in the scene pictured above, Rachel is drunkenly lamenting to her “friends” about how she only has one child immediately after Stephanie tries to bring up the fact that she’s having another baby. The most interesting part of her maudlin confession is that Rachel says and does all of the right things around the other moms, but this drunken stuper seems to eject all of the words she’s been holding on her tongue.

“You will all have three children, and I have one. Just one,” she almost yells angrily, seeking empathy in a place where it simply won’t be offered. The assumption that can be made during this scene is that the drudges of her marriage and amount of sexual tension is manifesting negatively with each thing she says while drunk. She says what she truly feels- and those feelings are those expectations of a good, healthy marriage weighing on her shoulders. She makes each woman in the room feel bad for their bounty, unleashing a cornucopia of unkempt thoughts. Just as Katherine lashed out against the women in the scene from “Shrew,” Rachel lashes out against the women in “Afternoon Delight”- and they’re both doing it because of those weighty preconceptions of how women are supposed to be in relationships.

“The Taming of the Shrew” was written over 400 years ago, but still connects to “Afternoon Delight” with comedic moments both light and dark. Both works are laced with drama, but the greater comparison can be made when there is a realization that both of these romantic “dramedies” touch on one elephant in the room: for centuries, men have, and still do, dictate the way women choose to present themselves- not only in relationships, but as a woman in general. Petruchio aims to woo and tame Katherine, trying to shove her on the “right” path to a “perfect” relationship. In the first scene, Rachel and her friend can be compared to Petruchio, trying to push an untamed McKenna into the light. In the second scene, Rachel can be compared to Katherine, with a ruthless Petruchio yelling through her subconscious. At the end of the movie, despite a breakup with her husband, a falling out with most of her friends, and an end to her relationship with McKenna, Rachel ends up happy and comfortable with married life- void of those expectations that were holding her back.

The world often chooses to tell the narrative of the wholeheartedness of people, when evidence poses a very different reality. Often we think of mothers who transform into heroes for their children, lifting cars off of their kids and saving their lives; many mothers, however, are guilty of leaving their children in cars during sweltering summer days. We exalt the good Samaritans of the ASPCA, but fail to analyze those who cause a need for the organization’s work in the first place. The symbiosis between one person and the changing world can be a volatile one when the world tells a story that does not correspond with how that individual sees themselves. The Yellow Birds, a novel by ex-soldier and poet Kevin Powers paints the picture of a man who goes through the tug-of-war of being a picturesque soldier as described by the Marines and being a man battling with the psychological conflict that stems from trying to live up to that narrative.

The Yellow Birds seems full of open-ended statements and unfinished prose, but many of those statements are often some of the most profound within the book. Those short, small pieces of thought from Bartle make the book that much more personal. One quote that stuck out during reading was “I might realize that to understand the world, one’s place in it, is to be always at the risk of drowning.” The obvious follow-up question is drowning in what? Drowning in that unequivocally difficult mental battle between the self and the world. On that page, Bartle describes the bloody murder of a helpless man by him and two of his fellow marines. A gruesome picture was painted of that murder, ruthless and unmerciful. That page is not one of the stories often told of American troops. Troops return home with invisible capes as heroes, their backs embellished with a bold-face “H.” However, Bartle seems to consistently and truly understand not only that what he’s going is a problem, but that finding one’s place in the world could often lead to the generation of confused young men driven by trying to stay afloat with their morals, but being weighted down and drowned by an unwanted paradigm that has been drilled into them. This is also seen when Bartle and his closest friend during the war, Murph, review some mail sent from back home. The war seems to have rendered Murph slightly numb to circumstances that may be troubling for other men.

“We spoke like children. We looked at each other as if into a dim mirror.” “Her other hand on the small of his back. Alive. There was an expression on his face that I have been seen before or since.’  (pp.80-81) In these excerpts, Murph has just read the letter his girlfriend sent him from the States saying they should break up because she’s going to be attending college and moving to one to what she wants to do with their relationship.  Bartle says Murph to the letter well. Sterling tried to contest his nonchalant attitude, Murph seemed to just be okay with everything, mentioning that there’s nothing he could do. That short conversation between Murph and Bartle brought about a new sense of camaraderie between the two of them. Again, those military relationships between soldier and civilian is another strong example of how stories about war are misconstrued and how the hero doesn’t always  come home to the treasures they left behind. At this point, Murph’s world is the war that he’s immersed and saturated in wartime and war feelings (or lack thereof) have crowded hs judgement into the world that lies in wait for him outside of the war. He, at this point, finds that there are more important things for him to worry about other than having someone to call “baby” when he got back to the US. Throughout all of this, Murph is unperturbed to the extent where he almost seems careless and unconcerned with the situation as a whole. The aura of these pages conveys a very raw sense of disconnection between war and everything that surrounds it, but poetry and prose still shine through the writing. This was no accident on the author’s end. In an interview with Foyles, Powers was asked if the “deeply lyrical quality” of his writing was “intended in counterpoint to the rawness of the dialogue.” Powers answered,

