Gino’s Academic Progress

There’s never enough time to think about where the wheel should be steered next. You’ve got to be alert and have enough adrenaline in you to react. Trying to maneuver in Ho Chi Minh City’s traffic is almost impossible. The waves of motorcycles swarm around SUVs and sedans like flies on meals that never quite satisfy. The nightmare that is the city’s traffic is like being in the middle of a free-for-all dodge ball bonanza!

As the driver in the front seat turned to make a left, a lone ranger on a motorbike swerved onto and off the sidewalk, straight through the path we were about to take, narrowly missing our front bumper. Seconds later, two more bikes darted past us, startling us for a second time in a row. The driver, who hardly knew how to speak English, mumbled something in Vietnamese. He revved up the engine again and headed back into the swarm of flies.

Getting nearer to the New World Hotel, I could make out a few features: bright chandeliers, high ceilings and grand furniture. The only thing that separated the concierge and part of the restaurant of the hotel from the outside world were grand pieces of glass, formed to make an awesome barrier. I stepped out of the car and set foot in the hotel. Indeed, it did feel like I was in a New World. The hustle and bustle of inappropriate driving and relentless chaos was shut out behind the giant glass doors that I had just walked through. Well over ninety percent of the Vietnamese population has never set foot in a place like this before.

I don’t know how I ever ended up in a place like Ben Thanh. Every bit of space possible was practically filled up by locals and tourists. People were buying, selling, shouting, eating or picking up bowls and utensils left on the floor. I was intently observing the floor for anything hazardous to my step when, out of nowhere, a hand shot out, grabbed me by my shoulder and ripped me away from my path! I whipped around to find out what my assailant wanted with me and in rapid, broken English he fired a string of words that sounded something along the lines of, “Baby baby, t-shut t-shut!” I turned to where he was pointing at and I realized that all he wanted me to do was buy clothes from his stall. Inside, I was fuming! As the initial shock wore off, I decided to let it pass. Two hours later, similar incidents forced me to persuade my family to go home. In the car, I thought, “Jeez, haven’t they ever heard of manners?! Who are they to handle me like that?” It was probably due to the fact that Vietnam was still a developing country that they did now know how to mingle with the tourists and/or expatriates.

            I got tired of staying at the hotel with nothing to do, so when a trip to a local amusement park was offered, I pounced on it like a lion that hasn’t devoured anything in days.

Dam Sen.

That was the name of the park and I arrived there expecting speedy roller-coasters, noisy merry-go-rounds, bright Ferris wheels and pink candy floss, but what I got was an almost exact match of what most people would call the opposite. No bright lights, no rumbling roller coasters, no loud, thumping music. I would’ve labeled this place rundown, if it wasn’t for the scarce amount of locals actually having fun.

There was this one ride, usually called a monorail, where you could ride amongst the treetops and have a bird’s eye-view of the park. I lined up for it, got on the ride, and waited for something to happen. Nothing happened so then I was confused, but when I looked down I realized that I was going to have to pedal myself through the ride! I couldn’t believe this was their Disneyland.

Down below me, I could see little kids racing around in sleeveless shirts and short shorts, giving their parents the chases of their lives. It isn’t unusual to see little kids in a state of bliss, but these kids were going over the top. None of the parents had any kind of control over their kids. They ran and ran and ran.

Rationale

For this assignment, I was supposed to write in such a way that my writing was influenced by a specific author, Orwell. Here are some techniques I used to sound like George Orwell.

Part of Orwell’s piece included statistics to help the reader visualize what he’s trying to say. At one point he says, “..of whom at least twenty thousand own literally nothing except the rags…”. I used this technique and included this sentence: “Well over ninety percent of the Vietnamese population has never set foot in a place like this before.”

Another technique that I incorporated into my writing is his repetition the word “no” to get a negative effect.

Orwell: “No gravestone, no name, no identifying mark of any kind.”

Mine: “No bright lights, no rumbling roller coasters, no loud, thumping music.”

One other technique that I used is his use of flies to project a not-so-clean image of an environment.

