Reflection

The hardest thing for me to learn this semester was adjusting to specific paragraph requirements. Coming out of a program with the same teachers for two years that gave the same types of assignments I had trouble wrapping my head around a one paragraph response. When I managed to do that, however, my full pieces improved from b-ish to a. But that’s not the important part. I’ve noticed that the whole piece comes out clearer and with more purpose when every paragraph is thought about and revised separately. I always used to think writing was something to be done by what feels right where, and that worked some of the time… but limited my audience dramatically.
I hadn’t known much before about Australia. It was a distant island that had nothing to do with me. Now I can close my eyes and see the crocodile’s aborigines worshipped and the root vegetables being pulled from the soil. I hadn’t realized colonization caused so much pain to the natives of nearly every country affected, and Australia was my first glimpse at the truth of the situations.
Ah, Rwanda. It’s one thing to watch a movie and see that something horrible went on there. It’s another thing to watch a movie and know who was involved and what’s really going on. Its yet another to see a movie having invoked the mindset of the people involved and defended or refuted their position. That segment gave me not only an understanding of what really went on in that tiny African country, but what continues to go on across the whole continent; feelings of hatred, confusion, and entitlement, and inspired me to work towards a solution.
The blogs have given me an idea of what it’s like to have an opinion on a regular basis. Having to come up with a topic you can support, a topic of substance, and a topic a reader will enjoy is excellent prep if I ever want to be a writer. Seeing what other people think of my blogs helps me know if I’m on the right track, and occasionally inspires a new train of thought on the same subject.
Weekly articles turned me on to the real world of big boy news. It had always been so dry to read an article, and I blamed it on the people that wrote them. Now I know how to tackle an article so it will always make sense, and can judge its content accordingly. Reading the articles with notes and questions has already helped me care about current events, and is something that I will have whenever I need to know something.
Over all I've learned a lot this semester. I've enjoyed the class and look forward to next semester.

In my native land.

I would most like to be in the United States at the time of colonization.

As a Native American woman life would little change. Until the country became established and depending on where I was my tribe may be left alone. If we did interact with the foreigners it may be to our benefit, giving us new materials for defense or pleasure. When we are moved around I will be long gone, but my culture will remain. Our songs will continue to be played and our stories will continue to be told, even if we have to struggle for that right.

Some people would say its better to have been a native in Rwanda because they weren’t moved around, targeted as cheap labor, or invaded by other countries. These are all good things to consider, but there is one crucial difference between Rwanda and the United States. The Native Americans have not been pushed against each other. As we go about our days we are not divided by racism, however we can move from the wounds of our past and enrich our culture for tomorrow.

The Little Mermaid

Have you ever wondered what mermaids eat?

In The Little Mermaid, King Triton makes a big deal about how humans are fish eaters because, presumably, mermaids are fish. Also, Ariel is best friends with Flounder, who is a fish. So they definitely can’t be eating fish, as in those with tails and fins.

Sharks are out of the question because while King Triton is in control of everything in the sea, no other mermaid can, and Ariel is afraid of the shark that chases her. You aren’t afraid of things that you eat even if they are dangerous in other situations. Mermaids are lower on the food chain than anything that’s bigger than them.

Crustations are also out of the question. Triton’s second command is the crab, Sebastian. This means they can’t be eating crab, or lobster, or the like. Also, oysters, muscles, and crawfish are portrayed as part of the party in the song “Under the Sea”. Disney wouldn’t have had members of the band gobbled up in 1989 when this movie was made. They were still pure back then.

That leads me to examine plants. She is seen ripping the petals off a flower, and her sisters put them in their hair. Strings of flowers are also hanging around doorways, along with seaweed. Sometimes humans use food as decorations, but the way they interact with the flowers and seaweed, they seem completely inedible. There are of course other plants available in the ocean, but they are all very similar and likely to provide the same story if featured in the film.

Here’s another thing to consider. When Ariel is at dinner as a human, she doesn’t eat anything, and, there’s a cake at their wedding that is untouched except for Sebastian’s swoon.

All this leads me to one conclusion. Mermaids don’t eat.

I mean, think about how skinny Ariel is. Her stomach goes so far in there’s a line where her rib cage starts. It looks like the wind is going to blow her over, and her old father can pick her up with ease. And have you seen her next to Prince Eric? Even in her huge wedding dress she looks less than half his size and even smaller than the other human girls in the movie.

It’s cute to see her on the screen. Her huge head by comparison is so alien its adorable, not to mention societies obsession with hair.

