Friday, September 6, 2013

Friday, September 6th, 2013

Dear Juniors,

Enjoy your weekend, cute kids! If you missed class, we completed the following:

1. JOURNAL #2: Please refer back to AW #2 entitled "The High Price of Cheap Clothing." Indicate the ORANGE  and GREEN points that you identified. Please elaborate on why you found those pieces of text interesting and why they offered a new perspective on the topic.




2. Today we started our introduction on "The Birthmark," a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne.



3. We obtained information about Hawthorne and then I shared a Power Point Presentation concerning "The Short Story." Please obtain this information from someone else in class.

3.. Each was assigned one of the following words: IRONY, SYMBOLISM. and THEME.

If you missed class, PLEASE see me BEFORE TUESDAY, so that I can give you one of the words.

Your assignment is to research irony, symbolism or theme in association with "THE BIRTHMARK." You are to locate an Internet source that pertains to one of the three elements, annotate it concerning irony, theme or symbolism, and then create a list detailing the irony, aspects of symbolism or the themes found within "The Birthmark." I have included a student's example below:


Phillip Johns                                                                                                                  John 1

Mrs. Crampton

Junior English

10/02/2001

Themes found within “The Birthmark”



  1. Theme: Man should not attempt to change or alter what God has created.
  2. Theme: The desire for perfection can lead to imperfection
  3. Theme: Flaws give mankind a reason to seek for growth. If mankind possesses no flaws then they can not progress.
  4. Theme:  Science does not have a place in creation.
  Please remember to include a Works Cited page indicating your source.

4. We then discussed your homework assignment, "Beware the Dog." Students were then asked to write a strong body paragraph discussing the "ICEBERG THEORY" or the IRONY found within the short story for their reading quiz.

HOMEWORK:
1. Don't forget to complete Article of the Week #3 for  Thursday entitled "Is Cloning Good or Bad?"
2. Please locate an Internet source detailing THEME, SYMBOLISM and IRONY for Tuesday.
3. From that information, please create a list of the Themes, Symbols and aspect of Irony associated with "The Birthmark." Please note the example above.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Wednesday, September 4th, 2013

Dear Juniors,

If you missed class, we completed the following:

1. We completed the introductory information sheet regarding the short story genre.
2. We read and discussed a short story entitled "The Alchemist's Secret"
3. We discussed symbolism and its literary significance.

4. Students then completed JOURNAL #1 entitled "Symbolism within 'Oh, Father."
As you view the music video, please identify every symbol used within the story and include a possible meaning behind each one.

5. Students were then introduced to their first story entitled "Beware of the Dog." They were asked to read it, and in addition annotate the story for two examples of each type of irony. THIS IS DUE ON FRIDAY. The story is included for you below.

. We started reading a new story entitled "Beware of the Dog" by Roald Dahl. I have included a copy of it for you below. As you read, please identify two examples of each type of irony, as doing so will assist you with your quiz covering the story on Friday.

"BEWARE OF THE DOG" by Roald Dahl
DOWN below there was only a vast white undulating sea of cloud. Above there was the sun, and the sun was white like the clouds, because it is never yellow when one looks at it from high in the air.

He was still flying the Spitfire. His right hand was on the stick, and he was working the rudder bar with his left leg alone. It was quite easy. The machine was flying well, and he knew what he was doing.

Everything is fine, he thought. I'm doing all right. I'm doing nicely. I know my way home. I'll be there in half an hour. When I land I shall taxi in and switch off my engine and I shall say, help me to get out, will you. I shall make my voice sound ordinary and natural and none of them will take any notice. Then I shall say, someone help me to get out. I can't do it alone because I've lost one of my legs. They'll all laugh and think that I'm joking, and I shall say, all right, come and have a look, you unbelieving bastards. Then Yorky will climb up onto the wing and look inside. He'll probably be sick because of all the blood and the mess. I shall laugh and say, for God's sake, help me out.

He glanced down again at his right leg. There was not much of it left. The cannon shell had taken him on the thigh, just above the knee, and now there was nothing but a great mess and a lot of blood. But there was no pain. When he looked down, he felt as though he were seeing something that did not belong to him. It had nothing to do with him. It was just a mess which happened to be there in the cockpit; something strange and unusual and rather interesting. It was like finding a dead cat on the sofa.

He really felt fine, and because he still felt fine, he felt excited and unafraid.

I won't even bother to call up on the radio for the blood wagon, he thought. It isn't necessary. And when I land I'll sit there quite normally and say, some of you fellows come and help me out, will you, because I've lost one of my legs. That will be funny. I'll laugh a little while I'm saying it; I'll say it calmly and slowly, and they'll think I'm joking. When Yorky comes up onto the wing and gets sick, I'll say, Yorky, you old son of a bitch, have you fixed my car yet? Then when I get out I'll make my report and later I'll go up to London. I'll take that half bottle of whisky with me and I'll give it to Bluey. We'll sit in her room and drink it. I'll get the water out of the bathroom tap. I won't say much until it's time to go to bed, then Ill say, Bluey, I've got a surprise for you. I lost a leg today. But I don't mind so long as you don't. It doesn't even hurt. We'll go everywhere in cars. I always hated walking, except when I walked down the street of the coppersmiths in Bagdad, but I could go in a rickshaw. I could go home and chop wood, but the head always flies off the ax. Hot water, that's what it needs; put it in the bath and make the handle swell. I chopped lots of wood last time I went home, and I put the ax in the bath. . . .

Then he saw the sun shining on the engine cowling of his machine. He saw the rivets in the metal, and he remembered where he was. He realized that he was no longer feeling good; that he was sick and giddy. His head kept falling forward onto his chest because his neck seemed no longer to have any strength. But he knew that he was flying the Spitfire, and he could feel the handle of the stick between the fingers of his right hand.

I'm going to pass out, he thought. Any moment now I'm going to pass out.

