You can find my sources here.
The graystricken world had gotten to her. The man was not angry with her. He thought it was better to be with the boy himself. Less supplies to gather. One less person to worry about. He slept next to the boy that night for the first time. The man looked at the sky.
Why would you do this to me? Why would you take her? She didn’t mean those things she said. She loved him just as much as I did. You took away her will to survive! You did this!
The boy sleepily rolled over.
What’s wrong Papa?
Nothing. Go back to sleep.
Are you crying?
Go back to sleep. We’re leaving in the morning.
The man and the boy packed up their belongings. The boy looked into the distance, the gray sky seeming deeper and more hopeless than usual.
She’s gone, isn’t she?
Yes she is.
What is she going to do about the fire?
We’ll have to take it for her.
Is it my fault?
No it's not.
She didn’t love me did she?
The man glanced down from the boy’s eyes.
No he finally said.
Do you love me Papa?
I’m going to miss her.
You’re not going to leave me are you?
We all leave each other at some point. The man and boy continued along the road alone with the man doing his best to ignore anything that would remind him of an obsidian flake.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy describes a world in which hopelessness runs rampant, taking the lives of many, most notably the mother of the boy. McCarthy is often criticized for the roles of women in his books, this one being no exception. The woman in The Road is often viewed as the weak, low point of the book. She is cold, one dimensional, and unable to sympathize with the man’s want to survive. The mother was dismissed when she shouldn’t have been.
This scene comes directly after the woman ends her own life. In the novel, this part is relatively unimportant and skipped over entirely. Adding more allowed the characters to express how they were feeling about the situation instead of the situation just happening with no repercussions or emotion. The man screams up to God, a constant theme throughout the novel, and expresses his disbelief that he would take his wife from him, even though it was clear that he and the boy cared deeply for her, as is evident in the parts preceding this added scene.
The boy cares so deeply for his mother, the first thing he is concerned with after learning about her disappearance is the fire they were supposed to carry together. Carrying the fire can mean many different things and is more or less left up to interpretation in the novel, but it means a lot to the boy and the man. It seems to give them purpose to carry on and survive in a world where nothing has any tangible meaning.
In a world with no meaning to be found, a few questions linger in the air. What is the purpose of anything? Why survive? What are you looking to achieve? Unfortunately, the mother thought the answer to these questions, quite simply, was nothing. She felt like nothing mattered, that no matter what they do as a family of survivors, nothing will bring the adrenaline rush of achievement. Gray will stay gray, and it will never get brighter. The boy explores this idea when he asks the man if he is going to leave him to which the man responds, “We all leave each other at some point.” This is direct foreshadowing to the end of the book when the man and the boy part ways.
Graystricken isn’t a real word, but to McCarthy it would’ve been. Grayness, another common word throughout the novel, represents hopelessness. Depression and hopelessness are common in a world where we’re not forced to scavenge for food. Graystricken is describing how hopelessness engulfs something and strikes that feeling into someone, much in the way grayness takes over the world.
Some have hailed it as “an American classic,” others “an example of a perfect book.” No matter who you are, The Catcher in the Rye will take you by surprise as you follow recent expulsion victim Holden Caulfield as he travels around New York City with just his thoughts in hopes of finding excitement, happiness, and a reason to live his life.
A recent World War II vet and D-Day participant, author J.D. Salinger set his heart on writing short stories, which were published in magazines, namely The New Yorker and became wildly popular. Despite his success as a short story writer, Salinger his mostly remembered for his work on Catcher in the Rye, which he has said to have been “almost autobiographical.” He was born in New York City, the setting in the story, in 1919 to a half-Jewish, half-Catholic family. He chose a setting that was familiar to him as a teenager. Also, Salinger was the captain of his fencing team much like Holden. After flunking out of a prestigious junior high school in Manhattan, Salinger’s parents sent him to Valley Forge Military Academy, which was later used as a model for Pencey Prep, the school Holden comes from. Salinger is first published in 1948 when The New Yorker published “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” He became an instant hit as a writer and produced many other short stories, but it isn’t until three years later that The Catcher in the Rye is published. After the publication of The Catcher in the Rye, Salinger began the process of becoming a recluse and generally not leaving the house or interacting with anyone outside of his immediate family.
