Time

Time by Hannah Transier



Isn't it insane to think about how fast this year has gone by? We are literally taking finals next week but somehow it seems like just yesterday, we were starting the 2nd marking period. And before we know it, we will be Juniors, and we will all be getting our licenses, and deciding what colleges we want to go to and what we want to study/do in the future. It's just so shocking to me because when people used to tell me that high school flies by, I didn't really think about it, but it really does.

This also goes to show how important it is to enjoy all of the little things, and to always do what makes you happy because the time flies by and you'll never get this time back, so you need to enjoy it while you can!!

Being in Honors English- Claire Riley

If I hadn't done anything, I'd be in CP English. Not that I didn't like that class, it was fine. But how do I explain that I don't feel smart.
How do I explain that when I was there, after fighting a year as a freshman, as the leader of every presentation group, I was still held back?
How do I explain that after getting "outstanding!" written on my paper over and over, I was still held back?
How do I explain that after working harder than I've ever worked in that class only to be labeled as a "try hard," I was STILL held back?

Being in this honors class has meant the world. I know it doesn't seem like much. It's a high school course, and kids including me complain ALL THE TIME about work. But just the idea of getting to sit where others who genuinely care about their grade is awesome. Getting to feel like I'm actually improving in my work and getting a quality education is awesome. Writing has been the only academic I've never stopped enjoying, and I don't plan to stop anytime soon.

Being in this class means that I've earned it. It means that I'm seen as above average at something that I've worked hard on to improve. I feel on top of the world when I sit down in my seat and get asked by peers what I wrote. Why am I the example? Aren't you guys the geniuses? 

Being in this class I've read the most interesting books. What's better? I found people just as interested in reading as me. Mrs. Kopp's recommended books never failed to intrigue me, and I've had so much fun talking about them.

Being in this class makes me feel smart. I feel like I have something colleges can finally look at and say, "oh, so she likes to write huh?"

In my next two years, I hope to go into some AP English classes. English has always been a bigger part of my school life than the rest of my academics, and I'm happy to say I excel at something that I could get a job in later on.

I'm so happy the school board and the English department has let me into this class, even after I almost gave up hope. I'm so grateful that Mrs. Valleau put up with my crap about wanting to go higher, even without the recommendation or the grades. I'm so happy I was able to spend my time in this class this year, have so many valuable lessons, and enjoy my time feeling like the smartest kid in the world...or at least for 45 minutes. :)

Girl, Interrupted Review By Caitlin Scarpa

Girl, Interrupted Review

By Caitlin Scarpa

Girl, Interrupted was an amazing book.  I read this for my group memoir podcast, and I am so glad that I did.  This book was about the time Susanna Kaysen spent in the McLean mental hospital.  She told the stories of all of her friends she made while there.  There was Polly, who tried to commit suicide by lighting herself on fire; Lisa, who was an anorexic, sociopath, with insomnia; and Daisy, who would only eat chicken and laxatives. These were just a few of the young women she had met while there, but they were definitely some of the most interesting ones.

She spent two years in the hospital after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.   Borderline Personality Disorder is a mental disorder that causes depression, anxiety, an unstable sense of self, etc.  I’m not going to spoil the story here but I would really suggest that you read it if you are interested.  I really enjoyed seeing Kaysen’s view on being in the hospital and how she dealt with her illness.  She told the story in a bunch of really short chapters.  Each chapter showed a different experience in her life in, or around the time she was in McLean.  Sometimes she would talk about her life before the hospital, and all of the troubles she had.  Other times she would talk about her life after the hospital, and how she moved on and recovered from her illness.  She would explain how she felt about certain people in the hospital, including patients and staff, and how they affected her life.

*SPOILERS BELOW*

There were many parts of the book that I really enjoyed.  My favorite part was when Susanna became unsure of if she had any bones in her hand.  She was concerned that she wasn't entirely real, and started to dig into her hand until she found her bones.  I found this really interesting, because up until now, she has seemed fairly sane; she didn’t have outbursts like Lisa or any of the other patients.   She also hadn’t showed any self destructive actions since she tried to commit suicide.  I found this scene very interesting.  