He looked at his altimeter. Twenty-one thousand. To test himself he tried to read the hundreds as well as the thousands. Twenty-one thousand and what? As he looked the dial became blurred, and he could not even see the needle. He knew then that he must bail out; that there was not a second to lose, otherwise he would become unconscious. Quickly, frantically, he tried to slide back the hood with his left hand, but he had not the strength. For a second he took his right hand off the stick, and with both hands he managed to push the hood back. The rush of cold air on his face seemed to help. He had a moment of great clearness, and his actions became orderly and precise. That is what happens with a good pilot. He took some quick deep breaths from his oxygen mask, and as he did so, he looked out over the side of the cockpit. Down below there was only a vast white sea of cloud, and he realized that he did not know where he was.

It'll be the Channel, he thought. I'm sure to fall in the drink.

He throttled back, pulled off his helmet, undid his straps, and pushed the stick hard over to the left. The Spitfire dripped its port wing, and turned smoothly over onto its back. The pilot fell out.

As he fell he opened his eyes, because he knew that he must not pass out before he had pulled the cord. On one side he saw the sun; on the other he saw the whiteness of the clouds, and as he fell, as he somersaulted in the air, the white clouds chased the sun and the sun chased the clouds. They chased each other in a small circle; they ran faster and faster, and there was the sun and the clouds and the clouds and the sun, and the clouds came nearer until suddenly there was no longer any sun, but only a great whiteness. The whole world was white, and there was nothing in it. It was so white that sometimes it looked black, and after a time it was either white or black, but mostly it was white. He watched it as it turned from white to black, and then back to white again, and the white stayed for a long time, but the black lasted only for a few seconds. He got into the habit of going to sleep during the white periods, and of waking up just in time to see the world when it was black. But the black was very quick. Sometimes it was only a flash, like someone switching off the light, and switching it on again at once, and so whenever it was white, he dozed off.

One day, when it was white, he put out a hand and he touched something. He took it between his fingers and crumpled it. For a time he lay there, idly letting the tips of his fingers play with the thing which they had touched. Then slowly he opened his eyes, looked down at his hand, and saw that he was holding something which was white. It was the edge of a sheet. He knew it was a sheet because he could see the texture of the material and the stitchings on the hem. He screwed up his eyes, and opened them again quickly. This time he saw the room. He saw the bed in which he was lying; he saw the grey walls and the door and the green curtains over the window. There were some roses on the table by his bed.

Then he saw the basin on the table near the roses. It was a white enamel basin, and beside it there was a small medicine glass.

This is a hospital, he thought. I am in a hospital. But he could remember nothing. He lay back on his pillow, looking at the ceiling and wondering what had happened. He was gazing at the smooth greyness of the ceiling which was so clean and gray, and then suddenly he saw a fly walking upon it. The sight of this fly, the suddenness of seeing this small black speck on a sea of gray, brushed the surface of his brain, and quickly, in that second, he remembered everything. He remembered the Spitfire and he remembered the altimeter showing twenty-one thousand feet. He remembered the pushing back of the hood with both hands, and he remembered the bailing out. He remembered his leg.

It seemed all right now. He looked down at the end of the bed, but he could not tell. He put one hand underneath the bedclothes and felt for his knees. He found one of them, but when he felt for the other, his hand touched something which was soft and covered in bandages.

Just then the door opened and a nurse came in.

"Hello," she said. "So you've waked up at last."

She was not good-looking, but she was large and clean. She was between thirty and forty and she had fair hair. More than that he did not notice.

"Where am I?"

"You're a lucky fellow. You landed in a wood near the beach. You're in Brighton. They brought you in two days ago, and now you're all fixed up. You look fine."

"I've lost a leg," he said.

"That's nothing. We'll get you another one. Now you must go to sleep. The doctor will be coming to see you in about an hour." She picked up the basin and the medicine glass and went out.

But he did not sleep. He wanted to keep his eyes open because he was frightened that if he shut them again everything would go away. He lay looking at the ceiling. The fly was still there. It was very energetic. It would run forward very fast for a few inches, then it would stop. Then it would run forward again, stop, run forward, stop, and every now and then it would take off and buzz around viciously in small circles. It always landed back in the same place on the ceiling and started running and stopping all over again. He watched it for so long that after a while it was no longer a fly, but only a black speck upon a sea of gray, and he was still watching it when the nurse opened the door, and stood aside while the doctor came in. He was an Army doctor, a major, and he had some last war ribbons on his chest. He was bald and small, but he had a cheerful face and kind eyes.

"Well, well," he said. "So you've decided to wake up at last. How are you feeling?"

"I feel all right."

"That's the stuff. You'll be up and about in no time."

The doctor took his wrist to feel his pulse.

"By the way," he said, "some of the lads from your squadron were ringing up and asking about you. They wanted to come along and see you, but I said that they'd better wait a day or two. Told them you were all right, and that they could come and see you a little later on. Just lie quiet and take it easy for a bit. Got something to read?" He glanced at the table with the roses. "No. Well, nurse will look after you. She'll get you anything you want." With that he waved his hand and went out, followed by the large clean nurse.

When they had gone, he lay back and looked at the ceiling again. The fly was still there and as he lay watching it he heard the noise of an airplane in the distance. He lay listening to the sound of its engines. It was a long way away. I wonder what it is, he thought. Let me see if I can place it. Suddenly he jerked his head sharply to one side. Anyone who has been bombed can tell the noise of a Junkers 88. They can tell most other German bombers for that matter, but especially a Junkers 88. The engines seem to sing a duet. There is a deep vibrating bass voice and with it there is a high pitched tenor. It is the singing of the tenor which makes the sound of a JU-88 something which one cannot mistake.

He lay listening to the noise, and he felt quite certain about what it was. But where were the sirens, and where the guns? That German pilot certainly had a nerve coming near Brighton alone in daylight.