The story begins when Holden Caulfield fails out of a prestigious prep school in upstate Pennsylvania. Rather than going home for the winter and telling his parents, Holden decides to take his belongings to New York City in hopes of finding inspiration and purpose. He spends most of his time exploring and observing the city and its people, criticizing and analyzing almost everything he sees. Holden is afraid of growing up, afraid of losing his innocence and making the transformation into adulthood, so he finds excuses to still act like a child. He’s a troublemaker, but Holden exploits these teenage delinquencies and goes on joy rides, finding thrills, and in the process, himself, in prostitutes, alcohol, and freedom.
If you’re an avid reader of romance, action, or any book with a climax, this book may be frustrating for you to read. Over the entire course of the book, nothing of pure significance happens. In fact, nothing of any significance at all happens, yet it entrances you and pulls you in and makes you want more, and to be completely honest, I can’t tell you why. But the fact that this book is being debated and talked about and is still read to this day can attest to my statement. For being a dropout and teenage delinquent, Holden explores adult ideas and exhibits more wisdom and intuition than most people his age or otherwise. After getting through the excessive use of adult language and hypocrisy, it is clear that Holden understands more about other people than they understand about themselves, and often uses the flaws he sees in other people as a tool to find things inside himself. The constant use of inappropriate language is to plant the idea in your head that sixteen year old Holden Caulfield is much more mature than the teenage delinquent he is played out to be. Just like the use of adult language throughout the story, the adult activities Holden takes part in are there to show that while you’re reading the narrative of a sixteen year-old wisecracking boy, you’re also reading the narrative of a mature, cynical man who has dealt with life and its obstacles, and has learned from them.
Your entire time reading the book will be spent waiting for something extravagant and spectacular to happen, and it never does. The book ends, the lights fade, and without even knowing it you have enjoyed what is said to be one of the greatest books of the twentieth century. To enjoy and understand this book completely, you must read it more than once. You can’t expect too much of it, because at first you will be disappointed. Only later will you realize how much the book spoke to you. You have to be okay with nothing happening. No aliens, no zombies, no explosions or unbelievable love stories, just a boy in New York City trying to find himself through sex, alcohol, and freedom.
Title: The Catcher in the Rye
Author: J.D. Salinger
Publisher: Little Brown and Company
Date of Publication: May 1991
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Philadelphians are also more generous than most people would ever imagine. Behind those hard, almost mean expressions that you see everyone wearing, is a kind heart that will gladly help in a time of need. My neighbor, who I’ve never spoken to up until last week, came to our house and gifted us a hot pot of gravy (tomato sauce for non-South Philadelphians) and meatballs. Even complete strangers will exchange a friendly “Hi, how are ya?” as you pass them. The smallest gestures like those are appreciated and brighten my day all the time.
New Years in New York has nothing on New Years in Philadelphia. The dancing and singing and overall feeling of togetherness cannot be compared to anywhere else in the world. You will never be alone on New Years. Everyone is your friend. The Mummers, a group of people that dress up in extravagant costumes and dance, are a core part of what makes our city unique. They bring joy to everyone in the city, and my words definitely don’t do them justice. You have to see for yourself or you can never understand the Mummers (here’s a link! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRs12A86ZAI). I’ve been a Mummer for seven years and I’m still not sure I understand. All I know is I love bringing joy to the people of Philadelphia, and it brings everyone together. It gives a new meaning to “City of Brotherly Love.”
Living in this city is exciting, and great, and wonderful, and I’m going to end this sentence now because I can literally go on forever about how amazing my city is. The city itself has so much to offer if you know where to look. I haven’t been anywhere that has come close to replicating what a Philly cheesesteak actually tastes like. We’re different and unique. We say things differently and make up new words altogether. Some people think it’s weird and make fun of our accents, but for me I take pride in the way I saw “cawfee” or the way I call tomato sauce “gravy”.
This is my corner of the world. This city made me who I am, and that’s something I take pride in. I can say with my head held high, “I’m from Philadelphia. I say things weird, I eat too many cheesesteaks, I’m too passionate about sports, and I’m damn proud of it.”
Noah Caruso A Band
Bias has played a prominent role throughout time in the development of people and society. While not everyone likes the idea of acknowledging bias, it is there. Bias exists everywhere, most notably in the courtroom. In Errol Morris’s The Thin Blue Line, he explores the arrest of two men, Randall Adams and David Harris, for the murder of a police officer and the impact of bias and human error. Bias was used throughout the trial to determine the murderer based on the likelihood of an individual committing murder at a certain age.
