,” Chella answered.

“It is mountains,” I said.

“Try saying it again.”

“It was bedar to wear…”

“Bet-ter. Say the t.”

“It was better to wear a mask…”

“Remember to move your mouth. It was better to wear a mask than let mountains of acne show.”

“It was better to wear a mask than let mountains of acne show.”

“Great. Now, say the whole poem at that pace.”

James Baldwin once wrote “It goes without saying, then, that language is also a political instrument, means, and proof of power.”  When I stumbled over my words, people hesitated to absorb my points. The correct pronunciation would echo in my mind while my tongue was weak. My mom always corrected me, thinking it was a Philadelphian accent. I would pause to correct myself, which led people to believe I was shy or lacked confidence. Confidence is a form of power. I did not stop mumbling until the time Mr. Kay helped me say my poem clearly. If I had mumbled through my poem, it would not have grabbed people’s attention.

I taught my tongue to say every consonant and vowel in that poem. I performed without a single stutter, allowing my team to receive a high enough score, and win the slam. Doubting my ability to speak properly made me believe I was shy. This was my weakness. When I was little, I would lose my breathe mid sentence. Singing in choir taught me to breathe. Reciting poetry trained my mouth to speak clearly.

Mi nombre es Miriam. Tengo quince años. Soy estudiante de Science Leadership Academy.  Está en el centro de filadelfia. Está cerca de la estacion de tren.  Es divertida y unica.  Hay cinco pisos y cinco cien estudiantes.  Tenemos una música sálon en la biblioteca. También, cada estudiante tenemos una computadora y un armario. Tenemos CIC, fútbol, último disco valador, y poesía club. Participo en poesía club porque es divertida y me encanta escribir.  También, participo en fútbol porque es bien entrenamiento.

Tengo las clases de bioquímica, algébra, español, inglés, historia, teatro, y tecnología. Mi clase favorita es inglés porque es divertida, fascinante, y fácil. Aprendemos mucho en la clase de inglés.  Además, soy buena escritora. Necesito el libro, un cuaderno, y una pluma. En la clase de inglés, casi siempre escribimos y leemos libros. Para tener éxito en esta clase, participamos activamente y siempre intentamos. Es requerido hacemos toda la tarea. Mi otro clase favorita es drama, pero es fin. Necesitamos participar activamente y prestar atención. En la clase de teatro, nosotras siempre actuamos conmigo pareja, pero cantamos a veces.

La Srta. Manuel enseña español y ayudar conmigo CIC. Enseña muy bien. Su cumpleaños es el diecisiete de mayo. La clase de español es importante y fácil. La Srta. Jonas es simpática, paciente, y inteligente. La clase de historia es fascinante. El Sr. Kay enseña drama, inglés, y entrenar poesía y baloncesto. Le fascina poesía y los calcetines. ¡La clase de drama es súper divertida! La Srta. Thompson enseña algébra. Le encanta correr y andar en bicicleta. La clase de algébra es importante, pero un poquito aburrida.