Educational Banking

In Freire’s essay, he compares education to banking; “narration (the teacher as the narrator) leads the students to memorize mechanically…turns them into “receptacles” to be “filled” by the teacher…becomes an act of depositing, in which the students are the depositories and the teacher is the depositor.”

‘Banking Education’ dictates that the students must be meek and submissive, whereas teachers are the all-knowing, authoritative disciplinarians. After wading through the titanic amount of information in this essay, I have come to the conclusion that if you asked Freire his opinion on standardized testing, he would begin an angry rant and most likely lecture you on how standardized testing is simply a widespread attempt to conform students to a biased idea of what intelligence is. It is clear that Freire desires an environment where teachers and students can have a give-and-take dialogue, allowing the teachers to “teach while being taught and become jointly responsible for a process in which all grow.” According to Freire, banking education “anesthetizes and inhibits creative power, problem-posing/give-and-take education involved a constant unveiling of reality.”

Standardized testing is the antithesis to problem-posing education; the test is designed to trick students and degrade their sense of intelligence. Personally, I agree with Freire’s view of education as ‘banking,’ however who knows if the student-teacher imbalance will ever come to peaceful resolve? I believe that in some situations, a resolution is already in sight; as students grow older and become more independent and assertive, they make a give-and-take dialogue more possible. Yet in all reality, despite the amount of equality between teachers and students in the classrooms, standardized testing will always drive a wedge in the relationship and make it much more difficult for problem-posing education to preside.

The Schools, The Teachers...Their Similarities, Their Differences...Their Ultimate Success

The powerful warbles of bagpipes resound off the stone walls of the dining hall at Welton Academy as we see a droning sentiment of religiosity being doled out among the men. Welton is plagued by insufferable rigidity; the teachers are strict and lackluster, the parents of students are overbearing and dictatorial, and the students themselves seem to be grasping for control, for freedom.

Mr. Keating pokes his head in the door and weaves through the desks, whistling all the while. He exits the room, whistling still, and pauses for a moment; ”Well, come on!” he whispers. The boys look around at each other in confusion, their eyes filled with wonderment. They follow Keating to a hall in the school where he begins to speak. The short speech he gives commands attention and respect, but more importantly, it lit the flame of passion that would eventually drive his students to resurrect the Dead Poets Society. At the end of their first class, Mr. Keating whispers, "Carpe diem; seize the day, boys. Makes your lives extraordinary.” And that they did.

Now when examining Mr. Keating’s circumstances in comparison to those of Mr. Escalante, the most immediate difference between the two is schools at which they teach. As previously explained, Welton Academy For Boys is a rigid, religious, prestigious school with the intention of supplying a wealth of students to the Ivy League, whereas Garfield was struggling to meet standards and had set a very low bar for their students to meet, if any at all. The pressure at Welton was immense; the students were struggling to please their parents, who had gotten the idea in their head that in order for their children to succeed they had to become doctors or engineers or scientists; and no time could be wasted on frivolous things such as the school newspaper or acting! However the parents were conforming their children to an intellectual box, and inside this box the boys were rattling around, screaming, struggling to break free and be themselves. On the other hand, at Garfield, in most cases the parents were completely absent from the students’ lives, and the pressure wasn’t to do well in school, it was to not do well in school. If you were studious, you were a nerd. If you had good grades, you were a nerd. If you cared about school at all, you were a nerd. And if you were a nerd, you were not socially accepted, and there was no place for you in a gang. Furthermore, the teachers at Garfield were poorly educated in the subject matter which they were teaching, whereas the professors at Welton knew their material backwards and forwards, and lastly, we come to notice that Welton made school the students’ lives, whereas in Garfield school was an afterthought; a joke.

Upon further inspection of the teachers themselves, they of course have the same passion, wit, and knowledge which lit the fire in their students’ minds. Both men utilize unconventional teaching methods that really captured the attention of their students and made them listen. For example, in Stand and Deliver, Escalante strolls into the classroom wearing a butchers cap and wielding a thick German accent as he proceeds to slice an apple in half, while in Dead Poets Society Keating takes the students on a field trip, animates poems using character voices, and gets them riled up, angry, and imaginative. In each movie, we see that the teachers had a way about their teaching that went beyond educating their students about the particular subject. In Mr. Keating's case, when presented with his students’ concerns regarding how poetry could possibly be so important in their own ambitions (i.e. med school, engineering), he validates them by stating that poetry is love, it is passion, it is truth. And that plays into med school and engineering and science and all aspects of life, because it is life.

