An English Language Lover's Worst Nightmare

On a light note, I'd like to share a little Halloween prank that my fellow English nerds may appreciate.  To give credit where credit is due, I found the image below on Reddit.  The new iPhone has a nifty shortcut feature for entering text.  It is customizable and is meant to make typing faster, especially when entering frequently used text.  For example, you can adjust the settings to have "OMG" displayed as "Oh my God."  For people (like me) who hate abbreviations and awkward phrasing in text messages or emails, this should be a dream come true.  However, it can also be the perfect tool for a fun-loving prankster.  Check out the image below showing what words would be typed by the user, and what words are programmed to be automatically substituted instead. 

This would drive me absolutely insane...

Trick or treat!  Happy Halloween!

State Troopers Have Noisy Boots

            Sitting quietly at the bay window seat, I listened to the soft patter of raindrops against the windowpane.  My head had tilted in weariness long before, and now my temple seemed to cling to the cool firm glass.  Muttering in frustration, I continued my one sided staring contest with the blank page.  Stupid journal.  I could feel the vast, starkly bare, dismally beige pages mocking me.  I crinkled my nose imagining a few of Dr. Theresa’s favorite phrases, in her nasal squeaky voice, “Pain and crisis tests us, but we have to open up to our feelings.  Crisis builds character, but you have to express and accept your feelings.  Let it out, validate it, or how will you ever truly heal or grow?”  Heal my ass!  I just wanted to get this stupid assignment done with.  I mean seriously, whose therapist gives them homework?  Writing in a journal is a private activity, not something mandated and monitored by a therapist.  Besides, if this is the kind of thing you have to go through to build character, then fuck it, I’d rather be boring and shallow any day.  I found my teeth digging into my lower lip.  A tiny voice seemed to echo in my mind, if this was so trivial, why did my hand freeze every time I put the pen to the page?

            I squirmed around, unable to find a comfortable position amongst the sea of plaid and satin pillows.  This wasn’t writers block, that was for certain.  I was tired of lying to myself, but I was more anxious about the consequences if I stopped.  I could sense the root of my hesitation, the unseen culprit.  I could feel it slithering under my skin, slinking its way up to the surface just enough to smother any words that might come.  I had built up walls to keep me safe from this beast.  Thick sturdy walls, who cared if the bricks were humor, denial, and false confidence?  They were there, shielding and protecting me from the emotion.  I didn’t want to touch the pen to the paper, to dismantle that protection brick by brick.  I began to mentally bargain and compromise with myself.  Maybe I could just try thinking about that night, just bit by bit.  I began going over small details but then quickly shoved them from my mind at the first sign of a panic attack.  Ok, maybe I can’t write about that yet.  Maybe I could start with the aftermath, that might be easier.  Feeling rigid tension in my hand, I realized I had been clutching the pen so tightly my knuckles were turning white.  I put the pen and journal down.  Perhaps it would be best just to sit and think first.  Think, remember, and then deal with writing later.  That seemed fair enough, Dr. Theresa couldn’t object to that?   I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, and braced myself as a sledgehammer began knocking down my walls.

            The lights buzzed, emitting a low drone.  The wash of florescent light in the room had been harsh, washing out any sense of warmth or comfort.  Not that anyone would feel warm or comfortable there.  It wasn’t’ how I would have pictured it.  The state police station house was bleak and bare, the walls painted a harsh, sterile white.  I sat nervously in a ratty green computer chair.  The upholstery was worn thing, pilling at the edges.  I wondered who had sat here before me, how many countless others had awkwardly waited in this very spot.  Had they nervously rocked in the chair like I did, until it groaned embarrassingly with old age?  I peered around nervously, anything to keep me occupied and composed.  The scent, there’s something.  It smelt like dust and stale air, but what exactly makes air smell or feel stale?  I kept looking around finding things to overanalyze and distract me from the shocking reality of my visit.  Where were was all the hustle and bustle of phones ringing and filing cabinet drawers being slammed shut?  My little fantasy world quickly ceased to be as the loud echo of approaching feet could be heard from down the corridor.

I sat up straight, smoothed over my hair quickly.  My desperate desire to portray the picture of a composed, mature adult was merely fueling the anxiety that was churning and brewing within my stomach.  I could hear voices from the hall,

 “Mmmhmm, she’s in there alright.” 