While interviewing a private investigator that had worked on the case, she explained the reasoning behind the arrest of Randall Adams instead of David Harris, the more likely suspect to have committed the murder. She states that Adams was the “convenient age” for the arrest. Harris was only sixteen, and unable to be charged with the death penalty, while Adams, twenty-six, was able to be tried as an adult and given capital punishment. This presents the bias that all juveniles are innocent, that adults are more likely to be in the wrong and influence the juveniles. It is easier to convince a jury that a twenty-six year old man had committed murder than a sixteen year old boy.
While the age was convenient to prosecute Randall Adams, the evidence was not. The stories given by both Harris and Adams were the same, though Harris’s was two hours ahead of what actually happened. Crucial pieces of evidence were overlooked and suppressed for the sake of conviction by the prosecution. The prosecution was faced with two options: give a somewhat suspicion man jail time, possibly death, or prosecute a juvenile and have no repercussions because of the laws restricting punishment.
Not only did age play a part in the conviction of Adams, but where he was from as well. David Harris ran away from home with his parent’s gun, and stole a neighbor’s car, but was still a native to the town where the murder was committed. Randall Adams, however, had come to town only a few days before meeting Harris on the road, and sharing his motel room with him. Having a murderous sixteen year old from your town making headlines across the country is not desirable. This gave the prosecution even more reason to pin the murder on Adams. They were biased towards not only the youth of Harris, but where his roots are.
Adams was convicted for the murder of officer Robert Wood and sentenced to death. When an officer is murdered, authorities want the worst possible punishment for the murderer, in this case death. The death penalty was unable to be given to a sixteen year old, and they would not see the punishment fit for a murderer of a fellow member of the law. False witnesses were brought to the courtroom to testify against Adams as well as false evidence. Three days before his execution, Supreme Court Justice Lewis R. Powell Jr. granted a stay of execution, instead sentencing Adams to life in prison without a new trial.
Through the investigation by Errol Morris and his documentary, he was able to collect enough evidence to make a case that Adams was innocent and Harris was the one who committed the murders. Being that Harris was now older and able to be tried as an adult, there were no biases toward him and no evidence was suppressed in favor of Harris. While Harris was never charged with the murder of the police officer, Adams was granted freedom. After his release from prison, Harris was convicted of breaking and entering, attempted kidnap, and attempted murder. He was sentenced to death by lethal injection, with nothing interfering in the case or conviction.
This case and wrongful conviction is a clear representation of the unjust and corrupt court system, something Morris tries to demonstrate in all of his films. The film exploits the bias, though not always noticeable, that is present in society, not just the courtroom. Great measures were taken to ensure the conviction of the man the authorities wanted- an adult male from Ohio who is able to be charged with the death penalty, something they felt was deserved for the murder of another police officer. They crossed the thin blue line, the willingness to blur the truth in favor of justice and defense of their fellow officers. They wanted a death for a death, something that is unable to be given to a sixteen year old, and they let bias sway them into doing everything in their power to convict the wrong person.
Bias exists in the courtroom today as well, sometimes more noticeably than others. Whether there is more bias today as opposed to the time period of the murder is debateable. Aside from bias being based on age as it was in the case of Adams and Harris, bias is more based on race, gender, and as of late, sexual preference. Laws are being put in motion to prevent bias from affecting the conviction and defense of a suspect in the court of law, especially in extreme cases like Randall Adams.
[Dog barks loudly. Annie gets up from bed and walks passed the calendar and glances.It’s late at night.]