Orwell: “As the corpse went past the flies left the restaurant table in a cloud and rushed after it, but they came back a few minutes later.”

Mine: “The waves of motorcycles swarm around SUVs and sedans like flies on meals that never quite satisfy.”

P.S. There was a word limit on this one too.

Like a blanket overflowing with secrets, the cold water laps up against my lower body. The sea makes a rhythmic beat. “Crash…fffFFFT…Crash…fffFFFT”. With each withdrawal, it threatens to take me along with it like a black hole, eager to swallow up anything absent-minded enough to stray within its vicinity. As each wave slinks slowly back to where it came from, they leave behind a fresh coat of sand between my toes, cold, slimy and lumpy. I lift my head and I see the odd boat or two drifting along the distant horizon. To my right, there are other boats. These boats are unused, neglected and crestfallen that they have been abandoned. They float uselessly, tied to the shore. Not far off from the boats are a few locals trying to catch fish, struggling with nets and the restricting water.

Up above me, utterly contrary towards the cold, forbidding blanket, is the sun, piercing through the bright, pool-blue sky, beating down on my already dark skin. It relentlessly bakes anyone under it. It’s hot, scorching even, that it’s ready to rekindle any fire about to sputter out. Also above me are insignificant brown birds, occasionally contributing to the white noise with chirps here and there.

            The birds aren’t the only ones making the noises, though. As I scan the area, there are people from all walks of life. Young ones, ageing ones, families and couples all dot the landscape, but they mostly congregate along the beach on my left. They are swimming, running, strolling or just having a chat with each other. A rare yelp from an enthusiastic child cuts through the air, but the calm and the serene environment soon dominates again.

            Lunch time soon comes, with the sun looming right overhead. People slowly drift towards the black restaurant behind me. In just a few minutes the once peaceful restaurant is busy with waiters exchanging orders and serving meals. Excited by all the people, a black, one-legged dog, tied to the corner of the restaurant, starts barking.

            As I get accustomed to the noise, it is reduced to a background buzz behind me. The wind blows through my hair and into my face. I taste a distinct saltiness. A deep breath carries the strong scent of the sea into my lungs. At peace and free from problems, this is my favourite place.

P.S There was a word limit on this one so it was kind of hard.

Mango No More

Esperanza, a fortunate name.

Anyone who has that name deserves more than Mango Street.

Yes, definitely.

The first one had an old, cracking voice. The black nails of a witch’s hand scraping down a black chalkboard, half white with all the years of use behind it.

How do you know this? My mama always said Esperanza was a bad name to have.

The one with eyes like marbles looked up.

We can see your destiny, child. You will go very far with your dreams.

She’s right you know, the third one said. She flowed around the table and sat beside me, taking my hand into hers, like the way a mother knows when to comfort you. Like when a mother knows you are scared. Or troubled, or worried… fed-up, even.

They all sat next to me and seemed to study me. It was like watching Shakespeare’s play on a really old black and white TV, with all the knobs hanging by a few wires, lopsided and funny to look at, like you just want to go up there and fix it yourself, but it keeps popping back out. The screen is fuzzy and unclear. Everything was unclear at this point. I didn’t know what to expect from these all-knowing sisters.

Should I believe everything they say? Some of the things they told me seemed too far-fetched, unreachable. Just like mama and papa’s stories of the house that we’ll never get. Just like the dreams that got us nowhere.

Esperanza, make a wish! The graceful one said.

A wish? I thought to myself, another wish is the last thing I need right now. So many wishes, lies, dreams all rolled into one, big, messy, overflowing lunch box, meant for anyone with the name Esperanza.

I made the wish.

Not strong enough…fail…home.

I couldn’t make out what they were saying but it seemed as if they were discussing my wish, which I didn’t even tell them. Bizarre.

Mango is Forever

Today, I woke up very early. I was enthralled by the idea that I would be traveling alone! I had packed my bags the night before to make today’s transition as smooth as possible. Even though everything was well planned out, I was very nervous at what lay ahead. I was anxious to leave.