I held my breath for a moment as the investigator entered, and as I released the air from my lungs I felt any hope and sense of assurance I had escape with it.  Approaching me was a tall, gangly, pathetic specimen of a man.  His hair was thinning and the few coarse strands that remained were combed across his egg shaped head.  I’m sure my shock read on my face.  It was impossible to hide.  I was utterly disappointed, and somehow annoyed.  This was the investigator?!  Where’s Stabler from Law and Order SVU?  He’s supposed to be some large intimidating cop who is willing to beat confessions out of criminals, all the while having a soft spot reserved in his heart for victims.  I want the cliché!  Instead I ended up with Icabod Crane.  This was wrong, this was all wrong.  To make matters even worse, as he made his finals steps to the desk I realized that his boots were squeaking.  Every step he took caused the leather on his boots to rub together, emitting a high-pitched squeak.  My face grew hot and I could feel the tears welling up and burning in my eyes.  The emotions of the past week were just swelling up, ready to swallow me whole at any moment.  I was going to lose it and just burst out sobbing right there.  I had wanted a savior.  This just isn’t going to work, who can respect a man who squeaks when he walks?

            He stood over me, and I peered up at him uncertainly.  His beady little eyes seemed to burrow straight through me, and I shifted in my seat nervously.  He sat across from me, and proceeded to display a disturbingly crooked smile.  It caused the skin at the edges of his mouth to stretch eerily.  He spoke, his voice like a raspy purr.

            “Hello there, my name is Detective Buren”

I managed a small anxious small.

            “So Trooper Evans updated me on your little situation, and I think we have some things to discuss.”

            I nodded eagerly, trying to harness whatever sense of composure I had desired to portray.  I lightly toyed with a burgundy thread at the base of my sweater.  Pulling and tugging on it, I anxiously listened.

            “You know, being a college town we see a lot of these kinds of situations.  To be frank with you, the majority of them just don’t pan out.  I’m not saying that you’re lying, but there seem to be a lot of factors at play here: the fact that you waited a full week to file an official report, the activities that took place that evening preceding the event.  Perhaps this is something that was a misunderstanding and could be worked out civilly.”

            I must have looked like a deer in headlights.  He grinned at me, seeming to leer across the desk.

            “Why don’t you just think it over and get to us m’kay?  I mean the DA doesn’t regularly pursue cases with such a lack of physical evidence.  Besides, who wants to dig into all the alcohol and drugs business?  I don’t know many kids who would want to put their parents through that hoop” he ended with a mild snicker.

            I was floored, dumbfounded.  He peered at me, as if waiting for me to sob, but I merely sat silently as this bubbling sense of rage welled within me.  I was expecting him to be blunt, but he was sounding more like a defense lawyer than an investigator.  I had been mistaken, I did get the cliché, just the small town jerk one.  It took so much effort not to raise my voice, but I spoke calmly, weighing the value of each word.

            “Investigator Buren, I appreciate your opinion, but my mind is made up.  My Dad is an attorney, and his mind is made up too.  So if I could please file that report now, we’d appreciate it.”  I stared at him, hoping that my proactive, assertive facade would hold up long enough to get me through this. 

            Buren’s intense gaze surely shifted to a scowl and he muttered “Alrighty then, I’ll interview him but no guarantees.”

He pushed his chair back abruptly and left muttering something about getting forms.  My fingers unclenched, and as I released the thread I had been relentlessly fidgeting with, I saw that I had unraveled the bottom hem of my sweater.

            I opened my eyes, letting the image of the station house fade away.  My gaze was now resting once again on the blank Moleskine page.  That wasn’t so bad, I was able to think about it.  But could I write about it?  My hand quivered slightly as I put the pen tip to the page.  It stayed for what seemed to be forever, but when it moved it glided upon the surface, jet-black ink drying in swirls and twists.  I let out a tiny sigh, of relief, and of disappointment.  I tried to comfort myself thinking that it was better than nothing, but I knew that I was once again lying to myself and avoiding the truth.  I looked down at my end result, in the center of the page, standing alone on its own, little black letters proclaimed:

“State troopers have noisy boots.”

         

Welcome to the Real World

Right now, I am in the middle of my observation period in the model program.  While all of my other observation experiences through Adelphi have been valuable, this one has given me a real insight on teaching in a typical high school.  

