English 3 · Block · E Band Public Feed

Create a Post

Advanced Essay #1: From the Fiery Depths of Impatience

Posted by Harlem Satterfield in English 3 · Block · E Band on

Introduction

To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing when I started this. After so much thinking, I decided I would compare the bond between patience and impatience to fire and marshmallows. I think I worked pretty well. This essay is one of the most descriptive one I wrote, and I'm proud of that. However, I feel weird that I almost hit 1000 words. For the future, I'm going to try to be as descriptive as possible and not go overboard.

=======================================================

From the Fiery Depths of Impatience

As a kid in elementary school, dismissal time was always something to look forward. I could never wait to go home, make a snack, and play on my phone or sleep before doing my homework. Well, maybe not the homework, but everything else was enough to keep me anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 4. However, there was always one thing I had to go through before I could enjoy my afternoon.

My friends and I would always stand outside the door to the school as we waited for our rides to come pick us up. Until then, we’d always talk about simple things, Pokemon, games, how mean our teachers were, whatever what was on our minds. One by one my friends waved their goodbyes as they got into their parents’ cars and drove off. I’d always have to wait a little longer to get picked up. My dad was always either upstairs talking with teachers or on his way here. He was usually upstairs. He collected my two brothers and I and we walked out to Cubit (One of the cars we had was a Nissan Cube).

 The car ride ride home was always something I truly dreaded. It was the time where my dad took the opportunity to ask me about my day. He always wanted to know everything about everything! “How was your day?” “Did you say hi to John?” “Did you see Mr. Sheehan today?” “Do you do your homework?” “Did you turn it in?” “When?” “Did you eat your lunch?” “What was it?” “Did you like it?” It drove me crazy. My impatience kicked in immediately.

I wanted to get these questions over with as soon as possible; the car ride home was valuable sleeping time. Quickly, I answered yes or no to every question my dad bombarded me with. “Yes. No. No. Yes. Yes. Yes.” The fire of impatience was burning inside me. Rage was building and I tried my best to hide it, only hinting at it through my tone. I wanted desperately to get the questions over with. When my dad was finally done, I was too annoyed to hide it. “Stop asking me questions,” I said, and turned over in my seat. My impatience always go the best of me.  

I see patience as a fluffy little marshmallow. Sweet and innocent, not trying to hurt anyone. However, right below it is a huge fire. A big, roaring flame. This flame gets stronger whenever my impatience begins to grow. Soon, it gets stronger and begins to singe and burn the cute little marshmallow on top. And when that marshmallow finally melts, I lose it, as I did on the drive home.

That fire is impatience.

On one hand, my impatience has a negative effect on me, but on the other hand, it can be slightly helpful. Ever since I was a kid, I always felt the need to complete things quickly. As one of my favorite video game characters put it, you always “gotta go fast.” So an upside to being impatient as that it helps you do things quicker, which in a way benefits me. It really makes you think about the final product. It’s kinda like a “I gotta hurry up and finish this so the final part looks nice” situation. Though “fast” and “neat” don’t always go hand in hand.

“Marshmallows!” my little brother cried, smiling with glee. My dad grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the kitchen pantry. My brothers and I look on with glee and excitement as he walked back to the stone fireplace where we sat. He removed the metal grid from in front of the fireplace. “Light the wood.” He handed his match to me. I slowly moved my trembling hand into the gap where the old but only slightly charred wood lay. I remember it taking many attempts for me to successfully scratch the wood.

I pulled back as a roaring orange flame rose from the wood, almost burning my hand. Heat and the smell of smoke filled the area. I shrieked a little at the sight, but my father reassured me, congratulating me for lighting the fire. He then motioned my brother to open up the bag of marshmallows. Being the young hungry kids we were, we immediately grabbed a few and quickly ate them up. “Stop! I told you not to eat them!” Dad snatched the bag away. “Y’all some hungry kids. You can wait until we cook the marshmallows.”

We ran and got got the wooden skewers from the back; the fire was slowly dying. I quickly grabbed a skewer and shoved two marshmallows onto it, then put it over the fire. “Let it sit above the fire and turn it. Wait until it’s brown,” my dad guided me. I waited five seconds. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then thirty. Nothing happened. I was getting very impatient, the fire inside me only getting stronger. My marshmallows fell victim to it, both literally and figuratively.

So I was stuck with two burnt marshmallows, looking in sadness as my brothers happily enjoyed their semi-cooked treats. I need to try again, I thought, this isn’t fair. I crawled over to the marshmallow bag only to find that it was completely empty. Looks like my brothers and I ate more than we thought. I had no other choice. I moved the charred marshmallows closer to my mouth and slowly took a bite. Aside from burning my mouth, the melted marshmallows tasted weird to me. This taste was completely new to me.

So even impatience has its upsides, as I found out that day. Like fear freezes you, impatience burns you. I guess I’ll be stuck with it forever, not that I really regret it. This emotion can be good; it helps me to act fast and work faster. Sometimes the worst misfortunes in our lives can lead to our rise in the world.


Advanced Essay #1: Ordinary?