The aircraft was always far away, and soon the noise faded away into the distance. Later on there was another. This one, too, was far away, but there was the same deep undulating bass and the high singing tenor, and there was no mistaking it. He had heard that noise every day during the battle.

He was puzzled. There was a bell on the table by the bed. He reached out his hand and rang it. He heard the noise of footsteps down the corridor, and the nurse came in.

"Nurse, what were those airplanes?"

"I'm sure I don't know. I didn't hear them. Probably fighters or bombers. I expect they were returning from France. Why, what's the matter?"

"They were JU-88's. I'm sure they were JU-88's. I know the sound of the engines. There were two of them. What were they doing over here?"

The nurse came up to the side of his bed and began to straighten out the sheets and tuck them in under the mattress.

"Gracious me, what things you imagine. You mustn't worry about a thing like that. Would you like me to get you something to read?"

"No, thank you."

She patted his pillow and brushed back the hair from his forehead with her hand.

"They never come over in daylight any longer. You know that. They were probably Lancasters or Flying Fortresses."

"Nurse."

"Yes."

"Could I have a cigarette?"

"Why certainly you can."

She went out and came back almost at once with a packet of Players and some matches. She handed one to him and when he had put it in his mouth, she struck a match and lit it.

"If you want me again," she said, "just ring the bell," and she went out.

Once toward evening he heard the noise of another aircraft. It was far away, but even so he knew that it was a single-engined machine. But he could not place it. It was going fast; he could tell that. But it wasn't a Spit, and it wasn't a Hurricane Fighter Air Craft. It did not sound like an American engine either. They make more noise. He did not know what it was, and it worried him greatly. Perhaps I am very ill, he thought. Perhaps I am imagining things. Perhaps I am a little delirious. I simply do not know what to think.

That evening the nurse came in with a basin of hot water and began to wash him.

"Well," she said, "I hope you don't still think that we're being bombed."

She had taken off his pajama top and was soaping his right arm with a flannel. He did not answer.

She rinsed the flannel in the water, rubbed more soap on it, and began to wash his chest.

"You're looking fine this evening," she said. "They operated on you as soon as you came in. They did a marvelous job. You'll be all right. I've got a brother in the RAF," she added. "Flying bombers."

He said, "I went to school in Brighton."

She looked up quickly. "Well, that's fine," she said. "I expect you'll know some people in the town."

"Yes," he said, "I know quite a few."

She had finished washing his chest and arms, and now she turned back the bedclothes, so that his left leg was uncovered. She did it in such a way that his bandaged stump remained under the sheets. She undid the cord of his pajama trousers and took them off. There was no trouble because they had cut off the right trouser leg, so that it could not interfere with the bandages. She began to wash his left leg and the rest of his body. This was the first time he had had a bed bath, and he was embarrassed. She laid a towel under his leg, and she was washing his foot with the flannel. She said, "This wretched soap won't lather at all. It's the water. It's as hard as nails."

He said, "None of the soap is very good now and, of course, with hard water it's hopeless." As he said it he remembered something. He remembered the baths which he used to take at school in Brighton, in the long stone-floored bathroom which had four baths in a room. He remembered how the water was so soft that you had to take a shower afterwards to get all the soap off your body, and he remembered how the foam used to float on the surface of the water, so that you could not see your legs underneath. He remembered that sometimes they were given calcium tablets because the school doctor used to say that soft water was bad for the teeth.

"In Brighton," he said, "the water isn't . . ."

He did not finish the sentence. Something had occurred to him; something so fantastic and absurd that for a moment he felt like telling the nurse about it and having a good laugh.

She looked up. "The water isn't what?" she said.

"Nothing," he answered. "I was dreaming.

She rinsed the flannel in the basin, wiped the soap off his leg, and dried him with a towel.

"It's nice to be washed," he said. "I feel better." He was feeling his face with his hands. "I need a shave."

"We'll do that tomorrow," she said. "Perhaps you can do it yourself then."

That night he could not sleep. He lay awake thinking of the Junkers 88's and of the hardness of the water. He could think of nothing else. They were JU-88's, he said to himself. I know they were. And yet it is not possible, because they would not be flying around so low over here in broad daylight. I know that it is true, and yet I know that it is impossible. Perhaps I am ill. Perhaps I am behaving like a fool and do not know what I am doing or saying. Perhaps I am delirious. For a long time he lay awake thinking these things, and once he sat up in bed and said aloud, "I will prove that I am not crazy. I will make a little speech about something complicated and intellectual. I will talk about what to do with Germany after the war." But before he had time to begin, he was asleep.

He woke just as the first light of day was showing through the slit in the curtains over the window. The room was still dark, but he could tell that it was already beginning to get light outside. He lay looking at the grey light which was showing through the slit in the curtain, and as he lay there he remembered the day before. He remembered the Junkers 88's and the hardness of the water; he remembered the large pleasant nurse and the kind doctor, and now the small grain of doubt took root in his mind and it began to grow.

He looked around the room. The nurse had taken the roses out the night before, and there was nothing except the table with a packet of cigarettes, a box of matches and an ash tray. Otherwise, it was bare. It was no longer warm or friendly. It was not even comfortable. It was cold and empty and very quiet.

Slowly the grain of doubt grew, and with it came fear, a light, dancing fear that warned but did not frighten; the kind of fear that one gets not because one is afraid, but because one feels that there is something wrong. Quickly the doubt and the fear grew so that he became restless and angry, and when he touched his forehead with his hand, he found that it was damp with sweat. He knew then that he must do something; that he must find some way of proving to himself that he was either right or wrong, and he looked up and saw again the window and the green curtains. From where he lay, that window was right in front of him, but it was fully ten yards away. Somehow he must reach it and look out. The idea became an obsession with him, and soon he could think of nothing except the window. But what about his leg? He put his hand underneath the bedclothes and felt the thick bandaged stump which was all that was left on the right-hand side. It seemed all right. It didn't hurt. But it would not be easy.

