Imani's Artwork

This quarter I created two main masterpieces that I’m very proud of. The first one was a ceiling tile. As you can see in my slideshow, I made a like a white tree and it kind of reminded me of the winter time. I saw a similar picture on google just randomly scrolling and that inspired me to create mine.My self portrait I used a old picture that had a lot of detail in it. It took me about 2 days to complete this.Drawing my hair was probably the most complicated thing to do in that specific picture, my hair was very natural and big.

Advanced Essay #2 Reading South Philly

Introduction: This essay helped me practice on weak spots as a writer and continue with my strengths. One goal I had in mind when writing was to cut down on extraneous writing that was there to just give length, or if it was using multiple adjectives that I did not need.. My last essay had a lot of good ideas, and if I had organized and cut them down more, I feel I could have had my ideas conveyed more clearly and almost perfectly. Another goal of mine was to use a lot of descriptive writing in my scene, because I think I am good at writing analysis but could use work on writing stories. I am proud of how I was able describe the setting in my scenes. Lastly, I want to work on incorporating my quotes as evidence better. I like the examples I chose but I feel they could have been put in a better spot.

Reading South Philly

When the word, “Literacy” comes out of anybodies mouth, a thought pops into my mind; Can they read English? However when deeper thought is applied, I find that literacy means so much more than reading words on a paper. Reading beyond books, and reading the surrounding world is a form of literacy that can be just as important. If you understand the people and the places that surround your life, you are literate in at least one way. For me, moving to South Philly provided me with the knowledge to write this essay and show that by learning about a new environment, one is improving their self-awareness and expanding their literacy.

I have not been in my old room since April of my freshman year in high school. The last time I was there, I remember all the walls stood bare where there used to be bright paintings of animals, instruments, and sports players. I sat alone on my white carpet, the last thing left besides what made up the structure of the house. The room smelled dusty and I took shallow breaths. I was sitting on the floor, eating and waiting until it was time to leave and never return to the house I grew up in. It was time for change.

My new neighborhood felt comfortable, but was a shocker. Allow me to explain. Around my old house, I knew where every store was, every park, every bank, every restaurant, and transportation to anywhere I ever had needed to go. It had been my home since birth. Having this knowledge was no longer the case, so the stressful process of moving and to somewhere unfamiliar, felt strangely tiring, and threw me off my routine. I stayed optimistic, but I did not originally feel the comfortable qualities that “home” carries with it.

The new house was also smaller and farther from center city. I remember on the drive to see the house for the first time, I looked out the back window and the center city skyscrapers looked so far, it was like I barely lived in the city anymore, and I was just a kid who got to dream about being their now. The moment I saw the house, I knew it was small; or at least smaller than what I was used to. I opened my new screen door, and then front door. The living room was the first thing I saw, and piled almost as tall as myself was random artwork, bags, and furniture from the move. I kept making trips back and forth between the car and the house, unloading various things.

My new next door neighbor, a short Italian man in his 70s, approached my parents and said, “Hey, you moving in here huh?”

“Yes we are. How do you do?” my dad asked. We all got to chatting and after my Mom, Dad, and I walked back into our house, we all agreed Tony was a very nice man. A few minutes after the conversation, he came back knocking on our door and brought us, “Home made Pie”, which he has been bringing us ever since. The first weekend after we moved in, I decided I would explore the neighborhood. I wanted to know all the places to go and how to get around, just like I did near my old house. The first thing I discovered was that my house was not far from Geno’s Steaks, a cheesesteak place I had been to a million times. I walked down Passyunk ave, noticing the variety of shops and restaurants. I found two parks, a fountain, and loads more.

My optimism about my new home was increasing. I continued to look at the positives. I had a new neighbor Tony, who had a unique scope on the world that I could learn from. I had even more shopping and food near me now, and a huge variety of it that came with a lot of different culture. From the tourists to all the unique natives and their food, businesses, and homes, my home in South Philly broadened my awareness in life and helped me become more literate. Being able to see all these things allowed me to understand how people around my new area lived. There were definitely commonalities amongst the people and knowing about the life they were used to helped me understand them better. Knowing what my neighbors view of their physical world entailed when they look out the window mattered. I enjoyed learning about all the details that made up South Philly life because I wanted to adapt to it.

One of my favorite Author’s, Sherman Alexie wrote about his experience going through a similar experience. In his famous book, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, he switches schools and has to adapt. On his first day of school, his mind is swirling with ideas and he thinks, “It’s Junior and Arnold. I’m both. I felt like two different people inside of one body. No, I felt like a magician slicing myself in half, with Junior living on the north side and the Spokane river and Arnold living on the south.” Like me, he started with a literacy for just his environment, but was adapting to learn his new one as well. This change did not mean we had to lose what we had become from our old environments, but we wanted to be literate amongst our new peers, and literate in regards to our surroundings. Sherman Alexie and I both gained literacy from the new places and people we gained contact with.

Another example is from Sherman Alexie’s story, Superman and Me. He talks about how he learned to read from Superman Comics. Excitedly, he is trying to understand the comic: “I look at the narrative above the picture. I can not read the words, but I assume it tells me that “Superman is breaking down the door”.” Here, Sherman Alexie is viewing the world of Superman. He does not completely know how to read this world yet, however he is able to soak up a lot by focusing on what he looks at and making inferences. In my new home, I experienced unfamiliarities and it took time to understand. However, eventually I learned the lingo and physical traits of my home’s environment.

Today, two years after I moved, I feel fully literate in my home. I still hold onto parts of me that the past created. I learned that being literate in your environment does not mean you need to act like everyone else. It means you need to understand and adapt, sometimes stacking characteristics. I feel unique because I have a literacy beyond what many of my neighbors do. Whether you can read and write exceptionally well, or you never even took a language class in your life; reading one’s environment is a form of literacy with value, and takes intelligence to learn.

Advanced Essay #2 [The Expiration Date of Our Education]

Introduction:

When I began writing this essay, I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea where it was going, just that it had to do with film. Yet, as I began writing, I realized that it all lead back to SLA. SLA was what allowed me to discover and explore my interest in film, vastly changing my world. Even more, SLA has allowed me so many opportunities that I never would have even tried before now. The reason our school is so special is because it embraces all kinds of literacies and talents. As I registered how special SLA was, it made me disappointed in our other schools. Why couldn't our education system follow this model? My essay is all about the issues with our current education system and how inquiry and curiosity needs to be embraced in order for students to thrive in schools.


Essay:

INT. NIGHT - FELIX’S HOUSE


His feet pounded down onto the bloodstained floor, his stomps ricocheting around the desolate hallway. All around him lights flared and sirens shrieked endlessly, a visual symphony to accompany his impending doom. Shadows encapsulated every part of the room, yet his eyes still darted around, attempting to find any sign of the incoming danger. He sprinted into the confined box of the elevator, the walls around him hugging him close as if to say he would be safe here. He slammed his hands against the flickering buttons, drops of blood sliding down the metal as he punched it again and again. Seconds passed, each one ticking by ever so slowly, battling his increasingly fast heartbeat. The once welcoming walls began to close in on him, tightening around him and offering no escape. Suddenly, the beast-

Felix paused the show and suddenly make-believe was over. “Do you guys see the coloration? The greens and the yellows perfectly emulate the Upside-Down later.”     

"Yeah, and you know the Dungeons and Dragons scene? That’s like perfect foreshadowing for what happens to Will,” I replied. I couldn’t help but grin as we discussed the show. Even the subtle details like coloring and lighting took on a whole new meaning now that I knew what went into making a movie. Even better, for the first time, I felt like I could actually contribute to the conversation, be a valuable addition to our film analysis.

“Let’s keep watching,” said Felix. “I want to keep analyzing it though, pausing whenever we want.” He pressed his finger on the remote and suddenly we were launched back into a land of fantasy, mystery, and the Upside-Down.