Escalante and Keating have their differences also, for example Keating has a more intellectual wit, whereas Escalante has a more searing, condescending sense of humor. They teach different subjects, they teach at different schools, they have passion for different properties; however underlying these petty details stand two incredible, inspiring educators. To find teachers such as them is as rare as it is to find orchids in the arctic.

Jack MacFarland and Escalante

In part II of I Just Wanna Be Average, Rose finally manages to break free from the rut that Voc. Ed. had put him in and rise to his full potential. Rose’s success was due largely to his teacher, Jack MacFarland, who pushed Rose to succeed despite his discouraging academic history.

When comparing MacFarland and Escalante, it is clear that the common ground between them is vast in comparison to their differences. Escalante taught a classroom full of underprivileged, rebellious Hispanic teens, whereas MacFarland taught students that were generally better-off. However both teachers took their jobs incredibly seriously; they didn’t just teach English or Calculus, they taught their students to succeed in other classrooms, in their personal lives, and in all possible parameters of life. They took teaching on not only as a job, but as a way of life; they invested a huge part of themselves in their students, taking a personal interest in each and every one of them. Furthermore, although MacFarland and Escalante may have been plagued by a less-than-desirable physical appearance, what was on the ‘inside’ more than made up for it; their quick, stinging wit and admirable zeal and intellect earned them respect. They inspired their students to want to succeed in class. Rose said, "Venal though it may have been, I loved getting good grades from MacFarland."

MacFarland and Escalante were both tremendously dedicated, caring, brave teachers; and as a result, their students flourished.

Stand and Deliver: Part II

The day of the AP Calculus Exam rolls around, and the camera pans around the room, showing Escalante's students concentrating on the test that they have spent two years preparing for. The sweat, the tears, the anger, the confusion, the discrimination and distrust...all amounting to this moment. Eighteen students took the test, and eighteen students passed. Mr. Escalante and his students were ecstatic they had done it!

However, shortly after the recognition ceremony for the success on the test, a student gets a call from the officials at Educational Testing Services. Heartbreak is evident by the look on her face. The ETS was accusing the students of cheating. Their reasoning? The students had done too well, too quickly, and had gotten similar questions wrong.

We watch as a righteously angry Escalante storms into the ETS office, asking for proof that his students cheated. When the ‘investigators’ refuse to offer proof, Escalante attempts to explain that perhaps the students got similar questions wrong because they were all using the same exact step-by-step method, taught by him. He also raises the point that if students from a school in Beverly Hills had done this well on a test they would not be under such rigorous investigation. The investigation was not only preposterously misguided, but racially discriminatory! But the investigators refused to see Escalante’s point, and the students were eventually forced to take the test again. With only one day to study, the outcome of the test was uncertain.

Escalante paces back and forth in the school office, waiting for the news. Had they passed? Had these past two years paid off?

YES.

That year, eighteen students passed the AP Calculus exam. In the following years, the number of students passing the exam increased steadily. Escalante and his students achieved their goal, and proved that dedication and persistence can lead to amazing accomplishments.

What Makes a Great Teacher?

In class, there was a dispute between two students regarding what makes a good teacher; one student said that if you like a particular subject, then you will also like the teacher teaching the subject. However, another student countered this by saying that a great teacher makes you like the subject. Personally, I find this to be very true.

A good teacher makes the subject relatable, personal, and memorable; he inspires you to want to learn about the subject! It is natural to forget information you learned unless you actively attempt to retain said info. Many students question why they are 'forced' to learn geometry, calculus, biology, physics, etc., asking "Why do we need to know this? Is it really going to help me at all in ‘real life’?” A good teacher doesn’t just teach you physics, he employs a deeper meaning. The truth is, many of us will not use what we learn in physics in our daily lives. Thus we will probably forget most of what we learned. But if the teacher was a good one, the deeper meaning will be ever-present in our thoughts. Think of Mr. Escalante; he didn’t just teach those kids calculus, he taught them how to be responsible, dedicated, and how to earn things. He made it relatable, relevant, fun, and inspiring. That, ladies and gentlemen, that is what makes a good teacher.