He sat up. Then he pushed the bedclothes aside and put his left leg on the floor. Slowly, carefully, he swung his body over until he had both hands on the floor as well; and then he was out of bed, kneeling on the carpet. He looked at the stump. It was very short and thick, covered with bandages. It was beginning to hurt and he could feel it throbbing. He wanted to collapse, lie down on the carpet and do nothing, but he knew that he must go on.

With two arms and one leg, he crawled over towards the window. He would reach forward as far as he could with his arms, then he would give a little jump and slide his left leg along after them. Each time he did, it jarred his wound so that he gave a soft grunt of pain, but he continued to crawl across the floor on two hands and one knee. When he got to the window he reached up, and one at a time he placed both hands on the sill. Slowly he raised himself up until he was standing on his left leg. Then quickly he pushed aside the curtains and looked out.

He saw a small house with a gray tiled roof standing alone beside a narrow lane, and immediately behind it there was a plowed field. In front of the house there was an untidy garden, and there was a green hedge separating the garden from the lane. He was looking at the hedge when he saw the sign. It was just a piece of board nailed to the top of a short pole, and because the hedge had not been trimmed for a long time, the branches had grown out around the sign so that it seemed almost as though it had been placed in the middle of the hedge. There was something written on the board with white paint, and he pressed his head against the glass of the window, trying to read what it said. The first letter was a G, he could see that. The second was an A, and the third was an R. One after another he managed to see what the letters were. There were three words, and slowly he spelled the letters out aloud to himself as he managed to read them. G-A-R-D-E A-U C-H-I-E-N. Garde au chien. That is what it said.

He stood there balancing on one leg and holding tightly to the edges of the window sill with his hands, staring at the sign and at the whitewashed lettering of the words. For a moment he could think of nothing at all. He stood there looking at the sign, repeating the words over and over to himself, and then slowly he began to realize the full meaning of the thing. He looked up at the cottage and at the plowed field. He looked at the small orchard on the left of the cottage and he looked at the green countryside beyond. "So this is France," he said. "I am France."

Now the throbbing in his right thigh was very great. It felt as though someone was pounding the end of his stump with a hammer, and suddenly the pain became so intense that it affected his head and for a moment he thought he was going to fall. Quickly he knelt down again, crawled back to the bed and hoisted himself in. He pulled the bedclothes over himself and lay back on the pillow, exhausted. He could still think of nothing at all except the small sign by the hedge, and the plowed field and the orchard. It was the words on the sign that he could not forget.

It was some time before the nurse came in. She came carrying a basin of hot water and she said, "Good morning, how are you today?"

He said, "Good morning, nurse."

The pain was still great under the bandages, but he did not wish to tell this woman anything. He looked at her as she busied herself with getting the washing things ready. He looked at her more carefully now. Her hair was very fair. She was tall and big-boned, and her face seemed pleasant. But there was something a little uneasy about her eyes. They were never still. They never looked at anything for more than a moment and they moved too quickly from one place to another in the room. There was something about her movements also. They were too sharp and nervous to go well with the casual manner in which she spoke.

She set down the basin, took off his pajama top and began to wash him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes."

"Good," she said. She was washing his arms and his chest.

"I believe there's someone coming down to see you from the Air Ministry after breakfast," she went on. "They want a report or something. I expect you know all about it. How you got shot down and all that. I won't let him stay long, so don't worry."

He did not answer. She finished washing him, and gave him a toothbrush and some tooth powder. He brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and spat the water out into the basin.

Later she brought him his breakfast on a tray, but he did not want to eat. He was still feeling weak and sick, and he wished only to lie still and think about what had happened. And there was a sentence running through his head. It was a sentence which Johnny, the Intelligence Officer of his squadron, always repeated to the pilots every day before they went out. He could see Johnny now, leaning against the wall of the dispersal hut with his pipe in his hand, saying, "And if they get you, don't forget, just your name, rank and number. Nothing else. For God's sake, say nothing else."

"There you are," she said as she put the tray on his lap. "I've got you an egg. Can you manage all right?"

"Yes."

She stood beside the bed. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want another egg I might be able to get you one."

"This is all right."

"Well, just ring the bell if you want any more." And she went out.

He had just finished eating, when the nurse came in again.

She said, "Wing Commander Roberts is here. I've told him that he can only stay for a few minutes."

She beckoned with her hand and the Wing Commander came in.

"Sorry to bother you like this," he said.

He was an ordinary RAF officer, dressed in a uniform which was a little shabby, and he wore wings and a DFC. He was fairly tall and thin with plenty of black hair. His teeth, which were irregular and widely spaced, stuck out a little even when he closed his mouth. As he spoke he took a printed form and a pencil from his pocket, and he pulled up a chair and sat down.

"How are you feeling?"

There was no answer.

"Tough luck about your leg. I know how you feel. I hear you put up a fine show before they got you."

The man in the bed was lying quite still, watching the man in the chair.

The man in the chair said, "Well, let's get this stuff over. I'm afraid you'll have to answer a few questions so that I can fill in this combat report. Let me see now, first of all, what was your squadron?"

The man in the bed did not move. He looked straight at the Wing Commander and he said, "My name is Peter Williamson. My rank is Squadron Leader and my number is nine seven two four five seven."


HOMEWORK:

1. Complete reading "Beware of the Dog." Make sure you have identified 2 examples of irony for each type.

Friday, August 30th, 2013

Dear Juniors,

If you missed class on Friday, August 30th, we completed the following:

1. Each student submitted their AW #1 along with their two body paragraphs discussing on of the following topics:

*Euthanasia
*Felon Voting
*Muslim Community Center at Ground Zero
*Is Golf a Sport?
*Removing "God" from the Pledge of Allegiance

2. We then started discussing the elements of the short story genre, as we will be reading and writing about several short stories in the upcoming weeks. Each student received a handout to recording information about the short story genre. You are welcome to collect a handout upon your return to class.

