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Ohio Essay
Wright State University--Lake Campus
Volume 1, 1999-2000
Editor's Preface For this first essay contest sponsored by Wright State University–Lake Campus, we received more than 80 essays from high school students throughout Ohio. We are encouraged by this response and hope for an even greater response to this next year’s contest. The twenty essays included in this inaugural issue of Ohio Essay treat a broad range of topics, from personal experience to social issues to literary works. Likewise, they employ all sorts of rhetorical modes from description and narration to various types of exposition to persuasion and argument. The prize-winning essays, Andy Breese’s "Place of Relaxation" and Kapil G. Rapoor’s "Quo?," demonstrate the range of the submissions, in terms of both their topics and their rhetorical approaches.. As always, I would like to thank Dan Evans, Dean of the Lake Campus for his continuing support of this literary journal, as well as a significant number of other publications. His commitment to the arts on our campus has been consistently enthusiastic and extremely generous. Finally, I would like to give a special thanks to my publications assistant, Kay Louth, who has contributed so much to the design, production, and distribution of this journal and of all of our various contest publications that I can no longer imagine doing all of it myself.
Martin Kich Editor Associate Professor English Department Wright State University-- Lake Campus
Guidelines High School Essay Contest
Submissions are being solicited in two categories: those from students from about 40 high schools within (or near) the Lake Campus' service area in West Central Ohio and those from students attending any other public or private high school in Ohio. (Home-schooled students are also eligible to submit essays, whether they live within our service area or in another region of Ohio.) There will be one prize-winner in each category and a total of eighteen runners-up. The prize-winners will each receive a $50 savings bond. The winners and runners-up will receive framed certificates and two copies of Ohio Essay, which will also be available online at http://www.wright.edu/~martin.kich. There are no restrictions on the subjects or rhetorical approaches of submissions. The essays should be between 500 and 1250 words (or two to five typed pages). Submissions must be cleanly typed or computer printed, double-spaced with standard margins. To facilitate the notification of prize winners, each submission should include, on the essay itself, the following: the student's name, home address, home telephone number, grade level (9th, 10th, 11th, or 12th), high school, and English teacher. Teachers can submit bulk submissions, as long as each entry includes the appropriate information. Submissions to the 2000-2001 contest must be postmarked by 01 June 2001. They should be sent to: High School Essay Contest Martin Kich English Department Wright State University--Lake Campus 7600 State Route 703 Celina, OH 45822 I will accept e-mail submissions [martin.kich@wright.edu], either within the mail message itself or as an attached Word or WordPerfect file. Online submissions must include the same information on the student as the print entries include. Because submissions will not be returned, SASE's are not necessary. Inquiries can be made to me by regular mail, by e-mail, or by calling 419-586-0374. In the autumn, notifications of the contest results will be mailed to all students who have submitted work and to all high school English departments in the state of Ohio. In early December, a reception and reading will be held at the Lake Campus to honor the winners and runners-up of our poetry, essay, and short-fiction contests, as well as contributors to the Grand Lake Review.
Christopher J. Manley St. Edward’s High School
Julia Grawemeyer The Wellington School
Sarah Hollenbeck Saint Ursula Academy
Samantha Barnes Lincolnview High School
In-Region Prize Winner Andy Breese Lincolnview High School
The Band Wants Football Fan’s Support Laura L. Duplain Hillsboro High School
Maria Marchenkova Fort Hayes High School
Mark Thibeault Northwestern High School
Jenna Tumlinson Lincolnview High School
Ryann A. Royce King’s High School
Out-of-Region Prize Winner Kapil G. Kapoor St. Edward’s High School
Miranda Willetts Tri-Village High School
Christopher J. Manley St. Edward’s High School
In Defense of Literary Liberty Lauren Williams New Knoxville High School
Nate Haas Grace Haven High School
Jo Custer Minster High School
Emily L. Geiger Minster High School
Jessica VanHook Northwestern High School
Gabe Mehlman Hawken School
Ida Abdalkhani Shawnee High School
Christopher J. Manley Grade 12 St. Edward High School Teacher: Br. Joseph Chvala
I had been paddling through Georgia's Okeefenokee Swamp for three days, and to be honest, finding God was the furthest thing from my mind. In fact, all I was interested in finding was a toilet, a shower, and a lifetime supply of industrial strength insect repellent. As you can imagine, swamps, even modern-day swamps, are deprived of the luxury of running water. Our guide, Andrew "Goodheart"* Brown, whom I had by now affectionately named Captain Naturalist, warned us of the dangers of relieving ourselves in the swamp, as it might endanger the fragile ecosystem and pollute the ever-so-clean swamp water. Consequently we were relegated to using plastic bottles we had brought for this very purpose, or waiting to find the next "rest stop," a port-a-potty last cleaned during the Nixon administration. Since there was no running water, there was no shower. Imagine, if you can, eight high school boys paddling vigorously through a humid Southern swamp for about five hours per day for three days. Imagine further that not one of them has showered, bathed, or engaged in any other cleansing activities in four days. If you are not yet nauseated, you are not imagining hard enough. Most people have heard that swamps are infested with gnats, mosquitoes, and various other forms of blood-sucking vermin. But words like "infested," "blood-sucking," and "vermin" are far too kind for the insect life of the swamp. These bugs are large and well trained in guerrilla tactics, and have ingeniously inbred themselves to create a super race, totally resistant to all forms of insecticide. If earth is ever devastated by nuclear war, man can take small consolation in knowing that at least these mosquitoes will survive. All these things, as you probably have already concluded, had contributed to my somewhat cynical attitude toward swamp life. And as Justin, the other captive of my canoe and I rounded a bend in the river and saw that *His self-coined "Indian name. Captain Naturalist was rafting up the canoes and preparing to talk, it seemed the day would get only worse. He had done this earlier in the trip, each time positioning our canoes in a circle, like the spokes of a wheel, to signify that no one's opinion was greater than anyone else's. To me, it signified something more: that we were docile saps willing to situate ourselves in such a way that it would take us a very long time to get pointed in the right direction again. But who was I to talk? I didn't even have an Indian name. When all the canoes had arrived, Goodheart explained that we were about to enter a very special part of the river, and this time he sounded quite serious. It was called Minnie's Run, and was regarded by the American Indians who once lived there as a kind of "natural cathedral." Therefore we would stagger the departure of each canoe by three or four minutes to allow each person to experience the pristine splendor of the Run in its natural silence. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I was grateful for the three-minute rest. As I began to paddle the mile and a half section of the river, however, something unusual happened: I met God. Yes, I definitely felt that I was in the presence of the Almighty. We guided the canoe carefully through the narrow space between two enormous cypress trees. Their thick trunks stretched limblessly up toward the heavens, forming a natural gate into this wooded shrine. The silence was almost deafening. I could hear the thundering voice of God. I felt Him in the still peace of the cool shade of the trees. I rode on His back with the gently flowing current of the river. I felt Him in the still peace of the cool, shaded air. Just then I was even given the rare opportunity of looking into His eyes. Near the end of the trek, Justin and I spotted a doe sipping water from the bank. We must have glanced at her simultaneously for we both ceased paddling at the same instant and floated noiselessly up to her. Our canoe came to rest in a bed of lily pads not ten feet from the creature. She caught sight of us a few moments later, looking up at me and meeting my gaze, not with fear, but with a gentle curiosity, a sublime innocence. The moment seemed to transcend time and place. A minute later she turned her head and walked casually away. The importance of that hot shower disappeared in the lazy current. We resumed our journey and paddled reflectively onward in that natural cathedral. No words were spoken.
Julia Grawemeyer Grade 11 The Wellington School Teacher: Mrs. C. Orebaugh
The art assignment was simple. I had to paint a piece that portrayed a human emotion using two basic colors. "The piece," our teacher said, "should evoke that emotion from the onlooker." I toyed with some ideas but came up with only hackneyed associations such as something green to depict envy; something slathered in blue to portray sadness, or a figure doused in red to evoke love. None of these ideas roused any passion within me that is normally required for me to get started on a piece. So I just gaped at the giant sheet of white watercolor paper for a while. I tapped my pencil. I looked around the room. I checked on the others in my class who ostensibly were relishing this assignment. They worked hurriedly, as if chased by some creativity demon. Meanwhile, I seemed to be dragged down by some imp of idleness. My teacher came in and underscored our deadline, which was too close for comfort in my situation. By this time, I should have an idea, at least of my piece! But, still, I sat on my stool, searching for a way to put an emotion on paper. Next, a feeling of dread came over me. I remembered artistic 'blocks' of the past. They are the worst kind of 'block.' Ever. One day you are happily painting in your studio, the next you're trying to find a reason to avoid your art. It is as if the passion disappears, and in its void is this apathetic, rotting, frustration drives you out the door of the art room seeking relief. I flinched and almost faltered; knowing the feeling had set in. I had no motivation. Finally I decided that since I was cornered by my lack of creativity, I would embrace one of my trite ideas and work with it. The emotion I chose was love. Love with fringes of jealousy. Love slightly dappled with sadness, yet exploding with life. The colors I chose were red and green. A fellow painter friend once said to me, "There are only so many happy watercolor flower paintings you can do before your head explodes." I agreed with him: my early days of painting were filled with content bouquets and loving bushels of petalled color that would be appropriate for a nursing home but were otherwise bordering on gaudiness. So I made use of my intimidating sheet of textured watercolor paper. In the center I painted a delicate rose, as seen from the top. My strokes were conservative, my use of pigment was toned down to almost silence. I saw my giant flower and cringed. It was boring. I was getting that block again and, for me at least, this painting evoked nothing but nausea. I sighed with the weight of this spiritless painting perching on my paintbrush. And then it came to me. It would be risky, but this technique I thought of might reap some passion on my page. Wincing at the potential destruction of my placid piece, I doused the paints with water, and on my brush I scooped up as much color as I could. I haphazardly painted my rose red, with a lot of water pooling on the petals. I tilted the paper up at a ninety-degree angle, and tapped it on the table. The pain flooded down around the petals of my rose and left trails of red hues resembling tears. I stepped back and looked at this modified side of my painting. I inhaled at the delectable sight: I was finally painting an emotion. There was life on the page! The green leaves of the rose spattered, suggesting sadness. Radial red lines of love shot out from the center. Like paths of running mascara, they suggested lamentation. Smiling, I allowed my paintbrush to delve into the box of watercolors, confident that I could complete the assignment.
