My Senior Capstone is a website that gives future SLA students the blueprint for an SLA Music Studio. The site includes a homemade blueprint, products with descriptions, and the science behind sound. The link below will take you there. I hope you enjoy it!
https://sites.google.com/scienceleadership.org/anslamusicstudio/home?authuser=1 https://sites.google.com/scienceleadership.org/anslamusicstudio/references?authuser=1
Introduction -
The goal of my paper was to exemplify the constant pressure on immigrants to assimilate. I hope to move the readers of my paper and encourage them to be more conscious not to put pressure on immigrants. When reading my paper one will realize the sacrifices one has to make both when assimilating or choosing not to do so.
Essay -
A young brown-skinned Native American man sits with his long sleek black hair streaming over his shoulders. He has quarter-sized gold hoops in his ears and various necklaces decorating his neck. He is covered with a short fur jacket and a white undershirt. The same man later poses, his hair cut short, with a part on the right side, brushed to the left. His neck and ears are free of jewelry. This time he wears a dress jacket, collared shirt, and tie. Although he did not come to the United States from another country, he exhibits what many immigrants must do to reflect mainstream American society, in hopes of maintaining refuge.
Cultural assimilation is the process by which someone from a minority group alters their values, beliefs, and behaviors to assume that of a majority group. When immigrants move to different countries the pressure to assimilate is ongoing and if they choose not to alter themselves they may find themselves branded an outsider.
The pressure to behave like the majority and follow their beliefs is derived from many different sources that depend on an individual's situation. For adults, it can come from peers in the working world, friends who they see doing so, or the fear of getting deported if they are undocumented. For kids, it often comes from family, peers, school teachers, and many times the media.
The media often portrays immigrants and/or the countries they come from in a negative light. Media outlets and journalists do this by focusing on the bad things that have happened in a country and to associate immigrants with the people doing wrong in order to give them a bad reputation. People like President Trump, who are widely covered in the media and therefore play a highly influential role in shaping public opinion, perpetuate negative ideas about immigrant groups. This makes their living in the country even harder since they are not welcomed and people have false preconceived notions about them. Assimilating won’t change ones skin tone; however, it may make it easier for them to live in a new country without attracting as much negative attention.
Assimilation often means sacrificing a part of one’s identity. Enuma Okoro, a woman born in Africa and migrating to America stated, "Coming of age in foreign classrooms, my sister and I slowly shed our native skins. We let teachers mangle our names, then adopted their mispronunciations — introducing ourselves with syllables our own relatives tripped over." (Okoro 1) . Names are a big part of who people are. Often times, names are unique to someone's culture, region or family. By not correcting her teachers’ mangled pronunciation of her and her sisters’ names, she has allowed her identity to be trampled for the convenience of another, but doing so also lightens the pressure. When she speaks of “shedding our native skin,” she is exemplifying the assimilation process. In her writing, she explains that when she first got to America from Africa she had no good thoughts about her old country. Many immigrants experience this when trying to disassociate themselves from their past. To be someone else you must also forget who you were. She went on to say that later when she went back to visit, she got in touch with her roots, discovered many things she liked and decided to move back.
People who choose not to assimilate either find a community where they can avoid it or live a life with the ongoing pressure of harassment. On the other hand, culturally assimilating does not ensure immunity from harassment.
Once assimilated, one might feel as foreign to their own past and culture as they did when first coming to a new country. In We Need New Names a girl traveled from Africa to America. In Zimbabwe, she peed in the bushes, ate with her hands, played with her friends all day not attending school and spent the majority of her time outside. In America she pees in the toilet, often uses utensils, and spends her time inside and on the internet or talking to friends. In the beginning, she hated America and wanted to go back, but later she stated, “One part is yearning for my friends; the other doesn't know how to connect with them anymore, as if they are people I've never met”(212). This shows how foreign the place and people she once associated with home are. Many immigrants still yearn for their old country, but understand that it was best for them to leave considering the conditions there. The internal conflict she faces of yearning for her Zimbabwe and simultaneously wanting to fit in, in her new country makes this lack of connection hard to repair.