Posted by Boubou Magassa in English 3 · Block · E Band on

Boubou Magassa Intro

My name is Boubou Magassa. I wanted to make people understand the importance of ordinary things. Because things like sand, wood, and water many people are under appreciated. Simple objects like these can be changed into glass, houses, and tables. I want to prove that nothing in this world is simple. 
 
​Ordinary?

In this world, there are a lot of machines that are considered “ORDINARY,” but are they really? Because of these incredible machines, we as humans are able to live life to the fullest and they make it easier. There are a lot of people that use vehicles and other forms of transportation. The machines that most people consider ordinary are actually complex. The simple components of these machines are what make them complex because they can be able to have multiple purposes. 
As I opened my front door, I heard banging and drilling. I thought the day would be just the same as any other day! Me sitting alone and doing homework. I then swung the door open and locked it behind. As I walk in, I see many men covered in dust as if they used sawdust instead of confetti. They continued their work as I walked to the kitchen. I saw my countertop gone. It had been removed. I place where I used to fall, stub my toes, and cut myself. When I turned to the man who looked like he was in charge. “What are you doing,” I said. He looked at me confused and said. “We are remodeling your kitchen.” I had then remembered my mom telling me about that. “Okay, so that is today.” The men then brought a beautiful granite countertop that just shined in the light. From that day on I used my countertop for everything from cooking to cleaning.
My countertop is something very ordinary because every house has one. To me, my countertop is a work of art. My countertop is used for everything. I appreciate it because it has its purposes but, it is also a beautiful work of art. It's pleasing to the eyes and makes you want to view nature. Rock has a very long and structured history in our world. Rock was used for weapons, crafting, and hunting. For millions of years, rocks were needed to maintain life on earth. 
Another memory about an ordinary object I appreciated was a bike. It was a boring summer day of my middle school career. I and my brothers were watching a cheesy horror movie called Mega Piranha on Syfy but then my brother got a call. It was from my Mom. “Baba, bring a hammer to the salon,” she said. “Okay.” My brother had then gone to go get his things ready. Then I and my other brothers asked: “Can we go to?”. My brother had then replied with a “Fine but, hurry up.” As we heard those words leave his mouth. We charged upstairs on the hunt for some clothes. After 10 minutes of our successful hunt we were ready. We had gotten our bikes and were ready to set off on our journey. We started to ride to South Philly. The ride wasn't too long maybe 45 minutes to 1 hour. When we finally got there. “Oh, there you are. Thank you.” said my Mom We were exhausted and also happy to see our mother happy. My Dad had then came out of the shop. “ WOW, you guys rode your bikes all the way here,” My Dad said. 
“Thank you very much for helping us.” My Dad said. “No problem at all.” Me and my brothers replied. Soon after, we had rode our bikes home to go find another cheesy movie to watch.
A bike is a great simple machine. When a person needs to get around they are able to use these simple machines to travel easy. If there is traffic a bike could have easily gotten past it . The bike also slows down the processes of global warming. All of these amazing things done by one simple and ordinary machine. This ordinary machine like a bike also saves people lots and lots of money. On average a person with a car uses 558 gallons of gasoline which adds up to a total of $2,120.40. And a whooping $545.70 go straight the government. These ordinary machines saves us 2,000+ dollars a year. Bikes are no way in hell ordinary.
What is “ordinary”? I hope after reading this that you have come to a conclusion that there is no thing called ordinary because all ordinary thing as actually really complex. Here is a quote that I was told before “There is no thing as nothing because if you are doing nothing then you are still doing something because, that something is nothing.” Things are not as they seem when you look at them in a different light. Something like a table. Which is considered ordinary took years and years to be perfected into what it is today. There and coffee tables, desks, and many more types of tables. Then why is it considered ordinary because it is commonly seen everywhere. Then if that were true wouldn’t that mean that humans are ordinary. Then why do we say we are a special and unique. That is because “ordinary is “special and unique”.

Advanced Essay #1: Lucien Hearn

Posted by Lucien Hearn in English 3 · Block · E Band on

Introduction:

For this paper​ I wanted to work on making a piece of writing that was cohesive, with good transitions. I think I didn't do as well with this towards the end, but I enjoy the beginning. I think I also did well with my intro in setting up a mood. I feel that I did fine with reflection, but I could add a lot more to my scenes to make them more prominent. 



Advanced Essay:


In 2005 my mother and I moved from our spacious apartment in the thick of olde city, right under my grandmother, to a compact half-house in Woodlynne, a town bordering the well-known area of Collingswood. My house had a yard surrounding it on all sides, and dividing us from the neighbors was a wall, just thin enough for us to hear the conversations had just next door. I never listened, but the option was enough to make me feel like a spy.


I didn’t speak with anyone in my new neighborhood for the entire summer leading up to kindergarten. I did everything that I did then in a usual summer - go to the beach with my dad, visit my grandfather with my mom, etc. The entire time, I was anticipating what my school would be like. I lived a block away from it, and it was only kindergarten, but a change that big is enough to worry anyone. This was a new grade, how much different would it be? Would I be as smart as the other kids? Would I start getting challenging homework? My mind raced with questions, anxiety fuelling them the whole way.