God, I miss him. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year already. I don’t know if I can stand it anymore without him. I needed him. I need him. He… We needed each other. He was my other half. My other half who got ripped to shreds by that drunk… [opens door for dog to go outside] fucker who threw his car off the road. No one cared. He had no family. They threw his death to the wind. But not me. I remember. I remember every. single. day. and every waking moment I think about that god damn man and how much I loved him. [Looks up] Why did you have to work so much? I barely got to see you! And look at how you died… on your way to that shithole. Can you tell I haven’t slept very well since the last time that we spoke? [Looks down] He used to tell me [wipes tears from eyes] “I know that I am here, and you are there… but we still have our love.” It’s some song quote, I don’t know and I don’t care. None of that matters now. He’s gone. [Looks up again] Maybe we still do have our love, huh? But guess what I don’t have? You. All the love’s still there. I just don’t know what to do with it now. [Goes into the refrigerator and downs a bottle of alcohol. Coughs] What do I have to do to bring you back… what do I have to do? Please understand I’ve been drinking again and all I do is hope. Please… [breaks down and cries] Ya know… [opens door for dog to come back inside] this isn’t what he’d want. He’d want you to be strong, to be brave and move on, find someone else. But I c- Yes you can. You can and you will. For him. I can’t forget about him. He was… is my everything. If love is a labor, I’ll slave til the end. I don’t care. I’ll die loving him just like I- what the fuck am I doing? Is this what it’s come to? Talking to myself? He’s gone. Deal with it. Forcing things to be bright just makes the darkness underneath even darker. Look at me I’m doing it again for fuck’s sake… like there’s two different people in this room, what am I? Crazy? I should just go back to bed, I need a break from all this… Hell, I need a break from myself. [Walks away singing] “...but we still have our love. I’ve been to heaven, I’ve been to hell. I’ve been to Vegas, and God knows where… But nothing feels like home… like you babe. I love you more than you will ever know.”
“Excuse me. Can you please show me where the gravy is?” I shuffle through the endless aisles, piled to the brim with food. We reach our destination as the worker peels away. I nod a silent thank you and look at the wall in front of me. Cans of gravy. Brown. Not the gravy I wanted. “This isn’t what I wanted,” I say aloud to myself. I draw the attention of other customers, but do my best to ignore their glares.
I leave the aisle at once, almost disgusted with the fact that I didn’t get the real gravy, the Italian gravy, that I was searching for. I wander around the grocery store looking for the sweet Italian perfection my father had instructed me to get. I finally find it, perched atop the highest shelf in aisle 9. I politely handed the cashier the can. She slid the barcode swiftly across the scanner, “Tomato Sauce- $3.99”.
“Dad, he gave me brown gravy. BROWN.”
“It’s Jersey bud, we aren’t on ninth street anymore. They don’t talk the way we do.”
“God, I hate these people.”
I never thought about it. They’re so close apart, separated by a small body of water, but
they do things so much differently. The way we drive, the way we cook, they way the houses look, but the way we talk especially. They say coffee, not “cawfee.” They say water, not “wooder.” I had to make that adjustment when I moved, but I did it subconsciously at first. I hadn’t even realized that I started pronouncing the “a” in water instead of the “o”. I wanted to be normal to them. I wanted to speak like them, I wanted to speak correctly to the new neighbors in their cookie-cutter house. I remember the first time I spoke to them, they knew instantly where I was from.
“How’d you know?” I would ask, confusedly.
“I mean, the way you ‘tawlk’ instead of talk. Everything has an ‘aw’ in it and everything sounds different from the way we say it here.”
That made me conscious of the way I spoke, the way I stood out from everyone else. I started making an effort to say things the “normal way.” I wanted to be like them, be someone that they wouldn’t make fun of or look at differently because of the way I spoke. I’d rather fit in with people there then feel inferior because I spoke, what I felt was, a complete different language from them. I wanted to fit in with the kids there not in the things I did but in the way I spoke.
I did keep, however, the words that people from New Jersey didn’t know, or words that we as Italians pronounce so differently that they couldn’t possibly know what I was talking about. Gravy for instance, the red stuff. I will always say that, no matter where I go. It's my heritage. It's who I am. It will always stay with me. But gravy is a real word, just a different meaning to people from South Philly. Other pronunciations are so different, they don’t resemble the original word at all. Italians say “rigut” instead of ricotta. We say galamad instead of calamari. Those are the things I would never change. The words I keep with me no matter how much it sets me apart from others.
A video we watched in class, Americana Tongues, demonstrates how language differs from region to region, and reinforces the idea that no matter how small the distance, the English language we speak is all different. The way one part of Boston speaks is different from the way another part of Boston speaks, same with New York. Their languages and dialect are entirely different and they're in the same city. An entire body of water separates Philadelphia and Cherry Hill, the languages are completely different. It makes me feel like an alien.
I’d like to say I recover my language when I come back to Philly, but I’d be lying. I feel like Jersey has changed me, stripped me of something that was a big part of my identity, the way I speak. The language made me feel closer to my family. It made me feel at home. Now I can’t “tawlk” like that no matter how hard I try. Most people would say, “It’s your language. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget.” They’d be right. I didn’t forget. I subconsciously choose not to speak like that. It’s like my brain knows it isn’t the “correct” way to speak, so it refuses to let my mouth and tongue move in such a fashion to pronounce those words in that manner.
