Carroll, Aaron E. “When Children Lose Siblings, They Face an Increased Risk of Death.” The

New York Times. 31 July, 2017. Web. 7 Jan, 2019. <https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/3

1/upshot/when-children-lose-siblings-they-face-an-increased-risk-of-death.html>

This source, an article published to the New York Times, discusses the repercussions of a child losing their sibling to death. After talking about the increased death rate, it goes on to talk about the child’s ability to understand the event and the family’s reaction. The information will be useful for us, and other readers, to comprehend the reactions the different family members will have in, The Fisherman. The narrator, Ben, is a member of the family and is personally affected by this event, this will be apparent in his presentation of his thoughts and the events. The New Historicist lens directly questions the interpretation and presentation of the literature, making a deeper understanding of Ben’s perspective vital to analyse and discuss the book.

Igbokwe, Joe. “June 12 1993: A Historical Necessity For Nigeria.” Sahara Reporters, Sahara

Reporters, Inc., 10 June 2013,

saharareporters.com/2013/06/10/june-12-1993-historical-necessity-nigeria-joe-igbokwe.

This source serves as an informal opinion piece from a controversial current day Nigerian politician of the All Progressive Congress party. He attempts to embody the Nigerian sentiment on the June 12th 1993 election by bashing its annulment. He digs into the previous military dictatorship with strongly worded remarks, “Bashiru Tofa… has no sense of history, he remembers nothing and hears nothing, but the world knows about June 12 1993 presidential elections... the crisis, the pains, the agonies, the tears, the killings, the deaths, the chains of events that followed the annulments of that election, and the price Nigeria has paid for this mistake for 20 years”. This connects directly to the trauma that the boys suffered in the text during the election uprising and under the dictatorship of the military leader Bashiru Tofa. This also contextualizes Nigeria in the present day where Chigozie Obioma is writing, which is still in turmoil due to these events. Additionally, the source is semi-unreliable and largely opinionated, representing the perpetuation of the political disparity on this issue and emphasizing its impact.

Willens, Michele. “Sibling Rivalry: The Grown-Up Version.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 14 June 2016, well.blogs.nytimes.com/2016/06/14/sibling-rivalry-the-grown-up-version/.

This article covers siblings rivalries and discusses about how they stem from a place of unresolved issues and a lack of discussion between siblings. It discusses what these issues look like within the household. I found that this related to The Fishermen by Chigozie Obioma because the two brothers, Boja and Ikenna, are in a very heated rivalry with each other. Looking through the New Historicist lens, the reader can see that sibling rivalries are found in many cultures and can often stem from favoritism coming from the parents.  

I blink, hard, and begin to remember.
They had told us to get ready, this could take a while. Our eyes held shut with old bandanas that smelled like sweat, we gripped each others hands and sat on the cold and dusty concrete as the triangle was constructed around us. Reilly and Corinne likely stood back, clipboards in one hand water bottles in the other, smiling, and informed us of our challenge. We could only imagine what she was doing from the sounds of their voices, ambiguous scuffling, and giggling. We were in the triangle, we could get up and feel around. Plastic chairs, wooden beams, tape, and gaps. We had to get out somehow, but we couldn’t go over, or under, or break through it, given only the reassurance that we could ask them for things we might need.

My socks glared with a taunting mantra: “You’ve got this!” I was reminded of that after kicking off my shoes and was grateful for my blindfold. My first thought was to ask for a spoon, as if the feeble structure were a prison I needed to dig out of. They amusedly asked if that was really what I needed. It wasn’t; I couldn’t picture anything that could get me out. It was hard to even reconstruct my immediate surroundings with my eyes shut that tight. I felt dizzy. I became reliant on the comfort of holding my fellow inmate Virginia's hand and knowing we were in this together. The blindfold bound my eyes shut both painfully and blissfully as I drifted between frustrating confusion and appreciation for this moment we spent together.

We. The shift from we to I was sudden. They incessantly asked “What do you need?” and although I have no idea why, when my counterpart mumbled, “a giant...” we felt it together. Corinne threw an orange peel at me and and we, disoriented, laughed. About an hour in, Reilly stepped in and held our hands and we could hear her crying softly, feeling with us. But sometime, when our bodies were not linked in an embrace nor even our hands holding tight to each other, I felt her go. I called for her and after a couple sinking moments it was revealed, coldly, “Virginia has left the triangle.” I fell to the ground, physically and mentally exhausted, and utterly alone and in the dark. How?