   Cut to Black.


Watching Stranger Things for the second time in my friend’s basement would seem like a nondescript memory. Yet, to me, it meant everything. As our discussion continued throughout the whole night, I realized how much I relished these discussions. I admired everything the show was doing, but even more so, I wanted to be the one behind the camera. This seemingly bland Friday night made me finally realize my passion for cinema itself and the learning and analysis that went with it. It felt like, after two years of filming and editing, everything clicked into place. This was what I was meant to do.


After that, everything in my life lead back to movies, my love for it only growing as I continued my digital video class. There, at SLA, I felt like I had more than just a school, I had a support group. A collection of people who I knew I could count on to help me succeed and learn. Before I went to SLA, the idea of  staying at school any longer than required was something I had never considered. Yet, by the end of my sophomore year, you couldn’t find me anywhere else but the editing room, typing away at a computer until I was kicked out of school. No class had ever made me want to stay at school until the last possible minute. No subject had ever developed a curiosity in me that burned for years. Without SLA’s encouragement of inquiry and exploration, I would have never been where I am today.


So many schools don’t understand students or the importance of a free environment like SLA does. With the style of learning that is widely used today, we force one kind of literacy onto students. We decide for our students what should and should not be valued. We decide that a boy who is literate in music is less important than someone who is literate in math. Our education system attempts to squash literacies that lean against their ideals. Sherman Alexie's’ Superman and Me addresses this very issue in Indian schools: “They struggled with basic reading in school but could remember how to sing a few dozen powwow songs. They were monosyllabic in front of their non-Indian teachers but could tell complicated stories and jokes at the dinner table.” Alexie shows how the Indian children prosper in the environments that support them. Where their family and friends are, they can recite song and story, yet where they’re individual literacies and talents are rejected, they fail. These systemic issues create one set form of literacy and learning, where those who do not succeed are ostracized. Our schools allow tiny inked letters based on tests ignorant of your history to determine your future.


I recognize these issues as both an insider and outsider. As a white student from a good neighborhood, I have never had to go to a school where I was expected to be stupid. As a straight-A student and decent test taker, I have never had to spend hours studying just to end up getting a C. Yet, as a student and a teenager, I have seen mine and others’ education slaughtered by a lack of funds and lack of thought. I have seen my best friend get an F on a test and turn it into a mural on the very same page. I have seen all of these things, but I haven’t seen change. Our learning and our literacy both stem from inquiry and questioning, yet our schools reject it. Learning is driven by the passion and inquisitiveness behind it, where students are persistently and restlessly fighting for answers. It’s only through inquiry and expression in schools, that we find ourselves and our passions and we discover the world.

Advanced Essay #2 "The Young and Illiterate"

This essay challenged me to step outside of my, bare minimum, comfort zone. My goal for this essay was to provide possible reasons why a child may be having difficulties learning by using my own experiences as an example. Many may think that one just becomes illiterate by there own unwillingness to learn to read. In this essay I wanted to give an example of how you must take into account the disadvantages a child may be at when learning to read such as, material diversity, preparatory learning, and being able to relate and connect with the teacher. Something that I am most proud of in this essay is how I was able to create vivid scenes. Also my analysis of the quotes, I feel, are the best parts of my essay. One thing I would like to improve on is giving better introduction to my quotes. I feel that skill would definitely add emphasis to my writing.

ADVANCED ESSAY #2 "The Young and Illiterate"
There was a time, when I was only five years young, and I hated the idea of reading. Whenever I walked up those giant steps to school, right off of the yellow bus, and through the doors of the school and into the cafeteria in the basement. After, I took a bite of my sausage egg and cheese mcgriddle from the McDonald’s breakfast menu, the first period bell shrieks throughout the halls. I run up the steps with excitement as I do not want to be late to class and miss the opportunity to see my friends. The teacher of my Kindergarten class, Mrs. D, greets me at the door. “Welcome Jordan, are you ready to learn today?” she asks. I respond with a bright smile exposing her to the missing teeth in my mouth. Mrs. D was an older, big in weight, white woman. I was one of only three black children in her class. She often made all of us sit together, so it would be easier to teach us collectively, I now assume.

It is not the fault of the child when they’re are unable to read the selective material given to them. How can someone expect an urban youth to be able to relate to the material given by a middle-aged white woman that is probably living in a suburban area. Matthew Lynch brings up this important point in the writing,Black Boys in Crisis: Why Aren't They Reading?”, “...black students (and particularly boys) experience disconnection when it comes to the authority figures in their classrooms. The K-12 teaching profession is dominated by white women, many who are very qualified and very interested in helping all their students succeed but lack the first-hand experience needed to connect with their Black male students.” (Lynch) This quote relates to me because I felt a learning disconnect to the material Mrs. D was giving me. Not only were the characters not like me, but the manner in which Mrs. D went about teaching me, made it very hard to learn.

I find my way to my seat and class begins. Mrs. D explains to the class,”Today we will all be creating and reading aloud to the classroom our own personal sentences.” My heart sinks. The idea of having to create a sentence is hard enough. Then, having to read that sentence myself and to the classroom would be a great embarrassment. My anger starts to build in my body like the smoke inside of a chimney after lighting a fire place. The class goes on and I refuse to learn the material. I put my head down as the rest of the class learns basic sentence structuring. Thirty minutes pass after Mrs. D gives us these instructions and she then tells the class that each student will now have to present their sentence.”Okay Jordan, you can come up to present now.” said Mrs. D. I responded by running out of the class and darting down the hallway to the bathroom. In the bathroom I ask myself, “Why am I so dumb? Why can I speak a language and not read that same language?”

Now that I have grown to better understand my previous state, I have came to the conclusion that maybe I was just at a disadvantage from the beginning. Leave out the fact that my teacher was not able to really teach me all of the necessary tools to learn to read, and then add the idea that maybe it was my parents fault. Maybe it was because I was never read any bedtime stories, taken to the library, or introduced to literature in preschool. G. Reid Lyon brings up an excellent claim in,”Why Some Children Have Difficulties Learning to Read”, “...learning to read begins far before children enter formal schooling. Children who have stimulating literacy experiences from birth onward have an edge in vocabulary development, understanding the goals of reading, and developing an awareness of print and literacy concepts.” (Lyon) I was not the kid that had an advantage in learning the properties of english literature before entering kindergarten. My experiences directly relate to the this quote because my kindergarten self is the result of a child who has not been involved in much preparatory work to better understand reading.

In conclusion, when encountering a young child that may appear to not know how to read, do not automatically assume that it is their choice to be illiterate. One must take into account that they're just children and they probably want to learn from material related to them. Finally, the teacher should be at fault if a child is suffering from a disconnection in the classroom that forces them to not be able to learn.

Sources
Lynch, Matthew. "Black Boys in Crisis: Why Aren't They Reading?" Education Week. N.p., 15 Aug. 2014. Web. 03 Nov. 2016.
Lyon, G. Reid. "Why Some Children Have Difficulties Learning to Read." Reading Rockets. N.p., 12 Oct. 2009. Web. 03 Nov. 2016.

Advanced Essay #2- Confidence in Your Language

Writing this essay was a challenge for me as a writer because I have so much to say about this topic so it’s difficult to compress all my thoughts together. My goal for this essay is to show how important our native tongue is and how language brings us all together. Most people do not realize how critical it is to keep the language that you are born to speak with even though you may be struggling with another language at first when moving to a different country. I am proud of the scenes that I incorporated in this essay because that’s how everything started for me here in America. As a writer, I want to improve my use of imagery and my use of dialogues.