3. Students were also given AW #2 entitled "The High Price of Cheap Clothing." This AW is due on Friday, September 6th. Please stop by class to pick it up.

HOMEWORK:
1. AW #2 "The High Price of Cheap Clothing" is due on Friday. Work on this over the weekend, as you will have other assignments due on Friday, as well.


Cheers,
Crampton

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Wednesday, August 28th, 2013

Dear Juniors,

If you missed class, we completed the following:

1. Each student completed a peer review for their body paragraph regarding steroids.
2. Upon the completion of the review, students were given five options to choose from regarding their homework assignment. Students were asked to write a solid body paragraph for TWO of the following topics:
  • Golf...Is it a sport?
  • Building a mosque at ground zero
  • Euthanasia (doctor assisted suicide)
  • Taking God out of the Pledge of Allegiance
  • Felon Voting
2. Students were asked to take a stand on their chosen topics, and then locate valid concrete details using www.procon.org as their primary source. Students were also asked to include a citation page for the sources that they used.


3. Both paragraphs are to be "triangled" and then completed using the color coding system. Both body paragraphs are due on Friday.


4. Remember that your AW #1 is also due on Friday.




Monday, August 26, 2013

Monday, August 26th, 2013

Dear Juniors,
If you missed class, we completed the following:
1. Each student who submitted their "Where I Stand" introductory assignment had it returned to them. Please stop by the room in order to collect your paper.
2. We then reviewed the color coding structure by identifying each section (topic sentence, concrete detail, commentary, etc) in the following examples. Each student identified the appropriate structural element by color coding the body paragraphs below. We discussed why #2 is so much stronger. The second paragraph is stronger, but the student is confusing concrete details with commentary. We then worked together and rewriting the sections that needed help.
 



Paragraph Examples
#1. Bryson Nickle
            Due to the pain that one feels during post surgery, scientists and doctors use new medicines to help patients through pain relief. However, many drugs fail to provide sufficient relief due to the weakness of the drugs. For example, Stephen Aaron, a middle-aged man from Salt Lake City, Utah, recently required back surgery. He received morphine to help cope with the pain he felt, however, the pain pushed through the medicine to a point where he found it almost unbearable. The drugs couldn't provide the relief he required, and unfortunately legalized marijuana isn't an option in Utah. Very few people react negatively to marijuana Allergic reaction reports seem to come up very seldom and far in between. These reasons help indicate why medical marijuana should become an option in all states.
#2. Bryson Nickle (with more commentary/support)
            Due to post surgery pain, medical professionals have used new approaches, including the use of marijuana, to assist patients with pain relief. According to one study conducted by the US Society for Neuroscience, “Careful studies show marijuana directly interferes with pain signaling in the nervous system. This insight may lead to a new class of pain killers. Patients suffering from spinal cord injuries and the ill effects of chemotherapy will find pain relief through using marijuana (Joy, Stanley and Benson). This statement has merit. Stephen Aaron, a middle-aged man from Salt Lake City, Utah who recently required back surgery,  received morphine to help cope with the strong post surgery discomfort; however, the morphine did not ease his pain. If current pain options cease to alleviate patient pain, then other avenues need consideration.  A second study sponsored by the Healthcare Regularly Agency (HRA) indicated that the 200 individuals used in the study “found the use of marijuana  most effective, particularly  regarding pain relief and improved sleep” (Armenteno). If Mr. Aaron had taken marijuana for his pain, he would have recovered more quickly and experienced less side effects from the surgery. Unfortunately, the use of medical marijuana creates a barrier in many states. Thirteen states and the District of Columbia permit the use of medical marijuana (Seimons). If approved throughout the United States, medical marijuana would decrease pain experienced by those recovering from surgery and other illnesses.
  3. We then proceeded to triangle a body paragraph regarding steroid use. We brainstormed ideas for a valid body thesis We looked at some pro/con elements that we could include in the body paragraph regarding steroids to strengthen the validity of the paper. Each student received a copy of a document entitled "PRO/CON ELEMENTS REGARDING STEROID USE."

HOMEWORK:
1. Students were asked to complete the body paragraph regarding steroid use. Students were asked to complete the triangle and then write their paragraph using color. This assignment is due on Wednesday.

2. Remember that your AW #1 is due on Friday!

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Thursday, August 22nd, 2013

Dear Juniors,



Dear Juniors,

We completed the following on Thursday, August 22rd:

1. Students submitted their Disclosure Documents (50 points).
2. Student submitted their "Where I Stand?" introductory assignment. (75 points)
3. We reviewed some "Writing No-No's." If you were absent, please cut and paste the following aspects into WORD and then place them in the "Vocab./Mechanics" section of your notebook.

NO-NO #1: The following words are called "Dead Words" and they should not be used in your formal writing work: got, get, very, a lot, cool, stuff, sort of, kind of, like, really, good, thing,and pretty.


NO-NO #2: Please avoid the use of SECOND PERSON when writing. Second person includes the following words: you, your, yourself, and  yours.

NO=NO #3: Avoid passive voice in formal writing. Active voice adds clarity, where as passive voice makes writing flat and dull. Passive voice uses the "be verbs" (is, are, was, were, be, been, being). For example, the following sentence uses passive voice: The check was cashed at the bank. It is not difficult to use the active voice in re-writing the sentence. Molly cashed her check at the bank.

NO-NO#4: Avoid redundant phrases such as In my opinion...., I believe that....., I think that....., I am going to write about.....

NO-NO #5: Avoid absolute terms such as never, always, everyone, all, always, none.

NO-NO #6: Make sure that your structure in writing is parallel. For example the following sentence is NOT parallel. Sarah loves playing volleyball, reading poetry, and to study history.  This sentence is easy to correct  by doing the following: Sarah loves playing volleyball, reading poetry, and studying history.