Sarah Hollenbeck Saint Ursula Academy Teacher: Mrs. Rita Stoll
Blue? No. Turquoise, Cerulean, aqua, cobalt, azure, periwinkle? No, definitely not. What color is it? Mesmerized, I stare down at the breathtaking abyss below. My mind wanders, aimlessly attempting to match the alluring color that captivates me to some accessible label. However, no matter how hard I try, no hue included in my mental Crayola 64 can possibly equal the inviting shade of the Atlantic Ocean. "What can I get you, Miss?" The perpetually cheerful stewardess barges into my thoughts. "Just a Coke, please." She heartily digs into her ice bucket, plastic smile still intact, while I resume my contemplation of the ocean. Sapphire, indigo, teal--but wait! In the moment that my back was turned, the waters had suddenly transformed into a new shade. Shocked, I dumbly sway my head back and forth. One minute it had been a dark-toned blue, now it is a paler cast of green. Straining to look behind us, I can distinctly make out a line separating the two shades. Amazing! Of course, I knew that during our trip we would be crossing from the Atlantic to the Caribbean. However, I had never dreamt that there would be such an obvious alteration where one ended and one began. Well, here we go again. Green, lime, emerald, olive... When our four-seater plane crossed over the Caribbean Sea, I entered an entirely different world. Over Christmas break, I spent twelve days on a small island located in the Bahamas. Eleuthra has two major roads, two grocery stores, a bank, a post office, a restaurant, and a cinema featuring one movie every month. Coming from a materialistic society to this deserted paradise was quite a culture shock. What really struck me about this sand-swathed utopia was the unique contentment that it accompanies. The elders of the island waded through each day on brightly painted rocking chairs, clucking greetings at each passerby. The men's whiskers shone with glimmers of gray, like rays of sunlight had been captured on the tip of each strand. Their skin, like crushed bronze velvet, revealed countless delicate creases framing endless, effortless grins. The eye of Hurricane George tore through Eleuthra in 1999, uprooting all possessions. As soon as we exited the plane, we noticed that traces of the wreckage still remained. Trees wearily saluted with tattered leaves and branches. Many of the homes brandished missing shingles and makeshift doors. The house that we had rented a year in advance was now a cement block strewn with a jumble of salmon-colored 4x4's. This destruction could have understandably demolished any scrap of hope remaining in an average person. However, the majority of the islanders radiated an indestructible spirit. I was, and am still, in awe of how they maintained such strength under the weighty shadow of poverty. Living surrounded by scarcity caused me to become acutely aware that the cost of my J. Crew swimsuit could have provided a dozen children with well-balanced meals. The natives of the island seemed to extract joy from life itself, not a nearby shopping mall. When did the line between necessity and excess become so blurred? I realized that the definition of what is essential and what is extravagant is defined by our culture. When I crossed the line from azure to emerald, I left behind the acquisitiveness of the American culture and was submerged into the blithe barrenness of the Bahamas. Sadly, I had to leave this paradise. However, I still carried back a spark of its philosophy; bliss cannot be purchased, and simplicity should be savored.
Samantha Barnes Grade 10 Lincolnview High School Teacher: Mr. Greg Leeth
I had finally gotten my first car in September of 1999. Like any other teenager, I was ecstatic about driving on my own and having the freedom of going where I wanted, when I wanted. Little did I know the responsibilities and dangers it would bring along with it. As I walked out to my car on a cold December night, I noticed some fresh frost on the windshield of my car. It was thin enough that I could see through it, so I didn't bother scraping it off. I started up my car and decided to turn on the defroster, anyways. It made a strange hissing noise, but I thought nothing of it. As I started to pull out of my church's parking lot, I noticed a distinct stench, so I shut off the defroster. I, then, pulled onto the road. In less than five seconds, smoke was shooting out of the vents! The smoke wasn't just any smoke. It was thick, black smoke that smelled like burnt plastic. I tried to hold my breath as much as I could, but it seemed useless. The smoke filled up the car in no time, and I was straining to see. I kept hoping that the smoke would stop. On the contrary, the vent poured out even more smoke! I remember peering through the smoke, trying to see if this black cloud was coming from under the hood as well. Fortunately, it wasn't. I knew that I had to get out of the car. I seriously thought that the car was going to explode. (I probably thought this way because of the "cool" car explosions in all of the movies.) I later found out that my car had a very small possibility of actually exploding.) As a result of my reasoning, I made a sharp turn to the right, picturing the entrance to Marsh Supermarket. Although I couldn't see, I felt my car going through some stones and then reaching the pavement. Next, I put the car in park and watched in horror as flames started shooting out of the vents. I jumped out of the car to gulp some fresh air. I then reached back into the car to shut off the engine as I grabbed the keys from the ignition. I saw the flames leap higher up the dashboard and I started screaming for help. As I ran up to Marsh, the cart-retriever unknowingly said, "Relax. We're not closed. You still have plenty of time to shop." "My car's on fire!" I shrieked at him. He looked at me bewildered, then finally saw my burning car and helped me inside. The employees asked me what was wrong as they crowded around me. I was beyond hysteria at that point and barely managed to point outside, towards my car. A woman quickly dialed 911 for me and handed me the phone. I cried my story to the operator, then called my mom. After a short time, the police and fire department arrived. The fire was put out, and they finally came in to talk to me. I was still visibly shaking and hardly mumbled a statement for them. The fireman told me that a short in the heating wiring probably caused the fire. He also said that there would have been no way for me to prevent it from happening. This comment made me feel considerably better, knowing that it wasn’t my fault. The police officer also helped me by commending me for keeping my car far away from any other cars in the parking lot. I told him I had no clue where the other cars were in relation to mine, but he didn’t care. He was just trying to calm me down. I was grateful for that. I was later given full compensation for the charred remains of my car, which was obviously totaled. This incident has influenced the way I look at life. I now realize that the little things in life we take for granted on a daily basis, such as driving a working car, can in an instant, change our lives dramatically. Above all, I learned to live life to the fullest and appreciate every responsibility and privilege that I am given.
Place of Relaxation Andy Breese Grade 11 Lincolnview High School Teacher: Mr. Greg Leeth
Time is running down. My team is bringing the ball up the court. We're down by one and we need to score to win. The crowds are going nuts as if they are chickens with their heads cut off. The distinct sound of whistles pierce my ears. The smell of sweat and popcorn is evident. I hear screams of anxiety coming from a few unnamed people who are yelling insults and instructions to anyone who will listen. I hear a Rawlings basketball bouncing in a repeated pattern that reminds me of a yo-yo. The heat is almost as unbearable as the excitement. I'm biting my fingernails out of sheer nervousness. My emotions range from frustration and disappointment to happiness and elation on any given night. I think I know all the right and wrong calls made by referees, as well as the correct play a team should run to get a basket. Through all of this excitement and emotion, I'd like to think I stay rather calm, cool, and relaxed. After all, I can't change the outcome of a game while lying on a couch and watching it on TV. This isn't just any couch, this is my couch. I take pride in this couch like a father does his son. The couch is a mixture of colors including red, green, blue, and brown. There are four pillows lying on top of it. Two of the pillows resemble the sky in color, and the other two are the same colors as the couch. It is approximately eight feet in length, four feet tall, and is divided into three sections. There are two armrests at the end of this relaxing place. One blanket, which stretches like a rubber band, lies on the back of the couch. Although only a few years old, this couch is wearing down from the wear and tear it goes through. Every time I move, it creaks like an old staircase. Every once in a while a leg will break off, but it always seems to grow a new one. When I lay down, the strong odor of sweat engulfs my nose. This is from the many nights after practice that I don't bother to shower. The head of the couch faces our thirty-two-inch Philips TV. A Magnavox VCR is stored directly below the TV. Both the TV and the VCR are located in a brown cabinet standing around eight feet tall. This cabinet stores all kinds of videos ranging from Disney movies to home videos made fifteen years ago. Directly beside the TV is a puzzle of bricks which makes a fireplace. The fireplace is about ten feet tall and seven feet wide. It produces heat which keeps us warm during the winter. The fireplace connects to another cabinet. This cabinet is a library of books and pictures. This cabinet is the color of mud and has a wingspan of eight feet. Baskets and plants dangle from the top of the cabinet. These plants are as fake as my front tooth, but they add scenery to the environment. Two large windows mirror each other from opposite sides of the room. These windows are binoculars to the outside world. In between the windows are two recliners. These recliners draw attention to themselves by sitting in the middle of the room. One of these recliners is the color of a peach, while the other is the color of blueberries. The bodies of these chairs slant inward toward the fireplace. Directly behind the recliners is an ACCU Smart treadmill. This treadmill is a cross-country run in the middle of the living room. A large rug is stationed in the center of the room. It has become trampled over the years from the violent beatings it goes through. Five lights race around the room in the shape of an oval racetrack. The lights light up the room like the sun lights up the world. From the living room I can smell a variety of foods, particularly what my mom is making at the time. I feel as though I’m in Julia Child’s kitchen and she’s making whatever I want. The only downfall to this family room is the sounds I hear. My brothers and sister can be heard screaming at each other from miles away. Immediately following the fight, I hear the rumble of my dad or the screeching of my mom as they take care of the matter. Whether I’m taking a hard test or falling asleep in class, I am always wishing that I was at home on the couch watching TV. I have no worries in the world while I’m sprawled out in relaxation. Everyone needs a place they can go to take their mind off everything. Mine, obviously, is in my family room on my couch.