When people knew about the language that I speak their smiles would widen from fascination. Even though people do not recognize my language, mentioning the two Filipino languages that I speak thrilled me. The main language is “Tagalog” while my native tongue is “Hiligaynon”. I learned “Hiligaynon” at home while Tagalog and English at school. However, my confidence in my native language in the U.S. back then did not exist.

On my first day of seventh grade as a new student, mixed emotions filled myself as I entered the corridors of the school. The numbing winter wind passed through the windows down the hall causing me to tremble more from being frightened and cold. Then, a student brought me down to the rustic basement for my first class, Art. I stepped in the room as my nerves trembled. The teacher’s face lit up as she came towards me and introduced herself.

Out of curiosity, she asked, “Where did you come from?”

“I came from the Philippines.” I replied. Everyone gave me their attention as I stood in front of the class. I had a rush of excitement but, the uncomfortable feeling settled.

“Wow, you don’t have an accent at all!” my teacher delivered while my classmates gave their utmost attention to me. The heat crawled on my face while my ears felt as though it was red-hot.

I thought to myself, ”How do I respond to that?” I lost my words so, I gave my teacher a humble laugh while the sound of the heater and shuffling of papers filled the silence in the room. My look of embarrassment gave away to everyone how I felt. An uneasy feeling about my classmates knowing that I could speak another language sunk in. Since English dominates most languages, it put my language aside which gave me a feeling of being inadequate with the language that I speak. If you learn how to accept and use your native language, you will value your culture and heritage. One day, two of my classmates turned around from their seats to ask me if I can speak my language.

“How do you say hello in your language?” One of them asked out of the blue.

“Uhmm it’s just hello…” I responded as I raised my shoulders.

“How about good morning?” Excitement on their faces showed.

My face was covered with humiliation because I knew that “good morning” isn’t the same in my language. I hesitated whether I should say it or not. But, I rejected it.  

“No, I don’t want to!” I exclaimed. They bugged me and pleaded if I could even say one word in my language. As they continued, I ignored them until they would stop which they did. Even though my language fascinated people, I felt ashamed of it. No matter how much I wanted to announce that I can speak another language I only kept it to myself at school as I tried my best to pronounce words and speak in English correctly. Until one day, I pronounced a word in literacy class wrong. We were reading a story in our literacy books as we gathered in a full circle as a class. My heart beats faster and my hands were turning cold like ice as I was waiting for my turn to read. The words filled the room while the silence gave me palpitations. Everyone listened carefully as I barely payed attention because my mind was somewhere else. I was also eager to finish my part. When my part came I read, “I have plenty of time to beat that tawr-toys(tortoise)...” My classmates bursted out in laughs and I wondered why until my teacher corrected me and said, “It’s tawr-tuh-s.” Then, I continued reading as I tried to ignore the fact that I just mispronounced the fancy word for a different kind of turtle and embarrassed myself in front of my classmates. But, after that I realized that it really didn’t matter because I learned something on that day.

Language is not only important because it helps us connect and communicate with people but, it teaches us life lessons and help us value different cultures. Throughout the years, I realized that I did not have a reason to be ashamed of my language. So, I learned how to accept it and I gained confidence in my language. Each of the languages that I speak helped me flourish in society especially in two different cultures because I can connect with people through the words that came out of my mouth. “Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity-I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language, I cannot take pride in myself.” This quote was from the essay How To Tame A Wild Tongue by Gloria Anzaldua. It is very critical to keep my native language because it brings me to my culture and it is a part of who I am. If we accept our language we learn to accept ourselves. My ability to speak different languages did not only teach me to understand my struggles in a language such as English but it helped me understand the situations of others as well. It  does not matter if you mess up your words or your pronunciation because it doesn’t change who you are as a person. It will only change the way you speak because you learn as you go while becoming a better speaker. Language brings us all together therefore, we should use it wisely while we can.



Advanced Essay 2, Reading Group Five

Introduction:

This writing helped me progress as a writer. My goal for this essay was to explore the ideas that society controls what is "literate" based on tests and how that affects how people perceive you. Society has this system where it gives people a number, how society only sees people as a value on a scale of being literate and nonliterate. I am proud of my analysis, in my last essay I really wanted to improve my analysis and I think I improved it greatly. Something I can improve is my word choice to make it seem more vivid and can grapple the reader's attention more.


Essay:

“Everyone, please break up into your reading groups and work on your projects. Group five, please meet me in the back for our biweekly meeting.”

Biweekly means every two weeks. I was one of three people who knew what biweekly meant in third grade, before the teacher taught it. The other two people were of course, in the same reading group as I was. Reading group five was really the group that couldn’t be placed anywhere else. We were more “advanced” than the other kids our grade.

Just because I took a test and my scores were different from those of my peers meant that people treated me differently, expected different results from me. Society wants to put a number on you, in order to be intelligent, you have a higher value on that scale of what society deems “literate”. Ever since I was placed in reading group five, people have always expected me to be someone else.

“Who wants to play kickball?!” It was a warm spring day and the elementary kid who proclaimed was the tallest kid in our grade, the most popular individual.

“I’ll play?” I squeaked out, wanting to fit in because surely, if the popular guy does it, then everyone wants to do it.

“Don’t you want to… I dunno, read a book or something?”

I was struck silent, why did people think I didn’t want to have fun? I can have fun! Why is reading not fun and why can’t I choose to do something else right now? Questions swirled in the tight confines in the small elementary school head of mine and I turned away briskly from the popular kid I just wanted to be like moments ago.

I didn’t play kickball that spring afternoon, instead I went to my other “intellectuals” from reading group five and sat at the benches. The three of us didn’t know what to say to each other. So we sat and watched the game that we all wanted to join in silence.

The funny thing about how society perceives being “literate”, is that the middle ground is so difficult for people to reach. Especially when one is growing up and being told that females aren’t supposed to be this smart. You are either too dense or too intelligent. As a little girl in third grade, I felt out of place simply because an exam told me I had a 5th grade reading level.

I didn’t want to be the person everyone called “the smart blond” or “the girl who is two reading levels ahead of everyone else.” When I was at this age of insecurity, I had to be like everyone else. I needed to be average, someone people knew by name.

The harsh reality of undergoing that change is different. Around fourth grade I stopped reading like I did years before. When I had spare time I did something else, something that regular kids did. I played video games, went to the park, watched cartoons, and put all my books down. And all of these things were great at the time, but slowly and slowly I wasn’t as advanced in the literature section in my exams.

After a while however, I wasn’t satisfied with the new person I became. I missed my books and the worlds I created based on ink on paper. My reading and writing grades did not push me as much. I became miserable in this shell of normality. I learned new things definitely, and found other small hobbies, but I played right into society’s hands and changed myself not because I really wanted it, but because I thought I needed to.

Mike Rose explains my point that learning that being “normal” isn’t as accomplished as people make it out to be. In I Just Want to Be Average Rose flushes this out with, “That woke me up. Average? Who wants to be average?” I discovered that throughout life, people and society are going to treat you differently no matter what you do. And this idea of what’s “normal” can be applied to almost everything, such that a higher reading level isn’t always sought after and a lower reading level is treated as not as smart.

People will expect different things based on how the education system says you fit or mold into their system. In my case, I was expected to be a lonely book smart girl who exceeds in school, however I am much more than that. People are always much more than the confines that society puts around them.

In the long run, from my experiences in reading group five, I can say I’ve definitely learned a lot more than sentence structure and context clues.


Advanced essay #2

Introduction:

For this essay, i focus in differences between spanish, in comparion between America, and the view of a chicana, how she see others mexican, I know it's not much long, one of my goals for future essay is make more longer, and improve my grammar, but I think i did a good job, O wrote my principal ideas, and I explain it. With my history I did i general review of my point.

Essay:
Spanish the third language in the word, is spoken in half of the word, but not all spanish is the same. In each country where you speak spanish, it is different, like chile and Argentina, two countries  separated by the Andes; is not  the same.