How do immigrants feel about assimilation? Assimilation can involve changing religion. Adopting a different language, the slang that may come with that and even the accent. It can also mean breaking one's own traditions and ideals to adopt new ones. Assimilation applies a lot of pressure on immigrants. For example, in We Need New Names, Darling’s Aunt Faustilina in America would practice speaking English in a mirror after she messed up a conversation in English until she spoke precisely and articulately. Aunt Faustalina, is her role model, and from her, Darling learned both what to do and what not to do. For immigrants, learning what to do and what not to do is a continual struggle that may never result in the acceptance they seek while it compels them to sacrifice parts of their identity to do so.
Citations -
Bulawayo, NoViolet. We Need New Names. Vintage Books, 2014.
Okoro, Enuma. “A Return to Nigeria.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 24 Apr. 2014, opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/04/23/a-return-to-nigeria/?hp&rref=opinion.
“A Tour of 5 Refugee Camps.” This American Life, www.thisamericanlife.org/greece/.
“Sea Prayer .” YouTube, YouTube, www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKBNEEY-c3s.
“Don’t Have to Live Like a Refugee.” This American Life, 19 Apr. 2019, www.thisamericanlife.org/593/dont-have-to-live-like-a-refugee.
Aidan McLaughlin
Mr. Block
English 3
Essay #1
September 22, 2019
I started playing soccer when I was 11 years old. The moment I stepped on the field I knew it was the sport for me. It was the only time I felt fully at peace with myself and with life. It was an action-packed sport, yet somehow it soothed me. Plus the constant running made it hard for my ADD to get the better of me, unlike boring baseball. Over the past 8 years, my experiences on the field have shaped the player I am today.
Anticipating a shot from the opposing team I stand on the sprayed white line on the dark green field between two posts. I wish the game wasn't tied. I wish I wasn't the keeper, I wish it hadn't made it to shootouts. I wish it wasn't the final game of the playoffs. I wish, I wish, I wish. Before my team shared the pressure together. Now, I hold the entire outcome of the game and that fate of my own team in my hands and feet. Waiting for the shriek of the Ref’s whistle, I feel the need to escape and run back to my brick row home two blocks away from the field.
“Twwwwwwwt” the whistle sounded interrupting my thoughts. The sleek 2012 world cup ball cut through the air. I Jumped, but missed. It was over, we had lost and it was because of me.
I remember choking back the tears after the game. I remembered my other teammates crying and felt that it was all my fault. I could never fail my team like that again. I had to step up and make sure that I would never let my team down again. Never again!
My breath was visible in the brisk fall air. The trees around the field had begun to change to vibrant red, yellow, and brown hues. I kicked my feet in the dusty ground that had once been a green field. The clouds that arose from the ground reminded me of my breath. I was uncomfortable and unhappy with my placement on the field. I wanted to be up top again scoring goals and making runs, especially since this was a playoff game and our team, Spain, was down by one. Most of all, I want to redeem myself for my failure the previous year. I felt the team giving up, discouraged by the repeated failed attempts to score a goal.
“Keep the intensity, let's win this”! I shout out trying to brighten their spirits.
I could feel the eyes of the enthusiastic and sometimes enraged parents on the back of my neck and it made my hair stand tall, like a cat confronted by one of its own. The ball was rolling toward me and I ran to greet it past half field. I kicked it with all my strength, my vision only trained on one thing, the goal. I turned around and began my shameful walk back to my side, the ball looked high. I subtle swush indicated that it went in and then a less subtle, “Aidan you did it” yelled by my teammate Gabe who rushed toward me at freight train speed. His excitement was matched by an overwhelming and frantic yelling booming from the sideline. The game was tied. Even though we ended up winning that game, I didn’t feel satisfied. Not with myself. I wanted to be the best; however, I no longer wanted to do it for myself. Well, maybe because I was scared. “Ref how much time is left?” I impatiently asked. “Five minutes,” he responded. The air was heavy with wet heat. I felt the cold beads of sweat escape my pores and roll off my nose and checks, leaving gray splotches on my white dirt stained jersey. My feet, hugged by black and orange cleats, were burning from the heat radiating off the field. The dark green synthetic grass had little black rubbery dots that held the sun’s rays. Looking left and then right I saw the red track surrounding the turf, my dad, my dog, my coach, and my team, decorated in the same white and blue I wore. My attention was swifty grabbed by the red and black jerseys, worn by strangers, weaving through our players. One broke through. My adrenaline forced me to run quicker than I ever had. Things slowed down, I was on his heels. He was split between me and the un-admittedly concussed keeper. I couldn’t let him reach him. My defensive instincts kicked in. My mind was shouting one thing, protect. This team is my family! I firmly grab his shoulder and peel him down like paint off a wall. Immediately the high pitched whistle pierces the air and engulfs my ears. A penalty in the bo was called against me. This was my worst fear, I had let down my team again. I was four years older, but the same 12 year old me walked off the field that day. I thought I was protecting, but I hadn’t. The MVP trophy I received after the season meant nothing to me because I did not see myself as MVP. The gold and blue statue topped with a soccer player mocked me. The congratulations of my teammates only served to remind me that I was a failure. Why had I tried to be at the front of laps during practice? Why had I tried so hard? I will forever strive to be the best, but I will never be satisfied not only in soccer, but because of soccer it now is a part of who I am in my everyday life.