The Band Wants Football Fans' Support Laura M Duplain Grade 11 Hillsboro High School Teacher: Mrs. Spidel
Colorful flags fly through the air while baton twirlers gracefully catch their batons; the first note of an upbeat song wails to the noisy crowd. This scenario is the typical starting scene of a marching band performance during halftime. Football fans should not use half time for an intermission break because the Hillsboro marching band needs the fans' support. In addition to the much needed support, the football fans would miss seeing the band performing at its best. The fans should consider the Hillsboro marching band just as important as the football team because of the hours of practice the band spend, the amount of school spirit the band provide, and the number of competitions the band attend. Hillsboro football fans should not overlook the importance of their marching band because of the time the band spends practicing. The band members practice just as much as the football team does. As a part of practice, the band goes to band camp for the first two weeks of August. During the first week, the band members go to band camp from 6:30 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. at the high school. At this time, they practice and memorize their music. During the second week of August, the band members meet at Southern State Community College from 8:00 in the morning to 4:00 in the afternoon. At this time, the band members practice the fundamentals of marching, for example: keeping their toes and head up while marching in straight lines, and always keeping their head toward the audience. To help the band members with the fundamentals, the band director has the band march in straight lines in a block formation across the football field ten times. Also during this week the band members must memorize their marching positions for half-time entertainment and competitions. As a class during school, the band members practice forty-five minutes outside on the practice football field, working on playing music while marching. Every once in a while the band director requires the band to march a scene over a couple of times in order to get the band members to perfect it. Twice a week, the band practices a half and hour after school to practice music and marching drills. Also the band director requests daily that the band members take their instruments home, so that they can practice their music. In fact, the band spends over one hundred and sixteen hours in practice during the entire marching band season. In addition to the time the band spends in practice, football fans should regard the Hillsboro marching band important for the big part it plays in developing the school spirit. During a football game, the band plays music while cheerleaders dance and the fans clap their hands to the music's beat and cheer for the football team. With the band playing peppy music, the fans are always able to display their school spirit during a football game. The band plays "The School Fight Song" for a touchdown, like the time the quarter back ran the football into the end zone for a touchdown. In addition to "The School Fight Song," the band plays "War Chant" to build up Indian pride, like the time a football player was injured and was able to walk off the field, while the fans clapped their hands loudly. Also, the band members play upbeat songs like "Hey Cheer" and "Go, Fight, Win" at pep rallies and other school functions. At times like these, the students jump up and down while the cheerleaders do their cheers. Also, the fans should consider the marching band important because of the competitions that the band competes in. Each year the Hillsboro marching band goes to three or four competitions, usually at Northeastern, Miami Trace, and Glenn Este. To the band, Glenn Este's Competition is like the playoffs for the football team because the band members work hard to do well at their last and biggest competition of the year. In past years they have done exceptionally well, bringing home many trophies and receiving exceptionally good ratings. Once the Hillsboro marching band won first place in its group and third overall, the band members and supporters yelled and screamed while jumping up and down at this exciting point. The color guard brings down their flags while the baton twirlers freeze at the ending note and the band marches off the field to the drummer’s clicks. As the band prepares for the upcoming competitions, fans will be sure to see the band practicing harder on the marching drills, perfecting music and adding finishing touches.
Don't Do That In America Maria Marchenkova Grade 10 Fort Hayes High School Teacher: Mrs. Dodrill
There I was, a little Russian girl in America. Eight years old and weeping into my pillow every night. I didn't have my stuffed monkey Monica with me, only hand-me down sheets and an old unfamiliar bed. I had been fascinated with this strange and wonderful country when I was safely back in mine. Dad had visited before and I had gained a love for Bazooka bubble gum from his trips. He would come back with photos of him near giant candy bins. So many bright wrappers and so much selection. America seemed like a distant place where all of a child's cravings would be satisfied. Yet after all the expectations, I was left with a cold feeling, here in the land of opportunity. The clean and seemingly spacious apartment had a new feel, and despite the excitement, it felt empty. "There's so much room!" my mother exclaimed when we first walked through our future residence. "Such big rooms." I never remembered not having enough room in my Russian home. Children rarely sense these things as adults do. I felt fine with our one-bedroom apartment. I had shared a bunk bed with my sister, Darya. She was annoying most of the time, but I had simply accepted the facts of life as I knew them. We had matching furniture that was made of light wood with bright red trimmings. I distinctly remember a wonderful desk, with a top that would open to contain many of my markers and coloring pencils. I was the only one of my classmates that dressed up on the first day of school. I even gave flowers to my teacher. It was only afterwards that I realized that I had acted differently. "Mom" I said later, "nobody else gives flowers to their teachers. Do I have to?" This was after a couple years of doing this that I finally said it. My mother seemed shocked. "They don't? But we always did this in Russia. You have to respect your teacher and it's just being polite." I shook my head. Being polite just didn’t cut it. American children weren't polite. I recalled to my parents how some students put their legs up on the desks and that we didn't always have to be quiet. Then my mind would always go back to my homeland, where I sat with perfect posture in class, clad in my crisp uniform. My hands would be perfectly placed on the desk. I don't remember any times when I could whisper or talk to my neighbor. But now that I could talk all I wanted, I realized that I really couldn't. I had hardly any idea what anyone was talking about. Words, random words, floated all about me. I had so many things to say, yet it was like I was in a bubble floating above my classmates' heads. Every morning, we would have to say what sort of lunch we were going to eat that day. There was the answer "hot" which meant that cafeteria food would be purchased. Then there was 'pack," or the sack lunch. There had been no problems before, but one day it seemed that the American people found me incompetent. When my name was called, I answered: hot. For some reason, they didn't understand. "What?" the girl next to me asked, since the teacher was looking in my direction· "Hot," I repeated, pointing in the direction of the lunchroom. The girl looked about me for a lunch bag. None to be found. But I wouldn't dare cry in front of these children, because surely then I would never be counted as an equal among them. Finally the issue was resolved to my astonishment. Had I not been clear? Many other international students went to the school. Our principal was always proud to proclaim that we had students from more than 60 nations around the world. Yet they seemed to offer no comfort in my times of trouble. I was just as far away from them as I was from the others. Eventually the tears dried on my pillow and I became more adjusted. I took English every day with my ESL teacher. Slowly, through flash cards and exercises, I began to speak like the others. I never even had an accent! Now there would be no trace of my difference, except my extremely long last name that everyone had such difficulty pronouncing. "Is there anyone in this class who was born in another country?" This was eight years later. I looked up at my history student teacher. My friends echoed each other with "Maria!" I raised my hand, and realized I was one out of only two in my class who did. Were there really only two of us? It was funny then. I had wanted so badly to fit in with the American kids. It seemed that my difference would always come out and they would look upon me differently. Yet here I was, with mostly American friends, and they were actually quite interested in hearing some Russian words out of my mouth. I suppose that the moment I first walked into my American classroom and the day I raised my hand to claim my nationality were the same experiences. Both times I was isolated from my peers. Yet this time I was more than happy to stand out.
Mark Thibeault Grade 11 Northwestern High School Teacher: Ms. Kachurek
Bang, a shot rings out, and the course of history has been altered. A man, or a group of individuals so arrogant in their capabilities, chooses to play God and take the life of a human being. No man is wise enough to know the effects of his actions on the world. When leaders are assassinated, it affects thousands of people greatly. It may crush the country with sorrow or even start a world war. Under no circumstance is it just to take the life of a man. Throughout history, the political assassination has claimed the lives of great men, never allowing them to live up to their full capabilities. Understanding those drastic changes must be made to save the Austria-Hungarian Empire, Franz Ferdinand devised a plan; however it would never be put into action due to his assassination. The Austrian-Hungarian Empire was very diverse; the numerous ethnic groups created strains among the people. This especially held true to the Slavs. To ease the tension between the people, Franz Ferdinand planned to reshape the government. At the time, the country was controlled by an Austrian-Hungarian dualism. This system would be replaced with Trialism; in this system the Slavs, Germans, and Magyars would all have equal power in this three-part monarchy. Franz Ferdinand also considered the possibility of a government composed of sixteen states. These ideas were unpopular among many. A strong adversary to Ferdinand, the Black Hand was a terrorist group, which planned to kill Ferdinand. To accomplish this task, a small group of teenagers were trained to kill Archduke Franz Ferdinand. While in Sarajevo, Franz Ferdinand was killed. A man named Gavrilo Princip, a member of the Black Hand; shot and killed both Ferdinand and his wife. The amount of involvement from the Serbian government is still a question but it is now known that the leader of the Black Hand was the head of military Intelligence for Serbia. This foolish act of violence did not only claim the lives of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, but also was the spark that lit the fire, that consumed the world in war, and claimed the lives of millions. If the Archduke had not been killed, World War might have been prevented, and the Austrian-Hungarian Empire saved. More recently, Martin Luther King Jr. was one of the most influential leaders of the twenty-first century, but he had not completed his quest before he was so ruthlessly and unfairly gunned down. Growing up King was faced with injustices unknown to an Anglo-Saxon. It was a time when a fourteen-year-old African American boy could be killed because he had supposedly made suggestive remarks to a Caucasian woman. No justice was given to the family from the court. Blacks were denied the most basic right such as to vote, register at a hotel, and in some parts of the south were not allowed to share a sidewalk with whites. King knew this was not right and set out to change the situation. Even after hundreds of death threats, tireless insults, and even the bombing of his house while his wife in children were in it, King kept his non-violence philosophy. Instead of violence, King used boycotts, speeches and marches to protest discrimination. One of the more famous boycotts was the bus boycott in Montgomery, Alabama; he delivered speeches such as "I Have A Dream," and led the march on Washington. After only thirteen years of active involvement, Martin Luther King Jr. had brought the civil rights movement further along than any man or woman could have. He was the president of the Montgomery Improvement Association (MIA), and founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), a group of black churches that challenged racial segregation. Martin Luther King was even presented the Nobel Peace prize in 1964. King was still active in the civil rights movement when he was killed in Memphis, Tennessee on April 4, 1968. James Earl Ray killed him. However, many suspect that Ray did not act alone. Due to one mans racial bigotry, he believed that it was acceptable to kill a black man. Ray and many other racists saw King as a threat to their way of life, and they could not see beyond their narrow-minded ways. If allowed to live up to his full potential, one can only speculate about what the interactions between whites and African-Americans would be. Young, stylish, popular; these words describe John Kennedy, but an individual felt it just to assassinate J.F.K. and not allow him to reach the expectations placed upon him. Already a war hero, Kennedy set his sights on the Presidency; it was here that Kennedy was able to make his greatest contributions to the country. After being elected to office, Kennedy wasted no time in making changes. He raised minimum wage and created the Peace Corps, an organization that goes around the world performing humanitarian acts. While not credited with involvement in the civil rights movement, Kennedy did ask congress to pass a bill regarding civil rights. The bill would ensure African Americans the right to vote and have the same access to jobs and public facilities, such as bathrooms. President Kennedy captured the imagination of the country when he passed a bill in value of over a billion dollars that would be used to send a man to the moon. This was not enough for Kennedy; he considered his greatest accomplishment to be the test ban treaty he signed with USSR and England. The bill limited the testing of nuclear weapons. By his third year in office, Kennedy was well on his way to a second term; unfortunately though, he would never make it. While riding in Dallas, Texas, President Kennedy was shot three times and killed. There is confusion surrounding the death of John F. Kennedy, but under no circumstance was this action justified. Whatever Lee Harvey Oswald's reason for committing this crime it is clear that he did not look at the long run. Unknown to human kind is what bigger and brighter things could have been in the future; Oswald was unable to put aside his personal vendetta, possibly allowing Kennedy to lead the country to greater things. Allowing these men to die a natural death and not having their lives cut short may have had a profound effect on the world, as we know it. Unfortunately a small group felt it right to kill for the sake of their belief, and force the world to suffer because of their actions. Never is it right for a man to take the life of another, and when it is for political beliefs this action disallows the possibility for the leader to do greater deeds.