Audre Lorde

“I want to read.” Four surprising, life-changing words uttered out of the mouth of a misunderstood five-year-old. Her name was Audre Lorde, sans the “y” because the unsightly tail on the letter disturbed the even peace of her name.

In her essay, Audre details her experience as a black, nearsighted child struggling to succeed in the classroom. Her education began at a local library, when a kind children’s librarian interrupted her tantrum and sat her down to read a book. The librarian, Mrs. Augusta Baker, read two simple books to Audre, both of which rhymed and had enchanting illustrations. Audre was thrilled by the majesty of these wondrous books; she wanted to learn how to read them herself.

Audre’s mother taught her the alphabet and how to write her name, so when Audre was enrolled in a public kindergarten she was well prepared. Yet the teacher gave her unfamiliar materials to write with and an assignment that was far below her level. After being reprimanded by her teacher, Audre’s mother saw that this school was not a good match for her and enrolled her in the Catholic school across the street. Audre was accepted into the first grade; however she encountered great difficulty in class because although she knew how to read, she had never been taught numbers, and thus was at a great disadvantage. Sister Mary of Perpetual Help proved to be no help at all; instead she often humiliated and discriminated against Audre. The fact that Audre could not even find the correct pages to read off of because no one had taken the time to teach her how to read numbers lent no sympathy. Yet her time at this school was not all gone to waste, she learned to work with others in order to succeed.

The essay does not go on to describe Audre’s endeavors later on in school, but it is certain that although her first few years as a student were brutal, unfair, and taxing, Audre eventually found her knack and was able to overcome the difficulties of being “different.” Audre said she wanted to learn to read, and she did.

Stand and Deliver; Part I

Stand and Deliver tells the story of a number of students coming from stereotypical Hispanic homes into a failing high school, when suddenly a wild card is thrown into the equation; Mr. Escalante. He walks into a classroom teeming with out of control students; and upon a quick first glance, it is blatantly apparent that they are either poor, illiterate, disrespectful, seemingly unwilling to learn or a combination of the four. His first day could be described as a disaster; however in truth it was a quiet success, for it gave him a heads up as to what he was up against. On the second day, he strolls into class donning a butchers apron and hat, wielding a cleaver and a thick German accent. Condescending whispers ring throughout the room as Escalante silently raises his cleaver. Suddenly, BAM! The chatter stops, and all attention is given to the apple which has just been divided by Escalante's weapon. He begins to ask the students how much of an apple they have left. Finally, a girl in the back from whispers "25 percent less." A smile creeps across Escalante's face. This was the beginning of a two year process that would change not only the student's lives, but his own.

Escalante’s humor was infectious; it lightened the mood and acted as an avenue for him to relate with the students. His passion for teaching and the interest he showed to each and every student – whether they appreciated it or not – eventually earned him their respect.

The school seemed doomed; teachers began to quit in fear of being dragged down along with the failing school. Yet Escalante retained hope and zeal, and so did his students. In just two short years, Escalante managed to turn a classroom filled with illiterate, slacking students into a group of young scholars. What will happen next…?

Ken Robinson

In his twenty minute speech, Ken Robinson challenges the educational system’s polluted view of a child’s creativity. The system squanders creativity, viewing it as a distraction as opposed to a vital component to true innovation and success. Creativity, according to Robinson, should be held to as high a level of importance as literacy.

Robinson states, “Education takes us into a future we cannot predict.” If there is no room for creativity, there is no room for growth and adaptation! How can we expect the children of today to succeed and carry the weight of the nation on their shoulders if we don’t allow them to think creatively?  We are being educated out of creativity, and in turn, out of a hopeful future.  

According to Robinson, there is a hierarchy of education that was developed in the 19^th century to satisfy industry. This hierarchy of education is quite skewed. It is based off of two factors; #1 – the usefulness of the subject, #2 – academic ability. The hierarchy is as follows:

-          Math and Languages

-          Humanities

-          Arts (Music being the most respected of the arts, followed by photography, painting etc., with dance at the bottom.)

In modern times, anything less than a PhD isn’t worth anything. This is the result of academic inflation.

Intelligence is diverse, dynamic, and distinct. We all learn differently, we process information differently, and we all use different methods to understand concepts. What does that mean? It means that in order to learn in a way that works for us as individuals, we are going to require creativity. The skewed hierarchy, continual academic inflation, and unbending idea of what education ‘should be’ are squashing our creativity, our children and our future!