For example one very complicated word is “chucho”: in some place like Guatemala chucho means little dog, but in Honduras it’s miserly.  Also is cold in Argentina, you move to Chile and chucho means jail and in Mexico is when someone is very good in something.



Much latins come to Spain, and they speak their spanish, in a way that can make confusions. Like once, in my old school there was a new student from Bolivia,

Well, the thing is that we made a bet, in Bolivia a bet is call “polla” , but in spain that’s means “dick”, so he was telling all people if they want to participate in the “polla”, and all of the people thought he was weird  so they disliked him.

Other boy from Argentina,Alejandro,he spoke spanish, but a  spanish dialect we don’t understand, and he used verbs, that in  south america are normal, but there isn’t, like prender.( take), He also didn’t understand us. Or the boy from Peru, trying to speak with Alejandro, but they don’t understand each other.



Farther that this, that sometimes is very funny speak with a latin, how they speak is the accent,the same happened with english, for example british english you have to speak very perfect, because they don’t understand you.


The accent of one person you can know where is from,if they speak with “vos” ( is another form to say you),or pronoun the sound”y” like a “sh” is from Argentina. The most funny accent for me is in Andalucia, south of Spain, they pronounce the the sound ‘s’ like a ‘z’, and the use of “illo”as pet word, that don’t have any sense.



Other feature in south america is the use of anglicism, they use a lot of them,  especially in the last year they are comun.


This make problems like the chicanas, that don’t speak english neither spanish,, but like say Anzaludua, they feel latins, the indian blood in her veins, and they are proud of her legacy, because is that the difference between one country and others, in south america.



But the fact, is all spanish’ speakers, outside of their counties, make the sensation, of one, we have more things for stay together that be separate between us.


Advanced Essay #2 Yafang Wu - Language, what's the impotance of it?

Writing this essay made me think a lot more about the different cultures that I am in. My goal for this essay was to prove that language is important to every culture, and when a language is lost, its true culture would be lost too. I am proud about the parts where I explained how a language can be translated and understand in a different language, but it would not have the same feels or express the same kind of emotions. I am also proud of the example that I had given. I need to work on my grammar, and make the transitions smoother.


Language is a very important aspect of a culture, or rather, a core piece of a culture. When you stop speaking the true language of a culture, you actually lose touch with that culture.

When talking about language and culture, we have to talk about what is the true language and the true culture. I am a Chinese American Immigrant. When it comes down to culture, here’s a lot that we need to talk about. The second you heard that I am a Chinese American Immigrant, you probably think that my very first language is Mandarin or Cantonese, right? That is not the case for me. In China, Cantonese is also called 粤语 (Yue language), it’s mainly spoken in 广东(Guangdong/Canton). That is not where I am from. I am from 福州 (Fuzhou), another port city, where we speak 福州话(Fuzhounese).

Like Anzaldua Gloria once stated in “How to tame a wild tongue”, “So if you really want to hurt me, talk badly about my language.” (pg 59), language is a very important aspect of a culture.

Fuzhounese is my true native tones, it’s the first language that I had ever learnt. When I am speaking Fuzhounese, I am speaking my true, native tongues. The tones my parents growing up speaking, my grandparents, and their grandparents growing up speaking. The tone that have an ancient aroma to it. The tone that tells an ancient tale passing down from generation to generation. The tone of home and warmth.

In Fuzhou, specifically, many younger generations are immigrating to other countries, while Sichuanese are migrating to Fuzhou. What’s left of Fuzhou are mostly elderly, Sichuanese migrant worker, and those waiting to immigrate. With the Sichuanese migrants taking over Fuzhou, younger generations immigrating elsewhere, students being taught only Mandarin in Chinese school…… mostly only the older generation actually knows how to speak Fuzhounese. Many younger generation of Fuzhounese speaks Mandarin, or English if they live in the US, barely speaking much Fuzhounese at all, and they only even know couple words, just to communicate with their grandparents. My older brother is one of them.

Then there’s Mandarin. In China, everything in school are taught with Mandarin. But there’s more than just Mandarin or the well known Cantonese in China.

There are 56 known ethnic groups in China, with Han being the majority. Each ethnic group have their own language, some even speaks more than one language. But many of them are disappearing with the younger generations learning only Mandarin In school and other factors. Besides those, there are numerous dialects in China, they are disappearing too.

Mandarin is good and bad at same time. It unites 56 cultures together with a common language, and allow people from different regions of the country to communicate with each other. Yet at the same time, it is destroying the traditional cultures, and replacing them with whatever the Communist party wants.

Point is, if you cannot understand and speak a language, how could you understand the ancient literacies that had been passed down from that culture in the true way, whether it’s written down or passed down orally. And if you cannot speak it, how could you pass it down to someone else? Now you may say, “They could just translate it into another language that they understand.”

No. Maybe it can be translated and understand in a different language, but it would not have the same feels or express the same kind of emotion, as every culture are different. The feel and the emotion expressed could paint a picture that varies greatly as the language and culture differs.

For example, “一箫一剑走江湖,千古情仇酒一壶。”. 江湖 translates to “rivers and lakes”, but it’s actually the Wuxia/Kungfu world. What picture did you saw when you look at it?

This line of poem means “Live in the 江湖 world with a Xiao flute and a sword, loves and hates of thousand years of the ancient time all down with a pot of wine.”

When I look at “一箫一剑走江湖,千古情仇酒一壶。”, I see a picture of someone standing on the tip of a mountain, playing a sad yet relaxing song with the 箫 (Xiao flute), a sword is crossed diagonally on the back. The long hair which they never cut, and their long, flowy clothes, flows as the wind blows at it. The picture have a slight green tint to it. Then I see a picture of someone drink with a tiny cup, pouring 酒 (wine/liquor/sake) from one of those long necked vase. And eventually, start dumping liquid from a ceramic jar. The person is sitting on a bench, right in front of a square table brown with age and tales. One of their leg is up on the bench, with an arm resting on the knee of that leg, and the other dumping liquid into their mouth. This time, the picture have a slight brownish tint. Both are sad, yet seem carefree and beautiful in their own ways.

That is my true culture. Not the stereotypical Chinese with a long braid, who are actually 满族 (Manchu, one of the ethnic groups, who ruled China during Qing dynasty, when China actually opened up to the western world.), nor do I speak Cantonese. My culture is the Fuzhounese and Han culture. And now the American culture too.

But when it’s translated into another language, in this case English, there’s really not much emotion to it. “Live in the 江湖 (Wuxia/Kungfu) world with a Xiao flute and a sword, loves and hate of thousand years of the ancient time all down with a pot of wine.” Firstable, people would not know what exactly Wuxia/Kung Fu world would looks like, to actually understand it, it would take years. They probably would not know what Xiao flutes are either. They probably would also be really confused about what I mean by “loves and hate of thousand years of the ancient time”. But there’s really not a better way to explain “千古情仇”, there’s way more than just the meaning of each character or word. Each and every single of the characters have a different emotion, which you could not feel, unless that you understand that language well.

When a language is lost, the feels and the emotions that specific language express would be lost too, and people can no longer feel the true spirit of that language or the culture.



More infos:

Fuzhounese uses the same characters as Mandarin, but Fuzhounese words sometimes uses different character as Mandarin, and Fuzhounese have a different prounciation as Mandarin. For example, 眼睛 means eyes in Mandarin, and 目珠 means eyes in Fuzhounese.

After I did some research, I found that Fuzhounese is actually a combination of 古汉语, ancient Han language, and 古越语, ancient Yue language. 古越语 Ancient Yue language was spoken in Bai Yue 百越, which is mostly now a day Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Jiangxi, Fujian, Guangdong, Guangxi, Yunnan, Guizhou, Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Myanmar, and such.