Aidan McLaughlin
Ms. Pahomov
English
25 March 2019
Lord of The Flies Vs. The Unite The Right March
Many comparisons can be made between William Golding’s Lord of the Flies and the August 2017 Unite the Right march in Charlottesville. Lord of the flies, is a fantasy novel about a group of boys who got stranded on a remote island after their plane crashed. The conflicts within the novel range from the self conflict experienced by Jack, the primary antagonist, to the clash between civilized behavior and the savage ideals which culminate in the killings of two boys. During the Unite the Right march, white supremacist groups gathered to espouse their views, including the idea that non-whites and Jews were “destroying” America and must be stopped. Some of them went so far as to call for ethnic cleansing. During the rally, several conflicts erupted between the Unite the Right marchers and counter-protesters. The most significant act of violence occurred when James Fields, a Unite the Right supporter, drove his car into a crowd of counter-protesters striking and killing Heather Heyer.
During his 2016 campaign, Donald Trump repeatedly made incendiary comments that encouraged violence by his supporters against non-supporters, while complaining about political correctness. For the march in Charlottesville, Trump can be compared to Jack for his role in emboldening hate speech and increasing outward displays of hatred including violence, leading up to the Charlottesville rally. James Fields is like Rodger who acted on his savage impulses killing Piggy, and the internet is like the mask worn by Jack and his followers to conceal their identities and free themselves from fear, self-consciousness and remorse.
In chapter four of Lord of the Flies, Painted Faces and Long Hair, Jack paints his face using red and white clay and a stick of charcoal brought from the fire. He painted one eye socket and cheek white, the other half of his face red, and drew a black bar with charcoal from his right ear to his left jaw. After constructing his face he peered into a coconut for his reflection and was so appalled at his new face that he leapt to his feat spilling the coconut water. “He began to dance and his laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling… and the mask was a thing on its own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness” (Golding 64). This quote exemplifies that the mask gave Jack the freedom to unleash his savage nature. At first the mask and the savagery it stood for was a thing that Jack could hide behind, but it would later become Jack. Eventually, Jack was able to stand by his savage ideals and present them publicly without hiding behind the mask-- so much so that those ideals would become the reason for his existence.
The internet provides a mask for hate group members to hide behind. Through social networking platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, video platforms such as YouTube, online funding vehicles including PayPal and GoFundMe, hate-based websites and activities on the dark web, white supremacists find each other, promote ideas of hatred and violence and secure funding for their activities. Following Charlottesville, action was taken by all of the internet companies listed above to clamp down on hate speech and the promotion of violence as well as the funding of hate groups. This has forced many hate groups to utilize the dark web where their sites can’t be accessed by ordinary search engines and where individuals can remain anonymous. Prior to Charlottesville, anyone who wished to know about the kinds of white supremacist groups that united there, could do so through any number of internet outlets without fear of being discovered. Research by the Southern Poverty Law Center found that hate group organizers, speakers and individuals used the web to raise and distribute money for the march in Charlottesville. Like Jack’s followers, the Unite the Right marchers eventually became bold enough to leave the safety of online anonymity and share their views in public while demonstrating their willingness to perpetuate acts of violence.