This feeling was not one I expected to encounter multiple times throughout my life. My family- immediate and extended - is one that is constantly moving around, migrating from one place to another every year or two, waiting to settle down until further into their lives. My brother had changed schools every year in elementary and middle school, my mother moved around on a boat from continent to continent, sailing the seven seas, and my brother’s mom takes vacations a couple times a month to various places. It wasn’t until later that I realized this, for the time being I had thought that I moved around the same amount everyone else did. Granted, I didn’t move the extremity that my family did, but it was still enough to have an impact on me.


When I was younger, on days where my friends were busy I would watch TV shows, mostly sitcoms. It was something to pass the time, passively listening to the theme whenever a new episode started. Being young, I had few cares about how my life would be later down the line, never stopping to appreciate what I had, a very solid friend group who I envisioned myself with always.


Over the years, I had switched schools multiple times, and moved on from elementary into high school. I had long since moved away from my tight-knit group of friends from Woodlynne, and had been longing for another. Of course, there were many people in my schools that I had considered friends, and a few that had earned the title of “best friend”, but I had yet to discover another group like previous, mirroring the casts as seen on TV from my childhood. At first, I thought that acting like one of the characters would naturally lead me to this elusive group of friends - that didn’t work. Then I tried to talk to people I’d never spoken to or hung out with before - it seems there was a reason we didn’t talk much in the first place. And after trying and failing multiple times with other methods, I began to wonder if I’d ever truly fit in. I enjoyed the people around me - don’t get me wrong - but I never felt a strong connection to anyone, and I was just wandering through life, it felt like. I always envisioned people in high school to have cliques and groups that they slowly settled into, but it seemed that it wouldn’t be that simple.


In sophomore year, I joined the Cross Country team for no apparent reason other than to look better on college applications. I was speaking with the people on the team when we started talking about what we did in our free time


“I usually just listen to podcasts like Sleepycabin”


Something in my brain clicked when I heard those words, and I became ecstatic. It was like seeing an old friend and reconnecting. Though he likely forgot within the week, it was special to me.


“You like them too? No way!”


It’s something insignificant, no one aside from me would have noticed or cared, but I had never found another person who had liked or even known about something like that, and to me, this was very special. After having a long talk about all the ins and outs of the show, we started talking more, eventually leading to hanging out. To most people, finding someone else who shares an interest would be a nice surprise, but to me it felt like finding an old friend to talk to.


Having a group of people you consider close friends is a very special thing, and something to be cherished. You may not be able to hold the same group of friends throughout your whole life, but it’s important to hold onto that for as long as possible, appreciating the consistency of friends, enjoying the same old things you did last week.


Advanced Essay 1: The Experience Puzzle

Posted by Nile Ward in English 3 · Block · E Band on

Introduction

My goal in this essay is to understand what having experiences can do to shape a person and their passions. I am most proud of my analyzation to my scene, since I actually found this most difficult to create. An area for improvement is possibly more expansion and making more connections to themes.

The Essay

While looking through my bookshelf in my bedroom, I spotted a subtle shining object behind the generations of old, dusty books. It was a trophy, which read "UYRS (Urban Youth Racing School) 2010 Participation." And on top, there was a depiction of a racing driver driving a go-kart. The day when I first boarded the tired-looking yellow school bus with a broken head gasket was when I experienced first-hand what it would be like to think and drive like the racing drivers you see on the television. In the weeks leading up to this first day, we attended classes, where we learned about the most important aspects of racing, like finding the best driving line, ultimately leading to faster and more efficient driving.

Now, just four classes of sitting at a table, we would convert those lessons to reality. I went through the doorway to the briefing room, where we put on our neck braces and racing helmets. We were then given a run-down of the first lessons, where a "pace kart" would drive around the track so we could learn the track. We were led out to the cold warehouse-like building where the track was located, and though it was a relatively small space for the job, there were still tight chicanes, fast bends, and everything in between. Finally, we were sent out on our own. The first race came, and I started in the fifth position out of about seven or eight other drivers. The noisy lawn-mower engines echoed wildly on the walls of the warehouse when the green lights lit up. My kart's wheels struggled to get traction on the slippery, polished concrete floor, but I eventually adjusted to the driving characteristics. One by one, I overtook one driver, then the next. I held a steady second place as I started to pass the first place driver on the fast left. Then, all of the sudden, the back wheels lost all grip, the kart spun around, and I found myself facing the drivers coming up from behind. The back of my kart finally hit the tire wall with a thud. The yellow flag waved in the air, and one of the instructors rushed out to check on me. I sat in complete confusion. It all happened in a blink of an eye. It wasn't until after the race that I realized I was pushed by the driver behind me, fighting through to get to first place as well.

In my first actual experience in go-kart racing, I faced both the highs and the lows of motorsport. Sometimes you enjoy these first experiences, and other times you wonder how you even decided to take the risk. In my case, I enjoyed the go-karting experience. The thrill of high speed, wheel to wheel driving still resonates with me now. Even after having the crash, despite the fact that it disrupted my race, I knew that I could refine my driving in the future races. When you get to say, "I did this thing for the first time," you find something new about yourself. You may find that this experience falls right in line with your passions, or you may find a whole new passion altogether. Or, you may find that these first experiences do not fit your passions.