HOMEWORK:
WHAT DOES ANNOTATE MEAN, Crampton? "ANNOTATE" means to underline text in order to strengthen understanding. "NOTATE" means to record information next to text in order to strengthen understanding.

So.........Your first annotated article is due on Wednesday, August 29th!
  • If you  find a section of text confusing then you would underline it using BROWN.
  • If you are able to make a connection ot your own life then you would underline that section of text using your PURPLE.
  • Another way to annotate is by asking QUESTIONS about the text. RED is the color you will use for this annotation.
  • If you come across a VOCABULARY word that you don't know use YELLOW!
  • If a piece of text touches you emotionally, then BLUE is the color for that annotation.
  • If a piece of writing is poetic to you, then use BLACK!
  • If text gives you a different perspective then GREEN is your annotation color.
  • ORANGE is the color you will use if you come across text that you find interesting.
HOMEWORK CONTINUED........

1. Your Article of the Week #1 is due on Friday, August 30th. You need to use ALL your colors and include 7-10 notations/page. I have included the color coding key for you above. Your first article is located for you below. It is entitled, "Taliban Women and the Return of the Taliban." Cut and paste it as a word document. In most cases I will include a link, but unfortunately the link did not work for the article. 



Taliban Women and the Return of the Taliban
AW #1



The Taliban pounded on the door just before midnight, demanding that Aisha, 18, be punished for running away from her husband's house. They dragged her to a mountain clearing near her village in the southern Afghan province of Uruzgan, ignoring her protests that her in-laws had been abusive, that she had no choice but to escape. Shivering in the cold air and blinded by the flashlights trained on her by her husband's family, she faced her spouse and accuser. Her in-laws treated her like a slave, Aisha pleaded. They beat her. If she hadn't run away, she would have died. Her judge, a local Taliban commander, was unmoved. Later, he would tell Aisha's uncle that she had to be made an example of lest other girls in the village try to do the same thing. The commander gave his verdict, and men moved in to deliver the punishment. Aisha's brother-in-law held her down while her husband pulled out a knife. First he sliced off her ears. Then he started on her nose. Aisha passed out from the pain but awoke soon after, choking on her own blood. The men had left her on the mountainside to die.


This didn't happen 10 years ago, when the Taliban ruled Afghanistan. It happened last year. Now hidden in a secret women's shelter in the relative safety of Kabul, where she was taken after receiving care from U.S. forces, Aisha recounts her tale in a monotone, her eyes flat and distant. She listens obsessively to the news on a small radio that she keeps by her side. Talk that the Afghan government is considering some kind of political accommodation with the Taliban is the only thing that elicits an emotional response. "They are the people that did this to me," she says, touching the jagged bridge of scarred flesh and bone that frames the gaping hole in an otherwise beautiful face. "How can we reconcile with them?"
That is exactly what the Afghan government plans to do. In June, President Hamid Karzai established a peace council tasked with exploring negotiations with Afghanistan's "upset brothers," as he calls the Taliban. A month later, Tom Malinowski, the Washington advocacy director for Human Rights Watch, a New York — based NGO, flew to Kabul seeking assurances that human rights would be protected in the course of negotiations. During their conversation, Karzai mused on the cost of the conflict in human lives and wondered aloud if he had any right to talk about human rights when so many were dying. "He essentially asked me," says Malinowski, "What is more important, protecting the right of a girl to go to school or saving her life?" How Karzai and his international allies answer that question will have far-reaching consequences. Aisha has no doubt. "The Taliban are not good people," she says. "If they come back, the situation will be worse for everyone." But for others, the rights of Afghan women are only one aspect of a complex situation. How that situation will eventually be ordered remains unclear.
As the war in Afghanistan enters its ninth year, the need for an exit strategy weighs on the minds of U.S. policymakers. The publication of some 90,000 documents on the war by the freedom-of-information activists at WikiLeaks — working with the New York Times, the Guardian in London and the German newsmagazine Der Spiegel — has intensified international debate. Though the documents mainly consist of low-level intelligence reports, taken together they reveal a war in which a shadowy insurgency shows determined resilience; where fighting that enemy often claims the lives of innocent civilians; and where supposed allies, like Pakistan's security services, are suspected of playing a deadly double game. Allegations of fraud and corruption in the Afghan government have exasperated Congress, as has evidence that the billions of dollars spent training and equipping the Afghan security forces have so far achieved little. In May, the U.S. death toll passed 1,000. As frustrations mount over a war that even top U.S. commanders think is not susceptible to a purely military solution, demands intensify for a political way out of the quagmire.

Such an outcome, it is assumed, would involve a reconciliation with the Taliban or, at the very least, some elements within its fold. But without safeguards, that would pose significant risks to the very women U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton promised in May not to abandon. "We will stand with you always," she said to female members of Karzai's delegation in Washington. Afghan women are not convinced. They fear that in the quest for a quick peace, their progress may be sidelined. "Women's rights must not be the sacrifice by which peace is achieved," says Fawzia Koofi, the former Deputy Speaker of Afghanistan's parliament.