It would be easy to blame Jersey for taking away my language, for taking away who I am, but that isn’t the truth. I blame myself. I let this happen. I became conscious of what other people thought of me, something that I told myself I’d never do. I changed for the sake of other people’s acceptance, even though, at first, I thought I was changing for myself. I thought it was what I wanted.
“Dad, do you like it here?”
“It has its ups and downs. They can’t drive and their cheesesteaks aren’t as good. We can’t walk anywhere. But on the other hand, we have a pool because we have a backyard and its safe here. The ‘wooder’ is better too.”
“Dad, how’d you do that?”
“You said ‘wooder’. That’s not how people say it here.”
From that moment on, I never heard my dad say “wooder” again. He never said “haungry”, there wasn’t an “aw” in everything he said anymore. I realized it wasn’t just me. It was human nature. When the way you do something is deemed different from the norm, you want to change yourself to fit in, whether it be consciously or subconsciously. As people, we don’t like feeling inferior because we’re different.
Still, even after realizing that, I can’t speak my native tongue. The sharp South Philly accent has left me, never to come back again. I force myself to speak that way sometimes, but it just comes out wrong. It feels forced, because it is. It comes out right, but all wrong. My mouth and tongue may never move the same way again, and produce the same noises that I once called my language.
American Tongues. Film. 4 Nov 2013.
Negative space is the area around the object you are drawing.
2. I found negative space in both my drawings and my cutouts by drawing the object first, and then shading around it.
3. Why does it help an artist to see in negative space?
It helps an artist to see in negative space because he is able to determine the difference between light and dark.
4. Does negative space enhance your drawings?
Yes because it helps make the object in the drawing more distinct and visible by making it contrast with the negative space around it.
Research- We had to research our element. We had to find out what it was used in, how to represent it in a drawing. We had to research it.
Collaboration- Our friends helped research and suggest ideas. They really helped to make our projects the best they can be.
Presentation- Our prints are going to be posted and shown all around the school. We had to make sure they were presentable and looking good.
Reflection- I had an interesting experience doing this project. It was fun learning about a new element and doing something I had never done before. Many band aids were used during the cutting process :3
I learned about the use of lines and vanishing points to help draw in perspective.
b. How did learning this thing make your drawings better.
It helped make my drawing better because I was able to accurately draw the different pieces of furniture in the room.
c. If you did this assignment again, what would you do differently?If I did this assignment again, I would make sure to as for more help instead of doing things on my own.
d. What is your advice to someone who has never drawn a one point perspective drawing before?My advice is to take your time, and make sure not to get frustrated. Once you get frustrated, your drawing begins to look worse.
e. What resource helped you the most and why?My most helpful resource was Ms. Hull because she gave subtle hints that helped perfect my drawing.
I sing in English,
I laugh in English,
I dream in English,
I shoot for the stars in English.
Leo en español.
Estudio en español.
Hablo en español.
Español es no soy yo,
English is me.
Su nombre es Brandon. Le gusta come Cup Noodles. Le gusta jugar videojuegos con amigos. Brandon tiene 15 años. Ello es mi mejor amigo. Ello nunca estuve ausente. Cuando tiene tiempo libre, le gusta mirar anime.
Mi clase favorita es Inglés. Inglés es muy divertida y el profesor es cómica. En Inglés, necesito un lapíz y mi computadora. Leemos libros. Mi otra clase favorita es drama. Yo puedo ser yo mismo. Es interesante y creativo. En drama, necesito nada pero nuestros cuerpos. Para tener éxito en esta clase drama, tenemos que utilizar nuestros imaginación. No me gusta mucho la clase de historia. Historia es muy aburrida y hace mí querer dormir. Saco buenas notas sin embargo.
Mis profesores son estupendos. El Señor Kay enseña la clase de Inglés y drama. Señor Kay es muy cómico y divertido. Le gusta baloncesto. Nos divertimos. Sus clases son entretenidos. La Señorita Manuel enseña la clase de Español. Señorita Manuel es cómica y una magnífica profesora. Le gusta jugar a fútbol y cantar. Su cumpleaños el 17 de mayo. La clase de español es interesante. La Señorita Dunda es muy inteligente. Le gusta correr. La clase de bioquímica es divertida, pero difícil. La Señorita Hull enseña la clase de tecnología y arte. Ella es bastante talentosa y artística. Sus clases son divertidas.