These unfitting puzzle pieces, however, can give you more chances to find the pieces that do fit. When you have these "unfitting" experiences or experiences that you may not have enjoyed or found interesting, you will keep searching for the experiences that fit. When solving a jigsaw puzzle, you keep looking through the pile of pieces, setting the ones aside that don't quite solve it, putting the ones in that connect seamlessly. Each experience is a new potential piece to solve your jigsaw puzzle. When you pick up a piece and it doesn't fit, you set it aside and look for the next piece. In the case of my go-kart racing experience, it was a piece that fit. This allowed me to find more pieces that connected to my passions for cars. A few of those pieces were ones that held my interest in engineering. This piece connected directly to my interest in cars, since in order to build a car, from the simplest of cars to the Formula One machines, you need engineering. When you take the opportunities to do something, you may find that in some way or another, that experience will open new doors to getting the chance to further your career.


Advanced Essay #1: From the Fiery Depths of Impatience

Posted by Harlem Satterfield in English 3 · Block · E Band on

Introduction

To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing when I started this. After so much thinking, I decided I would compare the bond between patience and impatience to fire and marshmallows. I think I worked pretty well. This essay is one of the most descriptive one I wrote, and I'm proud of that. However, I feel weird that I almost hit 1000 words. For the future, I'm going to try to be as descriptive as possible and not go overboard.

=======================================================

From the Fiery Depths of Impatience

As a kid in elementary school, dismissal time was always something to look forward. I could never wait to go home, make a snack, and play on my phone or sleep before doing my homework. Well, maybe not the homework, but everything else was enough to keep me anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 4. However, there was always one thing I had to go through before I could enjoy my afternoon.

My friends and I would always stand outside the door to the school as we waited for our rides to come pick us up. Until then, we’d always talk about simple things, Pokemon, games, how mean our teachers were, whatever what was on our minds. One by one my friends waved their goodbyes as they got into their parents’ cars and drove off. I’d always have to wait a little longer to get picked up. My dad was always either upstairs talking with teachers or on his way here. He was usually upstairs. He collected my two brothers and I and we walked out to Cubit (One of the cars we had was a Nissan Cube).

The car ride ride home was always something I truly dreaded. It was the time where my dad took the opportunity to ask me about my day. He always wanted to know everything about everything! “How was your day?” “Did you say hi to John?” “Did you see Mr. Sheehan today?” “Do you do your homework?” “Did you turn it in?” “When?” “Did you eat your lunch?” “What was it?” “Did you like it?” It drove me crazy. My impatience kicked in immediately.

I wanted to get these questions over with as soon as possible; the car ride home was valuable sleeping time. Quickly, I answered yes or no to every question my dad bombarded me with. “Yes. No. No. Yes. Yes. Yes.” The fire of impatience was burning inside me. Rage was building and I tried my best to hide it, only hinting at it through my tone. I wanted desperately to get the questions over with. When my dad was finally done, I was too annoyed to hide it. “Stop asking me questions,” I said, and turned over in my seat. My impatience always go the best of me.  

I see patience as a fluffy little marshmallow. Sweet and innocent, not trying to hurt anyone. However, right below it is a huge fire. A big, roaring flame. This flame gets stronger whenever my impatience begins to grow. Soon, it gets stronger and begins to singe and burn the cute little marshmallow on top. And when that marshmallow finally melts, I lose it, as I did on the drive home.

That fire is impatience.

On one hand, my impatience has a negative effect on me, but on the other hand, it can be slightly helpful. Ever since I was a kid, I always felt the need to complete things quickly. As one of my favorite video game characters put it, you always “gotta go fast.” So an upside to being impatient as that it helps you do things quicker, which in a way benefits me. It really makes you think about the final product. It’s kinda like a “I gotta hurry up and finish this so the final part looks nice” situation. Though “fast” and “neat” don’t always go hand in hand.

“Marshmallows!” my little brother cried, smiling with glee. My dad grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the kitchen pantry. My brothers and I look on with glee and excitement as he walked back to the stone fireplace where we sat. He removed the metal grid from in front of the fireplace. “Light the wood.” He handed his match to me. I slowly moved my trembling hand into the gap where the old but only slightly charred wood lay. I remember it taking many attempts for me to successfully scratch the wood.

I pulled back as a roaring orange flame rose from the wood, almost burning my hand. Heat and the smell of smoke filled the area. I shrieked a little at the sight, but my father reassured me, congratulating me for lighting the fire. He then motioned my brother to open up the bag of marshmallows. Being the young hungry kids we were, we immediately grabbed a few and quickly ate them up. “Stop! I told you not to eat them!” Dad snatched the bag away. “Y’all some hungry kids. You can wait until we cook the marshmallows.”

We ran and got got the wooden skewers from the back; the fire was slowly dying. I quickly grabbed a skewer and shoved two marshmallows onto it, then put it over the fire. “Let it sit above the fire and turn it. Wait until it’s brown,” my dad guided me. I waited five seconds. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then thirty. Nothing happened. I was getting very impatient, the fire inside me only getting stronger. My marshmallows fell victim to it, both literally and figuratively.