Take your chances because you’ll never know what you might end up with. Mama said that with a sparkle in her eye.

Oh, mama, you’re the best!

She read my stories and thought that they were exceptional!

I like to tell stories. I tell them in my head and to anyone who wants to listen.

This is my best story yet! I thought aloud.

It seemed only like a few days ago when I made that wish.

            I watched the sliding doors open and close, open and close. Like someone who’s about to say something, but cannot. Or a fish underwater. Each time the doors opened, there would be a funny voice coming from inside.

            Please watch your step. Thank you. That’s what the speakers said. Then people would get off and even more people would get on. Many trains shot past each other in smooth blurs.

            This was my time! I felt the train that I was going to take rumble the platform that I was on. It slowly came to a stop. The closer the train got, the more anxious I became. The doors opened up and I half expected someone to grab me from inside and take me away from the now faraway Mango Street forever. But of course, nothing happened. I was going to have to walk in there alone.

            As I stood there, about to take my first step, I realized I had a tear down my cheek.

            Yes, I’m almost free! One part of me said.

            The other part said:

            How can I just leave them alone in Mango Street, like Sally? Sally, you were a good friend who was bad at the same time. I shouldn’t be like you!

            I pondered over the thoughts of my two sides and as I did so, the doors closed and the window of opportunity was gone.

            The tear dropped. I turned on my flats (no heels for me yet). And I headed back home, where people needed me.

            Mango Street is where I belong.

    There are five ESLRs in this school that guide each student on how to surpass the standard level of learning. Today, I am going to talk about three ESLRs. These are the ESLRs that I have improved on significantly over this year, and ESLRs that I’ve discovered more about. The ESLRs are: Effective Communicator, Academic Achiever and Self-Directed Learner. Let’s see if what Mr. R said is possible: “you eighth graders are probably one of the most knowledgeable group of kids about the ESLRs in this school.”
In the beginning of the year, I always imagined the ESLR effective communicator to be something a student is when they effectively get a point across to an audience. Sitting here in a computer lab, typing up this essay, is showing that I’m being an effective communicator. That’s not all though. Throughout the year, I’ve acquired new definitions for effective communicator. One of these is that to be an effective communicator, you have to know what kind of audience you’re talking to. I don’t think that I would ever speak to my friend in an essay-structured voice, and I don’t think that a wise, old man would talk to me in the modern slang! I know that I’ve improved on this ELSR (and if I haven’t, then I think I’ve improved on it) because this year has just been a single, mind-boggling roller-coaster ride through the digital world! Most of the things we did in class were somehow related to technology. We produced many videos and slideshows, and to be able to receive a positive response from your audience, you have to connect to them in some way or another! Another example is our blogs. There you have it, a blog in the middle of the universe, with a worldwide audience! How can it get any better than that? The blogs and wikispaces help us to communicate with numerous people millions of miles away from us, and to be able to get our point across, we had to word our entries carefully, because we were limited to communicating through text, which wasn’t very fun at all. It was exhilarating, though, whenever I got a reply from them. All of the students in eighth grade showed that they could communicate well with people abroad because each of us eventually finished our role in the TLP project.
The ESLR academic achiever…what does it make you think of? It makes me think about the quiet person who always manages to magically pull out an A from every class. Well, I learned something this year. Academic achievers don’t all have to be geeks or super smart people. It can be an average person, who’s managed to move up to a B from a C. It can be somebody who just does well in class and does all the required work. I improved on this ESLR because I got an A+ in English every quarter…well not really, but I’ve been consistent in most of my work for English, and probably improved. I’ve learned to analyze, thanks to Mr. R’s reflective journal assignments, my progress and realize what I was able to do, rather than forget about it after two days. Actually, this essay is another form of this ESLR! I’m basically just assessing what I’ve accomplished throughout the school year. The way I’ve improved on this ESLR is intertwined with the activities I mentioned in the previous ESLR. The TLP project was one project that smacked a handful of ESLR properties. In the project, I took information from the teacher, the Internet and my own knowledge to contribute to my wikispace discussions, showing that I’ve enhanced my ability to apply previously learned knowledge to current situations because I probably would have taken all the information from the Internet, in the beginning of the year.
I used to think of a self-directed learner as someone pretty similar to an academic achiever. I thought that to be a self-directed learner, you’d have to spend all your time at home or in the library, studying until your knuckles turned white. Well, now I know that self-directed learners can merely be people who hand all their work in right on time and people who set goals for themselves. You can be self-directed learner just by doing all your homework! I definitely think that I improved on this ESLR during the first semester because my grades improved, meaning that the goals I set in the very beginning of the year in English were helping me. There was no significant change in my study habits, but I’m getting there! Another way that I can show you how I’ve bettered myself on this specific ESLR is the exams. I had to make more time for all the revision I had to do, than if I had the exams on the first semester. A reason for this is also because I want to improve my grades. Yet another example is my love for sports. I wanted to be able to have sufficient skills to play a decent game of volleyball, so I joined the U-15 volleyball team. I also joined to be able to keep fit. Before I joined, I only played volleyball during PE for less than a quarter, which to me was not adequate.
Well, I think you’ve had enough of three ELSRs for now, so it’s time for me to wrap it up. I’ve improved significantly on being an Academic Achiever, an Effective Communicator and a Self-Directed Learner, and that’s one step towards a brighter future! Another important skill to have is to actually know what you’re doing and not assume that you’re being one of those ESLRs, and I’m confident that I’ve reached further along the scale of understanding ESLRs.