Jena Tumlinson Grade 10 Lincolnview High School Teacher: Mr. Greg Leeth
Have you ever just looked out the window during a thunderstorm? Every time I look out the window at one of those extensively harsh storms, I feel like I’m in one of those action-packed horror films. Just knowing that at any given moment, a funnel of terror can escape from the clouds, keeps my heart racing. About five years ago, I was sitting in my ancient two-story home, when all of a sudden, BANG! A sound like no other, like two cars crashing into a brick wall, was heard from downstairs. I rapidly flung my Lincoln logs down to the floor like hot potatoes. Then I went careening down the stairway to see what had occurred. When I got down the stairs, my family was already peering out of the window. I flew across the living room to join them. The bright flashes of light nearly blinded us. As we watched the lightning, the sky changed colors before our eyes from dark coal gray to light lime green. We all stood there, mesmerized by the wind gusts strong enough to send a sail boat flying down the middle of the road. Abruptly, everything stopped. Wind, rain, hail, and even the camera flashes from heaven had ceased. Again the sky, like a chameleon, altered its appearance. Now the heavens were painted light lavender, almost a lilac color. The storm was giving us a gift: it was a beautiful ribbon of color, which could be adored from almost anywhere. The ribbon resembled a complete arch of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was being offered to us because of the destruction of the storm’s fury had left us to grieve. Just think, some people don’t realize the little gifts that nature leaves at our feet after a storm.
Ryann A. Royce Grade 11 Kings High School Teacher: Mrs. Atchsion
Are you looking for a pet, in particularly a small animal? Well let’s start. Are you looking for a good pet for your kids or maybe yourself! Do you want a pet that loves attention and interaction? Do you also want a pet to be loyal, responsive and maybe intelligent? Do you want a pet you can keep more than one in a cage? Well, I have the pet for you. It's a rat. Surprised, well actually they make wonderful pets. Rats are clean and easy to care for, and they just plain make good pets for kids and adults. "It's a shame they have suffered such a bad reputation because they are very sweet," stated in Critters USA 2000 by Vennie C. Kenney; who was a past president of "The American Rat, Mouse and Hamster Society" and owner of Garden Road Rodents in Poway, California. Rats can actually make great pet for kids. In Critters USA 2000 the top five kid loving critters were... 5 hamsters, 4 Guinea pigs, 3 gerbils, 2 mice, 1 rats. Most kids want to have their own pet. With rats you are able to keep more than one in the same cage. Most kids want their pet to do tricks much like a dog would. Rats are able to perform a variety of different tricks. Rats are also very smart. Rats can learn to do tricks like walking a tight rope, going throw a maze, can even be taught how to play basketball and soccer. You can even call them by name. I had a rat called Baby and she would jump into my hands from her cage. Right now I have four rats they all answer to a kissing like noise. Rats also like to swim and take baths (Just don't leave them without adult supervision). Rats can learn to trust their owners and sometimes even seeks them out. This cannot be said about their cousins the hamster or guinea pig. Which are raised for and accepted because of their fluffy fur and no tail. So if you can look past their tail they are great. Actually their tails are used for regulate their body temperature (much like when a dog pants) Carol Himsel in Rats said, "Unlike their cousins, rats are far less likely to bite once they become accustomed to being handled." (This is not always true with rats breed for food or lab testing.) Rat will urinate and defecate first and then rapidly and repeatedly attempt to get loose before biting. If they do escape from their cage or even from some one else they normally look for something they recognize. How to choose a pet quality rat should be a major concern. The main qualities to look for are personality, age, health, sex, and how they were raised. When looking for a rat you want to normally obtain it at a month to two months old. This is because they are normally easier to tame. My rats personally love to ride on my shoulder. I have found that most rats that will ride on your shoulder also make wonderful pets. You want to obtain a rat that has been handled and are not inbred. When looking for one you want one that doesn't look sick. Some main things to look for are a runny nose, diarrhea, and that they have a shinny coat with shiny clear eyes. There is little difference between male and female. You only need to care when you get more that one pet rat. You can have two males or two females with little problems. Male and female will result with offspring. I have worked at a pet store for two years and have never seen a rat fight or any signs of one occurring. So you shouldn't have a problem with what mix of rats you keep. Rats can make the ideal pet for most people. If you can look past their tale and their stereotype they can make wonderful pets.
Quo?* Kapil G. Rapoor Grade 12 St. Edward High Teacher: Br. Joseph Chvala
A 600 MHz Intel Pentium III Processor, equipped with 256 megabytes of 133MHz SDRAM, a 27GB hard drive, a 56kbps modem, 16 megabyte 3-D AGP video graphics accelerator, and 8x DVD ROM drive - the hottest computer processing unit currently on the market A foreign language? No. It's the jargon of the computer age and you had better learn it because, like computers, it's here to stay. After considering that this powerful machine will be marked by obsolescence within a year's time, one realizes the amazingly fast pace of technology. The technological revolution is the most significant happening in our century, launching unbelievable changes in the world all the time. One must even learn an entire new language as evidenced above. Ready or not, we are in the Technology Age. Computers are making major differences globally in the lives of billions of people, thereby shrinking world horizons into more neighborhoods. One might deem it ludicrous that, although terms such as MMX, DVD, dpi and RAM were esoteric terms only a decade ago, they have now become a part of our everyday vocabulary. They promise a cornucopia of entertainment and information for virtually everyone, from kids to teenagers to adults. It is the astounding pace of the computer revolution, however, that makes computers remarkable. The past, present, and future capability of computers are not marked by distinguishable lines but rather characterized by perpetual motion. Word processing and printing technology have combined to allow for exquisite documents including charts, graphs, and pictures in sundry colors. Manual typing itself is now becoming unnecessary. Who would have ever imagined that simple dictation could prompt the appearance of text on the screen? Furthermore, the computer has become a home entertainment center, capable of playing full-motion movies with stunning lifelike graphics, and mind-boggling acoustics. Perhaps the computer's greatest wonder is its capability to transcend all boundaries, making the entire world accessible. The Internet places the entire globe at one's fingertips. Yes, to be sure, the merits of computers ate impressive, mind-boggling, really. At present, the march of computer progress seems limitless; it will continue to break the current barriers that still divide our world, expanding the capabilities of the average man to unimaginable lengths. It is impossible, in fact, to imagine a computerless society. Amen! But, let us stop for a moment. Step off the whirlwind merry-go-round of computers, un-dizzy your mind, and gather your thoughts. One vital question must be asked at this point. Are we really going in the right direction? Despite the seeming flawlessness of the formidable computer, is it just possible that this miracle of technology might have some shortcomings? Let me explain further. The one faculty that the Creator has bestowed upon human beings that separates us from all other living creatures is rationality of thought. By depending on the computer to such a great extent, human beings cease utilizing logic and allow the computer to think for them. Thus, a computer becomes demeaning to the human race, for it succeeds in usurping from human beings their essential claim to fame in the animal kingdom. "He who will not reason is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not is a slave." Sir William Drummond in his Academical Questions poses a wise thought for our serious concern. With the world subservient to computers and the lives of so many millions of people revolving around them, we have, in essence, become slaves to this instrument that God hath wrought. This world has already encountered and is still overcoming the crusade over human slavery. Why then, one might ask, does the human race allow itself to become enslaved by a mere machine? Yet, perhaps one of the greatest backlashes of the computer revolution is the effect it has upon our children of today's world. Due to the fact that computers can instantaneously provide access to virtually anything, children of this generation are exposed to such violence and adult themes, which insidiously dispel the innocence so inherent to childhood. Computers have destroyed reliance upon their own brain and have, instead, engendered a laziness in their minds due to almost complete dependence upon this external source. The scary thought is that these undeveloped and computer-dependent minds are to become the leaders of the next millennium Impeding the human brain's potential, might the computer be something of a curse on the human race? Feigning to be our friend, might the computer be an enemy? With the computer revolution, each individual's safety, security, is violated to a greater degree. By simply clicking a button, some of the most private identifying criteria that we possess can be accessed by virtually anyone. We must ask ourselves if the fruits we have set out to create with computers are really worth the possible negative repercussions. Does the necessity of computers in our daily life outweigh their infringement upon our privacy and security? Perhaps never in the history of the world have we encountered such a situation, a contraption created by our own hands that so immediately bears influence upon virtually every place of human existence. Whether one uses a computer or not, everyone is somehow affected by the computer revolution. Where will the computer revolution lead us? It is impossible to explore what lies ahead in the uncharted wilderness of the PC world to which we are as foreign as was Christopher Columbus to the ocean blue or any other of the early explorers to the New World. Computers have obviously become indispensable to modern society. Who knows if a computer-based society is really better than a computerless society? In future generations, who knows whether the positive factors of computers will outweigh the negative, or vice versa? Who knows what predicament our world will be in years down the line? Who knows if our world is going in the right direction, plunging further and further into the computer revolution? Where to?