Yet that may be where negotiations are heading. In December, President Obama set a July 2011 deadline for the beginning of a drawdown of U.S. troops from Afghanistan. That has made Taliban leaders feel they have the upper hand. In negotiations, the Taliban will be advocating a version of an Afghan state in line with their own conservative views, particularly on the issue of women's rights, which they deem a Western concept that contravenes Islamic teaching. Already there is a growing acceptance that some concessions to the Taliban are inevitable if there is to be genuine reconciliation. "You have to be realistic," says a senior Western diplomat in Kabul, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. "We are not going to be sending troops and spending money forever. There will have to be a compromise, and sacrifices will have to be made." Which sounds understandable. But who, precisely, will be asked to make the sacrifice?
Stepping Out
When the U.S. and its allies went to war in Afghanistan in 2001 with the aim of removing the safe haven that the Taliban had provided for al-Qaeda, it was widely hoped that the women of the country would be liberated from a regime that denied them education and jobs, forced them indoors and violently punished them for infractions of a strict interpretation of Islamic law. Under the Taliban, who ruled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001, women accused of adultery were stoned to death; those who flashed a bare ankle from under the shroud of a burqa were whipped. Koofi remembers being beaten on the street for forgetting to remove the polish from her nails after her wedding. "We were not even allowed to laugh out loud," she says.
It wasn't always so. Kabul 40 years ago was considered the playground of Central Asia, a city where girls wore jeans to the university and fashionable women went to parties sporting Chanel miniskirts. These days the streets of Kabul once again echo with the laughter of girls on their way to school, dressed in uniforms of black coats and white headscarves. Women have rejoined the workforce and can sign up for the police and the army. Article 83 of the constitution mandates that at least 25% of parliamentary seats go to female representatives.
During Taliban times, women's voices were banned from the radio, and TV was forbidden, but last month a female anchor interviewed a former Taliban leader on a national broadcast. Under the Taliban, Robina Muqimyar Jalalai, one of Afghanistan's first two female Olympic athletes, spent her girlhood locked behind the walls of her family compound. Now she is running for parliament and wants a sports ministry created, which she hopes to lead. "We have women boxers and women footballers," she says. "I go running in the stadium where the Taliban used to play football with women's heads." But Muqimyar says she will never take these changes for granted. "If the Taliban come back, I will lose everything that I have gained over the past nine years."
It would be easy to dismiss such fears as premature. The Taliban leadership has not yet shown any inclination to reconcile with Karzai's government. But a program to reintegrate into society so-called 10-dollar Talibs — low-level insurgents who fight for cash or over local grievances — is already in place. Koofi worries that such accommodations may be the first step down a slippery slope. Reintegrating low-level Taliban could mean that men like those who ordered and carried out Aisha's punishment would be eligible for the training and employment opportunities paid for by international donors — without having to account for their actions. "The government of Afghanistan needs to make it clear, not just by speaking but by action and policy, that women's rights will be guaranteed," says Koofi. "If they don't, if they continue giving political bribes to Taliban, we will lose everything."
Clinging to the Constitution
Both the U.S. administration and Karzai's government say such worries are overblown. Afghanistan's constitution, they insist — which promotes gender equality and provides for girls' education — is not up for negotiation. In Kabul on July 20, Clinton said that the red lines are clear. "Any reconciliation process ... must require that anyone who wishes to rejoin society and the political system must lay down their weapons and end violence, renounce al-Qaeda and be committed to the constitution and laws of Afghanistan, which guarantee the rights of women."
Afghan women cling to such promises like a talisman. But ambiguities abound. Article 3 of the constitution, for example, holds that no law may contravene the principles of Shari'a, or Islamic law. What constitutes Shari'a, however, has never been defined, so a change in the political climate of the country could mean a radical reinterpretation of women's rights. Karzai has already invited Taliban to run for parliament. None have done so, but if they ever do, they may find some like-minded colleagues already there. Abdul Hadi Arghandiwal, the Minister of Economy and leader of the ideologically conservative Hizb-i-Islami faction, for example, holds that women and men shouldn't go to university together. Like the Taliban, he believes that women should not be allowed to leave the home unaccompanied by a male relative. "That is in accordance with Islam. And what we want for Afghanistan is Islamic rights, not Western rights," Arghandiwal says.
Traditional ways, however, do little for women. Aisha's family did nothing to protect her from the Taliban. That might have been out of fear, but more likely it was out of shame. A girl who runs away is automatically considered a prostitute in deeply traditional societies, and families that allow them back home would be subject to widespread ridicule. A few months after Aisha arrived at the shelter, her father tried to bring her home with promises that he would find her a new husband. Aisha refused to leave. In rural areas, a family that finds itself shamed by a daughter sometimes sells her into slavery, or worse, subjects her to a so-called honor killing — murder under the guise of saving the family's name.
Parliamentarian Sabrina Saqib fears that if the Taliban were welcomed back into the fold, those who oppress women would get a free ride. "I am worried that the day that the so-called moderate Taliban can sit in parliament, we will lose our rights," she says. "Because it is not just Taliban that are against women's rights; there are many men who are against them as well." Last summer, Saqib voted against a bill that authorized husbands in Shi'ite families to withhold money and food from wives who refuse to provide sex, limited inheritance and custody of children in the case of divorce and denied women freedom of movement without permission from their families. The law passed, and that 25% quota of women in parliament couldn't stop it. Saqib estimates that less than a dozen of the 68 female parliamentarians support women's rights. The rest — proxies for conservative men who boosted them into power — aren't interested.
Despite her frustrations with her parliamentary colleagues, Saqib is a firm supporter of the constitutional quota. "In a society dominated by culture and traditions," she says, "we need some time for women to prove that they can do things." If the constitution were revised as part of a negotiation with the Taliban, she says, the article mandating the parliamentary quota "would be the first to go." Arghandiwal, the Economy Minister, would love to see the back of it. "Throughout history, constitutions have changed, so we have to be flexible on this," he says. The quota for women, he claims, "makes them lazy."
Threats in the Night
For many women, debates over the constitution are an abstract irrelevance. What matters is that mounting insecurity is eroding the few gains they have made. Taliban night letters — chilling missives delivered under the cover of darkness — threaten women in the south of the country, a Taliban stronghold, who dare to work. "We warn you to leave your job as a teacher as soon as possible otherwise we will cut the heads off your children and shall set fire to your daughter," reads one. "We will kill you in such a harsh way that no woman has so far been killed in that manner," says another. Both letters, which were obtained by Human Rights Watch, are printed on paper bearing the crossed swords and Koran insignia of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, the name of the former Taliban government. Elsewhere, girls' schools have been burned down and students have had acid thrown in their faces. In May, mounting violence in the west of the country prompted the religious council of Herat province to issue an edict forbidding women to leave their homes without a male relative. The northern province of Badakhshan quickly followed suit, and other councils are considering doing the same.
The edicts are usually justified as a means of protecting women from the insurgency, but Koofi, the member of parliament, says there is a better way of doing that: improved governance and security. That will not just protect women but also strengthen the Afghan government's hand in the course of negotiations. "We need to marginalize the Taliban by focusing on good governance," she says, fearing that a quick deal would bring only a temporary lull in the violence — enough to permit the international coalition a face-saving withdrawal but not much more than that. Afghanistan's women recognize that dialogue with the Taliban is essential to any long-term solution, but they don't want those talks to be hurried. They want a seat at the table, and they worry that Afghanistan's friends overseas are tiring of its dysfunctional ways. "I think it is possible to make things better if the international community supports good governance," says Koofi, "but they are too focused on an exit strategy. They want a quick solution."
For Afghanistan's women, an early withdrawal of international forces could be disastrous. An Afghan refugee who grew up in Canada, Mozhdah Jamalzadah recently returned home to launch an Oprah-style talk show, which has become wildly popular. Jamalzadah has been able to subtly introduce questions of women's rights into the program without provoking the ire of religious conservatives. "If I go into it directly," she says, "there will be a backlash. But if I talk about abuse, which is against the Koran, and then talk about divorce, which is permitted, I am educating both men and women, and hopefully no one notices." Jamalzadah says her audience is increasingly receptive to her message, but she knows that in a deeply traditional society, it will take time to percolate. If the government becomes any more conservative because of an accommodation with the Taliban, she says, "my program will be the first to go."
That would be Afghanistan's loss. Jamalzadah's TV show is an education for the whole nation, albeit sometimes in unexpected ways. On a recent episode, a male guest told a joke about a foreign human rights team in Afghanistan. In the cities, the team noticed that women walked six paces behind their husbands. But in rural Helmand, where the Taliban is strongest, they saw a woman six steps ahead. The foreigners rushed to congratulate the husband on his enlightenment — only to be told that he stuck his wife in front because they were walking through a minefield.
As the audience roared with laughter, Jamalzadah reflected that it may take about 10 to 15 years before Afghan women can truly walk alongside men. But once they do, she believes, all Afghans will benefit. "When we talk about women's rights," Jamalzadah says, "we are talking about things that are important to men as well — men who want to see Afghanistan move forward. If you sacrifice women to make peace, you are also sacrificing the men who support them and abandoning the country to the fundamentalists that caused all the problems in the first place."