“I intended it not just as counterpoint to the rawness of the dialogue, but also to the rawness of the experience. In that respect it is more point than counterpoint. In trying to demonstrate Bartle's mental state, I felt very strongly that the language would have to be prominent” Perhaps this is not a comparison between the self and the changing world and the stern differences therein, but more of an explanation of the symbiosis between those two. The Yellow Birds is a novel entrenched in the idea of the world’s perception of a specific entity- whether that entity is one man, one group, one population, or one idea. Powers found it of the utmost importance that he made the schism between those two things evident in his writing; no book can be classified as just one thing- not just the words on the page, not just the cover illustration, and not the structure of the writing alone- The Yellow Birds is no exception to that rule.

Works Cited:  

http://www.foyles.co.uk/kevin-powers

Powers, Kevin. 4: September 2004 - Al Tafar, Nineveh Province, Iraq. The Yellow Birds. New York: Little, Brown, 2012. 80-81. Print.

Personal Narrative:

“Can anyone tell me what a Credo is?” Mr. Kunkle bellowed from the back of the classroom. People were still dribbling in from lunch, from orchestra practice- from whatever was more important than 8th grade Theology. I was in my seat, pen and paper ready 4 minutes before class even began.

I shot my hand up. Theology wasn’t just Theology. to me- it was Philosophy 101; it seemed I was always playing devil’s advocate for some reason, and that made it all the more tantalizing. Since I’ve been in 8th grade, that position of “table-turner” has always been attractive to me, especially in terms of religion and personal credo. About 3 years ago, my ideas about things that I’d been taught day-in and day-out completely shifted and it was one of the most important shifts of my life.

“Stephanie, wanna tell everyone what a credo is?” Kunkle asked, only half listening to me while preparing his class notes for the day.

“A credo is like a...like a truth. Maybe not fact, but something that you hold to be true for yourself. It’s a statement of your beliefs.”

“Right! Yes, a statement of your beliefs. Like the Apostle’s Creed. Credo is latin for ‘I believe’; it’s what keeps you grounded, where your morals come from, what you go back to when you’re at a crossroads- it’s a creed.”  

I knew all this- at this point, it was old gold mumbo jumbo- the same things I’d been hearing for the past two years. This year, however, I hadn’t grown tired of it. In eighth grade I found myself looking past the orthodox teachings of my school; ‘faith’ wasn’t something that could help me hold fast to the ideals that’d been drilled into my head, no matter how many years I’d been getting spoon-fed. However, that didn’t stop me from doing further research on religion and theology and how my perception of the world was- and is- drastically different from many of my Christian peers.

“So,” Kunkle bellowed out after chatter buzzed amongst the classroom. “It’s time to figure out what you believe. This is not a testimonial, this is an outlined description of your beliefs and why you believe them. It’s important to make this objective and universal, but make sure that it is your own.”

That was my cue. My Credo was 5 pages of a religious potluck. If anything, it was more of a history paper than a statement of my religious beliefs. Above all, it contested every Christian belief that I’d been spoonfed. It included the teachings of Jesus in tandem with those of Mohammed, refuted the entire Old Testament, and upheld Egyptian, Greek, Hindu, and Buddhist deities. It exalted the unity in Islam and contested the morality of Catholicism throughout history in conjunction (or disjunction) with the religion.

When proofreading others’ documents, I saw four or five pages of praise to God accompanied by few facts and little actual knowledge. I saw four or five pages of what our teacher asked for the opposite of. While editing their pieces, I realized that few of them put any actual thought and offered them some enlightenment, but the “education” that we’d been receiving forced any opposing thought out of their minds. I was disgusted by my classmates at first, but realized that the assignment had been titled your “Personal Credo,” and found myself rinsed of my disdain. In 8th grade, I fully understood that, in order to understand someone’s personal truth, I didn’t have to accept it. I turned my assignment in on time, final draft pristine.

“Stephanie, we may need to have a talk about your assignment,” my teacher wrote in red ink on my paper. I got a fantastic grade- 98 and only two points off for a few grammatical errors. Yet, the “talk” we had was about the sacrilegious content. A small talk was conducted in the office with the dean, who was concerned about my “spiritual well being” and I found that he was doing the complete opposite of what I’d learned- he was not understanding what I was saying, nor was he accepting my beliefs. For the rest of my eighth grade year I found side eyes from every student and faculty member, I was kicked off the praise band for what my music teacher essentially saw as blasphemy, and comments made on my report card for the final semester of the year were generally along the lines of “Stephanie is such a wonderful student, but I often find that her mind wandered a bit too much during this marking period,” when my work and work ethic was virtually identical if not improved from the beginning of the year.