*From Latin phrase meaning "where to"
Miranda Willetts Tri-Village High School Teacher: Mrs. Simmons
Have you ever wondered how much caffeine America really does take in? On the website www. coca-cola.com, Coca-Cola reports that "In the 10 seconds it takes to read this sentence, some 126,000 people will reach for a Coca-Cola product at work, at the corner, at home, as they eat, study, dance, get dressed, or get gas." It's amazing! I fill the pop machine at my school and you wouldn't believe how much pop is consumed daily. But it's not just pop that contains caffeine. Coffee, tea, and chocolate are all loaded with caffeine. In an article by Alexander Kaminskas he states that, "More than half of the American population drinks at least two cups of coffee per day. Among the coffee drinkers nearly 50 percent drink five or more cups. Include chocoholics and soft drinkers, and we truly have become one nation under caffeine" ("Coffee Break-Solutions for Kicking the Habit" www.enutrion.com). Drinking water over decaffeinated beverages is the best choice for your body because large amounts of caffeine consumption can lead to dangerous side affects, water is the healthiest drink for your body, and keeping this long-term habit has great rewards. Too much intake of the drug caffeine can lead to dangerous side affects. The article "Got the Java Jitters?" said, "Teens should down only about 200 milligrams a day (approximately one cup of coffee or nonherbal tea), but some confections contain more than twice its amount" (YM 54). While Nicotine and Caffeine adds this: "Doctors say that adults should not have more than 300 milligrams of caffeine a day" (Lee 25). As you can see the limited intake is surpassed in about 1-2 cups of coffee depending on which kind, for both, teens and adults. Caffeine is also known to dehydrate rather than hydrate. This is known as the "diuretic effect" which causes you to use the restroom more frequently. Those trips to the restroom can cause you to flush out calcium (YM "Got the Java Jitters?"). Although the article "Getting High on Caffeine" said, "Several studies have found that caffeine consumption did not elevate the risk of osteoporosis"(www.health.corn). In the Encarta 98 Encyclopedia, the article "Caffeine" says that many studies have been done to see if caffeine was responsible for things such as life-threatening diseases, cancer, and birth defects; all of which no evidence was present. Although it added, "The drug does increase blood pressure, stimulates the central nervous system, promotes urine formation, and stimulates the action of the heart and lungs." (CD-ROM). There are even side affects when you're not taking in caffeine such as feeling grumpy or jittery. Headaches, tiredness, and anxiety are all symptoms of withdrawal. That's when the sudden caffeine attacks kick in and you reach for a cup of coffee for a short fix. Next time you're in that situation reach for a glass of water instead. Water is the best substance that anyone can take in. Being great for your whole body, it flushes your system, strengthens you hair, and purifies your skin. Eight glasses of water a day are recommended, but as stated at www.water.com, "Every individual has his or her own needs, and the amount of water needed from person to person varies depending on their weight and level of activity." Water is the best substance to take in to keep hydrated. Even in the "Ten Tips for Maintaining Proper Hydration" one of the top ten rules was quoted from the Nutrition Information Center at the New York Hospital, Cornell Medical Center. They offered, "Don't substitute caffeinated coffees, teas, and sodas for water. Caffeine [again] acts as a diuretic, causing you to loose water through increased urination." It also states, "Start and end your day with a serving of water because you loose water while you sleep. So drink a serving before bed and again when you wake up". Even though water may not have a taste, there are many things that it'll do for you that those delicious tasting caffeinated beverages won't. Finally, there are great benefits from drinking water. For instance the article "Three Ways to Healthy Living" listed ways water contributes to your health and living: (1) Besides maintaining a healthy level of hydration drinking water can help you control your weight by alleviating water retention and spurring your metabolism also known as natures diet drink. (2) Maintaining your hydration by drinking plenty of water helps your performance. Not only can you exercise longer, you are also alert mentally when your body has its full complement of water. (3) Drinking enough water helps you fight fatigue by keeping your body in its best shape. "() In addition, you won't have to worry, as much, about coffee stained teeth, cavities, bad breath, or sleepless nights. You'll also be able to save more money, because water is cheaper than coffee, pop, and tea. And those sudden caffeine attacks will be gone forever. So the next time you're at the fridge or a vending machine and the little voice in the back of your head is craving some caffeine, grab the bottle of water and think of all the great things water does for you. Take a drink and watch the caffeine bug disappear.
Christopher J. Manley Grade 12 St. Edward High School Teacher: Br. Joseph Chvala
It all began innocently enough. My aunt bought me a Walkman for Christmas. But I didn't own any tapes, so I didn't need a Walkman. This meant that I would have to do something stupid. Something so utterly moronic that not even the dumbest of offensive linemen would attempt it. Something that had been feared since the first Christmas that Neanderthal man celebrated 50,000 years ago. I would have to return the gift. On paper, returning merchandise to a store looks like a good idea. This, of course, is not the case. The general concept behind returning an item is to leave the store with an amount of money equivalent to the value of the item one is trying to return and the more naive shoppers think that this actually works. It does not work. Quite often, in fact, one leaves the store with less money than he entered with, not to mention a splitting headache. As I entered the store in question (its name will remain undisclosed), I checked my watch; it was a full three hours until closing time. I stopped the first red-vested store worker I saw. "Excuse me, miss, how would I go about returning something?" She bit her lip. "I’m not sure," she said, "but that would be a question for our Customer Service director." "And where would I be able to find him?" I inquired. "Either at the Customer Service desk or in Automotive." Thinking the Customer Service desk the more logical of the two options, I pointed my steps in that direction. Upon arriving there I found a short lady of about fifty standing behind the counter making notations in a large binder. After I had been standing there for several moments, with no indication whatsoever that the woman had recognized the presence of a customer at the Customer Service desk, I gave a little cough and asked, "Excuse me, but how would I go about returning a gift?" "Have to ask the Customer Service director," she replied, apparently annoyed, neither looking up nor breaking the stride of her pen. I looked to the right and to the left, and, seeing no other red vests, asked, "And he's not here?" "Nope. He should be over in –" "Automotive?" I interjected. "Automotive?" she looked up for the first time. "Why would he be over there?" Without waiting for what would surely be a ridiculous answer, she continued, "He's over in Lawn and Garden." Confused but undaunted, I retraced my steps to the front of the store, then passed the front doors on my way under a sign that designated the area which I was seeking. After a few moments of popping in and out of aisles of garden hose and fertilizer, I found a clean-shaven man absentmindedly stacking rubber washers in a most precarious Pisa-like tower. "Excuse me," I said. "Yes," he responded, coming out of his trance and turning his head slowly toward me, keeping one eye on his tower of washers. "Are you the Customer Service director?" "Yep." He was fully facing me now. "How would I go about returning something?" "Have to go to the Return Desk." "And where's that?" "Back that way," he said, jerking his thumb over his right shoulder, "but you'll have to go that way." Here he performed the same motion, but with the opposite hand, over his opposite shoulder, in the opposite direction. Seeing my apparent confusion, he added, "Long line." He turned back to his tower, chuckling at my stupidity. Of course there was a long line. But when I got to this line, I was not fully prepared for it in all its grandeur. It appeared that bad gifts had been bought for half the population of Rhode Island in this very store. From the end of the line I could not even see the Return Desk. Several thousand-curse words and approximately one Ice Age later I reached the counter. I was helped by a young woman of about twenty-two who seemed not to have the whole of her focus on her work, but rather most of it on the ceiling. But by now I could not care less about this. I extracted from my plastic bag the accursed Walkman, and set it on the counter. "I'd like to return this," I mumbled. "What's wrong with it?" asked the clerk. "Nothing, I just don't want it." "Sir, you can only return things if they’re broken." "It doesn't work right," I lied. "I thought you said you just didn't want it?" she asked, looking a little confused. "I don't want it because it doesn't work right!" "Oh," she smiled, "OK." She proceeded to turn the thing every which way, then shot it in some very curious places with the scanner gun. "I need to see your receipt," she finally said. I reached into the bag and produced the requested item. The clerk examined it for a long while then said, "Nineteen ninety-seven." She summoned all of her concentration and carefully pushed a few buttons on the cash register, which popped open. She took out a handful of bills, then some change, and put the whole amount on my palm. "Thank you," I sighed, thinking the ordeal finally over. But looking down at my hand, I saw, to my dismay, a five, three ones, three quarters, two dimes, and two pennies. "Next," she called. "Wait a minute," I groaned, you still owe me some money," and saying this, I laid my eight dollars and change on the counter. The clerk looked from me, to the money, and back to me again. She reached into the cash drawer, and pulled out a one-dollar bill which she questioningly laid on top of the rest of my money, and shut the cash drawer. "Next." "No," I said, "you still owe me ten dollars!" She stared at me in disbelief as I counted out the money and finished by saying, "That's nine ninety-seven, you said nineteen ninety-seven. You still owe me ten dollars." "Oh," she chirped, her eyes lighting up. "Next." "What is wrong with you!?" I stammered out. "I need to punch the next customer up to open the drawer," she explained. "Next!" she called again, a little louder. After receiving my final ten-dollar bill, I walked toward the doors that I entered so long ago. Upon reaching them I heard a calm, gentle voice come over the loudspeaker, "Attention, shoppers, the store will close in ten minutes."