The ceaseless “What do you need” continued, but now with a sense of urgency. They were worried about me. Chairs were stepped over, arms were wrapped around my figure on the ground, tears were shed, mine and theirs. I didn’t know what would get me out, but I knew I couldn't figure it out alone. Reluctantly I found the words: “I need help,” afraid to disappoint them with this weakness. I felt a tugging behind my head. The blindfold fell away and light flooded to reveal Corinne’s smiling face and the strained teary eyes of all. Tears ran down my cheeks, now free from their bind.

I often hear people predict, “You look like a [name]” and guess something scarily accurate. During childhood, many children craft their appearances and personalities to resemble people with their same name, identifying with that group and subconsciously conforming to match it. The names we are given dictate our identity starting the day we are born. They present us with shoes to fill, or to defy; they offer a personality (e.g., unique, traditional) to take on. However, these names are only the first step. Our parents label us with these names likely as a mere suggestion of the person we should be, but as we grow, our communities and societal influences begin to use names as restrictive measures. Children’s development of feelings of identity and belonging stem directly from these labels.

Given names are the first label one is awarded and a lifelong one at that, offering a persona for the child to take on. They are similar to visual first impressions and for this reason, they carry a strong associative power. One article notes this trend, “When a new person introduces himself to you (let's call him "Spencer"), your first instinct is to assemble a rough mental sketch of everyone you have ever known named Spencer… You subconsciously judge this new Spencer, at least a little, based on all the other Spencers you have ever known” (Hedrick). People create some expectations for others based on their name prior to any interaction with them or other information concerning them, thus enforcing the external influence a given name has on identity.

Names have drastic effects on internal views of identity as children learn to build their identity based on their names. Naming trends vary, with many parents handing down a relative’s name and tacking on “Jr,” while others try to find the most unique name possible for their child, and with many variations in between. Whether they choose to name their child with a numerical suffix or an uncommon name, both are encouraging their child to lead a certain type of life. Being named after one’s father or another family member gives a child a standard to meet, but some learn to instead challenge the notion that they should be another “chip off the old block.” Familial connotations, religious connotations, gendered implications, as well as having a name with no connections, affects where a child feels they belong or do not belong.

Aside from given names, children are further labeled as they grow and learn in a community or school context, quickly learning behaviors that are labeled masculine or feminine, intelligent or stupid. Children are given names associated with their gender and their perceived capability early on, and these names become who they are as it is easier for them to give in to societal pressures than to defy them in their early childhood.

As for gendered labels, girls and boys find themselves restricted by the implications that the words girl or boy come with. Girls are taught to be “girly” which in many contexts means submissive and shallow, while boys are taught to be violent, stoic, and powerful to fulfill the notion that “boys will be boys.” In the case of boy’s learned identities based on their labels, it has become an issue that boys go through this “shame-hardening process” (Velasquez-Manoff) because it creates a destructive culture of hypermasculinity. One researcher mentions that men are not inherently bad, that their power complex derives from their interpretation of being male from childhood norms, explaining, “They’re ‘over conforming’ to common, if exaggerated, notions of masculinity. They’re doing a five-star rendition of what they think manhood requires” (Velasquez-Manoff).

Children are also affected by the names of intelligence parameters bestowed to them in early childhood. When given the label of “smart” or “dumb,” children take the label to heart and follow the norms associated with them as they do with gendered labels. One woman, Amy Cuddy, shared her testimony in her TED Talk, describing a traumatic car accident that resulted in her being withdrawn from college and her IQ dropping two standard deviations. She stated, “I had identified with being smart, and I had been called gifted as a child,” (Cuddy) so it was very difficult for her to understand who she was without her “core identity.” Due to the names she was given in childhood, she struggled with recovery as she no longer followed what society said was accepted or expected from her and had to essentially create herself over.

Effects of naming are not strictly positive or negative. People often feel connected with their given names as they remind them of their families. Gendered labels can be empowering when used correctly, and positive reinforcement through intellectual labels can build confidence in children. The issue is the misuse or abuse of labels: when these names take over a child’s identity in a negative sense. Children often have very little control over how these labels shape them and similarly minimal recognition of their influence. However, in adulthood, some have taken to renaming themselves as a form of rebirth, properly addressing themselves to match who they are. They change their names in defiance of the restrictions that their names implied to embrace their true identity (e.g., references to countries of origin, variations of words that resonate with them) and have ownership over themselves.