So I was stuck with two burnt marshmallows, looking in sadness as my brothers happily enjoyed their semi-cooked treats. I need to try again, I thought, this isn’t fair. I crawled over to the marshmallow bag only to find that it was completely empty. Looks like my brothers and I ate more than we thought. I had no other choice. I moved the charred marshmallows closer to my mouth and slowly took a bite. Aside from burning my mouth, the melted marshmallows tasted weird to me. This taste was completely new to me.

So even impatience has its upsides, as I found out that day. Like fear freezes you, impatience burns you. I guess I’ll be stuck with it forever, not that I really regret it. This emotion can be good; it helps me to act fast and work faster. Sometimes the worst misfortunes in our lives can lead to our rise in the world.



Advanced Essay #1: Kaleidoscopic Art

Posted by Jacobo Pastor in English 3 · Block · E Band on

​Introduction: 
My name is Jacobo Pastor and I come from Madrid, Spain. When it comes to writing, I am a creative thinker who looks for form and substance in my works. I consider myself a writer who seeks for an innovative point of view in regards of content, but also as an arty person who looks for beauty. While writing this essay, my focus was to describe the importance of our past in our everyday lives. I am a writer who tends to go back to memories from my childhood, family moments, pictures or old books. I am proud of letting people know about my always my personal background with the stories I write. I often find things about me when I revive these memories and look at them from another perspective. Although I am very proud of my work, I feel like my introduction could be improved.

Jacobo Pastor

English 3 Water Stream

September 20th, 2017


Kaleidoscopic Art

There I was, standing in a large room as crowded as NYC Central Station, full with people and noise. The room was filled with whispers, the irritating sounds of cameras, and the works of prodigious minds that passed throughout history. Their works were not written in paper, or recorded in stone; but represented in simple white canvas. Those strokes, those layers of multiples colors were able to teach me more than any of my Art History classes. Van Gogh’s, Leonardo’s, and Picasso’s surrounded me. I traveled from hallway to hallway, appreciating every single kind of art. Whether it was cubism or impressionism, those master pieces had a story to tell and they spoke to my senses.

Although my eyes were wide open, the only thing calling my name was  The Girl with the Ball. That wasn’t just another painting for me. That Roy Lichtenstein's painting was a family symbol, a piece of history that has traveled with us from house to house, room to room, and country to country. After many years, staring at affordable copies, I couldn’t believe that I was at the MOMA museum, standing next to it. My heart and soul were filled. I closed my eyes like if I was tasting it, and I saw my past flashing right in front of me. The painting was a reminder of where I came from and what I am now.  

Artistically this painting doesn’t mean much to me as it does in an emotional way. Many people say that a picture means more than a thousand words, well, this painting reminds me of my childhood and it is difficult to summarize what it represents using plain words. Tilting my face and holding my chin as if I was some kind of art buyer or an artistic figure, I was staring at the painting and feeling transported to my old house in Madrid. I could smell the turkish carpet in the hallway, leading to the painting’s frame. I could hear my grandfather’s wall clock ringing time. I could see the door to my sister’s bright pink room. The thousand dots of the painting dragged me into my old me like if I was looking from a kaleidoscope.  

My mind dipped into the colors of the painting. From the yellow surfaces to one of the thousand... no... millions of oval shaped yellow surfaces. I closed my eyes trying to clear my mind but I couldn’t. Those dots were making me turn and spin around, in an infinite dance to the center of myself. The smell was more than just familiar. Looking closely around me it came to my senses that those yellow oval surfaces were the rice grains of a typical Spanish paella. I could see my parents cooking over the flames, that family classic dish. The yellow background of the painting was as intense as the paella’ saffron and the girl’ skin tone looked as a pale as chicken chunks mixed with the shell food represented by her red ball. I was blown away by the realization that the whole art piece made me look back, and rekindle that moment in my life next to my family. It is thrilling how present my past was.

“Jacobo, what’s wrong? You look like you are lost in another world,” my mom said.

“I’m fine, mom. I am just remembering the good old days,” I said with a funny tone.

My mom smiled at me, probably thinking that I was making fun of her “good old days,” as she over used that saying, but she rapidly realized that I wasn’t talking about her at all. In fact, I was making a connection with our family past, our memories, everything that makes us be the way we are. That evidence hit me like a supernova leaving me with a sentimental feeling, strucking and moving me. I tried to explain myself. I tried to let her know how that artwork took me miles and years away from that winter day in New York. She looked at me in the eye and said “I know, Jacobo. It is the same for me. We carry our homeland and family in these little memories that travel with us.” At that moment I realized the importance of our past’s presence in our lives. Many choose to forget their past, trying to live a new life from scratch. For me, that is impossible because in every action I take there is a simultaneous reaction of looking back and recognizing, not only my achievements, but the opportunities that lie ahead. In that particular day, I discovered that just as the works of an artist are represented in a canvas, my past was represented in that piece of art.


The Girl with the Ball


Image result for girl with ball roy lichtenstein

The Girl with Ball by Roy Lichtenstein was drawn in 1961, making it one of his most famous pieces. This painting follows his style of cartoon-like paintings, feeling like poster’s drawings. The piece is currently at the MoMA museum, in New York City.