Enjoy your weekend!
Cheers,
Crampton


Paragraph Examples
#1. Bryson Nickle
            Due to the pain that one feels during post surgery, scientists and doctors use new medicines to help patients through pain relief. However, many drugs fail to provide sufficient relief due to the weakness of the drugs. For example, Stephen Aaron, a middle-aged man from Salt Lake City, Utah, recently required back surgery. He received morphine to help cope with the pain he felt, however, the pain pushed through the medicine to a point where he found it almost unbearable. The drugs couldn't provide the relief he required, and unfortunately legalized marijuana isn't an option in Utah. Very few people react negatively to marijuana Allergic reaction reports seem to come up very seldom and far in between. These reasons help indicate why medical marijuana should become an option in all states.
#2. Bryson Nickle (with more commentary/support)
            Due to post surgery pain, medical professionals have used new approaches, including the use of marijuana, to assist patients with pain relief. According to one study conducted by the US Society for Neuroscience, “Careful studies show marijuana directly interferes with pain signaling in the nervous system. This insight may lead to a new class of pain killers. Patients suffering from spinal cord injuries and the ill effects of chemotherapy will find pain relief through using marijuana (Joy, Stanley and Benson). This statement has merit. Stephen Aaron, a middle-aged man from Salt Lake City, Utah who recently required back surgery,  received morphine to help cope with the strong post surgery discomfort; however, the morphine did not ease his pain. If current pain options cease to alleviate patient pain, then other avenues need consideration.  A second study sponsored by the Healthcare Regularly Agency (HRA) indicated that the 200 individuals used in the study “found the use of marijuana  most effective, particularly  regarding pain relief and improved sleep” (Armenteno). If Mr. Aaron had taken marijuana for his pain, he would have recovered more quickly and experienced less side effects from the surgery. Unfortunately, the use of medical marijuana creates a barrier in many states. Thirteen states and the District of Columbia permit the use of medical marijuana (Seimons). If approved throughout the United States, medical marijuana would decrease pain experienced by those recovering from surgery and other illnesses.
  3. We then returned to the triangle regarding steroid use that we developed during our last class period. We looked at some pro/con elements that we could include in the body paragraph regarding steroids to strengthen the validity of the paper. Each student received a copy of a document entitled "PRO/CON ELEMENTS REGARDING STEROID USE." We proceeded to write the body paragraph that we triangled last class period.  EACH STUDENT SUBMITTED THEIR PARAGRAPH PRIOR TO CLASS ENDING.
HOMEWORK:
1. Students randomly selected one of the following topics:
  • Golf...Is it a sport?
  • Building a mosque at ground zero
  • Euthanasia (doctor assisted suicide)
  • Is social networking good for society?
  • Felon Voting
2. Students were asked to take a stand on their chosen topic, and then locate THREE different Internet sources, one of which has to be www.procon.org, that offer information about their chosen topic. Students were asked to annotate and notate each source...5-7/page....all colors permitted. Students should have their sources with them on FRIDAY.

 3. Students were asked to complete writing the body paragraph on steroids. We discussed the pros and cons to this issue and then reviewed procon.org for some strong and authentic opinions on the subject. Then we incorporated those opinions into the paragraph that we triangled last class period.
This body paragraph is due on FRIDAY>