Fuzhou also have a very similar culture compare to Taiwan. There’s only one strait between Fuzhou and Taiwan, it’s said that Fuzhou and Taiwan are one piece of land that was separate into two.

Fuzhou is famous for things like boat making, tea. 福州三宝 (three treasure of Fuzhou) are 油纸伞(oil paper umbrella), 角梳 (horn comb), 脱胎漆器 (a kind of China/ceramic, one of the three treasures of Chinese traditional crafts.)

Fuzhou is also called 榕城 (City of Ficus trees).


Advanced Essay #2: But I Was Paying Attention To You

​  

Intro:

This essay helped me develop as a writer because I challenged myself to writing in third person about my struggle with understanding math. The point of my essay was to prove that literature isn't just a bunch of words in english class. It is a group of individuals that strive to communicate and learn. I did that with math. Math was a language, a group that did not want me because I did not correspond with it. I am proud of the descriptive language I used. At first I needed help with my use of quotes and context, but thanks to my peer reviews I grew as a better writer.


But I was paying attention to you


Mackenzie stares deeply at the walls of bright fluorescent yellow room, as she questions her purpose of presence and wonders why she can't seem to work like anyone else in her classroom. The question, “Why am I struggling with math?” bobbles around her her 4th grade mind everyday. She watches the teacher scribbles on the board,  what appears to Mackenzie as Latin, as she listens the sound of pencils scratching notebooks. She questions why her hand isn’t moving as swiftly as the other students as her eyes linger across her paper. She questions herself again wondering why her brain is not processing the board almost like a machine no longer functioning. She thinks to herself how it feels as  the gears of the  machine that is her brain suddenly stop and and grows into darkness, gets colder, and fills with cobwebs. There is nothing now, she cannot see absolutely nothing.


The proud teacher, ready to cause trouble strolls over to her. “Mackenzie, why aren't you solving the problem?” She stares at her teacher blankly, collecting herself before she then asked for help.  “I don't know how to start. Can you help me?” She explains as her teacher gives her a freezing look as all the other children in the classroom turn around and stares at her. All eyes are on her as the teacher complains about Mackenzie’s “ignorance”. “I just explained how do to do it a minute ago, weren't you paying attention?” As , Mackenzie sinks in her chair, the teacher put his hands on his hips with disgust  She sits in silence as she listens to the beating in her heart, deeper and deeper. Not knowing that she not one but two learning disabilities, one including Autism. Language should be about embracing individuality. If not culture and personal connections between people wouldn't exist.


People commonly think math consist of only equations and numbers on a piece of paper. However for Mackenzie, it is a whole other universe in her mind. Math is a language in itself that can be used to create a clique for people to isolate themselves from those who aren't fluent. Math is a form of literacy; it is a form of communication that does not include words it. Literacy does not need to consist of words, it is a umbrella of many languages. Literacy is a community that educates people and allows them to speak to each other them.  Mackenzie did not speak the tongue of Math, but she scrapped and dragged herself to the death to understand it. In a short story titled, “How to Tame a Wild Tongue”, the text states, And I think, how could you tame a wild tongue, train it to be quiet, how do you bridle and saddle it? How do you make it lie down?Mackenzie was forced into silence when she completed her work incorrectly. How to tame a wild tongue gives an argument and proves a point that people will try to silence you based on “incorrect” language. Everyone is different in many ways, including how we speak. We need to come to an understanding as to why it should not be seen as a problem.


Feeling out of place Mackenzie became distant from other students, she was tired of being made fun of. They would treat Mackenzie as an idiot for not understanding the things they did.They rejected her and she didn't know how to deal with it, rejection for a 10 year old was hard for her to overcome. She was singled out from groups that she was forced to sit in front of everyday in class. Mackenzie was being neglected and she began to believe that she will never be good enough. With no friends, Mackenzie felt herself slipping, in the form of grades and happiness. While thinking that she had no future in mind, everything turned into a great emptiness of dark depression. Her family tried to help with doctor visits only leading to prescriptions of  antidepressants  which didn't give any effect to the hatred for herself that continuously swirled her mind.  She began to felt alone after she felt as though she was thrown under the bus by the only person she looked up to.  Everyone around Mackenzie spoke the language of math, except for her. It bobbled in her mind “why would no one help me.” She is reaching for a lifeline that slips right through her fingers, acting like a ghost. But wait, she is a ghost. An invisible existence that is fighting for life again but there's nothing to grab onto. She holds on but her will is slipping. It isn't broken but will break. She needs help quick, before she gives up on understand math, before she realizes that she will learn the language of math!


How to Tame a Wild Tongue claims that language is not understood if you weren't fitting in with the environment.“Chicanas who grew up speaking chicano spanish have internalized the belief that we speak poor spanish.” If your childhood was not spent at Chicano, then you speak poor spanish.” Since Mackenzie spent some of her life not retaining math, she continued to struggle time and time again.


Before the last string in Mackenzie's will to learn wilters, a 5th grade teacher, pulls her arm out of a black dimension and rushes her through a colorful world of understanding. Mackenzie is learning math, later she is capable of speaking that language. And guess what, it's her language now too. She learns math in her own way, and sometimes, that's how life works. You do you boo. She made personal connections with others by solving math equations together. That created friendships, then later she was in a whole culture of students that used to be like her as well.


If you achieve the right answers and people understand how you communicate then you are alright! Language “Words are emptied of their concreteness and become a hollow, alienated, and alienating verbosity.” says author Paolo Freire. You can speak the language any way you choose. Some people speak slang, it is understood. Mackenzie math is like a slang that even some people are inspired by;they use slang too. She went from a flightless bird to a flying bird with the rest of the flock.


Society is not accepting of those who struggle. If you are weak you stand out, and get tossed aside. Mackenzie went through a lot of struggle in order to become the women she is today speaking in the tongue of math.Literacy should be embraced, and yourself. Our society should help the weak instead of pushing them away. You never know how amazing a person can be until they learn. Embrace your individuality.


Advanced Essay #2// The Unspoken Voice

 Introduction:

Writing this essay it has shown me that I can be confident as a writer with learning new styles and techniques. Goals that I set for myself with this essay was showing the emotions and feelings that I have felt with not having a voice. Numerous of people are not heard. They are seen as a background person and not looked as they have anything relevant to say. In this essay, I have talked about my experiences of not being heard and tied that into literacy as showing that I have a language within myself that I only know about.  I think that I did a good job with showing how it has made me realize that everything is not for everyone and I feel great about this essay. Something that I would improve on is making sure I do not write as if I am talking. With the help of my peer reviewers those issue were resolved before submitting this Final Essay. I hope you enjoy my essay and it makes you feel different on how all voices need to be heard and they can be relevant throughout life and literacy. 

I come in. Everyday to a world where I am not being heard. Heard from my friends, heard from my family, just not heard from anyone. My words are vivid. Something that can help you throughout your day, make you smile, and just something you need to hear. It is shown that a person that is mainly quiet or that is often alone; they are the ones that always have what you are looking for. But I believe that they are overlooked. This is due to the fact that we as individuals believe we have the answer to every problem and don’t really care what someone else may have to say.  It is hard trying to tell someone something that may help them in a way they are looking for, but not everyone is going to listen. My words are something that would provide help to others, but I know that others may not be able to handle that. At a young age I knew that I had the gift of helping others and that I cared for people. It is in my nature to care for people and to help them with being successful. I starting realizing this as I became older and I began to become overlooked or my thoughts were not being heard by others.