While the rise in hate groups cannot be laid completely at Donald Trump’s feet, there is evidence that suggests he contributed to that rise. According to an analysis of data accrued by the Anti-Defamation League, hate crimes rose by 266% in counties where Trump rallies were held. Also, the FBI reported a 17% increase in hate crimes in the first year of the Trump presidency. During or following his rallies, Trump was cited for promoting violence numerous times. For example, at a Cedar Rapids, Iowa rally, Trump said, “Knock the crap out of him, would you? I promise you, I will pay your legal fees.” This was not the first time that Trump promised to cover legal fees if his supporters became violent with non-supporters. Trump also made derogatory comments about Mexicans, Muslims and the countries of Africa, sentiments widely shared by white supremacists while simultaneously encouraging his supporters to free themselves from the burden of political correctness. Finally, well known white supremacists and rally participants, David Duke and Richard Spencer, both publicly supported Trump’s candidacy.
When Jack left the group, many of the other boys joined him and would soon conceal their faces with the clay and charcoal. One night the boys formed a circle around the fire. They began to chant and the chanting went from excitement to a beating pulse. As they saw something emerge from the forest that they thought was the beast, a deadman that they thought was a monster, they ran toward it yelling, “Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!” Jack’s authority and words lead the others to act like savages and kill Simon, and, like the march in Charlottesville, passions are inflamed by chanting.
Later in the book, when Ralph, Piggy, Eric, and Sam got to Castle Rock, where the Savages had their fort, to try to retrieve Piggy’s glasses, they’re confronted by the Savages. When piggie speaks, Roger, one of the savages, uses a stick to pry a boulder loose and send it over a cliff. The boulder bounded across the neck of Castle Rock and, “The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee; the conch (which was previously used for speaking) exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist. Piggy, saying nothing, with no time for even a grunt, traveled through the air sideways from the rock, turning over as he went. Piggie fell forty feet and landed opened and stuff came out and turned red” (Golding 181). The conflict between the two groups, the freedom to express savagery that had become a part of their daily existence, and the support of his peers pushed Roger, to go so far as to commit murder.
Like Roger, James Fields was emboldened by the support of his peers. He was not the leader. He was one of the Savages who had removed the mask to make his hatred known publicly. Inflamed by words of hatred and threats of violence he acts on his savage impulse and hurls a deadly object, his car, toward the counter protesters ultimately killing one of them just as Roger killed Piggy.
In the Lord of the Flies, Jack abandons the more egalitarian society favored by Ralph and others and draws his followers into a way of life where they think and act outside of the constraints of good conscience. Likewise, Donald Trump moved millions of people, enough for him to win the election, toward a society where political correctness is set aside and contempt for other points of view is encouraged. The rise in hate crimes, particularly in those counties where Trump held rallies provides some evidence of his impact. The mask provides Jack and his followers a way to hide their identities, to hide themselves from themselves, in order to free themselves from self-consciousness, fear and remorse. Like the mask, the internet provided a way to hide that allowed people to anonymously learn about white supremacy, share their opinions and receive validation from others. Some eventually became so emboldened that they were ready to remove the mask and march in Charlottesville. The march became like the Savage’s circling around the fire, which was made complete with their chanting. The Unite the Right marchers now experienced the freedom to express their hatred for non-whites and Jews along with the power of their numbers. Before it was over, one of the marchers, James Fields, forced the bolder off the cliff, demonstrating the ultimate savagery by killing another human being.
Works Cited
CNN, Staff. “Five Ways Hate Speech Spreads Online.” CNN, Cable News Network, 2 May
2018, www.cnn.com/2018/05/02/us/hate-groups-using-internet/index.html.
Feinberg, Ayal, et al. “Counties That Hosted a 2016 Trump Rally Saw a 226 Percent Increase in
Hate Crimes.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 22 Mar. 2019, www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2019/03/22/trumps-rhetoric-does-inspire-more-hate-crimes/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.e43f6a94ad0d.
MacGuill, Dan. “FACT CHECK: Did Donald Trump Encourage Violence at His Rallies?”
Snopes.com, Snopes.com , www.snopes.com/fact-check/donald-trump-incitement-violence/.
