For our Capstone project, my partner Wiktoria and I created and taught a six-week mini-course about digital video at Science Leadership Academy (SLA) Middle School. We introduced the students to the basics of filmmaking, guiding them through scripting, storyboarding, and filming, culminating in producing four short films. Our goal was to provide middle schoolers with a creative outlet and help them learn more about themselves through filmmaking. This project matched very well with SLA’s core values of inquiry, research, collaboration, presentation, and reflection.

The process involved extensive research on digital video techniques and effective teaching methods, developing a detailed curriculum, and coordinating with staff at both schools. We spent considerable time commuting, teaching, and reflecting on each session to improve our lessons. Despite initial challenges in engaging the students and communication issues with the middle school principal, we adapted and persevered.

I am most proud of the connections I made with the students, witnessing their growth and enthusiasm for filmmaking. This Capstone matters because it introduced students to new skills and boosted their confidence. This experience taught me to expect and adapt to unforeseen challenges and the importance of allowing people to grow beyond first impressions.

ANNOTATED BIBIOGRAPHY:https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tKBcOvol9HUX0q8EnRwa6A4QQdmjFSw5_ZLpOiHwydE/edit?usp=sharing

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey is a powerful and thought-provoking novel that delves into the dynamics of power, control, and rebellion within the confines of a mental institution. The book’s portrayal of the ward as a highly controlled, authoritarian environment, juxtaposed with the character of Randle McMurphy’s efforts to challenge this oppressive system, provides a compelling lens through which to re-examine one’s relationship with authority figures and the mandatory structures in life.

The ward in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest shows a small society wrapped in a totalitarian regime. Nurse Ratched, the head nurse, symbolizes this regime, exerting her authority through strict rules, manipulation, and psychological control over the patients. As Kesey describes, this environment is one where individuality is suppressed, and conformity is enforced. The novel vividly portrays the dehumanizing effects of such a system, where patients are stripped of their autonomy and identity. This is evident in passages like, “She’s like a watchful robot, she sees everything, and she filters all of it through her machinery and beams it out in a revised version.” This quote highlights how Nurse Ratched’s control extends beyond physical constraints to psychological manipulation, shaping the perceptions and realities of the patients.

Contrasting this regime is Randle McMurphy, who embodies resistance and individualism. McMurphy’s arrival at the ward sparks a transformation. He challenges the established norms, questions authority, and encourages the patients to reclaim their sense of self. His rebellious acts, from organizing a fishing trip to standing up to Nurse Ratched’s rules, symbolize a fight for personal freedom and dignity. McMurphy’s actions resonate with me as they remind me of the importance of questioning and challenging the structures and norms that often go unchallenged in our lives.

Reflecting on my own experiences, I realize that there are numerous instances where I have conformed to rules or structures without questioning their purpose or fairness. For example, school policies and traditions are followed with little thought. McMurphy’s character inspires a reevaluation of these norms. It’s not about rebelling for the sake of rebellion but about understanding the reason behind rules and whether they serve a just and meaningful purpose. McMurphy’s stance is not just against the tyranny of Nurse Ratched but is a broader commentary on the importance of challenging unjust systems and standing up for individual rights.

A pivotal moment in the book that impacted me is when McMurphy arranges a vote to watch the World Series. Despite being initially defeated, he challenges the decision, eventually inspiring other patients to stand up for their desires. In this scene, as Kesey writes, “He had won the bet, but what had he won? He saw fourteen faces still watching the blank TV”. This moment illustrates the power of resistance and the potential for change when individuals unite against an oppressive system.

The psychological impact of the ward’s environment in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is profound. Patients who have been long subjected to a disciplined, oppressive routine find in McMurphy a beacon of hope and a symbol of resistance. His actions are not just rebellious for the sake of defiance; they are acts of liberation for those who have been marginalized and silenced. McMurphy teaches them to laugh, to enjoy simple pleasures, and to reclaim their voices. This aspect of the novel underscores the power of self-expression and the importance of maintaining one’s identity in the face of authoritarianism.

In my life, this translates to being more critical and vocal about the rules and structures around me. Whether it’s questioning school policies that seem unfair or challenging societal norms that suppress individuality, McMurphy’s actions inspire a more active and engaged approach to the world. It’s about finding a balance between respect for authority and the courage to speak up against injustice.