Advanced Essay #1: One Too Many Steps Ahead

Posted by Marcin Czapla in English 3 · Block · E Band on

​Introduction:

The focus of this essay is on the idea of letting your ego get the better of you. In this essay I use a memory of this happening to me personally, and how it affected the task I was doing. I am proud of how descriptive I was when writing about the scene in my essay, as well as the fact that I could add a little bit of humor into my essay when it wasn't really a funny memory at all. I definitely feel as though I should work on strengthening my reflection in the future so that the scene isn't the only thing attracting the spotlight in my paper.

Advanced Essay:

My footsteps echoed in the hallway as I made my way towards the Engineering room. It was 9 A.M, and although my body was in the SLA hallway, my mind was still sleeping in my bed. The hallway was dark and eery this early in the morning, probably since it was the weekend and none of the lights were on. I turned the corner and saw a streak of light peeking out from one of the rooms in the hallway. That meant Mr.Kamal was here already and that I wasn’t as early as I thought. I walked up to the doors of the engineering room and grasped the cold metal handle, ready to swing it open, when I looked inside. 
I looked around to see the barren landscape that was our Engineering room. I swung open the door and stepped in. I was about to go find the nearest place to sleep, my eyes were locked on a bare table that would be suitable for the short nap I was going to take when my ears picked up a couple of faint voices coming from the armory. Mr. Kamal suddenly walked out with a group of students who looked tired, but Mr. Kamal had a happy look on his face as usual. 
“How strong is his coffee?” I asked myself quietly. 
We all sat down and got to work on coming up with ideas for our robot since today was the first official meeting for build season. We got to pick what we wanted to work on and my group got to design the mechanism that would pull up the robot. We got a whiteboard and started to brainstorm. In almost an instant everyone thought of the same idea: a winch. We were all confident that this would take like a week max and that it would be the simplest, most reliable, solution, that would solve our problem. Little did we know we were wrong. 
We got so confident in our idea that when we had to solve a few math equations, we overlooked and didn’t calculate an important part that would make or break, literally, our idea. This is the point in time when our confidence was really hurting us. We were getting so ahead of ourselves that we were skipping the principles of what a good engineer should do, and that’s double check everything. We didn’t notice any of this at the time because we were all just excited and in living in the moment, but these mistakes would surely hurt us in the future. 
When it was time to test our idea and we prepared our miscalculated winch, we had to go get weights. Maciej and I, the two “beefcakes” of the engineering squad, obviously had to be the ones to do it. As we conveyed the monstrous weights towards the winch, our confidence started to peek out from inside us, our lips started to slowly curve into a smirk. We got to the winch and let the weights down with an echoing thud, and started to strut towards the rope. I grabbed the neon orange rope and started to maneuver it making numerous knots around each weight, securing them to the winch. When the weights were secured we backed up cautiously towards the battery, where Mr. Kamal was ready to activate it with a switch. 
“Ready when you are,” we said. 
Mr. Kamal flipped the switch and the machine started. “Crankkkkkkkkkkk, pop!” The winch broke off the surface and fell onto the floor with a loud “BANG!” Everyone stared at the winch for a solid minute with faces of disappointment. A single tear rolled down Maciej’s cheek. 
Surprisingly making a bad winch actually taught me something very important. It taught me a lot about the importance of not getting ahead of yourself. While designing the winch and later building it, we got very confident and “put the wagon in front of the horse” as some people might say. If we just thought before we acted and didn’t let our egos get the best of us we would have probably caught the mistakes we made early on and successfully made a design that worked. This lesson applies to many life scenarios. Let’s say you are supposed to be studying for a test, but goof off instead because you're cocky and think you know everything, and you end up flunking it. Either one of these scenarios, whether it has to do with engineering or with a test, teach the same virtue, and that virtue is to not get ahead of yourself.

Advanced Essay #1 Facing the Storm

Posted by Sofia Powers in English 3 · Block · E Band on

  Introduction:

My goal was to explore experiences of my friendships and how they've shaped me and caused me to grow. I feel that my scenes are very descriptive and strong and I am most proud of the picture they create. However, I struggled with finding a unique takeaway in my reflection. I did come to some conclusions, but I could improve on expanding those ideas to make them more prominent takeaways.

Facing the Storm

Laughter from people on the now abandoned lifeguard chair echoed across the mostly empty beach, one of the only sounds besides the lapping ocean. The full moon streamed down and lit the cold sand as we walked, and we were occasionally spooked by a passing floodlight from a house, resembling the pattern of a lighthouse. Drowsily, we sat in the sand, leaning, laughing, flicking sand onto one another. They both knew about my fear of the dark, Avery mocking, him giving me empty haunting looks as they proposed horrific tales. Still we joked as I pressed closer to him, pushing the fears away.

Soon it was almost one in the morning and previous fireworks had faded away, deepening the darkness. Avery, knowing of my new fear of some werewolf type creature, laid in the sand, feigning injury and then transformation. He and I began to run for the dunes, towards home. Falling behind in the half solid ground without shoes I called to him, "Hey, wait for me, and then we can face her together."