Back when I was in middle school, I did not particularly fit in with the other girls. My parents knew at an early age that I was different and there was always going to be something different about me. I would always try to join the conversations at the lunch table saying, “Yeah guys, we should try helping around the school or something so we can get more merits from the teachers so we can all go on that big trip” and it would become super quiet immediately after my words. But, it's always that one person who doesn’t acknowledge it at all and then changes the conversation as if my information was not helpful. It made me feel as if I am not relating to the people I considered my “friends”.  It was as if I was in  this different world with a different language that only I could gain from and this wasn’t for everyone. I became more of a loner because I was the only one that would listen to my own advice. It made me become stronger within myself because I started to gain the sense of literacy by knowing my thoughts and feelings were mainly for me to gain from. Those who were really open to listening to what I would have to say whether my opinion or to benefit them to become more successful were the ones who I noticed became the closet within my circle. I was often told: “Madison, thank you for sharing what you have shared with me because it really has helped me”.  I learned to share my ideas and thoughts within myself and it has helped me personally to become successful and smart. This is something I do not want to do. But who else is going to listen to me but myself?


I began to realize that because people may view me as a background person  I would not have much to say or something relevant to say. Reading the story The Apartheid of Children’s Literature, it illustrates that African- Americans in stories are mainly viewed as background characters within the story, but do not carry major roles throughout the story. The Author of this observation Christopher Myers comments; “Perhaps this exclusivity, in which children of color are at best background characters, and more often than not absent, is in fact part of the imaginative aspect of these books.” This is telling me that in stories, African American voices are not being heard in our children's books which shows that in real life, African American voices are not being heard as a whole.  This piece of literacy shows that as an African American, society holds us from our speech and we are not being heard so we have voices/ opinions within our own group. This has tied into my literacy of not being heard by others and how I have to know that everything is not for everyone.  I had to learn that the main advice that is golden is the one that you know that is true within yourself.



Advanced Essay 2: No Fighting, No Biting.

My goal for this essay was to make a statement on the ways we are told to interact with each other, and the ways we are told not to.I'm proud of the descriptive scene, though I was told by multiple people that a few parts of my essay connected awkwardly. In the future, I'll work on having better transitions.



All my life, I’d been told not to fight. Not to hit, kick, punch, pinch, bite. Not to wrestle, not to box. Playing football, I was instructed to tap people on both shoulders. That’s how the game worked. A polite word: “Excuse me, sir.” “I apologize, but I can’t let you carry the ball any further.” That was the literacy of my life. I used my words, and not my fists. A bonafide zen master: Champion of my own emotions.

Yet, in that moment, I wondered how I’d hit that point, standing on the beach, my feet carved up, bleeding into the sand. The smell of sweat, sea, and a tinge of iron. A packing sensation in my chest every so often, as one of his fists would connect. Or my arm. My stomach. Everything moving a little too quickly, as we ran around each other. My jaw bruised, my cheeks cut from the inside. I was alive.

Was I a failure? A manic mass of testosterone? With these questions running around my head, we walked back towards the street, our breath ragged, cigarettes hanging from our lips. The strangest serenity set over me, and very suddenly, I realized that I’d been lied to all my life; that maybe there was a place for fighting.

How do I define literacy? I define literacy as the way we interact with one another, and it’s shrinking. We’ve become accustomed to the ways that those in charge have restricted our interactions, and told us the way we should behave. We’ve conceded to the ways that people tell us to interact, and, like fighting, the ways that many consider to be unhealthy, and uncultured.

Literacy has become uniform, as we coddle ourselves from reality. Many people speak about individuality, but expect all people to think the same things. We have no room for opinion anymore, and, in the words of Mike Rose, “The more completely they accept the passive role imposed on them, the more they tend simply to adapt to the world as it is.” If a large enough majority decides that, “the pen is mightier than the sword,” then it must be true, for the powers-that-be have spoken!

I’d say ‘the sword’ has always spoken louder to me. Whether it’s a fist to the face, or an arm around my neck, a bear hug or a soft touch, the ambiguity of physicality leaves so much room for meaning. Yet, for reasons of safety and what we consider to be uniform comfort, we’ve choked it. We’ve organized competition to reduce the number of casualties. Soccer, tennis, baseball. Even football, where we strap six inch layers of padding to ourselves before we charge at each other head-first. Or, even worse, when we stick flags to ourselves. All you have to do is run. All you have to do is carry a ball.

Many people in Horsham Clinic were there for what people had labeled as 'unreasonable aggression,' which usually translated to getting into a fight. Almost as if fighting was an illness that could be cured with a strict regimen of xanax and adderall.

We learn complacency. We learn to read, and write, and do basic math. We learn to sit down and shut up. Mike Rose, in his article, I Just Want to be Average, illustrates the unwritten rules of being human in the 21st century.

“the teacher teaches and the students are taught;

the teacher knows everything and the students know nothing;

the teacher disciplines and the students are disciplined;

the teacher chooses and enforces his choice, and the students comply;

the teacher chooses the program content, and the students adapt to it;

the teacher is the Subject of the learning process, while the pupils are mere objects.”

I know nothing. I’ve been disciplined. I’ve complied. I’ve been an object. Everyone lives in an illusion of freedom, in blissful ignorance of the uniform grip that we’ve placed on one another, a grip that, as Mike Rose says, is "necrophilic; nourished by a love of death, not life.” We don't value one another's existence, we value the uniformity and compliance. Things I would say are akin to the death of a person.

Ultimately, the ways we interact with each other are different for every relationship. Through hugs, fights, conversations, and everything in between, I have learned to navigate through the ever-changing definition of literacy, and I have learned the things that work for me through experience. The world is ever-changing, and so are we. Literacy is not uniform. Neither are we.

Don't Be Yourself - Advanced Essay 2 A. Swartz

Introduction:
This essay fit in with my development as a writer by pushing me forwards. ​I've never had to combine outside sources and m own personal experiences before. Always it's either been a thesis essay with evidence from a book and maybe outside sources, or (rarely) something based around my own experiences. In this paper I had to merge them, which proved somewhat difficult because it made choosing an actual topic that would work more challenging. My goals for this essay were to present my ideas well to the reader, as what I wrote about are beliefs I've held for a while (though not worded in the exact same way). I like the way I was able to use the quote for Gloria Anzaldua, as it works very well with the theme. To improve as a writer, I have to work on my analysis. I usually stretch it as much as possible, and say the same thing ten times in five different ways.


Essay:

People are not one size fits all. We have to change and adapt based on the situation. You can’t always stay the same and thrive. It goes back to nature. The animals least specialized to a single environment are the most successful. Ants are a good example of this. Their adaptivity makes them versatile, and their versatility makes them successful. While this idea holds true for humans physically, it also is true socially and mentally. One type of personality will not work in every situation. A type of literacy is knowing when to be what type of person, and how you can change how you show yourself, as well as how you can use this skill to your advantage

Every school is its own microcosm, with its own ecosystems and communities. Every school has its own culture, which can vary greatly from any other place. Coming back to school and the culture that comes with it from summer can be a shift, and it takes a certain type of literacy to get through the transition.

I crossed the familiar streets for the first time in three months. The light at Market and 22nd tricked me again and changed at the last minute, forcing me to walk on the opposite side of the street. I walked by the faded murals, under the bridges with their proto-stalagmites caused by the rain. Soon I was walking the seven or eight steps necessary to reach the scanner, and slapped my ID on it to tell the district that yes, I, Asher Swartz, did indeed show up for the first day of school this year. I ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time; not out of excitement, but habit. I pulled open the door, a little too forcefully as usual, and strode into the Pool. My usual table was not there, which put a damper on things. Neither were any of the chairs, on the entire second floor, it seemed. I leaned against a wall. Soon, the people started to trickle in. Some my friends, some not. I tried to be quieter than usual. Even though it was Sophomore year, I still had to make a good impression. I tried to keep calm, not being too loud or in the way. I quickly slipped into the old habits. Exorcising “well” from my vocabulary, changing my speech patterns, not in an attempt to fit in but to be my “school self”.

“Swartz.”