During my 8th grade year, I found a personal conviction that was a moshing of convictions from other beliefs and very few of the ones I grew up with. My morals and personal beliefs were untainted in my opinion, but because they varied so drastically from those of my school, I was at fault. Despite this divergence between my personal ideals and those of the school, and despite the backlash I received from it, I didn’t drown under the pressure of a different narrative being more popular than my own.

I entered Mr. Block’s classroom on the first day of school, the euphoric touch of summer still lingering in the air. It seemed like we were immediately split up into groups- sharing M&M’s amongst each other, trying to understand global inequality. I figured this was probably a one day thing, an interactive icebreaker- a little fun for the first day of school. Little did I know, all year I would be learning and engaging in the world around me with projects, worksheets, class discussions, role plays, and mock trials. From the Age of Exploration to following the Ukrainian Revolution day-by-day, I learned more and more about myself as a global citizen. I realized that, in order to comprehend another person’s lifestyle, culture, situations, etc., it is imperative that you step into the shoes of that person as best you can- and this year’s World History course helped me do that.

Religion

“Understand that everyone has their own spiritual beliefs- whether those beliefs are varied, similar, trying, or nonexistent (even the belief in the nonexistence of something is still a belief). Do not drown in your ignorance, but grab onto the life preserver that calls itself the pursuit of knowledge and happiness therein.  “Where ignorance is our master, there is no possibility of real peace” (The Dalai Lama)”

In this class, whenever we spoke about religion in any way, I was fully intrigued. Usually a topic like religion would be overlooked or heckled by someone like myself- a 16 year-old, God-mocking, ball of inquisition. However, just as we have been required to walk in another person’s shoes in an attempt to truly understand who they are, I treaded uncharted territory and uncalm waters. I found that whenever we spoke about religion, I was pulling back bigger things on life, on society, on cultures, filling my knowledge bank with lump sums of information, gaining interest with each new drop of knowledge I gained.  I found this especially pertinent when it came to our first quarter benchmark, which explored and compared two religions and debunking (or proving) some of the myths that social media has put forth. In my benchmark, I dissected Satanism and Scientology, two of the most popular, yet occultic, religions. This opened my eyes, forcing me to overlook my previous convictions and explore a new realm as open-mindedly as possible. Granted, I did end up backing up some of my previous thoughts, but I came out of the process having so much more knowledge that I entered it with.

Another piece of writing that explored religion, rights, and belief systems is my response to and analysis of an excerpt from Battle for God by Karen Armstrong. The novel, an explanation and exploration of fundamentalism in different religions lead me to create a very dense and almost insignificant piece of writing, but one that I’m extremely proud of. The excerpt actually dove into the idea behind extremism and what may even be beyond extremism and I found that very interesting, wondering what could possibly be worse or more extreme than, well, extremism.  

Revolutions

Our Revolution Guidebook was one of my favorite projects although my end result was less than desired. After long nights of perfecting Keynote animations and timing, exporting it to QuickTime, and further editing it in iMovie (which kept shutting down)- I finally had a finished product.

Well, an almost finished product. There was a requirement for me to have some sort of voice-over or narration during the project- but sweet irony played its role when the technology wouldn’t work on a project about how great technology is. Regardless of the lack of narration in my project, I loved what lead up to this benchmark- all of the videos we watched, all of the research we did looking at the news, following the Ukrainian Revolution day-by-day. This revolution unit was truly an exceptional experience; it was one of the few times in my short high school career that I’ve truly felt engaged and part of something much greater than myself. We were able to step into others’ shoes and see what freedoms we would not be granted in other countries. At one point, we were split into groups and had to research a specific part of the Arab Spring and we also read an excerpt of Diaries of an Unfinished Revolution; at one point, the narrator said the following:

“From that point onwards, I lost the ability to estimate time, in fact, from that point onwards we stepped outside time altogether; lost our link to the passage of night and day.”

I found that particularly interesting. My commentary on that quote was “I think that time is the thing humans truly value most because it is the only thing that is both very sure and unsure. We know we have now, but we many not have later. To take away someone’s perception of time is one the cruelest acts.”

All in all, this part of our revolution unit really harbored a sense of awareness within me. It fostered an understanding that I have a myriad of basic human rights that I take for granted on a daily basis. But that wasn’t the end of it. We then went on to learn about the famous French Revolution and how it affected Europe and other parts of the world, namely, Haiti. The highlight of this unit was a role play that we did, indicting the King for his crimes against the French citizens. Many people were asked to step out of their comfort zones to become a bit more humble or incredibly pious, which made it all the more interesting. 