News , VICE, and HBO. “Charlottesville: Race and Terror – VICE News Tonight on HBO.”
YouTube, YouTube, 14 Aug. 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIrcB1sAN8I.
Times, The New York. “Car Crashed into Counter-Protesters of Charlottesville White Nationalist
March.” YouTube, YouTube, 12 Aug. 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQN7ApKL7AY&has_verified=1.
“White Nationalists March in Virginia.” YouTube, CNN, 12 Aug. 2017,
youtu.be/ZN7vm9mIPBs?t=9.
Xan xim zom tom rom shuppa tablada samy eyoko takara
Translation
The girls here are beautiful. All different shapes, shades, and styles. I love… what do they call it? Oh yes, I believe I overheard someone say “Diversity”. Back on my own planet Xanahr, with a silent H, all the girls look the same and all the girls look like boys. The way to recognize a female is by their lack of a 37th tentacle. When I arrived on earth In this city I was entranced by the tall spaceships that don't fly, bewildered by people stuck in screens with prices on them, confused by the small vehicles that roll along the ground making loud honking sounds, and unerved from the people yelling unknown words at me, I had disguised myself to look like one of them. The problem was that as normal as I looked, the girls didn’t seem to enjoy me.
Today was a rough day. I had decided to use some of the words I had learned. I was walking next to Macy's and I saw an old white man, make a “tweet twwwwwwww” (whistle) sound with his lips. It sounded like the first of 576 mating calls people make on my home planet. He followed that by saying “Ayoo Shawty come here and get this treatment”. Shawty, if that was her name, punched him in the face. This must be a part of the mating ritual I surmised. When I repeated this processes, I got the same result, but I had no way of knowing whether it was the right result. I approached another lady on the corner “Hellooooow sweet thang,” I said, repeating the word I had heard earlier, and again the response was violent. This resulted in the damage of my favorite tentacle, number 26. She was beautiful, but it hurt. I began to wonder if I could survive these strange mating rituals and whether, if I discovered the secret rites of courtship, I would experience pleasure in female companionship.
I was discouraged. While I was surrounded by diverse beauty, I had no way of knowing the hearts and minds of the girls I encountered, and no idea about what I should or should not do. The girl I encountered next would change all of that. I recall how her hair was flying in the wind, glowing, and decided that I could not miss my chance. On my native planet, we begin courtship using a distinctive walk consisting of a series of dips, bobs, and turns. I decided to try using this female-catching walk on the one with the glowing hair and she laughed. On my home planet the males follow the distinctive walk by showing their 37th tentacle but I was reluctant to do this. I clearly didn’t understand the females of this planet and said as much to her. I explained that I had tried to emulate the actions of other men I had observed, but was always met with violence. She asked me to describe these behaviors and after I recounted them, she explained that, on this planet, it was wrong to treat women like that-- like objects, things without thoughts or feelings. Her words hit me like a train and made my world spin.
I hadn’t been observing rituals of courtship at all but something she called harassment. I couldn’t understand why males of this planet would treat their female counterparts this way. Clearly there was nothing to be gained from doing so. Perhaps harassment did not exist on my planet because telling males and females apart was nearly impossible; however, maybe harassment didn’t exist because we cared for each other. She invited me to come with her, and we actually just hung out. It felt more like courtship on Xanahr, and she explained the ways to approach the women of her plant respectfully. I understand now and I am hopeful for the future.
¨Rising, Come Outside.”
It was my sixteenth birthday and my father, who refers to me as Rising, was in the back of the house. I got up from the brown, cat hair speckled couch, that sits in my living room, and went outside. He instructed me to get in the glistening black Honda Civic that we lease, but this time I sat in the driver's seat. I was immediately overwhelmed with a clash of exhilaration and anxiety over my new seat of power. Painstakingly, I drove down the tight, dark, tar creased alleyway I had know my whole life. As I drove slowly past my neighbors’ houses on one side and their parked cars on the other, my dad nervously yelled, “don’t hit anything!” Thankfully, we reached the end of the alley unmarred. He glady states, “that's enough for today,” and I got out of the car.