“Yup,” I replied, lowering my voice only slightly, “So. How’re things?” I remembered the old rhythms, and adjusted myself accordingly. I had an image to uphold, after all.

Gloria Anzaldua has experiences with this technique, albeit in a different way. She, as a self proclaimed Chicano, speak many languages (and dialects of languages), eight by her count. But she doesn’t speak them all interchangeably, she uses them for specific purposes. She describes when she uses each language in the following: “With Mexicanos I’ll try to speak either Standard Mexican Spanish or the North Mexican dialect. From my parents and Chicanos living in the Valley, I picked up Chicano Texas Spanish and I speak it with my mom, younger brother, aunts and older relatives. With Chicanas from from Nuevo México or Arizona I will speak Chicano Spanish a little, but often they don’t understand what I’m saying. With most Californian Chicanas I speak entirely English (unless I forget). When I first moved to San Francisco I’d rattle off something in Spanish, unintentionally embarrassing them. Often it is only with another Chicana tejana that I can talk freely.” The last few sentences really highlight the importance of choosing how what you act like. Even though Anzaldua is changing languages, not personalities and mannerisms, the idea is the same. She is tailoring herself to the situation. She wouldn’t speak the Chicano Spanish to someone who wouldn’t understand it, as that wouldn’t be an effective way to communicate. Switching languages and switching personalities aren’t very different from one another.

Learning how to fit yourself to different situations is an important type of literacy to have. With it you can make the most out of almost any situation, and improve many aspect of life. And it doesn’t really change who you are, just what they see, whoever they may be. You may still be the same person inside, but what you show is your choice. And when you have options, you have versatility. When you have versatility, you have adaptability. When you have adaptability, you have success.


Advanced Essay #2: Speaking the Body's Language

Introduction: 

When were assigned this project I wanted to take a different approach to language. One that we all speak universally, the body’s language. This essay really allowed me to focus more on the gestures and bodily movements we all express while or instead of communicating. I pulled together a couple different scenes of memory in my life where body language played helped me understand the other person better, which I am really proud of. Something I can improve on is descriptive language and transitioning. I can work on them to make it flow easier and more enjoyable for the reader. I hope you enjoy reading!


Advanced Essay #2: Speaking the Body's Language

“You’re not allowed to touch the art little girl.” The guard looked at me condescendingly and touched his belt filled with many weapons. He didn’t appreciate a ten year old girl breaking the rules at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize-”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t.” He said with an annoyed look on his face.

I could tell he was striving to have some type of dominance over me. His body language said it all. The aggressive way he clinched his belt as he was looking down at me. His tone was loud and steady, it was just another way he proved that he had power over me. He was trying to establish that there were rules and I broke one. Also, the way he expressed this, not in a calm and slow paced manner, his actions were rushed and hostile. He wanted to be perceived as in control and a governing figure. We use our bodies all the time to express  the emotions that words cannot.


For example, a first time teacher might be standing to the corner of a classroom since they’re not comfortable with so many eyes on the them, backing into a corner as if to hide from the judgemental eyes. A nervous student getting ready for an SAT test would be chewing their nails and bouncing their feet up and down as it hits the bottom of their desk and they wonder if the effects of mental pain from staring at a text book for eight hours straight will be on the test because they’d score a perfect 2400. Whether it be body movements or hand gestures, it all plays a key role in how we “speak” to each other.  


We use our bodies to communicate every day which becomes  a language on its own. Whether we use it to affirm our power or status, or to hide the amount of anxiety we have, it is apart of who we are. There are a millions of different languages spoken all over the world, but the language of the body reveals more than words could ever.

Another interaction was when a man was standing in line in behind me at the grocery store. He was clicking his keys against his fingernails and lightly tapping his foot on the ground, this was communicating that he was in a rush. He then started to widen his eyes when he realized that I had a tremendous amount of groceries yet to be scanned. His shoulders slumped, defeatedly, he was about to step out of line when I smiled slightly at him, apologetically. He then smiled back and slightly waved, embarrassed, nodded in return and stepped back in line. This conversation, even though it lacked words, still had the ability to express his annoyance for the wait, my apologies for the amount of groceries and his regret for being impolite. We were able to express the emotions running through our heads with just our bodies. We are able to recognize what certain gestures and bodily positions mean, no matter which verbal language we speak.


“Would that be all hun?” she asked as she drummed her lilac nails on the cash register whilst chewing her mango flavored gum. I could sense she was uninterested and wanted her inevitable shift to end.  

“Umm, can I get a…” My voice trailed off as I frantically scanned the menu and blindly ordered.

“.. a number two.”

“One cheeseburger with extra pickles coming right up.”

Why did I order pickels? They were my least favorite food. Well, this was because of the impatient way she hit her nails on the cash register, begging me to hurry up. I picked the first thing I saw, her body suggested that she was irritated by me. The way she was leaning against the counter, made me realize she went through this everyday so the least I could do was hurry up the process.


I realize that I spend so much time observing others that I became accustomed in reading bodies before listening to their words. Noticing eye contact or lack of thereof can tell me a lot about how a person is feeling without them even realizing it. Or if someone interlaces fingers with their loved one, or grasps their hands forcefully, could speak to their relationship.


Just like my mother as she tightens her hands around mine before we cross the street, a motherly instinct adapted over millenniums, protecting their young ones. Or as she widens her eyes across the dinner table at a guests house for dinner, warning me of the inappropriate position of my elbows on the table and the repercussion I will face if I continue with this unwanted disobedience. My mother did not have to utter a word for me to understand her clearly. So I removed my elbows from the table and purse my lips tighter and lowered my head to communicate to her that I will not repeat this mistake again, lowering my head represents a slight apology to soften the blow. This interaction occurred silently, using only eye movements and bodily gestures for us two humans to have a full on conversation. Our bodies speak louder than “remove your elbows from the table” ever could. I understood her clearly, speaking the body’s language is something we are accustomed too, we speak this language long before we can ever verbally communicate.


On my way to school one day I scanned the  trolley filled with people, it was for the most part quiet. A baby crying, music blasting from the kid with his hoodie pulled over his eyes. A girl starting her first day of highschool with her humongous book bag filled her new school supplies and humiliation. As she frantically looks at the trolley window, wondering if this is her stop. She was wide-eyed like a child whom had just discovered where their mother hides the stash of treats.  I realized this was me last year my freshmen year, frantic on the first day of high school. I use body language as a way to communicate and understand people everyday. I rely on the body’s language more often than words.


As the great James Baldwin once said “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker. Language, also, far more dubiously, is meant to define the other…” The power of speaking the body’s language is something underestimated and often overlooked. We rely on a person’s words to reveal their emotions. We use it to understand each other, and make assumptions on how they might be feeling.  Whether we realize it or not, body language is one of the biggest factors on how we are perceived. It is one of the most spoken languages of the world. If you stand with your shoulders straight and head held high, you would be viewed as someone who has pride or confidence. Rather than, someone who has their shoulders slumped and hoodie covering their eyes, could be perceived as not wanting attention. Body language can give you an insight on the person and how their feeling, this is often revealed subconsciously. With every wave, smile or adjoining of hands we are speaking the body’s language, a language that does not need words to express our desires, fears and emotions.


The "American"

Introduction:

My challenge for writing this piece was fitting in all of my ideas within the word limit. I am one who sometimes can add “fluff” to my writing, tying in background information that doesn’t contribute to the larger concepts discussed in my writing. For this essay in particular, I made sure to keep my ideas structured and start with my overview theme of Ireland and how our accents are seen as differences and not accepted in each other’s culture. Accents can make us feel disconnected from one another, yet it is the theme of the piece to realize we are all the same underneath and our cultural backgrounds make the world a more special place we can all come to appreciate.