In Defense of Literary Liberty Lauren Williams Grade 11 New Knoxville High School Teacher: Mrs. Janean Oberlander
Sex. Drugs. Violence. Hot topics, all. Throw a few cuss words into the mix, and the temperature escalates--to heights too hot for high schoolers to handle! Some think so. But for the Board of Education to remove from the school library literature like Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, 1984, The Exorcist, A Streetcar Named Desire, and the Bible for the ideas--violent, racial, political, religious, sexual--presented therein; to say you can't read that, can't think about that," is to violate the freedom core of our country. If we eliminate a book from our library because some disagree with its content, we determine for others what is good for their minds and what is bad for their minds. Certain books in the high school library have stirred up controversy. Some parents feel that the content of the books is inappropriate for high school students because of language or mature themes. The parents have petitioned that these books be removed from the library. It is true that if the parents' requests are granted, the books will still be available in other libraries. One may conclude, therefore, that no liberty has been stolen from the students. However, in removing the controversial books from the library and claiming that students still have access to the books, that one assumes that the alternative library will not take the same action the school library took. If we can do it, why can't they! And perhaps they won't. Nevertheless, access to the literature has been stolen from a hypothetical, yet all too common, student. His parents lack the time and, in all frankness, the interest to take their child to the community library. Why deny that student some great literature! Many are not so certain that the literature is great at all. Parents of students who use the school library--yes, tax-paying parents who help fund the library--are appropriately concerned about what their children are being exposed to and how it may affect the children. The parents rightfully refuse to let their children run loose, unprotected from whatever a crooked world may throw at them. Because the parents have this important interest in what the younger generation is involved in and because the parents contribute financially to the school, they deserve a say in the matters of the school and are not wrong in demanding one. Parents have helped the school in the past with insight perhaps only they could provide. However, in this instance, the constitutionality of the proposed removal of literature from the library must be seriously deliberated. Censorship exists, undoubtedly, and it certainly plays a vital role in keeping a respectable library. I am not insisting that our librarian stock the shelves with Hustler and Playgirl or that she buy racks of Harlequin paperback romances with the reasoning that nobody can justly draw the line. Here the literature in question includes a long list of classics, and classics are not classics without cause. They are classics because they regard life themes, the subjects which will never be agreed upon by all. They are controversial books, and they are some of the best books. In the novel 1984, Winston, the narrator, fantasizes raping a woman and then killing her. When he does have intercourse with her, he is relieved to discover that she has slept with innumerable men who participate in an absolute government, and she and he hope that she has corrupted all of them and has been a carrier of infectious sexually transmitted diseases. Despite the sometimes vulgar and flagrantly obscene ideas of the characters, this book was one of the most thought provoking I’ve known. In reading /984, was exposed to new concepts and experienced personal growth; I am stronger and have further trekked into the land of what I believe and am more convinced of my beliefs, having defined more exactly what they are. The strong book did not corrupt me. The imperfect, oftentimes crass character like Winston, whose behavior and language are objectionable, is a means by which an author can present a significant idea. The character, and thus the idea, many times would not be honestly conveyed if the character didn't say those words or do those things. Certain ideas cannot be expressed without employing certain words and scenarios. To censor these words and scenarios, to control communication, is to try to control thought and thought growth. But will the books cause my child’s thoughts to grow in the wrong direction? The caring parent broods. This valid concern sparked the disquietude regarding a number of the books in the school library's collection. When considering possible harmful effects of books, when reckoning how to eliminate these effects, we can regard books as we regard other influencing media, namely TV. Television has become more and more bold, adopting a say-anything attitude. A book, whose every word is agonized over with precision and care, does much more for a person than could a brassy, no-holds-barred TV show. Television entertains more often than stimulating thought. Television is designed to shock a viewer visually, to sell ideas with searing images. Television offers disturbing exposure to anything and everything, often causing bad dreams and unnecessary fears. Do the concerned parents own televisions! Do the children ever watch when Mom and Dad are out of the room! I know that my brother and I watch television without parental supervision--at friends' houses, at school, and at home. My parents are aware of what we are exposed to, and if something we see particularly disturbs us, we go to them so they can help us get past it. And there are boundaries. I'm not allowed to watch some movies my younger brother watches. My parents know that certain things bother me more than him. Reading is like this. Parents need to know what their children are reading. Even if it were possible to confine girls and boys in bubbles of censorship, they'd be protected from the good as well as from possible contamination. Rather, parents should set up guidelines and keep mindful of how their children fare, allowing the youths to learn and grow--in thought, in organization of idea, in ability to communicate with other human beings. As long as people have brains, pens, microphones, and cameras, opinions on life will abound in number, in diversity, in availability. And as long as loving parents do not shirk their responsibility to establish boundaries with their children and help them stay within, youths will have the opportunity to grow in safety, uninhibited.
Nate Haas Grade 10 Grace Haven Academy Teacher: Mrs. Boso
In a world full of unparalleled violence and hate, justice does not always prevail. Fortunately, some people have decided to stand up against evil to rid the world of crime and oppression; to bring forth peace and prosperity. The objective of these courageous fighters is to draw humankind back into a dignified and serene lifestyle where one does not have to worry about disturbances. Two of these super-heroes are particularly well known: Batman and Superman. With both of these heroes, people try to decide who is better. But, while Superman is admirable, the answer is obvious: Batman is definitely superior. One of the many reasons for Batman's domination is the fact that Batman has many tools and gadgets. He always has his utility belt which carries tear gas, smoke bombs, his grappling hook, lock picks, and much more. He has many different suits for extra protection in situations involving fire, high levels of radiation, and extreme cold, just to name a few. Almost everyone is aware of the massive Batcave, which serves as Batman's base. This cave has colossal system of computers and scientific equipment for solving crimes. Even more famous is the Batmobile which boasts radar's, homing devices, and other aids for bringing in the bad-guys. Unquestionably, Superman is a phenomenal hero due to the fact that he is invincible. But this fact raises an important question: how courageous is Superman? Anyone could stand up to a gun if they knew they were bullet-impervious. Batman is not invincible and therefore has to worry about dodging bullets and flying debris. It takes much more courage to go into a situation knowing that he could die. Granted, Superman is incredible because of all his powers, but does that make him a better super-hero? Batman uses only equipment that really anybody with money could have. His main weapons are intimidation and the martial arts, which he spent a lifetime studying and learning. Superman would not survive for very long if he was stripped of his powers. Furthermore, one cannot overlook the alter-identity factor. Superman is really Clark Kent, a nerdy newspaper reporter from Kansas. He lives in a small, one-bedroom apartment in the city. He does not have much of a life. Batman, on the other hand, is really billionaire Bruce Wayne. He lives in a gigantic mansion on the seaside. He enjoys dining in country clubs and exercising in health clubs. Moreover, Batman has a better disguise. The people of Metropolis must have a fairly low IQ to not know who Superman is. All he does is take off his glasses and a little lock of hair comes down in the middle of his forehead. He really looks exactly the same. Plus, people should find it odd that whenever disaster strikes, Clark is mysteriously gone; then he returns as soon as Superman leaves. But Batman has a mask that actually covers half of his face. The only way to figure out Batman's identity is if someone was adroit at recognizing chins or voices. Also, Batman does all his work at night when no one will miss him. Obviously, the girl factor is extremely important. Superman's Lois Lane does not even begin to compare to Catwoman. Catwoman is more attractive than ten Lois Lanes put together. When Clark and Lois have ever gone out to eat, or something along those lines, she ran off before the evening was over to get a story for her paper. At least Selena Kyle (Catwoman) would stay in one place. Even though Batman is clearly the right choice in the Batman-Superman debate, we should all be thankful that they both exist to make our world a little bit cleaner. We should always hope for another Krypton to explode and send more "super-people" to earth or more street fighters to come off the streets and into a crime-fighting lifestyle. But until that happens, we should all look up to and respect the men fighting for freedom, justice and the American way.