We must embrace and encourage creativity if we want the children of this generation to succeed! BE CREATIVE, BE INSPIRED, BE ORGINIAL!

Ed. Nar Final Draft

Sydney Mitchell

Sonia Begert

English 101

14 October 2012

The Leap

            It is the thought that often kept my mind awake long after dark. The idea which was so all-consuming it permeated the underlying base of my every conscious thought and invaded my dreams. A feeling that settled heavy in my bones, threatening to cement me to an everlasting state of inadequacy. Fear of uselessness. The threat of failure.

            My dreams melded with reality. Strange dreams involving impossible tasks and a sense of wrongness too heavy to be left on the shoulders of a mere child. So vivid, so real, so tangible that no amount of screaming or shaking or soothing could bring me back from the cold clutch of my nightmare. I dreaded sleep for fear of the terrors that accompanied the night, the evil that resided in my subconscious and was let loose to twist my thoughts as the barriers of my mind relaxed and I fell asleep. Dreams of a man tossing a thousand pennies into the endless sands of the Sahara, ordering me to find them all, reminding me that if I should fail this task, death would ensue. I knew failure was imminent. I knew I was striving towards an unattainable goal. Even at barely seven years old, I knew.

            Fast forward to 2009, the genesis of my seventh grade year; new school, fresh start. Word gets around fast in a school of 120. Being the new kid was equivalent to being a shiny object in an aquarium teeming with gold fish. All the fish wanted to look at me, they were drawn to me; I was fascinating to them. Yet just as a goldfish will soon forget what it was looking at, I rapidly became old news. The drama, insecurities, changes and social awkwardness that come with the territory of being thirteen began to settle in. Boys began to make fun of me, girls were gossiping about me; yet the true wake-up call came when a teacher, someone I respected and trusted, falsely accused me of cheating. I had just finished a science test, but as I left the room she asked me to stay behind. She handed me the test and immediately I noticed the numbers one, one, seven splashed across the top margin in red ink. The teacher looked me in the eye and said that my grade was too high, no one could answer every question right….right? She proceeding to accuse me of cheating, and reduced my grade by thirty percent as punishment. The fear came rushing back as I saw my grade plummet. Anger, hurt and betrayal washed over me; at that moment something snapped. I walked straight out of the school and went home. That was the day I took a leap.    
           Homeschooling was a scary concept; homeschoolers themselves were notoriously weird, awkward and completely socially inept…according to society, that is. What was I thinking, leaving traditional school to become a homeschooler? Nevertheless I walked into school in the Fall of 2010 to find eighteen sets of eyes, much older and wiser, staring into my own, sizing me up. Guys with facial hair and knuckle tattoos and girls that didn’t have braces, unlike myself. I was surprised to see that most the students in the room were not what I expected. They were not awkward or inept; they were confident, developed and intelligent. Maybe, this would work out after all.

After class, I spoke with my teacher, an inspiringly idiosyncratic woman by the name of Robin Summerfelt. She reviewed my prior test scores and, after getting a sense of my go-getter attitude, she informed me that if I was willing to put forth the effort, it just might be possible for me to graduate high school in two short years. That was it, my goal was set; two years. Geometry, Algebra II, Egyptology, Human Anatomy, Honors English; I breezed through them. An insatiable thirst for knowledge motivated me to work day and night in order to achieve my goal. All the while I had forgotten about the dreams. They were a distant memory…but the thoughts were still there. Fear. Failure.

            The fear drove me. It drove me to be the best. It drove me to surpass expectations, even my own, and to graduate at the age of fifteen. Homeschooling had given that fear an outlet. It ran rampant, working me into the ground, because there was nothing to hold it back anymore. It drove me to work through lunch and dinner six days a week. It drove me to what I thought was my full potential. At times it was difficult to stay dedicated, with only myself to ensure I did my assignments in time to graduate, but the fear pushed me onwards. Yet that fear…it was evil underneath all of the success it brought me. The rotten feeling of the fear began to waft up, like trying to cover up the reeking, rotten stench of sweat with cheap perfume. It made me sick. Everything seemed…wrong, as if my soul had been hardened. No amount of success or compliments could take that feeling away.