Another interesting event was when a new girl, named Alice, came in.  She didn’t look like there was anything wrong with her, until one day when she snapped.  One day, she was taken off to the High Security Ward, where the most dangerous patients were kept.   She was in a room, where she smeared feces on the walls, and was huddled in the corner.  The other girls, including Susanna, decided to never let each other get that bad.  They had realized what could happen to them if they let it.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book, and I may read it again just to see what else I can get out of it.  

How to de-stress by Rachel Raffino

As the end of the year is in sight, so are finals. And along with finals comes stress… and lots of procrastination. So here is a list of things I would rather do than study for finals.

• Play with my dogs
• Bake some type of dessert
• Sleep
• Go on a hike
• Go swimming
• Sleep
• Sit there and stare at a wall
• Play volleyball
• Go shopping
• Go out for dinner
• Go outside
• Tan
• Read a book
• Play wii
• Play a board game
• Draw
• Paint
• Travel
• Relax on my couch
• Watch netflix
• Hang out with friends
• Eat food
• Take a bath
• ANYTHING ELSE

But, since I can’t do any of these, because I have to study, here is a list of things you can do to de-stress when you have some free time.

• Take a bath
• Take a shower
• Go in a hottub
• Go out for ice cream
• Visit the therapy dogs
• Do yoga
• Go for a run
• Eat chocolate
• Cry
• Make a bracelet (mikayla bivona’s idea)
• Knit (claire riley’s idea)
• Make food (julia young’s idea)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Hopefully, these things will help you out, when finals are finally here. And enjoy the summer!

Therapy Through Poetry by Julia Young

Therapy Through Poetry by Julia Young

It is just great being hypersensitive to absolutely everything.

The most minuscule of things can immediately set off a switch; 

And no, this is not just a light switch, it is a lever that opens a dam.

Everything is released all at once, and there is no going back once the deed is done.

Water comes pouring like a tidal wave, a tsunami.

Yet this wave does not wipe out cities,

It does not make the headlines on the news, nor does it make the ones in the newspapers;

It doesn’t even make it’s way into the circulation of local gossip, not even to the dinner table.

This wave is one that floods your brain;

One that blows the fuses of neurological currents, not electrical ones.

It drowns you in your thoughts, not others in water.

It knocks down your confidence, wrecking your credence instead of wrecking buildings.

Yes it is remarkable to be vulnerable to such microscopic things;

It is just delightful to be born with the fragility of a flower.

I’d had an extremely frustrating day the day I wrote the above poem. All my anger, frustration, and stress was balled up inside of me, and I needed some way to relieve the tension. Although I’d usually just sigh and groan and let my feelings out through physical methods such as curling up in a fetal position or crying, I thought to myself, why not write a poem about it…. I knew I was going to have to write poems for my English poetry assignment anyways. And so I began writing. Surprising to me, the words flowed out of my mind and onto my computer screen rapidly; it felt organic and natural for me to be expressing my feelings in such a way. I felt as if I was ranting… but in an artistic way. When discussing my thoughts or problems with my friends, I struggle to really express how I am truly feeling; no matter how hard I try to describe how I feel, I never feel like they truly get it. Yet, through this poetry, I knew exactly how I was feeling— I was completely in tune and aware of my emotions, which is a situation I had never really experienced before. 

What I am trying to say is, through being forced to write poetry for class, I discovered a new form of therapy for myself. When I am in distress, I can just open up my laptop and start typing. Writing poetry provides me with almost immediate relief when I’m feeling down, making significant changes in my mood. 

To anyone who struggles with becoming in tune with their emotions, I highly recommend trying to write poetry about them. You never know what might work for you, and I think poetry is worth a try.