Jo Custer Grade 12 Minster High School Teacher: Miss Moore
The novel Dracula written in 1897 by Bram Stoker, contains numerous characters that are key elements to the plot and mood of the story. Lucy Westenra, a sweet, captivating young woman, and Mina Harker, a woman of great intellect and courage, are two such characters. Lucy and Mina add somewhat similar elements to the novel Dracula but through very different roles. Does one of these characters play a more important role? This essay will compare the roles of Lucy and Mina and discuss their importance. Lucy and Mina are both of great importance to the plot of Dracula but in very different ways. Lucy and Mina were each lured by Dracula and both began the process of becoming a vampire and joining Dracula in his wrath. However, they were lured by Dracula in different fashions and were affected to different extents by his controlling trances. Dracula first began to control Lucy when he bit her while she was sleepwalking near the cemetery in Whitby. After his first bite, he began entering her room as a bat through her window. Lucy, completely unaware of what was happening gave no effort to stop Dracula from turning her into a vampire. Eventually, Lucy's body could no longer sustain life due to the severe loss of blood, and she joined Dracula in the world of the Undead. On the contrary, as soon as Mina was caught drinking Dracula's blood, she became aware of what Dracula was beginning to do to her. Dracula was forced to take on very different forms in his quest to capture Mina, including entering her room as a thick fog. In addition, Dracula didn't merely drink Mina's blood as he did with Lucy, but also entranced Mina into drinking his blood as well. However, contrary to Lucy's fate, Mina was never completely drawn into Dracula's world of the Undead. Lucy and Mina, in very similar situations, reacted to Dracula's lure in different ways, adding greatly to the entertaining plot of the novel. In addition to adding excitement to the substance of the plot, both Lucy and Mina were essential to the final outcome of the story, though in very dissimilar ways. Lucy's death from the real world initially provoked Dr. Van Helsing and her suitors to discover Dracula's plans to convert more humans to vampires. These protagonists also figured out how to permanently kill a member of the Undead through the incident of driving a stake through Lucy's heart and cutting off her head. Lucy's character was imperative to the eventual defeat of Dracula by setting the stage for events to come later in the story. At the same time, Dracula would never have been destroyed without the intellect and determination of Mina. Mina kept record of every event that occurred in connection with Dracula so that all of the pieces could be put together to come to a conclusion on how to pursue him. She kept a level head throughout the book and often was the most composed of all the protagonists, keeping everyone calm and on task. According to the book, "she has a man's brain...and a woman's heart." Mina eventually participated in the final pursuit to kill Dracula as well. Lucy and Mina were vital to the eventual defeat of Dracula, though in different ways. Not only did Lucy and Mina add to the basic plot and conclusion of the novel, but they also added a tremendous amount to the overall mood of the story. Their characters each added a similar element of romanticism to the mood through their relationships to the five heroes of the story. Lucy, pursued by three suitors early in the novel, was a sweet, innocent young woman who held the hearts of these three men, and who was eventually befriended by Dr. Van Helsing as well. Arthur, Lucy's fiancée, felt a sense of obligation throughout the book, after the death of his beloved Lucy, to end Dracula's terror. Lucy's character began the book with a strong romantic mood when she described in her letters to Mina her love for the three men that proposed to her. Later in the book, Mina carried that strong romantic mood through her relationship with her husband Jonathan and the four other men involved in the conspiracy to kill Dracula. Mina caused Jonathan to feel that same sense of obligation that Arthur felt to seek revenge on Dracula for harming his true love. Through Mina’s persistence and strong will, she seemed to capture the hearts of the other four men, although platonically, and they all displayed a sincere devotion to fight to keep her alive. Without Lucy and Mina, Dracula would have otherwise lacked the very significant romantic mood displayed in the story. In conclusion, both Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker were essential characters to the plot and mood of the novel. Their characters were very important to the body of the plot, as well as the final outcome of the story. Lucy and Mina created a romantic mood, which added a great deal of charm to the story as a whole. Lucy's character added these elements in the beginning of the story, setting the stage for the rest of the novel. However, more importantly, Mina Harker's influence continued throughout the novel, adding these elements as the story progressed and became more complicated and exciting. Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker, although through different roles, each added her own unique touch to the overall story of Dracula.
A Bloody Remake Emily L. Geiger Grade 12 Minster High School Teacher: Miss Moore
In 1922, Hollywood took a stab at the past and brought Dracula, a best-selling thriller by Bram Stoker, to the silver screen. This silent movie, renamed Nosferatu, followed the book’s lead, portraying the reign of terror of an ancient ruler turned vampire. However, the filmmakers took many liberties in modifying the book for the screen. As a result, the characterization, plot, and mood of Nosferatu are significantly different from the original Dracula. First, the makers of Nosferatu made considerable changes in the roles and personalities of the characters in the book. In Nosferatu, the following were the main characters: Nina, Jonathon, Lucy, Mr. Westerna, Dr. Seward, Professor Van Helsing, Renfield, and Nosferatu, minus Quincey Morris and Lord Goldalming. Seward, Van Helsing, and Jonathon all stayed very close in character to those in the book: Yet, along with the obvious name changes from Mina to Nina and Dracula to Nosferatu in the movie, the color and attitude of the rest of the people were also transformed in the movie. Nina, the very emotional, helpless, and sole victim of Nosferatu, and Jonathon, ravaged by the experience at Nosferatu's castle, took center stage as the two main protagonists. Lucy and her husband, Mr. Westerna, were just background protagonists. In the movie, Renfield's character was made more complex as he was not only the lawyer sent Jonathon away, but also the crazy lunatic under Dracula's spell. The most significant change, though, was how the new Nosferatu was played. Nosferatu shed Dracula's cunning suaveness and sexuality and gained more zombie-like monster qualities. This role change, especially, played an important part in the way the plot was played out. The storyline of Nosferatu was a frugal combination of certain subplots of Dracula's novel combined with an original twist of plot in the ending. Rather than using the novel's technique of slow, tempestuous descriptive style of teasing, the movie used blatant cues to startle and keep the viewer's attention. All of Dracula's events were portrayed through the explicit diaries of most of the characters; the eye of the camera can relate the plot only through letters between the characters and through the third-person. Major aspects of the book were the same, but some parts were simplified or cut Jonathon's journey to Nosferatu's castle remained the same, but he returned home to find that it was his wife, not Lucy at all, that was under Nosferatu's mesmerism. Because Nina was the only victim within this set of characters, the drawn-out efforts to rescue Lucy and the chase to track down Dracula were for the most part eliminated in the movie. Instead, Nina took the situation into her own hands and read in The Book of Vampires that the only way Nosferatu could be eliminated was if a woman pure in heart gave her blood freely to Nosferatu so that he was sucking her blood after the cock crowed. Instead of the wild hunt for Dracula that left Quincey Morris dead, the movie's climax dramatically martyred Nina when she gave her blood to end Nosferatu's spell. Although both Dracula and Nosferatu both developed an eerie mood with an anxious need to end the evil reign of the vampire, each one leaves an audience with a different feeling for the goals of the book and movie. To keep a reader turning the pages, Dracula keeps a reader on an edge throughout the book with dramatic irony and bloodcurdling descriptions. Nosferatu, on the other hand, uses bold movement and overemphasized acting to keep a viewer's attention. In the same way, Dracula relies on a reader's imagination to constantly guess the outcome of the story. Where as Nosferatu, with its lack of dialogue, must engage a viewer with lively, expressive music and photography to appeal to his or her senses. The two stories also display signs of the times. The book, written during Victorian times tiptoes around yet entices sexuality, but the movie openly shows Jonathon kissing Nina. Another example of the effect of each period's influence on the work is the hero and heroine in each story. Each movie ends on opposite ends of the gender role spectrum. The movie plays around with the emergence of women in our society during the 1920's when Nina unselfishly dies a heroine; however, the book is more old-fashioned when rough Quincey dies of deadly fighting wounds. Nosferatu is a classic example of the half-baked remake of a thrilling novel like Dracula. In the transformation from book to movie, the soul of the story, the spine-tingling descriptions and complex storyline, fades from the brilliant masterpiece Bram Stoker created. Like many book-turned-movies today, Nosferatu just can't hold a candle to the original.
Jessica VanHook Grade 11 Northwestern High School Teacher: Ms. Kachurek
The "untouchables" - not the investigative group that brought down Al Capone, but the lowest of the lowest caste in Hinduism. These untouchables were the gravediggers and the scavengers and were the unholiest Hindus alive. Even worse, they could never rise above their fated lot. Like the untouchables, Maggie Johnson in Maggie: A Girl of the Streets was the lowest of the lowest, and she had no chance of change. Crane, the novelette's author, exposes this hopelessness well. In Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, Crane uses imagery, diction, and syntax to portray Maggie as a victim of a Hindu-like caste. Through imagery, Crane paints the harsh reality of Maggie's existence. For one, Maggie "blossomed in a, mud puddle"(Crane20). Though she herself was an okay person, she grew in a mud puddle: the dirtiest cross ghettoes and slums have been able to produce. Also, while doing her chores, "she tottered on her small legs beneath the burdens of dishes"(l0). Although young, she had to do an adult's portion of the chores, for the drunkard mother refused to do it herself. Finally, while the parents slept, her "small frame ... was quivering [from fear]"(l4). Even then, at her tender age, she rightfully feared her parents and didn't dare awaken them. Crane's diction illustrates Maggie's entrapment within her caste. For example, when Maggie first fell in love with Pete, she "contemplated the dark, dust-stained walls, and the scant and crude furniture of her home" (25). The adjectives tell of the dirty, low-class home she lives in. The environment traps her, for who but her own caste-mates would ever choose a bride from that horrendous place? Also, as caste-mate Pete picked her up for a date, she stood ''in a worn black dress ... in the midst of a floor strewn with wreckage"(27). The dress, most likely her best, was old and had definitely seen better days, and Maggie's mother Mary had destroyed the room. Only Pete, quite accustomed to the tornado aftermath, would still take her out. Finally, when Maggie died, "the varied sounds of life, made joyous by distance and seeming unapproachableness, came faintly" to her water-filled ears and "died away to a silence"(75). The span between the two worlds, most evident by that sentence, mocked her, saying: This is life denied to you, you are of Rum Alley. Throughout Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, Crane's clever use of syntax illuminates Maggie's plight. During the first introductions, Jimmie, Maggie's brother, turned, and "he suddenly struck her"(6). The short, blunt structure makes the statement seem commonplace, as if Maggie consistently dealt with fraternal beatings. Also, as the siblings ate supper, "Maggie, with side glances of fear, ate like a small pursued tigress"(9). The two commas around the prepositions make her manner appear more ordinary, as though Maggie never knew she could eat a meal and not worry that the food would end in another's stomach. Finally, "Pete took note of Maggie [‘s looks]"(24). The straightforward comment makes the notation resemble normality, as if Pete noticing how Maggie looked was the way it should be, instead of the outrageous, degrading judgment it actually was. Within Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, the title character falls victim to a heinous caste system, and Crane reveals her desperate straits well through imagery, syntax, and diction. Thankfully, like the old-fashioned Hindu castes, this inferiority no longer exists. Hopefully, such degradation shall cease, and only Crane’s masterful descriptions will convey such a sense of hopelessness.