            So I began to delve into my past, searching for a solution by remembering those dreams; as I dove deeper, they surfaced again. Frantically clawing through miles of dunes, brushing away mountains of sand grain by miniscule grain. One night woke up, sweaty and anxious and ran to the bathroom to hop in a cold shower. I had rid myself of these dreams, they were…gone! How could they be back? Could I even withstand the effects of this torment again?

            It came to me in sleep. During one of the moments where I was not churning inside due to a nightmare, I dreamt of…freedom. That is the only way I know how describe the feeling that came over me. When morning came, I awoke feeling fresh and liberated. It was an odd feeling, one I was not accustomed to, yet I took advantage of it. I focused on having fun and being with friends and, even though it was summer, forgetting about school. Forgetting about the future and instead living in the moment, that was my cure. I stopped worrying about plans and college and a schedule and being perfect and I allowed myself to just be free for the first time in my life. It was and is an everyday choice that I make moment-by-moment. Sometimes I struggle with the fear of failure, sure. The fear will never go away. But now I am able to deal with it.

            Fear, terror, bullying, rebellion, anger, anxiety, walking by blind faith, success, revelation, redemption…my journey began with a dream and ended the same way. No longer does fear rule my life. Instead, the only thing I am afraid of is fear itself. Failure is not a possibility because of the person I now know I am. No matter what I do, where I go, or who I meet I will never fail. I view each mistake not as a failure, but as an opportunity to start again, this time more intelligently. Homeschooling was a crucial step in my journey of facing failure. It brought the fear back with such terrible force it snapped me awake and forced me to change. Now, I look failure in the eye and say boldly, “challenge accepted”.

Narrative Rough Draft

Sydney Mitchell        

Sonia Begert

English 101

11 October 2012

The Leap

            It is the thought that often kept my mind awake long after dark. The idea which was so all-consuming it permeated the underlying base of my every conscious thought and invaded my dreams. A feeling that settled heavy in my bones, threatening to cement me to an everlasting state of inadequacy. Fear of uselessness. The threat of failure.

            My dreams melded with reality. Strange dreams involving impossible tasks and a sense of wrongness too heavy to be left on the shoulders of a mere child. So vivid, so real, so tangible that no amount of screaming or shaking or soothing could bring me back from the cold clutch of my nightmare. I dreaded sleep for fear of the terrors that accompanied the night, the evil that resided in my subconscious and was let loose to twist my thoughts as the barriers of my mind relaxed and I fell asleep. Dreams of a man tossing a thousand pennies into the endless sands of the Sahara, ordering me to find them all, reminding me that if I should fail this task, death would ensue. I knew failure was imminent. I knew I was striving towards an unattainable goal. Even at barely seven years old, I knew.

            Fast forward to 2009, the genesis of my seventh grade year; new school, fresh start. Word gets around fast in a school of 120. Being the new kid was equivalent to being a shiny object in an aquarium teeming with gold fish. All the fish wanted to look at me, they were drawn to me; I was fascinating to them. Yet just as a goldfish will soon forget what it was looking at, I rapidly became old new. The drama, insecurities, changes and social awkwardness that come with the territory of being thirteen began to settle in. Boys began to make fun of me, girls were gossiping about me…and then even one of my teachers chimed in. I had just finished a science test, but as I left the room she asked me to stay behind. She pulled the test out and said that my grade was too high, proceeding to accuse me of cheating. After being called a cheat, having my grade reduced by thirty percent and feeling humiliated beyond belief, I grabbed my backpack and left. Angry and hurt and utterly betrayed - not only by the other girls and guys in my class but by the teacher too – I walked straight out of the school and went home. That was the day I took a leap. I decided to leave traditional schooling and face a whole new world.

            Homeschooling was a scary concept. Homeschoolers are weird and awkward and completely socially inept…according to society, that is. I walked into school in the Fall of 2010 to find eighteen sets of eyes, much older and perhaps wiser, staring into my own, sizing me up. Guys with facial hair and knuckle tattoos and girls that didn’t have braces, unlike myself. I sat down, trembling a little, and thus began the two year journey that changed my life. I spoke with my teacher and after seeing my test scores and getting a sense of my go-getter attitude, she spoke a few magic words. “If you are willing to work hard, you can probably graduate high school in two years’ time.” That was it. I was hooked. Geometry, Algebra II, Egyptology, Human Anatomy, Honors English; I breezed through them. An insatiable thirst for knowledge motivated me to work day and night. All the while I had forgotten about the dreams. They were a distant memory…but the thoughts were still there. Fear. Failure.