I started at him, sprinting with my hand outstretched. His eyes glowed with the thrill of the chase, with real fear hidden in his smile. He paused, then continued to run as she began to charge up the hill. The sand, once packed cooly under my feet, sprayed up from where he ran, causing sharp granules to shoot against my skin. I quickened my pace as he waited breathlessly at the top, slipping my sandals on and my hand into his, laughing fearfully. Avery reached us, panting and snarling with the game. We all laughed and continued down the dune, with me between them, holding hands safely as if we were children crossing a street, instead of teenagers crossing paths with our fears in the night.

We faced nothing but some darkness, some "werewolves", and other shallow mental fears. But as I tightened my grip on their hands, pretending to be afraid of their new jokes, I thought to myself:
Will those we hold closest leave us in our times of need or face the storm with us?
They didn't let go.

In that moment I began reflecting on my life, on the ups and downs and inbetweens. I realize the people who have been there for me have remained the closest to me. As I’ve grown up, those people have shifted from my parents to my close friends. It has occurred to me that part of growing up is creating your own healthy relationships and finding strong support systems for yourself. To me, becoming stronger and smarter with handling my emotions has been learning who is there to help me, instead of isolating and trying to face the storm alone.

I can remember my friends’ shrill singing clear as day.

“On three, one, two, three!”

“Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong!”, Rose started.

‘I have never seen such sorrow

In your eyes”, Louise responded.

They belted line after line, rehearsed, but sometimes muddled with encouraging laughter. My friends already knew what was wrong, but they sang for the effect. I could see excitement mixed with concern in their faces. They had been preparing this song all summer just to cheer me up in my times of sorrow. Slowly, I felt the strength of their support lifting me and my mood. They were there at my defense, their song creating a shield around me.

“How I hate to see you like this… Wait what’s next?”

More laughter proceeded as they stumbled over their lines, realizing they were all jumbled up. Their perfect performance lasted a good three verses and began to deteriorate, but so did my sadness. The grey of the sky and the cold and the messy rain that drizzled outside faded from my mind. I felt a finalized smile on my face, it had been slowly tilting up throughout the song. I relished in the moment of calm we had uncovered, and stayed in the warm, safe tangle of limbs and blankets. Though my sorrows were to be far from over, I knew that with the help of my friends I could be “dancin' once again, and the pain will end”.

A healthy relationship requires balance, which means I owe it to my friends to help them whenever they need it as well. A friend once came to me saying he felt like a part of him was missing. I rushed to his side immediately and stuck by him even as I learned his troubles were sparked by a bad haircut. I listened and understood that his hair was an extension of his expression, and he just needed love and support to accept the change. As he was there for me in the past, I had no problem being there for him. The love and care my friends have shown me taught me to love and care for others to their extreme extent and to go that extra mile to uplift them in times of need. Before them, my friendships were meager structures that couldn't withstand a fight or a crisis. Now all of my serious relationships are based on mutual support so we can help each other through problems.


Advanced Essay #1 Coin Flip

Posted by James Adams in English 3 · Block · E Band on

​The purpose of writing Coin flip was to represent the two sides in adventure. One side is fun and the other not so much. Coin flip focuses on the feelings of adventure and presenting a alternative emotion that not everybody realizes is a part of adventure.


Coin Flip

I was waiting at the train station on a breezy fall day. I was ready to go to a new place that I’ve only been to 2 or 3 times. My first problem was buying a ticket, seems simple at first but for a young inexperienced lad like myself it was nerve racking.

“Hi can I get a ticket uhhhh please” I said nervously

“Sure what --------” Said the train conductor.

I'm sure everyones had that moment where someone says something and you don't hear what they said but you just ask again, well imagine that happening but 10x worse because there's a two inch thick piece of glass in front of you and the workers mic doesn’t work. I did however manage to get past that hurdle by saying what I thought other people were telling the worker. After the train incident I got on regional rail and began my trip to Center city. A lot of people may look at the trip as boring but the Philadelphia scenery never fails to interest me, all along the tracks there are graffiti signs that make you wonder

“Huh how did they do that?”

In addition to that, the rising sun can be seen pleasantly casting shadows through all sorts of nooks and crannys that you don't see in everyday life. My personal favorite scene I saw along the tracks was the sun perfectly aligning with the windows of an abandoned and dilapidated factory, thus creating a scene anyone could call art. But sadly all good things must  end as I made my way into the tunnels to arrive at my stop of Suburban station and made my way through the concrete to school.

When people think of adventure people think sadness, happiness and anxiousness. In the scene I go through the emotions of excitement and anxiousness. Excitement because of the scenery i'm seeing and anxiousness to meet new people on the first day of school. However  adventure can leave the emotions of anger and regret. Throughout the majority of my scene I talk about the beauty of the scenery, and that scenery I may never see again. Some would say that is a happy feeling, but the fact that the scene is forever lost in the past makes me angry. Throughout life imagery comes and goes, and people come and go. The memories you get to share with others is an adventure as well. When loved ones pass on most people feel sadness, but is there not also anger for not being able to enjoy time with them again?

I was in a new city, I would have had the sense of adventure, if it wasn't for the fact that it was 110 degrees. The heat was so smoldering that day I could see images of water every corner I turned. After spending the whole day in that heat me, my mother, my father, and my sister needed to do something to kill the time. We were tourists in this new Texas city, and because of that we were lost. First we went to a bookstore to avoid the scorching heat. The inside was like being dipped into the arctic seas after a nice hot lava bath. But the bookstore was only one stop for the family and I planned to accomplish my own agenda, luckily something on my list was right across the street.