Gabe Mehlman Grade 11 Hawken School Teacher: Ms. Leslie Altman
What makes a novel great? In an industry where thousands of novels are published every year, which books stand the test of time? William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying is permanently embedded in the literary history of America. The nearly century-old Bundren family will continue to be resurrected on a regular basis. Why does As I Lay Dying continue to draw readers? The reasons are many. Among them is the fact that the novel is simply unforgettable. When he wrote As I Lay Dying, Faulkner created a novel virtually unparalleled in stylistic diversity. Faulkner used all the tricks in the book, plus some he had invented himself. Starting out with a story line that was not extraordinarily complex, Faulkner used an experimental style to make the novel truly unique. Faulkner's combination of grammatical idiosyncrasies, unexpected narrative voices, and master descriptive technique created a landmark novel. Stylistic details are the true reasons for the success of As I Lay Dying. To create his breathtaking novel, Faulkner twisted conventional grammatical usage. For example, he uses italics to express many different ideas. Initially, Faulkner uses italics when Addie Bundren dies. Jewel and Dari are returning from town, and Dari knows that Adie is dying. Faulkner alternates between italicized and regular print in this scene. The regular print illustrates how Dari imagines her death in his mind. The italicized print illustrates reality, where Jewel and Dari are merely riding on a wagon. Shifting from italics to roman type gives the passage a memorably dream-like quality. It takes a normal scene in a novel, a death, and turns it into something haunting and original. Faulkner uses italics later in the novel during Tull's chapter, during Addie's funeral. This time, the italics are used to probe into Tull's head. The regular print shows what Tull is mainly thinking while the italicized parts show what he is thinking in the back of his mind. The italicized print contains thoughts inappropriate for a funeral, such as crop conditions, and suggests that Tull is embarrassed that he is having these thoughts. The italics could also represent the conflict between what he wants to think and what he does think. Again, Faulkner creates a distinct scene through grammatical manipulation. There are numerous additional instances where Faulkner uses italics to represent a range of ideas. Each one is distinct. Each one contributes immeasurably to the novel's depth. Another technique employed by Faulkner is his wholly unique style of individual character narration. As an experimental writer, Faulkner takes many risks in his works. One of these risks is the complex voice he gives to characters who otherwise appear to be relatively simple. It can be inferred from his works that Faulkner believes that there is more to every person and situation than meets the naked eye. He allows the reader a window into the complexities in every heart. He relies heavily on this technique in As I Lay Dying. Take Vardaman, the youngest child in the Bundren family. Faulkner opens a window into the boy's mind, allowing the reader to see a child struggling with incredibly complex issues, such as the death of a parent. Early in the novel, Vardaman has a chapter consisting of one sentence, "My mother is a fish"(84). While this may appear to be a downright joke at first, it surely is not. While the sentence is typical of Faulkner's dark sense of humor, it raises many issues. The sentence grapples with the nature of existence, a theme in the novel. The situation is simplified in a young person's eyes. If Vardaman catches a fish, and the fish dies, and then sees his mother, and his mother dies, then what is the difference between his mother and a fish? At what level is existence permanent? When we die, does our death negate out existence? Through a single sentence in a boy's mind, the reader realizes complexities previously unconsidered. Faulkner uses this technique again and again. Sometimes it appears ludicrous, as if Faulkner himself did not know what he was trying to say. Perhaps one of his character's thoughts was too complex for him, fitting in a novel which has the appearance of simplicity versus the reality of complexity as a theme. A third technique used by Faulkner is his descriptions. These descriptions add yet another level of depth to the novel. Poetic in nature, Faulkner's descriptions can be indescribably beautiful. These descriptions are told by the characters, again suggesting a deep complexity to every person. Most of these descriptions come from Dari. Dari’s account of the barn fire may be the most striking of all the descriptions. It ends: "Then it topples forward, gaining momentum, revealing Jewel and the sparks raining on him too in engendering gusts, so that he appears to be enclosed in a thin nimbus of fire. Without stopping it overends and rears again, pauses, then crashes slowly forward and through the curtain This time Jewel is riding upon it, clinging to it, until it crashes down and flings him forward and clear and Mack leaps forward into a thin smell of scorching meat and slaps at the widening crimson edged holes that bloom like flowers in his undershirt." (222) A poem in nature, the description serves to provide us with a unique look at an otherwise ordinary event (in a novel) as well as furthering our understanding of Dari as a deep character. Descriptions that appear to be completely ordinary can actually be the polar opposite. All of Cash's descriptions are wooden and precise. At first the reader may find Cash simplistic and boring. As the novel progresses, the reader's perception of Cash's descriptions begins to change. We begin to see him as the voice of reason. He is a fairly reliable and objective narrator in an otherwise unreliable and subjective group of narrators. In his last chapter, we realize that he is indeed complex, and has a deep love for his brother Dari. Looking back on his descriptions, it is evident that Cash is handling a difficult time in his life through simplistic thoughts and actions: build the coffin, keep it level, find the tools. He suddenly seems all too human. Faulkner deftly uses description to weave an intricate tapestry of emotion and ideas. William Faulkner employs dozens of additional techniques to make As I Lay Dying truly special. The book stays with us because it is like barbed wire; it snags on us. Through many stylistic techniques, each one diverse and often boldly original, Faulkner constructed a novel that lingers in the memory of the reader. To make a masterpiece a writer must either proceed blindly with his or her instincts, or construct a novel step by step, as carefully as an architect plans a skyscraper. It appears that in As I Lay Dying Faulkner took the latter approach. Using such techniques as italics, description, and complex thoughts for seemingly simple people, Faulkner turned a few weeks in the life of a country family into a novel beloved, despised, and debated by readers for nearly a century.
Ida Abdalkhani Grade 12 Shawnee High School
In the novel Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, the customs, traditions, and cultural philosophies of an African tribe are brought to the forefront, giving the reader special insight into the respected qualities of clansmen. Many of these revered characteristics are unique and often foreign to the American culture. However, a prevalent theme in the novel, one that is not obscure to the American culture and that is seen in every society, is the idea of honor to one's self, one's friends and family, and to God(s). As seen in the opening pages of the novel, honor is of utmost importance to the main character Okonkwo. In tribal life, personal accomplishments are necessary in order to bring fame to one's name. When describing Okonkwo's notoriety the statement is made that "His fame rested on solid personal achievements'' (1), thus signifying attainment as the basis for upholding one's pride and honor. For though age was respected among his people ... achievement was revered" (8). Since titles make the man in their tribal world. It is only natural that one would attempt to display his worth in every manner possible, so as to rise to the highest levels contained within the tribal hierarchy. The greatest example of these attempts is seen with Okonkwo, for he refuses to be like his father who had never taken a title and who died heavily in debt. The subject of his father brings so much shame to Okonkwo, that he cannot not even stand to think of his father and strives to be the opposite of his father in every aspect, even to the point of beating his children since his father was calm and passive. By being a valiant warrior hard-working, brave, and self-sufficient, Okonkwo is able to produce an image of honor for himself that displays pride in his own capabilities while also producing a well respected reputation for himself. However, it is not enough for Okonkwo to honor his reputation alone. In order for his own honor to be completely fulfilled he must bring honor to his friends and family as well. His achievements as a great wrestler and warrior bring honor to the tribe for "As a young man of eighteen he had brought honor to his village by throwing Amalinze the Cat" (1). He went on to become a great warrior, bringing five heads back to the tribe and never failing to display his unwavering bravery when it came to issues of war. He wanted to live among people who defended their name and honor, and so he did everything in his power to be a part of that. However, Okonkwo did not stop at bringing honor to his people, for bearing honor to his family was of supreme significance to him in order to uphold his reputation. In the novel Okonkwo is often seen being harsh to his sons for he wants them-to grow up and be brave and "manly" like him. Moreover, he feels that the quantity of yams ("the king of crops" (23) he produces and the size and number of his huts are a direct reflection upon his own personal worth as a member of the tribe, and thus he does everything in his power to maintain the dignity and high standing of his multiple wives, children, huts, and other possessions. He believed that "yam stood for manliness, and he who could feed his family on yams from one harvest to another was a very great man indeed" (33). Furthermore, he "wanted his son to be a great farmer and a great man" (33) and he would "not have a son who cannot hold up his head in the gathering of the clan" (33). Okonkwo is so driven to succeed in forming and maintaining honor to his family and friends that he "throws himself into it like one possessed. And indeed he was possessed by the fear of his father's contemptible life and shameful death" (18) to the point that he would rather take his own life than watch his own honor as well as the honor of the clan deteriorate under the rule of the white men. Nonetheless, even more important than honor to one's self and one's friends and family is honoring gods, especially one's chi, or personal god. Days of honor and festivities are regularly apportioned to the gods, as in the Feast of the New Yam "to honor the earth goddess and the ancestral spirits of the clan" (36). Everything the clan does is ultimately because of, or for, the gods, even if they don't necessarily understand it or agree with it. For example, when Okonkwo is exiled for accidentally killing a fellow clansman, the other men of the tribe demolished his barn and killed his animals even though "they had no hatred in their hearts against Okonkwo" (125). They believe that it is "the justice of the earth goddess, and they were merely her messengers" (125). Obierika and others even cast their own children into the forest of evil spirits when they are twins, though they don't always find it necessary, since it is ordained by the gods. At the end of the novel, the tribe cannot even bury their beloved Okonkwo because it is an offense against the Earth. They steadfastly believe that the gods were still able to fight their own battles" (161), and so they live only to make their gods proud and to yield honor to them. It is apparent throughout the story that the presence of gods and spirit rule and determine the lives of the tribal people and that when something counters this outstanding force, as when Christianity is introduced, the honor that they once knew and adhered to is questioned, and things fall apart. It is evident throughout the novel that honor is the driving force in the life of every person. First comes self-honor, for the "the only thing worth demonstrating was strength" (28), then honor to one's friends and family since "it is more difficult and more bitter when a man fails alone." (25), and ultimately honor to the gods because they control the lives of the clansmen. The life of Okonkwo is the story of a man whose life is controlled and dominated by the idea of honor. In this manner, the reader realizes that though the life of a tribesman may be very different in culture and tradition, it is at the same time connected to the life of every person in which the human quality to defend honor to one’s self, one friends and family, and to god(s) is universally understood.
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