The song that I chose to use for this assignment is called Two Weeks From Twenty by Yellowcard.

Two Weeks From Twenty � Yellowcard

Jimmy wasn’t really popular
He had a couple of friends back home
And sooner or later they’re all getting out
So he had to join up alone
He was dreaming of the Ivy League
Since he was only three feet tall
Get the hell out of Jersey
And then he would never look back at all

And then you hear them say
That miles away
We lost another one
That we sent with a gun
They’re gonna miss him, he was two weeks from twenty
And there’s still no shame
From the man to blame

Jimmy never had a reason to stay
Because all the factories shut down
All he had was a line for his name
So he could sign away his right to be proud
He tried to kiss her on the way out the door
She just put her little hand on his face
I don’t understand why you’re leaving, she said
But I hope you’re gonna ask me to wait

And then you hear them say
That miles away
We lost another one
That we sent with a gun
His lady missed him, he was two weeks from twenty
And there’s still no shame
From the man to blame

Jimmy’s mother went to Capitol Hill
So she could fill her heart up with joy
Maybe shake a few hands while she’s there
And tell him, thank you sir for taking my boy

And then you hear them say
That miles away
We lost another one
That we sent with a gun
His mama missed him, he was two weeks from twenty
And there’s still no shame
From the man to blame
No there’s still no shame
And we’re all to blame

We’re all to blame
We’re all to blame
We’re all to blame
We’re all to blame

�

I think that this song represents many things including, but not limited to, the ones that I am about to talk about.

First of all, I think there is definitely something about the song that hints about class. In the chorus, the singer says �And there�s still no shame from the man to blame.� From a lower-class person�s point of view, he/she could interpret this line as, �Just because the people who work for the government think that they�re helping the nation win the war by recruiting more people, doesn�t mean they get to bring in all the citizens they want and not care about how many of them die.� Many people may see behind the laid-back melodies and realize that the �man to blame� is probably brutal and careless about his decisions.�

From a female�s point of view, she could maybe relate to the song if she had lost a fianc� or husband because of a war. It may not even be that serious and could be as simple as losing a loved one, but then again, that could be the case for a male as well. Females can also look at this song and think that this song would be depicting females as helpless because of the way they reacted to Jimmy�s death. Only females were included in the grieving of his death. Jimmy, the male, was the one who was leaving the females.

Looking at it from a person who is concerned about how people of different races act towards each other, that person may think that Jimmy is a character made to depict someone out of place and someone of a different race, which explains his height, or lack thereof. The �man to blame� may be interpreted as somebody who considers himself of a higher caliber than Jimmy, explaining why he felt no shame in losing him. The unnamed man may not care about Jimmy�s death because of his descent, even if he was a citizen of the U.S.