But why does Disney want to put these images in our minds?

It’s not only their cartoons. Every actress on Disney has to be teeny tiny, emphasis on actress. In fact, as soon as Miley Cyrus started gaining weight they decided to cancel the show. It’s crazy, and mermaids are anorexic.

By the way, the movie is very different from the actual story and I had that poster in my old room.

Gettin' Serious in the Classroom

Ahhh… The joys of debate. Ridiculed by actual athletes and cherished by those with no other release. Tis a sport of the ages; necessary for politically aspiring youth and radical individuals that prefer respect. But how do events turn in your everyday classroom? It’s surprising how involved a forced group of students can find themselves.

Classroom debates aren’t new to me. As a seventh grader especially we participated in debates representing everyone from political candidates to corporations wanting land. But in a middle school classroom riddled by performance anxiety and the low self-image most MACATs had, emotions and meaningful progress were hard to infer.

Yesterdays debate was different. Either people didn’t care, and thus acted accordingly; relaxed and calm, or people were way over-zealoused and created chaos for the more focused students. Surprisingly, the different personalities balanced the room out. I found the debate stimulating and educational, but regret that it ended so soon.

Looking back on the actual war, I think every party involved is guilty against their enemy. The whole international community refused any responsibility, although they claim to care about everyone. There was a serious lack of aide from capable countries like the United States and Germany (not portrayed, but definitely to blame considering previous German involvement in the country).

When the U.S. brought up Somalia for the twentieth time I was about to pull my hair out. If the situation in Somalia was bad enough to require help, then the situation in Rwanda was surly just as deserving. All that’s without even mentioning that no one cares about a stupid hole the U.S. got themselves into a few years ago. The situation was the Rwandan Genocide, and if they weren’t going to help they weren’t going to help, but there’s no way you can justify that. In fact, the U.S. looked even more chicken for not helping because of Somalia; it showed that they played favors over equally struggling African countries.

Within the country the rebel groups were just insane.

There is no logical justification for the massacre of Tutsis. The MRND said the Tutsis met their fait for invading “hutu” territory, as if the land belonged to a particular ethnic group. This isn’t Israel. The Interhamwe also offered a favorite excuse of, “ We were brainwashed by the radio station.”. Considering the systematic way in which MRND propaganda was broadcast, this claim has some validity. However, every individual must choose for themselves whether or not they will kill their neighbors because of who has what identity card.

I don’t understand why the RPF went into Rwanda in the first place. Yes, they had to protect their people, but in attempting that they lost thousands of people. Isn’t there a point where you say, okay, let’s try something else? But because they were so small of an… offensive front, I can’t really blame them for anything, or the people that helped them [Uganda ;)].

But the question still remains, and was unfortunately left for military dominance to answer in the actual conflict. What can we do now?

Today's American Scholar

We are still a society suffering from lack of mental challenge.

Yesterday I babysat for a nine year old boy. His mom asked me to make sure he did his boys scout assignment, which was read four pages about citizenship and find an article about local government. After he said he read the pages, I asked him simple questions from the sheet and he couldn’t answer them. He said the questions I asked, using direct words from the book were too confusing. He couldn’t even take information in and put it back out the same way he saw it on the page, which is the one thing we are holding on to as proof of our education system. Yes, we can ask plenty of questions as we saw in class today, but we can’t come up with supported, realistic answers. Also, we are able to ask questions because of our argumentative nature, not necessarily because we want to learn. No one asks questions in math, where they won’t get some public gain from it.

Those are just examples of kids in school, but this inability translate information into intelligent conversations exists throughout all American culture today. As Ralph Waldo Emerson says, “The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters-a good finger, a neck, a stomach, and elbow, but never a man.” We can’t come together and express ideas as a culture because we’re so focused on ourselves. If people were able to understand, sympathize and relate to others, no matter what how specified our careers and lives became, we could come back together and be ‘one man’. Though I doubt we will ever be able to come back to that.

Goodbye Candy?