I played the Duchesse de Tourzel, a noblewoman and close friend to the royal family. As a woman of her status, she didn’t want to be bothered with the revolution, swatting it away as if it were a gnat near her tea. She thought very little of it, seeing it as nothing more than a nuisance and a danger to her nobility. When all was said and done, we were told to write a reflection on the entire Revolution. My favorite quote from my reflection is something that I never really thought about before, but is incredibly important.

It says, “They chased after liberty as if it were something to be saved from captivity, or something being held for ransom. They ran after justice as if it were something that would disappear with time. This race against the clock, this idea of “We want it now!” being carried through with immense bloodshed is something that embodies the decline of a revolution. Revolutions must happen with urgency, but without haste. They must happen effectively, but rationally. When weapons and rebel yells come into play, that is when people lose their judgment. That is when people lose sight of the original goal. Granted, it may do the job,, but it doesn’t always harbor a sense of calm and security, a true sense of The End, when all is said and done.”  I think that goes for anything in life- there must be a balance of fervor and calm, of passion and humility. I loved the French Revolution unit, as it was one of the most interactive units I’ve ever had in any of my classes.

Finally, one of my favorite responses that I’d written was to an article called Return to Nigeria written in the New York Times by Enuma Okoro. The article explains how Okoro, growing up the United States, began to lose her African identity. Because of that, she decided to return to her motherland, Nigeria, and dive back into her heritage. I think a really important quote from that response is, “Why not return to a place where, as Enuma Okoro mentioned, you don’t ‘have to explain some aspect of your identity on a daily basis, where you did not have to offer people a reason, no matter how subtle, for why you were among them.’ It’s something we require in America that segregates this melting pot. It’s like when kids pick all the vegetables out of a stew and eat just meat and potatoes. I think that it’s important for people to identify where they are from with conviction, especially because there have been hundreds of unprecedented and unwarranted diasporas of people of color throughout the years...”

This year, I found myself thinking about my surroundings and how I affect the world rather than how the world affects me. I enjoyed having the spotlight taken off myself for a while, being asked to try and mold myself into many different types of people and characters to try and understand what I could not come close to comprehending before. I learned more about myself as a global citizen- and that’s something that I’m very proud of.

Tracy Lynn crafts another gripping, yet comedic, novel for the eyes of young adults. This book, titled Rx helps the modern teenager understand the ongoing strife between their daily ‘Job’ of being a teenager and the struggles that come with it: self-esteem issues, self-recognition, relationships, romanticism, academic achievement, and highlights drug abuse.

Lynn shows that not only middle and lower class children experience the temptation of finding a way to ‘help’ themselves with whatever they need, through the assistance of drugs and drug abuse. She gives a different perspective; it is one that some are aware exists, but is unbeknownst to the masses. She brings it to light in this thought-provoking novel.

In Lynn’s afterword, she tells her readers that her reasons for writing a book such as Rx are “purely personal”. She was friends with two people whose lives were adversely affected by the wear and tear of illegally obtained prescription drug addiction and abuse. She warns readers that the phrase “just say no” does not get easier to follow with age. A touching finish to a book such as this, I find that Tracy Lynn really implemented her personal life in this novel, which is always reassuring to recognize when it comes to a novel like this.

La sala para la casa del Señor Bey

-una sala está muy grande

- Muchas ventanas en los paredes

- grandes y altas

-cortinas transparentes para la verana. Cortinas regulares para la la primavera,

otoño, y invierno.

-Paredes blancos y un pareda de ladrilla

- piso de madera

-

Me llamo Stephanie. Sin embargo, mis amigos me llaman  ‘Steph’ o ‘Dyson’ (Dyson es mi apellido). Tengo quince años, pero yo no siento que tengo quince por que mi cumpleaños es en noviembre. Soy estudiante de Science Leadership Academy. Está en Filadelfia, en el centro de la ciudad, y está cerca de El Instituto de Franklin y está en colaboración con El Instituto. Hay cinco pisos, pero nosotros sólo usar cuatro. No tenemos exámenes largos, pero en unas clases, tenemos pruebas. Hay 26 profesores en toda, pero tener solo siete en una semana. Hay 465 estudiantes

“Educational programs use an intensive curriculum that involves mural-making as a dynamic means to engage youth and to teach transferable life and job skills such as taking personal responsibility, teamwork, and creative problem-solving,” says a bit I retrieved from the information page on the Mural Arts Program’s web site. Explore more of the Mural Arts here: http://explorer.muralarts.org