Works Cited

Cuddy, Amy. “Your body language may shape who you are.” TED. TEDGlobal 2012, 6 Mar.

2018, Edinburgh,

https://www.ted.com/talks/amy_cuddy_your_body_language_shapes_who_you_are#t-1234115

Dahl, Melissa. “Junior status: Sharing dad's name a mixed bag.” NBCNews.com,

NBCUniversal News Group, 19 June 2009,

www.nbcnews.com/id/31416975/ns/health-mens_health/t/junior-status-sharing-dads -name-mixed-bag/#.Wp3xwOinHrd.

Hedrick, Michael. “How our names shape our identity.” The Idea Factory , The Week, 15

Sept. 2013, www.theweek.com/articles/460056/how-names-shape-identity.

Velasquez-Manoff, Moises. “Real Men Get Rejected, Too.” The New York Times, The New York Times Company, 24 Feb. 2018,

Introduction

My goals for this paper were to investigate the differences between my experience with literacy and that of other kids, as well as experiences we read about in class, and how the school system puts certain kids at an advantage or disadvantage. I am proud that I was able to develop more profound ideas, but I wish I could have gotten to them in a more precise manner, as my essay is quite long.

Advanced Essay

In my last year of Pre-k, I entered a class called the Roadrunners. We would read, write, play, hike, camp, and still, nap. At naptime, letters from classmates were handed out by one student, who was given the esteemed title of “Mailman” for that hour. It was considered an honor, an honor held above even the student chosen to hand out animal crackers, as the mailman could be no average toddler in terms of their literacy. I remember one spring afternoon that I received this honor in great detail:

Laying on our sticky blue gym mats, none of us were the least bit tired. We were all excitedly awaiting the announcement of today’s mailman. Our teacher, Christel, opened her mouth and we all stayed still in concentration.

“Okay Roadrunners, this afternoon I am going to spell our mailman’s name out backwards. When you know it's you, come to me. Quietly, please!” Each of us began to rack our brains, trying desperately to reverse the sequence we had come to know so well.

“A”, Christel began. My heart jumped, but then sank knowing it could still be anyone.

“I”, She continued. Because my class was small, I had finally narrowed it down to myself, and Nina, one of my playmates. Clearly my reversing skills needed work as her name was already out of the running, but I still had a chance.

“F” I shot up from my mat, ecstatic. When the contents of that little blue mailbox were shaken out into my hands, I felt on top of the world. Sounding out the letters in the scrawled script of my fellow three and four year olds was no hassle for me, but a welcomed challenge.

This excitement for literacy drove me to be an avid reader and writer for years to come. Pre-k gave me a strong base in literacy on which I built my academic career. My parents, who were elementary school teachers, taught me at home and encouraged, as well as rewarded reading and writing. Literacy became my main source of pride and happiness before I was even 5 years old.

I am so fortunate to have this head start, and this began to become apparent in entering elementary school. I had a leg-up on every kid I knew coming into the school. They all seemed to struggle with concepts I had grasped and held onto for years. Through my readings and personal experiences, I have now concluded that the school system of today often does not give students an incentive to learn, giving those with an outside support system or basis in literacy an advantage.

Mike Rose’s story in I Just Wanna Be Average is a perfect example of a student without an advantage. As a child of immigrants in a poor neighborhood, the cultural capital was of “physical prowess,” and the expectations for him were to get by, with no real investment in his education. When he was wrongly placed into the vocational track, he lost all previous self motivated interest and had nobody advocating for his success. In describing the fate of students placed in the vocational track like he was, he wrote, “You are defined by your school as ‘slow’; you’re placed in a curriculum that isn't designed to liberate but to occupy you, if you’re lucky, train you, though the training is for work that the society does not esteem” (Rose, 3), showing that the school system fails kids who initially struggle and cannot get much outside help, and these implications have lifelong consequences. This system is a trap for kids like Mike with immigrant, working, or uninvolved parents. Yet, the school system still denies responsibility, blaming the poor parent for not helping the child more. Rose writes, in talking about the parent of the student whose failing scores were swapped with his own, “What sort of pressure could an exhausted waitress apply?” (Rose, 1). When the school system begins to fail these struggling students, they fall even more with minimal support to keep them motivated. Thankfully, support came to him late in his school experience, through a teacher that incentivised him to improve his skills in literacy.