            The fear drove me. It drove me to be the best. It drove me to surpass expectations, even my own, and to graduate at the age of fifteen. It drove me to what I thought was my full potential. At times it was difficult to stay dedicated. With only myself to ensure I did my assignments and to make sure I got everything done in time to graduate, I had only myself to hold accountable for whatever happened. Yet that fear…it was evil underneath all of the success it brought me. The rotten feeling of the fear began to waft up, like trying to cover up the reeking, rotten stench of sweat with cheap perfume. It made me sick. Everything seemed…wrong, as if my soul had been hardened. No amount of success or compliments could take that feeling away.

            So I turned to God. I began to journal, reading blips out of the Bible here and there, in addition to a few of those terrible self-help books. As I began to dig into my past, remembering those dreams, they surfaced again. Frantically clawing through miles of dunes, brushing away mountains of sand grain by infinitesimal grain. I woke up, sweaty and anxious and ran to the bathroom to hop in a cold shower. I had rid myself of these dreams, they were gone! How could they be back… the torment had begun again.

            It came to me in sleep. During one of the moments where I was not churning inside due to a nightmare, I dreamt of…freedom. That is the only way I know how describe the feeling that came over me. When morning came, I began to face my fears. As cliché as it is to “face your fears,” there is truth to the method. I just stopped caring. I focused on having fun and being with friends and, even though it was summer, forgetting about school. Forgetting about the future and instead living in the moment, that was my cure. I stopped worrying about plans and college and a schedule and being perfect and I allowed myself to just be FREE. It was an everyday choice that I made moment-by-moment. Sometimes I struggle with the fear of failure, sure. The fear will never go away. But now I am able to deal with it.

            Fear, terror, bullying, rebellion, anger, anxiety, walking by blind faith, success, revelation, redemption…my journey began with a dream and ended the same way. No longer does fear rule my life. Instead, the only thing I am afraid of is fear. Failure is not a possibility because of the person I now know I am. No matter what I do, where I go, or who I meet I will never fail. Because the greatest barrier of success is the fear of failure. And that’s not an issue anymore.

The Three Amigos: Malcolm, Franklin, and Rose...and the most memorable moments

Franklin, Malcolm, and Rose - they came from different eras, different family situations, and are themselves very different people. What quality or experience could they possibly share? Well…a moment. The life-changing moment that occurred at some point in each of their lives that planted the idea in their heads that they had the ability to be better. That they had the strength within them to learn and to grow and to really be something. Franklin and Rose both had discouraging upbringings, Rose disheartened by his teachers, Franklin by his own family. Rose had his “moment of realization” at a younger age, while Malcolm had his as a ripened adult. Furthermore, Rose endured traditional schooling, while Malcolm had a self-taught store of knowledge, and Franklin had a mix of the two.

These three men are all descriptive, captivating writers, unafraid of speaking the truth. I appreciate Malcolm’s honesty, his eagerness to admit that he was once nearly illiterate, which heightens his appreciation for the knowledge he acquired later on. Benjamin gave a little bit of his life story – he didn’t just share the moment with us, he gave all of the background information leading up to it. Yet Rose is perhaps my favorite of the three; his descriptions are not only rich in vocabulary, but relatable. There is certainly something to be learned from the works of these men.        

"I Just Wanna Be Average"

1. Mike Rose landed in Vocational Education by a stroke of bad luck. The kind of bad luck that affects you for the rest of your life; the question is, would he let it affect him for the worse, or for the better? For two years Rose dealt with a wide array of teachers, ranging from harsh and unfair, to absent and unauthoritative, to troubled and constantly on the verge of becoming unhinged, to flat-out brutal. Yet they all had one thing in common; they were utterly uninspiring, with seemingly no desire to see Rose or any of the other students succeed. At the very most, his teachers evoked mediocrity among the other Voc. Ed. students.