Lines that I understood and appreciated

1. Caliban:������ “Water with berries in �t, and teach me how

��� ��� ��� ��� ��� ���� To name the bigger light and how the less,

��� ��� ��� ��� ��� ���� That burn by day and night.”

(Lines 400 - 402)

2. Miranda:����� “There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.

���������������������� �� � If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

��������������������� ��� � Good things will strive to dwell with �t

���������������������� �� � (Lines 552 - 554)

Lines that I had trouble deciphering

1. Ferdinand:�� “Might I but through my prison once a day

����������������������� Behold this maid. All corners else o’ th’ earth

����������������������� Let liberty make use of. Space enough

����������������������� Have I in such a prison.”

����������������������� (Lines 597 - 600)

2. Ariel:[Singing]“Curtsied when you have, and kissed

����������������������������������� The wild waves whist.

����������������������� Foot it featly here and there,

����������������������������������� And sweet sprites bear.”

����������������������� (Lines 454 - 457)

After school resumed for quarter three, Mr. R told us eighth graders that we were going to be starting our poetry unit. This announcement was received very differently throughout the classes. Some my peers were enthusiastic about this, but the majority started complaining right away about how boring and tedious poetry is.

During the first few classes of the poetry unit, we were asked to write many different starting lines for different types of poems. The class then each wrote one of those phrases on top of a piece of paper. After that, we were asked to pass our paper to the next person, and that person would continue that poem for a few seconds and so on. Doing this activity shows that the whole class was full of self-directed learners because we were trying to complete pieces using everybody’s ideas. We were trying out an idea that was new to all of us. This activity helped me to realize that there was not always one style of poetry and that poetry can be as fun as having a story told through other people’s imaginations! If we had not done that at the very beginning of the unit, I may have written poetry in a one-minded fashion, thus closing many doors through the poetic experience. This activity helped me not only to become a self-directed learner at that time, but also to be a self-directed learner throughout the whole unit because it showed me that I could experiment with different kinds of poetry.

In the midst of the poetry unit, we were collaborating with three other schools around the world to complete projects that revolved around the issues of the world and/or teen life, thus being dubbed The Teen Life Project (TLP). Participating in the TLP shows that I am an academic achiever. I was using a wikispace to communicate with the other members of my group and to show them the poems that I composed for the project, therefore demonstrating technological literacy and the use of technology as a tool for the efficient and creative completion of a project. I was being an academic achiever also because I had to write up the TLP poems during my individual time and then post them to see what the members of my group thought about it or how I should change it to fit our topic more. I demonstrated the ability to work independently and collaboratively. If I could be more successful at this at group working, then I think that my skills in collaborating with other people in a group will grow, therefore, I should apply the skills that I used during this part of the unit.

This project also forced me to utilize technology as a tool for communication, showing that I am also an effective communicator. I don’t think that there would have been any other way of communicating with the other schools, except through phone calls or through mail, but that would have been an absurd way of communicating with them, considering that we already have the sufficient technology at our fingertips to quickly and efficiently contact them. One other way that I showed myself to be an effective communicator is the process I went through to get a picture for the TLP. My group was working on terrorism and in order to convey that sense of terrorism, I thought that I needed some kind of weapon in the picture. I took a picture of my little brother’s toy gun and edited the picture to make it look a little bit more official. This way, I demonstrated creative talents to convey ideas. I think that being an effective communicator comes most into play here during the TLP because that was what we were all essentially being forced to be.

In a way, I was also being an involved citizen because these people were from places where I hadn’t all been able to visit. The project required that I had to interact with these people from diverse cultures. By interacting with them respectfully, I have shown that I can also be an involved citizen online! If I had not interacted with them respectfully and left all the work for them, I would probably have not done so well in that area, so it was a good thing that I did all my work and contributed enough to the group.