The Broken Tree

The Broken Tree

There is a tree in my yard

And this tree is all twisted and gnarled

Struck by lightning and pushed by winds

This tree surprisingly still stands

This tree is all alone

And can still grow on its own

It can withstand these atrocities

But still can grow just as green

Which can teach us about its philosophies

That even when alone

And even when in pain

A broken tree will still grow green

And this Broken Tree can be

A lot like you

Or me

Strong, Resilient, Fierce

Or you can choose to snap

And stop growing

Stop Flowering

Stop living

But we can be tough like the tree

And be the best that we can be

I decided to write some poetry for my last blog post of the year because I have not written any poetry all year. I'm not very good at writing poetry but I thought I would give it a shot. I hope everyone likes it.
Luke Romano

"What if ..." by Liz Ukstins

What if ... (but we don't)

by Liz Ukstins

What if

music

was more appreciated

than sports

What if

art education

was more important

than physical education

What if

we forced a varsity soccer player

to take four years of orchestra

and only require

a mere five credits of gym

What if

we told a football player

that they had to perform

the marching band's halftime show

and sit in the cold bleachers at every game

but never get cheered for

or recognized

What if

the music program was able

to give a single $10,000 scholarship to

an honors musician

but the sports program was only able

to give a $500 scholarship to

a varsity athlete

What if

we didn't assume

that all students are

athletes

But we don't

We live in a country

where you can turn on any channel

on any given Sunday

and watch every single sports game

but never be able to find a

choir concert sung by

America's best

We live in a town

where the board of education

has tried to rid the schools of music education

because its "too expensive"

but doesn't hesitate to give a $2 million surplus

to the sports programs

to put in a new track and turf fields

We go to a school

where two types of classes are offered

"Practical" and "Impractical"

and what a surprise,

the music and art classes are considered

"Impractical"

When we are

90 years old

and rid of all energy

we will not be playing lacrosse

or wrestling each other 

in the nursing home

When we are

90 years old

and only able to move

our fingers and our eyes

we can sit at a piano

and play

When we are

90 years old

and can only speak

we will still be able to

carry a tune

or sing our favorite song

So how can you look at me

and say that music

and the arts are "impractical", 

when I'll have music in my heart

for the rest of my life

and all you'll have is an antique jersey

and a pair of cleats that no longer fit

"Angela's Ashes" Book Review- Josh Williams

  For the memoir podcast assignment, my group (consisting of myself, Matt, George, and Phil) decided to read a classic: Angela’s Ashes.  This memoir is written by Frank McCourt, an Irish/ American author who recounted his experiences as a child.  McCourt begins his story by portraying his family’s background.  He explains that his mother and father were both poor Irish immigrants who had settled in Brooklyn, New York.  Frank’s mother, Angela, had become pregnant with Frank before she had been able to marry his father, Malachy.  Malachy, who was an avid drinker, was therefore forced to marry Angela.  Frank explains that although his parents were close, Malachy often mistreated his family because he chose to spend his meager wage on alcohol.  As the family began to grow (four sons and a daughter), money becomes more and more tight.  It was the death of Frank’s younger sister, Margaret, that ultimately sets the McCourt’s over the edge and forced them return to their native country, Ireland.

Once in Ireland, the McCourts continue to endure hardships.  Angela falls into a deep state of depression due to a miscarriage; which is only made worse after the death of her two twin sons: Oliver and Eugene.  Their financial situation is also similar to what it was in America because Malachy continued to spend his paycheck and event began to spend the families welfare money.  Event still, the McCourts continue to have more children (two more sons), leaving Frank with three living brothers.  Frank portrayed his childhood in a upbeat manner, even though his mother often struggled to put meals on the table, his dad was an alcoholic, and he was often teased by his classmates for being dirt poor.  He tells the readers about his experience fondness for his father due to his great story telling abilities, his adventures in school, his experiences with his extended family in Ireland, and his dealings with the Catholic Church.

When World War II began, Malachy, like many other adults males, traveled to England in search of work.  Frank and his family hoped this would lead to consistent paychecks that could help to stabilize their household, but Malachy never sent any money home to them.  Eventually the McCourt’s could no longer live off of welfare, and were forced to move in with Angela’s cousin Laman.  At first, this arrangement is comfortable for the family, but over time, Laman begins to beat the children and forces Angela to sleep with him in order to continue living there.  Shortly after, Frank moved out of Laman’s house to stay with his uncle Ab.