Sherman Alexie’s essay, The Joy of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me, tells a story similar to my own experience with literacy and education. He started reading at an early age, due to parental influence and encouragement. He dedicated his early interested in reading to his respect for his father, writing, “My father loved books, and since I loved my father with an aching devotion, I decided to love books as well” (Alexie, 12). His father was educated and invested in literacy, giving Alexie the same expectations as a parent, as Alexie set those for himself out of respect for his father. However, living on the reservation, many Indian kids didn’t have the same experience with literacy within their homes. Sherman Alexie describes that his classmates had the exact opposite expectations, for themselves, from their parents, and from their educators/ white society, “They struggled with basic reading in school but could remember how to sing a few dozen powwow songs… Those who failed were ceremoniously accepted by other Indians and appropriately pities by non-Indians” (Alexie, 13). They rejected literacy and growth, and their learning environment gave them no incentive to change this; failed through school but still met the expectations of those surrounding them.

One conclusion that can be gathered from this is that proficiency in literacy is a socioeconomic class issue, and within that also a racial divide. As an upper middle class white kid in an elementary school classroom of black and immigrant kids from working class families, I came in with a support system, a base in literacy, and was able to maneuver and manipulate my education to be beneficial to my future. Most of my white peers came in with similar advantages due to their socioeconomic status, but many of my peers of color came into the school system at a disadvantage. Coming from low income families, they probably did not have the opportunity to go to an early education program. This also may mean that their parents were uninvolved in educating them at home, not by choice, but because they may have been forced to focus on providing for basic needs, like food and bills. And when these students find themselves struggling with concepts or even focus in school, not many options at home or in many schools are able to incentivise their learning.

Another related conclusion is the profound effect that the direct and indirect expectations for kids from parents and educators on a student’s drive to learn. Self expectations are typically based upon those given by people in power. This is exemplified in children like myself and Sherman Alexie, following our parents path to become educated and read, but also by Mike Rose and struggling Indian children in The Joy of Reading… who had no goals for themselves in school because that was not what was valued by those around them. By being placed in a school that didn’t encourage them, their self motivation to learn was crushed by the low expectations set for and taught to the students there.

These factors are, and have been, having negative effects on kids who are not set up to succeed in these systems. The fact that there are kids who are set up to succeed and kids who will often fail due to factors out of their control is a problem within itself. These major issues leave many kids without the literacy to navigate the world past their bad experience with the school system. Many fall into mindless labor not by choice, but because they could not succeed in school without the support many unfortunately do not have at school or at home.

Works Cited

Alexie, Sherman. The Joy of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me. Los Angeles Times, 1998.

  Introduction:

My goal was to explore experiences of my friendships and how they've shaped me and caused me to grow. I feel that my scenes are very descriptive and strong and I am most proud of the picture they create. However, I struggled with finding a unique takeaway in my reflection. I did come to some conclusions, but I could improve on expanding those ideas to make them more prominent takeaways.

Facing the Storm

Laughter from people on the now abandoned lifeguard chair echoed across the mostly empty beach, one of the only sounds besides the lapping ocean. The full moon streamed down and lit the cold sand as we walked, and we were occasionally spooked by a passing floodlight from a house, resembling the pattern of a lighthouse. Drowsily, we sat in the sand, leaning, laughing, flicking sand onto one another. They both knew about my fear of the dark, Avery mocking, him giving me empty haunting looks as they proposed horrific tales. Still we joked as I pressed closer to him, pushing the fears away.

Soon it was almost one in the morning and previous fireworks had faded away, deepening the darkness. Avery, knowing of my new fear of some werewolf type creature, laid in the sand, feigning injury and then transformation. He and I began to run for the dunes, towards home. Falling behind in the half solid ground without shoes I called to him, "Hey, wait for me, and then we can face her together."

I started at him, sprinting with my hand outstretched. His eyes glowed with the thrill of the chase, with real fear hidden in his smile. He paused, then continued to run as she began to charge up the hill. The sand, once packed cooly under my feet, sprayed up from where he ran, causing sharp granules to shoot against my skin. I quickened my pace as he waited breathlessly at the top, slipping my sandals on and my hand into his, laughing fearfully. Avery reached us, panting and snarling with the game. We all laughed and continued down the dune, with me between them, holding hands safely as if we were children crossing a street, instead of teenagers crossing paths with our fears in the night.