“Hey Mom can we go across the street for a few minutes.” I calmly said.

Of course because of my convincing tone and nature she agreed. We quickly got into our black Nissan Altima that we rented in the next town over and sped across the street. My destination was a record store that we heard about on a tour we took earlier. While inside I examined all the neatly aligned sections of vinyl records to choose from, mostly sticking to the bargain section with oldies no one's ever heard of. Seeing nothing in that small corner of the store I moved along to the more prominent sections with well known artists, and presented to me under the name of my favorite artist was my favorite album To Pimp a Butterfly.

This scene is a lot different from my first one, in this one I take a more uplifting stance on the view of adventure. The last scene describes the anxiousness and the anxiety of adventure, and this scene describes the fun involved. Adventure is like taking a quarter and flipping it, you’ll either get anxiety or you’ll get fun. But no matter which one you get, there is still a lingering sense of regret. The feeling comes from never being able to have the same experience twice, sure you might be able to revisit the same place, but will the people be the same? As I lived through my life at the end of every adventure there was something that I felt was rubbing me the wrong way, and when I realized it was the emotions of regret, I forever wanted to go on any adventure I saw for the sole reason that one day I won't be able to anymore.






Advanced Essay #1: Adjusting

Posted by Tylier Driscoll in English 3 · Block · E Band on

Introduction: When I started drafting this my original theme had to do with compatibility. I realized that it wasn't just compatibility that I was writing about so then I changed it to adaptability and flexibility. I realized that those two themes are essentially change, so it turned into an essay on change for me. I felt like I explained my experiences clearly and that people will understand my scenes. However, I also want to get better on elaborating and I want to be able to give a better analysis of my theme, than what I did here.

My dog is wild. I never had a pet so unwilling to cooperate with anyone before. She’s still a puppy though, so it's fine…That is what I would say if she was still here. My dad had gave away my dog and I didn't know how to feel about it when she left. My dad did this with my last dog, my cat, my other cat, and my fish. I guess I should've been really used to it by then but, I wasn't. I guess it was just her time to go. Should I have been happy? I mean, I wouldn't have to take her on walks or clean up after her anymore. But, at the same time I was really gonna miss that innocent pitter-patter of paws running towards me when I came home. All I did was sit in my basement and stare at where she would've been. I would be staring at that empty spot wondering about all the loud barking she'd be making if she were here.


“This sucks,” I thought quietly to myself as I stared at her giant dog pen that she used to play in. I was sitting on the couch, holding a pillow instead of a dog. This specific pillow has been in my house for about three years now. In all honesty it’s jumped around the house quite a bit. It feels like a home I’ve never been in yet, but at the same time it feels like I’ve been there so many times. The back of the pillow is plain and boring, but the other side gives more to the story. There are flowers and vines that encase it, the plain brown side looks dull, but feels smooth much like silky sand on California beaches. It radiates Las Vegas and encompases something beautiful, while at the same time distracting you from something that feels uncomfortable.


I felt uncomfortable and out of place. I felt like a pillow, indecisive, confused, and my thoughts were really counterintuitive at the time. Why couldn't I get over it like everyone else?

“This really sucks.” I stared blankly at the red wall in my warm basement for a couple seconds and I decided to think about all the reasons why I don’t have a dog anymore. I had originally thought that this was because we weren’t well equipped with everything to take care of her, but, that wasn’t true. My family could afford everything, it’s just that we as a unit couldn’t give her the attention she needed. We weren’t compatible. I didn’t like the feeling of change, I still don’t like the feeling of change, even if change has happened in my life so many times before. Accepting something different with no compromise is a hard thing to do. But I did, I realized that keeping this dog would only be damaging to her. My family couldn’t handle the stress of having a dog and our flexibility played a big part in that.


Why is it that nobody can swim directly up in a very deep body of water without being crushed? Well, because of adaptability and water pressure. Nitrogen gas bubbles would expand and kill you, or at least leave you paralyzed. Just as swimming directly up in deep water is dangerous, so is not being flexible enough to handle change. By slowly swimming up and allowing your body to adjust, you have a better chance at surviving. On my first day of fifth grade I was put in a new school. This was the third time I had transferred schools and I knew shouldn't have gotten attached to my old friends because I had anticipated switching schools again. All my old friends were ripped out of my life and I was pushed into this whirlpool of stress and confusion. My first day consisted of me not really saying much. I was unknowingly seated next to my future best friends, but all of my conversations weren't exactly great.

“Hi, what's your name?”

“My names Tylier.”

“Oh, that's cool, my name is…”

“Oh cool.”

I could never hold good conversations, but these strangers gave me a chance. Soon, I had slowly adjusted to this new school, I had found better friends, and I had found myself doing much better in this new school. At first glance change into the unknown is scary. However, I found that embracing the unknown works best. For me, sudden changes have dictated my life, and I was happy that even with these unexpected changes I was able to adjust, move on, and stop lingering in the past.


ENG3-025

Term
2017-18

Other Websites

Launch Canvas

Blog Tags

Teacher