Category: English 10

What literature has taught me about the human condition

               

Image result for hands holding

In our world, we are often separated by ridiculous things.  By our gender, the color of our skin, our religions.  We can even be divided by who we love and how we choose to present ourselves.  Despite all the little things that divide, there is one thing that everyone knows well: what it’s like to be a human being.  According to the novel “Indian Horse” by Richard Wagamese, being human means living through bad experiences, and good ones.   The main character Saul was known for going through both highs and lows during the book, staying true to what person’s life is like, whether they’ve gone through experiences similar to Saul’s or not.  Furthermore, the novel also proves that humans cannot be perfect.  Humans   make mistakes!  The purpose though, is to learn from each mistake made.   That is the main source of Saul being a dynamic character: he learnt from his mistakes and eventually grew wiser.  Wisdom, most of the time, is gained with age and experience.  We are meant to share our wisdoms in hopes of others not making the same mistakes.  Being human means knowing other’s perspectives.  Everybody’s lives are meant to be “dynamic”.  Humans are able to feel and because of this, they have the ability to change.  Perhaps for the better, sometimes for the worst.  Saul went experienced changing into both.  In the darkest times of his life, he turned to alcohol and what seemed to be depression.  He became less passionate about his hockey career.  Towards the end of the novel though, he acknowledged his pain as an attempt to heal.  This, I believe, can show us lots about the human condition.

Lesson learned at a concert – Narrative essay

We all have a voice in our mind that tells us what we don’t want to hear.  I discovered mine when I began at a new school at nine years old.  I had always been quite a timid child, but soon enough it wasn’t because I was quiet, but it was because I wasn’t confident.  You can’t do that, you’re terrible, the voice would speak each time I tried something new.  When I would try and approach a group of people that I had never really spoke to, I’d hear the voice say, Do you REALLY think they want to talk to YOU?  Now, as a teenage girl, the voice has become even stronger.   The voice comes to haunt me every time I look into the mirror.  You look terrible in that, it says as it pinpoints every single one of my flaws. All of them!   The voice in my head is currently stronger than it has ever been.  But now that I am aware of the voice, I have become even stronger.  I can thank a recent event for that.

It was the end of summer vacation 2017.   And my best friend, Sophia and I decided to end it in the best way possible: going to our first music festival.  The weather had not caught onto the fact that it was September.  That being said, a heat wave ran through the crowds of people causing each one of us to break a sweat.  The sky was as blue as the cotton candy melted on children’s tongues as they anticipated their first concert.  Looking up to the sky also had us looking up at the sky-high rides of the attractions at the amusement park next to where the festival was being held.  And if you looked really closely, you could see tiny people scared of their minds as they spun like a record on a record player.

The concert began with a singer neither of us had ever heard of.   The bass vibrated in sync with my heartbeat.  Concerts are where I can always find absolute happiness.  But this time had been a little different.  During an intermission is when things got a bit rough.  It began when Sophia started speaking about her friend who doesn’t care about anything unless it has popularity.  I noticed that Sophia changed lots since the day I met her.  She began talking about things that she never even use to think about.   We had become friends when we were in the 7th grade.  Her ability to not worry about what others thought or said about her compared to my overthinking of everything is what sprouted our friendship.  However, she did have a history of being a target of bullying…

“You care so much about what people think of you now,” I confessed.  “You never used to.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m tired of getting bullied,” she spat back.

I found that the difference between the lives of Sophia and I was that her bullies were people that she knew while mine was internal.  Mine was myself.  Sophia was scared about what other people thought about her, because she was afraid of getting made fun of.  I finally knew the reason why she had become obsessed with being a people pleaser.

Even though what we had said to each other had stayed in mind, we tried to ignore it and enjoy our time spent there.  The last performance of the night had been by one of my favorite musicians, Alessia Cara.  Before one of her well-known songs; Scars to Your Beautiful, which is about self-love, she said something that resonated completely with not only our argument, but the mindset I’ve during my life.

“I know that there’s a lot of us, that don’t feel as though we’re good enough” Alessia said.  Although she was speaking to hundreds in a crowd, I felt as though she was talking to me personally. “I don’t want to get too emotional because for a long time, in my life, I felt as though I wasn’t good enough.”  For a moment, it felt like I was hearing my own voice speak.  I had resonated so much with what she was saying.

“So, I wanted to make this song for anyone who feels less than, or who feels judged for who they are, that it is possible to make it in the world.” Less than? How did she know that’s how I felt?  Judged for who they are? That’s how Sophia felt.

“That’s exactly what I needed right now” I said to Sophia, my eyes still fixed onto the stage in awe.

“Me too” she agreed.  In that moment, I realized my life is like a puzzle that I’m trying to figure out.  I am in no rush to complete it, however, that night I felt some of the puzzles pieces coming together.

I know that what she said, had probably been said a million times before, but that night, when Alessia said it, it felt as though it came at the perfect time; when we both needed it.  I learnt a lot on that day.  Because of that, I know I’ll never forget.
What did do you think you did good?

I think that the situation I chose meant a lot to me and I did a good job of showing how important it was for me and exactly how I felt.

What didn’t you do well?

I was really indecisive about my topic since it was something that happened so recently so there were a lot of times when I was on the verge of changing the topic.  Because of this, it had me really confused and a bit behind at times.

 

 

Tell Tale Heart – Isabella B.