As I walked home, the humidity causing beads of sweat to appear on every inch of skin, my mind wandered off. I ponder my sister driving, trying to reach back into my memory and remember how she passed her test. “Did she have a driving instructor?” I thought to myself. “Wait, maybe it was a book.” However, I could not recall. Either way I wanted to be like her. Driving seemed to come easy and she passed both her permit and driver's licence test the first time around. Now, with a sense of the competition between us, I was more inspired than ever.
Convincing myself I was good enough at driving, I immediately informed my dad that I was ready to take the knowledge test. He responded with a simple “How?” Pushing me to realize I know little of what it might take to get a permit. He quickly whipped out his phone, typed in the four digit password and began his research. “You will need a social security card, a physical, several forms of identification, and there is a written test that you have to study for.” I felt as if the chances of my success were being squeezed out of me like the juice from a lemon. “I can’t give up-- I want this!” I hopefully thought.
Growing up, I had always been fascinated with my parents´ driving and now I wanted it for myself. The idea that by simply turning the wheel you could steer the large metal mechanic box excited me. The sound of the wheel sliding back through the hands of my parents as they evened out the car soothed me. What I was most enthusiastic about though, was how fast a car could take you to places, new places. I loved peering out of the foggy window, seeing grass fields, houses, farms, buildings, and lakes quickly flash by like a movie without sound. It was entrancing. “When can I drive?” I would murmur to my parents.
Before I collected all of the items I needed to take the test, we departed on a 10-hour car ride to North Carolina. Four boring hours in and I realized this was good time to study for the test. I opened the app in my phone titled, ¨PA Driver Practice” and took the test multiple times, each time getting a different variety of questions on a range of topics, from driver safety to road laws. On the way back I did the same, this time reading the questions aloud to my parents. As we rolled along the grainy highway, my dad, who was driving, pointed out different signs and had me provide an explanation for what they were for. “What does that yellow sign mean?” He bellowed, hoping to stump me. “That means there’s construction ahead,” I proudly responded. By the time the trip ended, I was constantly scoring in the high nineties, which were passing scores!
A few weeks later, my mom gathered my expired passport, my birth certificate, my school ID and the required form and we headed off to get my social security card. We walked to the Chestnut Hill Train Station and waited for the 7:35 train to center city. We boarded and 45 minutes later exited the cool train at Suburban Station. From there we walked to the tall building in which I would hopefully receive my card. We took an elevator up to the top floor and then waited in a line for security to check us. ¨You can't bring that in,” the security guard chastised the man at the front of the line, who was understandably drinking coffee. He stepped to the side to finish his coffee and the line moved on. As I dragged my feet on the carpet marked with a strange pattern of blue and green, we made eye contact with the coffee drinker and he shook his head and laughed as if to say he did not approve of the guards judgment. I giggled.
We got through security with no problem and sat on uncomfortable metal chairs, marked with holes. We were called to the window behind us to the left. “What do you want?” The woman behind the glass rudely asked. Her voice sounded as if her nose was being pinched. “I need a social security card for my son,” my mom politely responded. She gave us the number fifty six and we headed back to the uncomfortable metal chairs to wait again. When our number was finally called we approached the window to my left. This man was much more upbeat. “How can I be of your assistance?” He inquired. We handed him the form and the various forms of ID as my mother explained our purpose cheerfully. He took a moment to examine them and then proceeded to ask me questions. “What's your mom's middle name? What's your full name? What's your best friend´s name?” He asked the last question with a chuckle and I realized it was not on the form. I answered all the question correctly and he happily said, “It will arrive at your house in 7 - 10 days.” “Great, more waiting,” I exasperatedly stated to my mom and we left the fresh smelling building.
The card came as promised, but I still needed a physical. I had to get a physical for soccer so why not get one for my permit at the same time. The physical was the last thing I needed, the last obstacle between me and my permit. I was thrilled and laughed as the Doctor completed a series of strange tests on me. Bending my limbs, checking my heart rate, and testing my eyes. “Have a great day,”she said and I knew I would because the only thing stopping me from driving that shiny black car, was a test that I knew I could pass. “Why did it take so much work to get a learner's permit I wondered?” I understood that you would not want people driving who had bad eyesight or some potentially dangerous health condition, so the physical made sense. It was also clear that people had to know the rules of the road otherwise there would be chaos, not to mention a lot of accidents. Nevertheless, why was it necessary to have a Social Security card, and why did that require several forms of ID and a face-to-face interview? Slowly, it dawned on me. Until now, I had been identified as a child of my parents. My identity was tied to theirs. Even with a Passport, I could not travel anywhere unless I was accompanied by one of them. Now, I was taking the steps to be identified as an individual. A driver´s licence was the thing that would officially identify me as me. It would say that I had all the rights and privileges of an American citizen. It meant that someday I could steer that mechanical metal box to some new destination-- alone.