In our society, this narrative remains relevant. We often encounter situations where conformity is valued over individuality, where the pressure to adhere to societal norms or institutional expectations can stifle personal expression and growth. The struggle of the patients in the novel mirrors the challenges faced by many today who find themselves in environments - whether educational, professional, or social - that demand conformity at the expense of personal freedom.

Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest goes out of its setting in a mental ward to comment on the humans’ struggle against oppressive structures. It serves as a reminder of the importance of maintaining individuality and the need to sometimes question and challenge the status quo. McMurphy’s legacy in the novel is a testament to the enduring power of a single individual to inspire change and empower others, a lesson that continues to resonate in our lives today.

Reading “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood has been an awakening journey. Page 162, in particular, left an indelible mark on my thoughts, perception, and emotional understanding of what it means to be a woman in a society that seeks to stifle our very essence. It begins with Offred’s contemplation, “We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.” Immediately, I was struck by the depth of this revelation. As a high school student in a world that is constantly evolving, I have often felt the pressure to conform to societal norms and standards. There’s a general mold that women are often expected to fit into, a model that dictates our behavior, aspirations, and dreams. Moreover, while today’s society seems more liberating than Gilead, there are moments when I feel like I am being ushered into those ‘blank white spaces,’ pushed to the periphery, as if my story is less significant than the mainstream tales. Like Offred, I have felt that living in the gaps provides freedom, a space unbound by rules and expectations. However, unlike Offred, I haven’t been forced into those gaps; I’ve willingly sought them out in search of individuality. The emotional gravity of Offred’s words made me reflect upon the countless stories of women throughout history, relegated to the shadows, their tales unwritten or undervalued. It also made me think of my own experiences. There have been times in classes where I’ve felt my opinions, especially as a young woman, were overshadowed by louder, often male, voices. And while Gilead is an exaggerated dystopia, the underlying themes of suppression, subjugation, and silence are realities many women face to varying degrees. Margaret Atwood’s prose is hauntingly beautiful. The subtlety with which she addresses harrowing themes is unnerving. As Offred recalls her mother’s generation’s efforts to burn pornographic magazines, she reflects on the paradox of freedom: “Freedom, like everything else, is relative.” It made me wonder: Do we truly understand the nature of freedom? Are we ever truly free, or is freedom just a spectrum where we find ourselves at varying degrees? I’ve grown up believing I live in a free society, but Offred’s musings made me question my beliefs. Maybe freedom is the ability to question, to challenge, and to dream. Or maybe it’s the space between chains, the moments of respite before the next shackling. Connecting this page to earlier parts of the novel, Offred’s reminisces about the time before Gilead took over. The women of the past fought for rights, and their battles seem distant to her earlier life of assumed freedom. As a teenager in today’s world, it’s easy to forget the struggles of women who came before us. The right to vote, the right to work, the right to an education – rights that I take for granted were once a distant dream for many women. The novel serves as a stark reminder that freedoms can be fleeting and must be safeguarded. Offred’s yearning for a simpler past resonated with me, especially in these trying times. It’s easy to become nostalgic, longing for days when our biggest worries were trivial. For Offred, her trivial days were when she had the liberty to love, dream, and live. For me, it’s the pre-pandemic world, where school hallways echoed with laughter and weekends were for outings. But both of us, separated by fictional timelines and very real circumstances, yearn for a sense of normalcy, a return to days of unburdened freedom. What made this section even more intriguing was the fusion of Offred’s resignation with moments of rebellion. This duality is reminiscent of every teenager’s journey, including mine. We oscillate between conformity and rebellion, seeking to find our identity amidst societal expectations. Page 162 of “The Handmaid’s Tale” was a poignant reminder of the fragility of freedom and the importance of remembering our history. It made me cherish the liberties I have while also prompting me to challenge and question the status quo. Offred’s reflections, though set in a dystopian world, mirror the trials and tribulations of women across ages, including a high school student like me.

Six Feet Under- Billie Eilish

Six Feet Under by Billie Eilish, a haunting song about love and loss, resonates deeply with the themes in The Handmaid’s Tale. The song’s melancholic tone and lyrics reflect the underlying despair and longing that permeate the life of Offred. In this society where women are stripped of autonomy and identity, Offred, like the persona in “Six Feet Under,” experiences a symbolic death - the loss of her past life, name, and family.