We faced nothing but some darkness, some "werewolves", and other shallow mental fears. But as I tightened my grip on their hands, pretending to be afraid of their new jokes, I thought to myself:
Will those we hold closest leave us in our times of need or face the storm with us?
They didn't let go.

In that moment I began reflecting on my life, on the ups and downs and inbetweens. I realize the people who have been there for me have remained the closest to me. As I’ve grown up, those people have shifted from my parents to my close friends. It has occurred to me that part of growing up is creating your own healthy relationships and finding strong support systems for yourself. To me, becoming stronger and smarter with handling my emotions has been learning who is there to help me, instead of isolating and trying to face the storm alone.

I can remember my friends’ shrill singing clear as day.

“On three, one, two, three!”

“Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong!”, Rose started.

‘I have never seen such sorrow

In your eyes”, Louise responded.

They belted line after line, rehearsed, but sometimes muddled with encouraging laughter. My friends already knew what was wrong, but they sang for the effect. I could see excitement mixed with concern in their faces. They had been preparing this song all summer just to cheer me up in my times of sorrow. Slowly, I felt the strength of their support lifting me and my mood. They were there at my defense, their song creating a shield around me.

“How I hate to see you like this… Wait what’s next?”

More laughter proceeded as they stumbled over their lines, realizing they were all jumbled up. Their perfect performance lasted a good three verses and began to deteriorate, but so did my sadness. The grey of the sky and the cold and the messy rain that drizzled outside faded from my mind. I felt a finalized smile on my face, it had been slowly tilting up throughout the song. I relished in the moment of calm we had uncovered, and stayed in the warm, safe tangle of limbs and blankets. Though my sorrows were to be far from over, I knew that with the help of my friends I could be “dancin' once again, and the pain will end”.

A healthy relationship requires balance, which means I owe it to my friends to help them whenever they need it as well. A friend once came to me saying he felt like a part of him was missing. I rushed to his side immediately and stuck by him even as I learned his troubles were sparked by a bad haircut. I listened and understood that his hair was an extension of his expression, and he just needed love and support to accept the change. As he was there for me in the past, I had no problem being there for him. The love and care my friends have shown me taught me to love and care for others to their extreme extent and to go that extra mile to uplift them in times of need. Before them, my friendships were meager structures that couldn't withstand a fight or a crisis. Now all of my serious relationships are based on mutual support so we can help each other through problems.

Mi barrio es “Powelton Village”, un lugar en Filadelfia Oeste con una comunidad muy fuerte. En el pasado, Powelton fue un barrio de cambio, específicamente cambio y justicia racial. En los años 1960 a 1970,  el movimiento de “MOVE” fue ubicado en Powelton y la escuela “Powel” fue edificado para el movimiento de desegregación en Filadelfia. Cuando mi familia movieron aquí, nos unimos a la “Powelton Village Civic Association” y mis padres encontraron trabajos a la escuela local, Powel. Los miembros de la asociación son como una familia muy grande ahora. Tenemos fiestas y viajes y ahora como  un grupo de resistencia del gobierno.  

Pintaría mi mural en la pared del remolque de mi escuela primaria. Esta escuela es una segunda casa para mi, ya que mis padres trabajan ahí y está muy cerca de mi casa. La gente de mi barrio son muy involucrados con la escuela y muchos niños del barrio la asisten, así que esta escuela es muy importante en todas nuestras vidas. Específicamente, los remolques son de programas especiales. Yo era una estudiante del programa para estudiantes dotados en un remolque y otros estudiantes usando los remolques para programas de estudiantes con necesidades especiales. Este lugar es perfecto para mi mural porque está cerca de el jardín  y puede ser visto desde el patio de recreo.