Essay:

The steering wheels are flipped, the sun never shines, there are sheep down every road, and their accents are strange. I grew up with a father who has a Northern Irish accent that when people recognize their eyes light up. They gasp and say: “Oh my gosh, you’re Irish? Is that accent real?!”. I smile back, boasting how I’m ⅞ Irish and I’ve been to Ireland over 8 times. I was different from everyone else. I had a special cultural connection that was all mine.

When I visited Ireland this past summer, I was one of the “American cousins”. One night, my family had a barbeque as a reunion for my dad to see all of his childhood friends. Other teenagers came in and out, always excited to meet me. “This is Emily”, my cousin would tell them. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you”, I would reply politely. As soon as the words fell off of my lips, they would crash against the floor and shatter into a million pieces leaving me covered in the word “American”. A hot, tingly feeling would reach my skin, turning my cheeks the color of a bright pink bubblegum. I remember constantly being asked to say the phrase “how now brown cow”. With my Philadelphia tongue, it rolled off sharp and quick. The Irish kids would laugh, or even  tell me it was adorable, like I was a two year old who had just recited the A-B-C’s for the first time. I felt like a child, being pushed to a level of inferiority as soon as I opened my mouth.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved Ireland and meeting all of the new people. I fit right in; that is, until I uttered a single sound. By the end of the trip I had gained a little draw in my tone emulating the native speech. I don’t know if this was from exposure to the dialect that it naturally shifted, or if it was my brain subconsciously forcing my tongue to contort until it began to ease into the rhythm of the Irish slang. I was called out for being different. Sure, I was different. I am different. I was raised in a completely contrasting environment. I was already in a foreign society, but being made fully aware of me not fitting in was like being the black sheep in a herd of white. Something that was accepted and normal in my own culture when thrown into a new world made me stand out. Irish culture is one where everyone wants to fit in. The girls had the same shirt from TopShop in varying pastel shades, with the same tight, black high waisted jeans and dirty Adidas sneakers. They all wore thick cat-winged eyeliner and straightened their hair. I wore similar clothes, enough to make me one of the crowd until I would speak. It was all about the tone of my voice that made me a target of cultural shaming.

I was not alone on my expedition of sticking out in a way society deemed as negative. Gloria Anzaldua showcased this idea perfectly in her work of How to Tame a Wild Tongue. She grew up speaking a different language, one that was even varied with the Spanish culture. Even inside of her own community of Spanish speakers, she was outcast. Once she went to college, it wasn’t enough to prove that she was smart enough to be there to be like everyone else. Instead, she had to change who she was to blend in. “At Pan American University,” she writes,  “I, and all the other Chicano students were required to take two speech classes. Their purpose: to get rid of our accents.”  The college wanted her to change who she was and make her conform to what their standards were of normal and beneficial.

In the modern world, differences are not being accepted. We pick and choose how we allow people to be, especially when it comes to culture and language. Being an outsider as an American in Ireland is a small scale example of global societies feeling the need to point out differences and make them appear as flaws. English and Spanish are taking over the world, destroying smaller languages and populations in its wake. Ancient languages are dying, because the majority speaks English and it’s seen as common and what is expected of everyone to know. We must change this perception and realize that our differences are what make the world such a special place. Travelling to Ireland taught me about a new culture and I got to have new experiences that help shape who I am today. In the end, it isn’t even about the accents, what words you say, or how you talk. It’s about what it says about us, and how we are all individuals who can learn from one another and our individual ideas of literacy.


Advanced Essay #2 Who Controls Literacy

Introduction: This essay was a step forward for me in terms of writing. I incorporated ideas that I had not looked at before. I delved into my ideas about literacies and I am proud of my idea as a whole. My goals were to be a more mature writer and I am not sure that I met my goal but I think I did a good job including quotes. In future essays I will work on meeting the approximate word length and work on being a more mature writer. 

Who Controls Literacy?

The upper class control the literacies used in society because their money controls the way society functions. People accept this and focus their lives on learning how to understand the forms of literacy used by the upper class. Businesses are built around this and schools force these literacies on students. Things like proper grammar are defined by money. An author would not write a book that does not use proper grammar because no one would buy it. The way people view things and respond to them in business, newspapers and in other mainstream media sources is to please the wealthy who ultimately pay their bills.  The forms of literacy used by the upper class are not useless, far from it but, society should not be restricted to using these forms of literacies.

Literacies used and enforced by the upper class is not always the best way for something to be. Kyle Wiens writes in I Won’t Hire People Who Use Poor Grammar Yes, language is constantly changing, but that doesn’t make grammar unimportant. Good grammar is credibility, especially on the internet.”  Kyle Wiens proves that business owners use and follow this specific form of literacy. There are two reasons why people are so focused on acting the way the upper class has been. Reason one is that straying from the mainstream structure of doing business would not make business owners money. Reason two is that the mainstream way of conducting business is the only way people have been taught.

The root of this issue does not begin when people open their first business or write their first book. The root of the issue begins in the earliest stages of school. From kindergarten through 12th grade the majority of people are taught the same way using the same systems. The reason being is that change is hard to accept and the way people seem to be doing things seems like it is working. Hundreds of years ago the only people in school were the wealthy. They believed they were being taught correctly and the way they were taught should be the way other people should be taught. In Chapter 2 of the Pedagogy of the Oppressed it says “In the banking concept of education, knowledge is a gift bestowed by those who consider themselves knowledgeable upon those whom they consider to know nothing.” Essentially this goes back to the wealthy believing they were most knowledgeable and their ways of education will be the way of education for the middle and lower class.

In schools thinking and learning outside of the box is sometimes not accepted and those who do think outside the box are ostracized.  In I Just Want to Be Average it says “But mostly the teachers had no idea how to engage the imaginations of us kids who were settling at the bottom of the pond.” Teachers bore students with pythagorean's theorem something we will never use unless we become mathematicians and the time spent learning these sort of things is wasted. Why people do what they do and why certain things happen is not taught but should be. The upper class force these ways of learning on anyone and everyone. To get into college you must follow the structure that has been laid out by the upper class. To get a job people must go to college again following the structure and literacies of the upper class.

Once someone has gone through all of the education and has learned all of the literacies of the upper class they have a chance at being a successful. Still being successful requires someone to know how to act in certain situations. One day during the week I was in Antwerp I met a friend of my Dad’s, It was during the middle of the week. It was a cool fall day, I had filled what time I had by myself wandering the streets of the foreign European city. The sun began to slowly set along the horizon and I took at my phone to call my Dad. The screen felt cold against my warm fingers. After a few short rings my Dad picked up.

“Hello?”

“Dad it’s Eli, it’s getting late when can we go to dinner.” I had not eaten much that day, I had to pay for my own lunches so I was incredibly frugal.

“I’m on my way back to the hotel, we are going to dinner with a few mathematicians.”

“Okay I’ll start walking back now, bye.”

“Bye Eli.” Excited to meet my Dad’s friends I rushed back to the hotel. A few minutes later I was with my Dad and his friends on our way to dinner. There were 5 of us, my Dad, Me, and three mathematicians, Marcy, Leonid, and Amnon. Leonid presented in a strange way. He made little eye contact, he was not wearing nice clothing and he seemed a little unfriendly. As the night went on one thing became very clear. Leonid was unquestionably smart. Later when my Dad and I said goodnight to everyone I asked if Leonid was successful. He was not, he was thrown under the bus time and time again. Most mathematicians have a lot of resources to work with and like my Dad do not have to pay themselves to go to conferences in foreign places. Leonid was different, he had no resources because no one wanted to work with him. His life had become ten times harder because he did not know how to present himself in society that is defined as presentable. Due to this math is potentially missing breakthroughs because someone who is a genius is undervalued and underutilized.

The upper class dictates what is presentable and what literacies should be used. Because of this society is missing potential breakthroughs and huge steps forward in society.