As Frank grows older, he takes up odd jobs in an effort to support his family.  He also saves some of the money for himself, in hopes of one day returning to America.  Frank’s most noteworthy job was as a telegram messenger for a post office.  It is while delivering messages that Frank becomes acquainted with his first love and receives an off the books job that will eventually gain him enough money to make his way to America.

I enjoyed this memoir because of the messages it teaches the readers.  What I found to be most important was that Angela’s Ashes portrays the idea that when you work hard, anything can be achieved.  Frank McCourt was raised as a poor Irish boy with an alcoholic father and a mother who was often distracted due to tragic events and the need to provide for her family.  McCourt was able to work hard, in school and at work to help support his family and make his way to America.  The memoir truly portrays the American dream through Frank McCourt's overcoming of adversity.     

      

       

Evan Silberstein

A Brief History of Led Zeppelin

      Over the past couple weeks I have been learning a few of Led Zeppelin's greatest hits. While researching these songs, I discovered some really interesting things about the English rock band. Do you know they were originally called the New Yardbirds? After changing their name to Led Zeppelin, they were able to sign a deal with Atlantic Records. However, critics did not favour the band at the beginning of their career. This changed when they started to get a lot of success with their albums Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin II, Led Zeppelin IV, and Physical Graffiti. However, after playing for an entire decade, the band would come to a screeching halt. At one concert in Nuremberg, John Bonham (the drummer) collapsed in the middle of a song and was taken to the hospital. The band said it was because he had overeaten, but the press speculated that it was due to his excessive drug and alcohol abuse. A year later, he drank himself to death. After having multiple vodkas for breakfast, he was taken to bed and when his bandmate John Paul Jones went to check on him, Bonham was discovered dead due to choking own his own vomit. Led Zeppelin soon disbanded the group after Bonham's death. Even though the band may have ended tragically, they are still the second best-selling band in the US and due to there many influences on hard-rock and music today, they may be one of the greatest bands to have ever existed.

Syera Plitt

Am I racist

For saying that

You don’t get me

Because I’m black?

But it's a fact

You are not black, and I am.

You get offended when I make “black jokes” you don’t get

Well you don’t get them because you aren’t me

You don’t see what I see

What doesn’t happen to you happened to me and my family

Did you know I’m only five generations out of slavery

And my dad is four, and never before

Did I think how close that was

You act like it’s a crime that you aren’t included

But have you been black and for that be excluded

Segregated and Secluded

Even though we are in the 2017

You would think that 5th graders would know better

You would assume that they know words can hurt

But mom raised me to be strong and to always move on

But still, words made me feel like dirt

So I DON’T GIVE A FUCK  

If you don’t get my jokes, my innuendos that don’t include you

Because it’s not like you’ve been bullied for skin color and curly hair

You are so unaware

Your privileged and you don’t care

Everythings always about you.  

And you have the nerve to spread rumors about me

Because YOU disagree?

With ME?

Sweetheart.  Honey.  You are not all that.

You have to stop the act

Like you understand what it means to be black.

Because you aren’t, you’re white, and there's nothing wrong with that.

But to say I’m racist, because you don’t understand

Is to say because you are white you have the upperhand

And if you don't understand what I say

“Then HEY!

That’s discrimination

And that’s not okay in this nation”

Even though you ancestors enslaved mine

It’s wrong for ME to speak my mind

Because you and I are different

And this is just one white girl I have encountered

Not saying that all white people are like this

My mother is white

She’s alright

In fact she’s in love with a black man   

And nonna is white

She’s got a lot of fight

When she was my age she marched with Martin Luther King Jr.

But I see eyes that stare

At my pigment and my hair

And judge me for being me

So I don’t need your comments

And I don’t want to fit in your standard

Because for years black people have been slandered

Including myself

But you don’t see me complain.

Am I Racist?