Technetium is a man made element with an atomic number of 43. It was discovered in a sample of molybdenum bombarded by deuterons by C. Perrier and Emilio Gino Segre in italy in 1937. Technetium isotopes are radioactive and it is the first element to be produced artificially. It is used in 20 million diagnostic nuclear medical procedures yearly. .
I got the idea for the imidry of my print from the fact that the element is artificially created by humans and it is radioactive; furthermore, hence the hand and the circle around the hand.
To make this print, I started by creating several designs that I thought best portrayed the element. Then I chose my favorite, traced it into wax paper, and pressed it into a foam rectangle plate. After that I rolled out paint and layed it smoothly on my pressed foam. To finish I placed the foam, with paint on it, under paper and rubbed it with a spoon before removing it. I repeated the rolling, placing, and rubbing several times until I came up with prints that I thought were appropriate all along making corrections to my design.
If I did this project again I would turn It in on time because there is no excuse for forgetfulness and I should have been more intent on setting reminders for myself.
My favorite part of this project was rubbing my print onto a paper in order to receive a result. I used various rubbing techniques. I enjoyed this because it was interesting seeing what worked and what didn’t.
Aidan Mclaughlin
Ms. Hull
Art
April 26, 2018
Negative/Positive Space Cut Out
A. What is negative space (explain this concept to a fourth grader that has never heard of it)
Negative space is the space between and around the subject or subjects.
B. Explain how you found negative space in your cut out?
I found the negative space in my object by looking at light and dark areas in the image I used. Then, I cut out the positive space from my image, only leaving the negative.
C. Why does it help an artist to see in negative space?
It helps an artist to see the negative space because it makes it easier to draw the positive space. Seeing the negative space makes it easier to have the proper proportions of the subject.
D. Does seeing in negative space enhance drawings, why or why not?
Seeing in negative space does not enhance drawing for negative space does not require complexity. With negative space there are not details of the subject.
The topics of my slide are soccer and technology. These are two big subjects in my life. I quoted the captain of my soccer team, Jori, who stated, “The grind never stops”. I made the text blue and gold. Not only do these colors contrast with the background, but they are the colors of the union soccer team. I made the part of the image inside the computer screen colored so that oneselves eyes would be brawn to the main topics. This also added a futuristic effect. My background bleeds off the side because it is more pleasing to the human eye. Finally, I used the rule of symmetry, which means that the sides of my slide are not identical and the background is not centered.
After presenting to my group I learned how to improve my slide dramatically. First, the text in my slide should have been bolder and a different color because it did not contrast with the background and was hard to see. I also learned that the computer was a distraction to the eye so it would be easier if I took it out or made it bigger. Since I received this feedback, I decided to make the computer bigger and change the font and color of my text.
To make this slide I used various resources. I started by reading some of the articles that were provided for us. From these sources, I learned about contrast, blank space, and the rule of symmetry. Later in the project, I watched several youtube videos on how to make a professional slide. These videos taught me various tricks and effects. Finally, I used my classmates feedback and teachers advice to create a finished copy of my slide.
Learning how to make a proper slide is essential when attending SLA. Since SLA is a project based school, I can used these new skills to better my projects and grades. Even after high school, the ability to make slides will prove helpful in college and often times work. Overall, I hope to further improve my slide creating and presenting talent.
Hi my name is Aidan McLaughlin and this is my slide about me
The image in the background strongly represents two main factors in my life, soccer and technology. I chose this specific background because it is not fully symmetrical. The image is darker outside the computer than in it to create a lifelike effect, to contrast in the slide, and to show the main concept of my slide. The quote is bold and in black to create contrast between the gray background and the letters. This quote defines me because it shows that I will always persevere both in sports and in life outside of athletics.