Another ESLR that fits in with the TLP theme is self-directed learner. During the project, there were deadlines that my school had to meet, for example, having certain poems and/or contributions to the wikispace. By meeting all the deadlines I demonstrated competency in time management, and organizational skills. If I hadn’t met the standards, then I would have had Mr. R constantly reminding me to post, post, post my poems!

Overall, though, I expect the ESLR, effective communicator, to be dominant during this part of the unit because the TLP was all about communicating with other children who had similar ideas with us about certain aspects of teen life and/or their views on the world.

Another activity that kept going throughout the entire unit was the poetry book. Each time we wrote a poem about, for example, smell, that poem would be read out loud and handed in for editing. It would then be automatically included in our poetry book. Some of the poems we wrote were optional, but most of them were mandatory to have in the book. When I made the book, I tried a new idea and a creative risk by printing all of my poems and most of the book on tracing paper, so the poetry book would have a cool, transparent kind of effect. By pursuing this idea, it shows that I am a self-directed learner. Another event showing that I am a self-directed learner is when I wrote one of the poems that I needed for the book/TLP. One class, we began talking about how we were going to write our main poem for the TLP. Mr. R made a suggestion about how we could write the poem from the perspective of someone different, like a terrorist! Since my group was working on the issue, I decided to take that idea and write up a poem from a terrorist’s point of view, which made the poem stand out from all the other ones. This is another demonstration of taking a new idea and putting it into play. If I had not done that, my poem probably would have turned out to be just another poem amidst the others. All in all, ESLR self-directed learner was what I mainly used during this part of the project.

The last, but definitely not the least event scheduled for our poetry unit was the Poetry Night! On the day of the event, I stayed after school on the first of two shifts to help my friends and Mr. R to set up the conference/activity room for the Night. In doing so, I have proved myself to be an involved citizen because I improved the lives of others in my community during the set-up. What if I hadn’t stayed back to help? I don’t think it would have made much of a difference, but one person still counts! Students, teachers, siblings and parents came to a dimly lit, relaxed atmosphere at the Poetry Night, where everybody had a great time.

In summary, even though I did have fun working on the poems (and used many, many ESLRs along the way!), using the ELSRs were just as important to the unit. Many of the eighth graders, who started off thinking that the poetry unit would be really boring, turned out to like it at the end!

Here’s a link to the actual article.

In Athens, Ohio on the 9^th of March, the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) asked 50 students from a university to pay a minimum of supposedly $3 000 each (many people are debating over the amount of money that company is actually asking for). This money was to clear them from accusations of getting pirated songs off the Internet.

The RIAA has taken action against all the universities because of all the students that use the school’s server for file-sharing. They have been asking universities to pass letters that they give out to suspected students.

Many people download pirated songs from the Internet illegally and this has upset the RIAA for a long time, but as you can see, the company has decided to take action against computers and their owners outside of just universities.

This event has a huge impact on America and most of the world because a lot of people download songs illegally using P2P (Peer-to-peer) programs, such as Limewire or Ares.

Dylan Marlais Thomas was born in Wales in 1914. He was what many of us now would consider an outcast. He spent his time reading poetry, reading all of the poems of D.H. Lawrence. He was amazed by D.H. Lawrence’s poem and he was fascinated by language, which happened to help him in his studies. He excelled in English, but didn’t care about any of the other subjects, resulting in him dropping out of school by the age of 16. His first book, entitled Eighteen Poems, was published when he was 20 years old. Most of his poems usually revolve around the Romantic genre. He went to America when he was 35, and having great passion for reading out his poems, made reading poems out loud very popular. Dylan Thomas was a heavy drinker and died at the age of 39 due to his drinking problems.

A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London by Dylan Thomas
Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

The majesty and burning of the child’s death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further
Elegy of innocence and youth.

Deep with the first dead lies London’s daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.

What I don’t like about this poem is that it’s a little bit confusing, but this poem sounds good visually.

I can’t find any similes or metaphors.

I have one question though, because I’m not really sure what this poem is about, so do you have an idea?
I thought at first it could have been from the Fire of London, but I’m not sure anymore.

Comments page for newspaper article.