The line “Our love is six feet under” particularly echoes Offred’s silent mourning for her illicit relationship with Nick and the burning memories of her husband, from whom she’s been forcibly separated. Both the song and the book explore themes of love’s remnants in the face of oppressive forces, the burial of the characters’ former selves, and their struggle to maintain hope and identity when everything has been taken away. Through this lens, “Six Feet Under” encapsulates the emotional landscape of The Handmaid’s Tale.

You’re somebody else - Flora Cash

You’re Somebody Else by Flora Cash mirrors the internal conflict Offred experiences in “The Handmaid’s Tale.” The song’s chorus, “You look like yourself, but you’re somebody else,” reflects the cognitive dissonance Offred undergoes, forced into the role of a Handmaid while remnants of her former self linger. She navigates this by dissociating from her current reality, a psychological defense mechanism poignantly captured as she states, “I try not to think too much. Like other things now, thought must be rationed” (116).

Offred’s dissociation is further evidenced when she forgets portions of her past, her identity blurred and eroded by Gilead’s oppressions. She admits, “I can’t remember what my real name is” (84), signifying her loss of self, similar to the song’s narrative of not recognizing someone once cherished. The line “Well you talk like yourself. No, I hear someone else” from the song echoes Offred’s struggle to connect with who she was before Gilead, her past self becoming a stranger. Both the novel and the song artfully express the haunting journey through loss, adaptation, and the human spirit’s resilience amidst the erasure of identity.

Atlantis- Seafret

The song Atlantis by Seafret captures the profound sense of loss and helplessness. Atlantis parallels the despair in The Handmaid’s Tale, its lyrics about a distant utopia reflecting Offred’s sense of helplessness and her shattered reality in Gilead. Her feeling of confinement is vividly captured, mirroring the song’s narrative of an unreachable haven.

Offred’s overwhelming sadness and sense of loss resonate with the song’s chorus, “I want you to know that I can’t let you go.” She clings to her past yet feels powerless, a sentiment echoed in her poignant realization: “We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print” (20). Both the song and the novel encapsulate a longing for what once was, underscoring a shared theme of enduring spirit amidst loss and captivity.

Homesick- Boywithuke

Homesick by Boywithuke resonates with the profound longing and sense of loss that Offred experiences in “The Handmaid’s Tale.” The song’s essence of yearning for something unattainable deeply reflects Offred’s internal landscape as she aches for her child and the life she was forcibly untethered from. This intense longing is palpable when Offred painfully reflects, “I want Luke here so badly. I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable” (127).

Her memories are faint, almost out of reach, yet charged with emotions she cannot suppress. “The night is mine, my own time, to do with as I will, as long as I am quiet. As long as I lie still,” (52), Offred muses, indicating her silent calls and yearnings for a savior, for a return to her past life — calls that she knows, heartbreakingly, will go unanswered.

The idea of missing something you can’t have in the song mirrors Offred’s helplessness and desire for her previous freedoms, a life that’s now a mere shadow. Her situation in Gilead is a constant reminder of those unreachable memories, making the song’s theme of homesickness an apt metaphor for her emotional exile.

Take me to Church- Hozier

Take Me to Church by Hozier connects deeply with The Handmaid’s Tale, both critiquing institutionalized religion’s corruption. The lyrics “We were born sick, heard them say it” reflect Gilead’s doctrine, where women are inherently flawed and need strict governance. This ideology is evident when the Aunts indoctrinate handmaids: “We learned to whisper almost without sound…We learned to lip-read…our heads flat on the desks, our hands at the sides of our faces to shield our words from the other girls…Aunt Lydia said.” (154).

Similarly, “I’ll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife” from the song captures Gilead’s brutal retribution system, paralleling the fear Offred feels: “I avoid looking down at my body, not so much because it’s shameful or immodest but because I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to look at something that determines me so completely.” (63), underscoring the oppression she endures due to the twisted religious dictates.

The song and the book both serve as stark reminders of the dangerous trajectory when religion is corrupted for power, highlighting the perilous outcomes of blind faith and authoritarian control in society, hinting that such influence rarely, if ever, leads to a just end.