Personally, I can relate to Rose’s experience on a smaller scale. I attended an average public school for the duration of fifth grade. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Kazcheck, also taught math and history. Math was about an hour long; in that time, I was usually able to not only complete my advanced math homework, but help others complete their homework as well. One afternoon after doing these things, I settled down to read Prince and the Pauper. No more than a paragraph into my chapter, Kazcheck stood up from his desk and walked brusquely to the front of the room. Then, he began to yell. He sounded angry, and I felt remorse for the student I imagined was cowering at Kazcheck’s feet as he gave the lecture. Engrossed in my reading, the lecture had been reduced to mottled mumbles…until he spoke my name. My head snapped up and I realized he had been yelling at me. He yelled at me, in front of the entire class, for reading. And for reading Prince and the Pauper no less! Which in case you haven’t read it, is not an easy read for a fifth grader. He banned me from reading in his class ever again, and gave me the simpleton task of removing staples from the bulletin board instead. For the rest of the school year, after finishing my homework and helping others with theirs, I would spend the remaining half hour of class doing useless busy work. Talk about inspiring mediocrity. To this day, I dread math classes.

2. Each student described in Rose’s recounting of Voc. Ed. had, through the years, been reduced to being labeled as a “slow” student. And furthermore, they didn’t really seem to care too much. All of the fellow classmen Rose speaks about in his essay were the rough and tumble type. Dave Snyder, the jock of the group, was described as having a “quick wit…welcome in any clique...possessed a certain level of maturity.” Yet while Dave may have been socially inclined, he “could care less about studies.” The highbrow of the group, Ted Richard, comes off as being quite intellectually independent. Described as a “street fighter,” it is also clear that Ted didn’t run with the best of people. “And then there was Ken Harvey.” The boy who uttered the phrase “I just wanna be average”. This statement shows it all; it shows how emotionally, academically, and socially torn down he was, that he believed all he could achieve was mediocrity. Voc. Ed. took a heavy toll on each one of these boys, including Rose himself.

3. As he uttered the phrase, “I just wanna be average,” Ken Harvey was dealing with the disorienting high school scene by essentially “twisting a knife in his own grey matter.” That is to say, he was giving up. Overwhelmed by the vast variety of curriculum and careers floating around in the world, Ken had simply given up to avoid the possibility of failure. Physical violence, verbal abuse, and dependence on drugs/alcohol are also common ways high school students deal with the pressures of high school. What do these coping mechanisms have in common? They all eventually work to the student’s detriment. The pain can only be dulled for so long before it rises up to bite you in the ass.

4. College always seemed soooo unimaginably far off in the future. But at the age of 15, college is already here, happening for me right now. There is nothing distant about it. There is a drastic, albeit shocking, increase in the level of independence between traditional grade school and college. Not only is there no one to hound you to turn in your homework or get to class on time, but your choice of curriculum is entirely up to you. However, as a homeschooler, independence and self-motivation are key character traits for success, so the move to college has not been too big a shock.  

5. We come from different places, different times, and difference families. But it seems the one thing we both have in common is a history of terrible teachers. And we both eventually realized that despite the discouraging start in academics, we have the ability to rise above mediocrity and surpass expectations.

Word Vomit...Yep, you read that right.

Ever find yourself staring at a piece of paper for such a long period of time that your eyes start to lose focus…and your mind begins to wander…and then after about three minutes have gone by you snap back into reality, only to find that for some odd reason, the words have not manifested themselves on the page yet? That was a rhetorical question, and the answer is yes, at one point or another we have all experienced this. Well, behold ladies and gentlemen, there is a cure (albeit an unconventional one) for this terrible disease commonly known as writer’s block. The cure is… word vomit. A more common and perhaps socially acceptable term for the cure may be “Pre-writing” or “brainstorming,” but this is my blog and after all, who is to tell me which terms to use?

Word vomit is just that; a messy spewing of words and ideas, just to get them out of your system. Sometimes, the reason we can’t seem to write is because we have to think in order to be able to write; and often the reason we just aren’t able to really think is because we are, in fact, overthinking things. Writing the first paragraph of a paper is always the hardest, because your brain hasn’t had a chance to process all of the thoughts in your head enough to be able to produce an understandable and cohesive statement. So, how to pass up this mental roadblock? Start by getting all those thoughts out of the cramped space in your head so they can actually breathe and develop! Stop trying to write the perfect first sentence and instead purposely write with complete freedom and abandon, unafraid to be crude and rough and confusing and for the sake of creativity just write!