SLA es muy divertido, a veces difícil, y bastante emocionante. Los estudiantes y profesores son los mayores. Lo que más me gusta de SLA es la libertad. A veces los proyectos son un poco mucho, pero yo logré terminar. ¡SLA es la mejor!
Yo- Me llamo Noah. Soy de Filadelfia y New Jersey. Tengo catorce años. Me encanta practicar deportes, hacer artes marciales mixtas, y jugar videojuegos.
Ella- Su nombre es Montana. Tana es mi mejor amiga. Ella es muy cómica. Tiene los ojos café y el pelo pelirroja. Le encanta fajitas y música. Le gusta bailar en el South Philly Vikings. Ella es impresionate y guapa. Es por eso que me encanta Tana.
Ellos- Esto es mi otra familia, Maxercise! Ellos son bastante talentoso y increiblemente deportistas. Casi siempre, ellos son locos. Pero me encanta súper mucho.
Ellas- Ellas son Angela y Gia. Gia tiene los ojos café y morena. Angela tiene los ojos café y pelo negro. Ellas son locas un poquito, sin embargo ellas son increiblemente divertidas. Ellas les encanta bailar y practicar deportes. Ellas son bonitas.
Nosotros- Estos son me hermanos, Campbell y Dash. Nos encanta jugar videojuegos y luchar. Vivimos juntos sólo la mitad del tiempo, pero somos inseperables.
Conclusion- Esos son mis seres queridos. ¡Gracias por mirar!
Watch the video here!
Tiene los ojos verdes y el pelo pelirroja y liso. Le gusta interpretar. No le gusta nada practicar deportes.
Tiene los ojos marrones y el pelo negro. Le gusta interpretar. No le gusta nada cantar.
1= Emma Stone
2= Mila Kunis
3= Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Many decisions had to be made about putting these pictures into place. I modeled this slide off of the Ikea advertisement with the cups. The cups had a nice contrast to the black background and the empty space made you notice them. I also used a black background with mostly white symbols to contrast the background. I kept a lot of blank space so you had no other choice but to look at them. The reason one picture was a different color is because I wanted your eyes to go there first. I wanted it to pop out at you so your eyes would start at the top, most colorful image and work your way down until you reached the bottom and realized that it spelled my name. Too much negative space, however, is a bad thing. I put another image that represented me in the negative space but made it slightly transparent so it wouldn't create
much of a distraction for your eyes. This slide explains me through pictures, but without pictures of me. It explains me without words.
¡Hola! Mi nombre es Noah. Soy de Filadelfia. Soy italiano. ¿De dónde eres tú? ¿Quantos años tienes? Tengo catorce años. También, mi cumpleaños es el veintidos y marzo. Soy muy deportista, inteligente, y divertido. ¿Cómo estás tú? Me encanta los juegos del hambre y música. ¿Qué te gusta? Cuando tengo tiempo libre, me gusta practicar deportes con amigos, ir al cine, y platicar mi mejor amiga. Ella es loca. Pero no me gusta nada estudiar. ¡Responde cuando puedas! ¡Despedida!
When meeting a Spanish speaking exchange student for the first time, it would be best to speak to them in their own language. These are the phrases that you need to know in order to do it:
Common greetings (Hola, buenos días, tardes, noches)
Conversation questions (How are you?, What's your name?, How old are you?, Where are you from?, When's your birthday?)
Ways to say goodbye (Hasta mañana, Hasta luego, Adios)
In this video, we will show a real life application of Español by demonstrating how to conduct a basic conversation with an exchange student. We will use phrases and words such as Hola, Cómo te llamas, and Cúantos años tienes tú.
Watch a video here: https://vimeo.com/52681521
When speaking to those who you wish to show respect, you use usted (ud.)
When speaking to friends or someone younger, you use tú.
Here are some examples of using tú versus usted.
President Obama: ¿Cómo estás?
You: ¡Muy bien, gracias! ¿Y usted?
A new exchange student: ¿Cómo te llamas?
You: Mi nombre es _____. ¿Y tú?
Think of which phrase (tú or usted) you would use for each person.
In this video we will present a real life application of Español by demonstrating the different instances in which you use the phrases y tú and y usted.
I like unicorns and cookies.