  1. Would the story have worked if it had been written in the third- person? Rewrite the part with the police officers from a different point of view (omniscient, limited omniscient, objective).

The point of view I used is limited omniscient

The three police were exhausted when they had been called to find out what the shriek heard on the street had been.  They went knocking at the door in anticipation to find out what the shriek the neighbors heard had come from.  As a man opened the door, they introduced themselves and explained what had happened during the night.  Foul play? one of the officers thought to himself.  The man with a smirk across his face explained how it had only been himself during his own dream.  He also explained how the owner of the house was out of the country.  The officers followed his into his house as they proceeded to his chamber to speak.  They started to notice though, that the man was beginning to look uneasy.  As they began to question what was wrong, he confessed.

Brunch served with a side of memories at my Grandparents’ house

When I was a little girl, at least one day of each week would be dedicated to going to my grandparent’s house. Today that tradition remains the same. Each time I walk through the doors I can’t help but feel anything but safe and content.  It feels like home.  

In that house, we spend the most time in the kitchen.  When I walk in, I hear the same thing almost every time.  On the radio, the French music of Celine Dion plays loud to diminish the noise of the fan cooling down whatever my grandmother may be cooking.  In front of the stove is where she is.  Apron on and humming to the music playing, she always makes sure to welcome me with a warm embrace and a gentle smile. 

All around her kitchen I see portraits of relatives.  Some of my cousins from a couple hours away, some of my grandparents themselves, some of me when I was younger.  Seeing those photos can’t help but make me feel nostalgic. It’s got me feeling as though I’m still that same age and that since then, nothing has changed. Even if a lot has changed.  The sight of the Fall colored walls always stay the same as I remember them.  When I inhale, I smell maple as sweet as the memories that I’ve made in this kitchen.   

As my cousins and I would help place the cold, shiny silverware on the table, my grandmother would announce that she’s finished.   On a plate, a stack of crêpes sit, still too hot to touch.  Since every meal means variety for my grandmother, another plate of the French-Canadian dish, ‘ploye’ is on the table.  Along with bacon and eggs of course.  This is there to provide the option of savory compared to the sugared taste of the crêpes.  I usually take a seat on the leather booth.  The heat of the heater underneath the booth warms up my feet on a cold autumn day.  All the food is spread out onto the table, now it’s just up to us to decide what we want to eat.   The food, as well as the smiles, are priceless. 

I run my knife through the melted butter assimilating just enough to spread over the delicious-looking crêpes.  They appear almost as thin as paper, although only a few have the capacity of having me full.  I drizzle some bittersweet blueberries onto the crêpes, topping it off perfectly.   

Slowly more and more of my family enters the small kitchen.  We save a special place in the booth for my grandfather.  It’s been his spot for as long as I can remember.  No matter how many times we tell my grandmother to sit down, she always makes sure that we’re absolutely satisfied with what we have before taking a seat.  And we always are.  The dishes themselves are great, but my favourite thing on the menu that has everyone satisfied?  Love. And that’s not something that’s served at many other restaurants.

First They Came For…

Adapted from the poem by Martin Nienoller “First They Came for the Jews” in response to the poem “Danger of Silence”.

I decided to give my take on the poem a voice to victims of rape and/or domestic abuse.

First they came for those under the influence

and i did not speak out

because that wasn’t me

Then they came for girls who wear less clothes

and i did not speak out

because that wasnt me

Then they came for children who never met innocents

and i did not speak out

because that wasn’t me

Now when will they come for me

because i was too busy or too apathetic

to defend my sisters and brothers

 

 

 

 

 

 

How does one resist injustice?

No matter what, we all experience injustice.   Whether it’s on a personal level, or a social one, at one point in our lives, we may be a victim of it.  One thing I learned is that there are many different ways to resist.  One way would be to stand up to the oppression that you’re facing.  Take Rosa Parks as an example.  She faced racial injustice and resisted by standing up for herself and every other African-American, whether it was those on the bus with her, or strangers she didn’t know.  Her resistance fought for many.  In my opinion, change doesn’t come easy in this world.  As unfair as it seems, everyone has privileges based on their country, race, gender, religion, sexuality, and class.  And sometimes that can make your voice less powerful than those with more privileges than you.  Throughout history, people have always fought for rights that they think they deserve.  In the beginning of the book The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, the main character is afraid to resist, but with the help of others, she finds her voice and gains bravery.  With courage, alliances, and an influential voice, anything can be possible.

 

What it means to be human

Humans want to communicate

Humans have/need a dream

Humans have a desire to help others

Humans seek happiness

Humans need friends/ Humans need companions

Humans want to learn/seek knowledge

Humans need to express their emotions

Humans can be ignorant and should be more aware

Humans are violent

Humans fight for what they believe in

Humans have conflict/war

Humans prevail despite conflict

Humans may abuse power

Humans evolve

Humans want to be remembered because most like recognition

Humans disagree

Humans may be discriminatory/racist

Humans like to make our lives easier and better

Humans like to help and fight against perceived injustice

Humans are curious and seek knowledge

In the book The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, I learned that if we truly want something to change, we have the ability to change it.  In this book, a sixteen year old African American girl witnesses her friend get shot by police officers.  Not only does she feel distraught, but she also feels powerless because of her gender, race and age.  This book taught me that no matter how little we think we are, we can still create a movement.  As long as one person listens, at least we’ll leave a mark on them.