One of life’s most painful rites of passage is letting go of Trick-Or-Treating. I’ve said before that its one of my most favorite holidays, and that holds true, but the looming fact that one day I’ll have to give it up is uber depressing.
This year my immune system scammed me out of the deal. I had strep throat that was progressively getting worse because I left it untreated, and in fact was working myself harder than usual in spite of the stinging pain in my throat. By Saturday it caught up to me so much that I could no longer deny it. I was exhausted and in pain even though I’d started antibiotics already; so much for a rainy, windy, cold night of collecting free candy.
I already had my costume all planned out, and haven’t had the heart to accept that I missed Halloween and put it away. I also didn’t carve the pumpkin, but that, unlike my imperishable costume, is about to rot a whole through my dining room table. I can’t wait until next year and pretend this Halloween never happened, which means I have to accept that it’s not the end of the world to miss my candy snatching, feet aching tradition.
Next year I’ll probably go out anyway. My costume will probably still fit and I’m likely to look just as old or just as young depending on how high I make my voice and how eager I make my face when I say, “Trick-Or-Treat!”. But how long after that can I keep going? Mrs. Walega says she’ll give candy to anyone in costume, no matter what the age, but no way is she accepting the “This hat is my costume.” gig. Other teachers, however, talk about how we’re too old in high school to go trick or treating. So which is it? I don’t need other people to validate my opinion, but I do need an appropriate amount of research on who will actually give me candy when I ask for it.
Two years ago I probably should have known I was growing out of Trick-Or-Treating when I asked for a water bottle instead of the unopened, chilled cans of Pepsi one house had on their front lawn. Knowing what is good for you, what you need, and wanting something with no flavor but major health benefits takes a lot of the magic out of All Hallows Eve. So I don’t know how I feel about my own growing up right now, but I do know that I love Baby Ruth and Three Musketeers (who by the way always have adult women in their “guilt free” commercials) with all my heart.

A Lack of Meaning

Budget cuts affect students more than any political high horse in Lansing could dream. Limited funding takes away from the richness of a learning and turns schools into forced institutions rather than valuable life experience.

I first noticed something was up with the school district when in fifth grade the A.I. (Autistic Impaired) program at my school suddenly disappeared. My curiosity for people not like me and need to nurture made me closer to the kids in that program than many of my “peers”.

One boy in particular stuck out. Maybe because he was younger, maybe because I could related to him more, but most likely because of how he felt about me. For any reason, I remember Jacob very well. He had light, light hair and very pale skin. He was a little shorter than the ridiculous “intercom” on the upper-el playground. He wore the most peculiar ring around his neck that he sometimes chewed or sucked. His teacher said it was because he ground his teeth.

Initially I was drawn by how babyish he was. In his first year at McKinley, he was anywhere between five and eight, but he acted more like a one year old. Here enters my need to nurture.

So I followed him around the play ground for a day or two and “helped” him with the playground equipment. I asked all kinds of questions of the A.I. teachers, but they were for some reason unhappy about my curiosity. Their attitude towards me was so strange; in fact, I ignored it until they broke my heart.

The teacher I only remember from her wrinkled face and Bride of Frankenstein hairdo decided it was a bad idea for me to play with Jacob, and told me I wasn’t allowed to anymore. I brushed it off like I did with all upsetting things at the time, and put it aside to ponder later.

The next day I was sitting on the chains that I loved to balance on or swing from or hang upside on. Today, I was just sitting. The night away from school hadn’t been enough to pick me up.

I don’t think he was looking for me. It’s hard enough for a normal five year old to remember someone without any reason to, or hint about it. But when he stumbled across me I got up to walk away. I was literally turning around, and Jacob grabbed my hand.

As you can imagine, the Bride of Frankenstein was not pleased. She looked at me with a scowl as Jacob led me around to his favorite part of recess- climbing up the stairs and running across the bridge. I was flustered and at a loss of words when she opened her mouth, but my loyal friend came to my aid with, “He came to her.” The woman looked puzzled, then pleased. It should have struck me as strange, but I was so excited to have my friend back and still upset with her that all I could think of was escape.

The year after that was fifth grade. On the first day of recess I ran expectantly to the playground, only to find it empty for all I was concerned. After two days of a no-show, I peeked into the A.I. room to find it empty.

Again I was crushed, but I was too big now to fuss over my emotions.

The rest of the year was lacking something I now understand to be depth. When everyone in your environment is a bird of the same feather, it’s hard to find individual personality. Merging the elementary schools only increased this affect, but that is another topic for another blog.

If we want to mold well rounded, unique and sympathetic children, we can’t afford to cut special programs. If the goal, however, is to produce ill adjusted, apathetic drive by shooters, budget cuts are the way to go.

I would opt for the first, and be willing to lay the ground work for a better future, even if it means less money for state prisons and poorer roads. Unfortunately, what I want for myself and my future children, my niece and nephew, doesn’t match up with what the present generation wants for themselves.

New car anyone? How ‘bout an all interest mortgage?