En mi mural, hay muchos niños de razas diferentes que están ayudando regar una flor. De la izquierda, más ninos juegan en un jardín. Hay una silueta de un árbol en un pozo detrás de los niños. Mi propósito en creando este mural es para representar la forma en que mi comunidad ha florecido, en mi barrio y en la escuela. Cuando mi padre empezó a trabajar a Powel, el jardín fue un desastre, con malas hierbas en piscinas para bebés. Ahora, los estudiantes crecen flores y juegan en el jardín. Voy a incorporar los ninos que trabajan juntos porque la escuela es muy diversa y celebra muchas culturas. Los estudiantes aprenden historia a unidades de culturas diferentes por proyectos de arte y teatro. Mi mural honorar el movimiento “MOVE” también. El tema de la naturaleza fue muy importante para ellos. Voy a incorporar imágenes de un jardín porque ellos cultivan sus propio comida. La silueta del árbol es para simbolizar estabilidad y perseverancia. Muchos años en el pasado, hay dos árboles enormes. Aunque muchas personas y desarrolladores querían cortar los árboles que hay en la propiedad de la escuela, muchas personas contraatacado también. Ahora, un árbol muy grande permanece en el centro de la yarda de la escuela. El mensaje de mi mural es como la comunidad forma el lugar. Los niños que están ayudando regar la flor representan como la gente forma el barrio.

En fin, mi mural es un ejemplo de arte público muy bien. Embellece la pared de la escuela por los estudiantes y maestros con arte significativo. Tiene un aspecto para todos y honora la gente. Cuenta la historia de mi barrio por simbolismo también.

Valiente, implacable, brutal

Cuando yo te veo pienso en un guerrero, la mano derecha de Pancho Villa, y un héroe anónimo de la revolución

Me haces pensar en todos los otros héroes no reconocidos

Tú eres un asesino, pero su propósito fue apoyar el futuro de México

Yes Mom! I’ll clean up that pile! Yes, I know that those papers have been sitting there for forever! (confused) I’m not talking back, I’m just agreeing? Okayyyyyyyyy I’ll do it now.

(Picks up pile of papers and sifts through, stopping on a pink card.)

Trash, trash, trash…

Huh, I remember this birthday card, one of the cute ones with the cutouts of our family. Grandma used to send these cutesy cards covered with pictures of her, me, and… Bill.

Your official title is now “Ex-Step-not really related-married in-grandpa”, my mother insists, coaxing a sad smile out of grandma. But I don't say that! You were always just grandpa Beale to me. You rolled your eyes and called us silly little kids when my sister and I pronounced Grandpa Bill- Grandpa Beale, Beale- a weird, twangy word. Some strange cross between, like, bean and whale, clearly the handiwork of small children, but to us it meant love. You know that, right?

You aren’t welcome in our picture frames anymore though. My mom scoffs at your name. I don’t really remember why you aren’t Grandpa Beale anymore. Something about lies, for some 3 years, something about stealing, something about money. I don’t know. I don’t ask anymore, at least not after I heard what Grandma said last year. It was Christmas eve at about 10 o’clock, that meant I was up late cause I was only 10. I heard voices from the other side of the house. I tiptoed through the connecting hallway to the guest room, but paused with my hand on the doorknob as I heard the whispers of a forbidden phone conversation. She was talking to you, just like old times, leaning on her pillows, a faint light from her kindle. I dropped my hand but she heard me, let me in, and knew I understood. “I miss Bill,” I said. “I miss him too,” she attempted at a smile. Her thinning lips left crisscrossing stains of lipstick across her front teeth, it was nothing like the full smiles of my childhood, when you were welcome in the picture frames.

You were my grandpa Beale when you taught me how to push the bike pedals back and get back up onto the driveway. Grandpa Beale liked cold bud lights in the ugly blue cans and watching golf in the sunroom. I can still remember the playful banter as I insisted golf wasn’t really a sport, flicking the light switch back and forth on your commemorative golf club lamp from the adjacent chair. You didn't force me to go to mass like (sarcastic sophisticated voice) Grandfather Douglass, instead you always listened, entertaining my thoughts with your big smile. (Sigh) I miss that.

Grandma always told me your smoking would be the end of your marriage. I laughed and playfully coughed in your direction. I thought it could never end.

I still have that Facebook link open on my phone, “Happy Birthday Sofia! I love you!” from months ago. I knew you wouldn't forget! I wish I had replied… I love you too Beale. Even if my mother hates you for lying to us. She doesn’t see my side. Even if I don't understand why we can't move on and still be family.