In my experience, word vomit is the best form of brainstorming there is. By not caring how awful your writing may sound, or how discombobulated it may be, you are often able to uncover something brilliant, something much more brobdingnagian* than you thought possible! By removing a few small twigs from the dam, the waters can wash the rest of the sticks away and flow freely from them on. So go forth and write with unabashed candor, and I promise something wonderful will come of it!

*a terribly fun synonym for “tremendous"

In Class Assignment - Have each person in the group write a short paragraph using a style of writing as shown in WS. Our Topic? Food. Because everybody loves food.

Sydney Mitchell

Sonia Begert

Argumentation

4 October 2012

The Food Feud

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, better known as PETA, has been in business for over thirty years. Supporters of PETA hold their picket signs high and proclaim, “Animals are not ours to eat, wear, experiment on, or use for entertainment.” Now there is a certain level of compassion that lives inside every human being which makes us cringe at the thought of prodding animals with needles or annihilating a species for the sake of Fall fashion. However when it comes to the matter of eating animals, that is where the true argument erupts in society. We begin to question the ethicality of killing animals for our own nutrition. The thought of eating a cow or a chicken occasionally disgusts and shames people enough that they give up meat completely and live off carrots and lima beans for the cause. This drastic departure from natural omnivorous eating habits often results in malnutrition. By protecting animals, humans can in turn hurt themselves! Saying there is a “circle of life” may be a cliché, however it is true; we take from the earth by eating animals and plants and making use of its many amenities , and we give back when we pass on and give our bodies back to the ground, allowing the plants and animals to replenish.  PETA may have a point when it comes to wearing animals, but when it comes to eating them, PETA should really stand for People Eating Tasty Animals. After all, if God didn’t want us to eat pigs, he wouldn’t have made them out of bacon.

PS...my apologies if anyone reading this is a vegetarian/vegan :)

Malcolm X vs. Ben Franklin

The most apparent similarity between the two is that both Malcolm and Benjamin have a love for literature. In particular, for learning the meaning of individual words in order to be able to read and understand what is being read, as well as to write more eloquently and with greater vocabulary.

In both essays, there came the defining moment when the narrator actually realized that his vocabulary/writing wasn’t “up to par”. In his essay Malcolm wrote, “Every book I picked up had few sentences which didn’t contain anywhere from one to nearly all of the words that might as well have been in Chinese.” It was then that he began his study of the dictionary; by simply copying the words and repeating them to himself, he learned them. For Benjamin, this realization came while reading the third volume of the Spectator. However not only did he realize his vocabulary was insufficient, but that he was lacking a certain quality of elegancy in his writing. Furthermore, both writers preferred to read and study at night, and to be alone while doing so.

The obvious difference between the two essays is the time period in which they were written (nearly 200 years apart). Beyond that, Benjamin had a mixture of classroom education and first-hand experiences that shaped him into a writer. Malcolm describes his education as “homemade.” It becomes obvious when reading both of these essays that there is something missing from Malcolm’s – family. Benjamin’s family wasn’t always encouraging, but at least they were there. Malcolm was all on his own, with only the characters in his books to encourage him.  Lastly, while Malcolm was strictly orthodox Muslim, Benjamin maintained a Christian perspective.

While these essays have certain aspects that may compare and contrast, both of these men were excellent in communicating their views/opinions/beliefs through writing and speaking. There is no doubt we have something to learn from them.

Living Google Free

The article sums the issue up early on - "Google may have entered this world a simple search engine, but the company has grown and evolved to become the core of our online lives." And Google isn't just an excellent way to find information, it also offers ways to communicate and plan, making it all too easy to link everything together, with Google sitting at the tip of it all.

So why switch? Why switch if you are already perfectly content with the service you are using? Well, familiarity breeds contempt; which goes to say that just because you think you are happy with what you are already using doesn’t mean that is the best there is. In fact, that familiarity is holding you back! Using different search engines, calendars, translators, emails etcetera, we may find that certain services work better than Google! Granted, some may be less satisfactory, and in that case one can easily switch back to Google. (Imagine that!)

In my experimental quest I am happy to try new search engines – if they aid me in my research for papers, so be it! Also, if you think about it, the fear of trying new search engines/calendars closely parallels our anxiety regarding writing style. Why are we so afraid to branch out to say, writing poetry? Or expanding short stories? As difficult as it may be at first, it may aid our writing to grow in all other areas. So yes, I will be trying new search engines. And who knows, maybe I’ll take a whack at poetry too!