(looks up)

intitulado

Sofia Powers

Soy yo

Mis antepasados son de europa bajo “nazi rule” y hambruna de papas

Pero mi corazón vive en norteamérica

Con mi familia y mis amigos

Yo vuelo alto aquí porque esta es mi patria

Veo la sonrisa de mi tía bisabuela

Oigo las campanas de la iglesia que a mi madre le gusta

Huelo la comida de “Sweetie abuela”

Saboreo la nieva de Nueva Inglaterra

Toco la piel suave de mi hermana bebé

Camino en las huellas de mis antepasados

Pero yo quiero encontrar mi propio camino

Somos hippies del bosque

Somos muy extraños

Somos familia

Vivimos en los árboles y cielos de América

Y

Yesterday in class we watched a Frontline program called growing up online. It was about technology in our world now and how it is changing the way we do things, mainly our memories and behaviors.The most memorable part of this show for me was Evan Skinner's overreaction to her son's trip to New York and the videos of it. I think she was ridiculously irrational and should have kept her reactions and opinions to herself. However, it is important to watch shows like these because they have many opinions by researchers and professors, as well as kids like us. They often give a well rounded perspective on controversial topics. To keep my future family safe online, I would teach them about the dangers and benefits online, instead of shielding them and reprimanding them. The more educated they are on this topic, the better online decisions they will make. It is important to talk with your family about internet safety to see if anyone is being harassed online and your family can help you prevent bad situations online. If there are people in your family who are very afraid or opposed to the internet, this talk could help them use the internet as a resource and also protect them from unsafe online situations. Parents who are struggling to keep their kids safe online, here is some advice: Learn about the uses and dangers of the internet so you are not ignorant to everything your kids do online. After that, make sure your kids are informed of situations and consequences online. If you want, Parental Controls are available, but most of us kids know how to get around those. I mostly recommend talking about it, instead of making the internet a big, exciting, and possibly dangerous unknown that kids will try to explore in secret.

• https://www.flickr.com/photos/intelfreepress/11970795853/in/photolist-jePsxX-5XLTnD-3zGzJ2-jricQS-4kqwPN-3zPQNp-s4iLpC-3zPYFR-rMrt9r-3zKnTP-4hgCYc-6D53JD-nQaxoG-4VqLEw-4VFqxx-9gYgXa-nNbvSY-nQe85e-nS1DG8-nxK8iz-nQe5Nv-nQatLm-nQax5f-nQe7UV-nQ59XN-nxJrqv-nQauXQ-nNbx6j-nxJqXL-nQavYs-nPW4wT-nQe72x-nxJE6w-4VqMcb-4VqN3m-4VqKUu-4VmyRD-4VqMPw-4VqLaE-3A7U2M-4V679p-9FJKy3-4hkKhN-4AeyQ3-4VKHe7-EmGgn-2mAPEP-4DDwYE-nTquwM-4Vmx1r/

We watched a video in which a fictional character, Jack, has a very bad day. He is physically bullied at school and then is hurt even more by online messages when he gets home. As the watcher, you can click an anti-bullying emoji to support him. After watching the video, we googled ourselves to find out our online identity.

This video shows how bullying can hurt people, physically and online. It also shows how speaking up as a bystander can help, a lot.

Most things that come up when you search me, aren’t me. My social media accounts don’t have much personal information on them either.

If a stranger were to search my name, they could think that I am any of the people that show up.

The goal of internet trolls is to upset people, or to cause a conflict and make others suffer.

Two friends use excuse me in 3 different forms (Con permisso, Perdoname, Disculpe). First when exiting the bus and again in a funny restaurant scene.

Sofia is scheduling an outdoor party and asks her friend what/how the weather will be on certain days. Tyreek must use the weather terminology we learned to tell Sofia that it will rain on her party, be too hot, or be just perfect and sunny.

1. explain your L.A.N. Local Area Network - all the devices on your internet connection: I have at least 13 wireless devices and 3 wired in. This list includes 3 phones, 4 kindles, 5 laptops, one tablet, a TV, printer, and desktop computer. My tenants also have devices on the network like phones and laptops but I do not know how many.

2. reflect on what you learned about networks, did you have an OMG moment that you learned something new and interesting? if now write about what you learned: I was very surprised when you told me I had an outdated phone cord bringing internet into my house. Learning about how packets were transported all over the world in a couple of seconds for web pages was really new for me as well.

3. what would you tell other people that they need to know about having an ISP/Home network: Different cords bring internet into your home based on your ISP. Certain networks prevent you from going on high bandwidth sites or going on these sites will slow down your internet. Your ISP can see what you do on the network.