Throughout my time at Adelphi, I've kept a running list of tips/best practices I'd like to set in place in my future classroom.  This includes having a set organization system in the classroom.  I've had plans for everything from a homework inbox, a journal drop-box, a filing system for student portfolios, a reading corner with books organized by readiness level and interests/topics, a weekly agenda visible to the class-giving them a sense of what is to come, classroom rules posted on the wall, and much more.  None of the ideas just listed would be possible for the teacher I am currently observing.  Out of respect, let's call this teacher "Miss X"  Miss X is a good teacher.  She plans engaging lessons that target student interests.  Miss X does a lot to set her students up for success, but it seems that the structure of her day inhibits her own success.  On a daily basis, Miss X never teaches in the same classroom.  She spends time in between classes racing to her next classroom, through halls swarmed with students.  The school has over 4,000 students, so the hallways are definitely a little more than overcrowded.  By the time she arrives, students are already present, or the bell has already rung.  She rushes to get her aim and do now on the board (which is required by the school) and take attendance.  Collecting homework and completing other simple tasks takes an unnecessarily long time.  The classroom is bland and uninspiring.  No student work is featured on the walls, no class rules, no core values, no comment box, nothing.  This is because teachers need to share this room all throughout the day and no teacher has ownership to decorate it.  Teachers are also discouraged from changing seating arrangements, since desks must always return to their original row formation for the following class.  

Seeing how much time is eaten up in every class period by simple tasks that could be expedited by having a streamlined organizational system in place, makes me want to groan.  Miss X isn't even able to beat her students to class and put up a Do Now or greet them at the door.  While I can only imagine what space limitations must exist in a school of 4,000 students, I can't help but wonder what impact this kind of environment has on student learning and teacher satisfaction.  One easy way to increase overall satisfaction in a school is to make it an inviting and efficient place to learn.  There has to be some kind of middle ground to making Miss X's school a more efficient and inspiring place to work and learn.

Revised Critical Lens

In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love.  ~Diego Marchi

According to Diego Marchi, “In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love” In other words, regardless of background, there are certain aspects of life, such as regret and love, that all people experience.  Each person and their experiences are unique, but essentially similar at the core.  These common experiences are what make us human and bind us together.  This is true of people from different backgrounds or time periods.  When authors create characters that embody the human experience, readers are more easily able to identify with them.  This is shown to be true in The Awakening, written by Kate Chopin, and The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.   In both of these works, readers are able to identify with main characters due to their humanity, regardless of time period or background.

In the novel, The Awakening, Kate Chopin creates a character, Edna Pontellier, who realizes and is then defined by an unreachable dream; true freedom.  The desire for freedom is an overarching theme throughout the novel.  As a mother of two and an upper-class woman, Edna’s life has been defined by a sense of obligation and responsibility, which were core conventions for women in the 1800s.    Societal expectations dictate that Edna should be an elegant, respectable woman who embraces her role in marriage and motherhood.  Self-actualization and freedom is not a realistic dream for a woman in the 1800s.  Throughout the novel, Chopin utilizes a caged bird to symbolize Edna and women in the Victorian period.  As Edna awakens, it is clear that she has a passion for life.  She finds beauty in music, art, and life.  She has the potential to soar, like the bird, but is caged by societal expectations.  The experience of feeling limited by societal expectations is something that many readers will find relatable.  Even when she leaves her family and lives on her own, she is still subject to pressure to conform.  Unable to break away completely from societal conventions and unwilling to yield, she takes her own life.  If she cannot achieve her dream in life, she will assert her sense of independence and unwillingness to conform in death.  Although the reader does not intimately know what it is like to be a woman in the Victorian period, the humanity in Edna’s unattainable dream makes her a truly relatable character. 

Similarly, in The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne creates an incredibly moving and relatable character in Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale.  Devoted to his congregation and role as a Puritan reverend, Dimmesdale struggles for years with an unspeakable secret.  He has committed adultery and fathered Pearl, Hester’s illegitimate daughter.  He struggles deeply with the concept of sin and guilt to the point where it has caused him physical illness.  This concept of sin is an over-aching theme throughout the novel.  Instead of accepting his sin and incorporating it as a part of his identity, like Hester has done, Dimmesdale spends years buckling under the pressure of hiding it.  Dimmesdale’s own mark on his chest, similar to Hester’s “A” symbolizes his self imposed judgment and secret connection to Hester.  Although Dimmesdale has committed a sin, his battle with guilt and maintaining his secret makes him a relatable character.  Every person has experienced some form of emotional turmoil over keeping a secret.  Like Dimessdale, every reader has something negative and powerful in their past that has in some way had an impact on who they are today.  Dimmesdale is a moving character that illustrates the physical and psychological toll that that the burden of keeping a secret takes on people.  While they may not agree with his actions, readers will be able to relate to the experience of keeping a secret.

Diego Marchi was correct in stating; “In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love” These common experiences illustrate the similarity and unity between all people.  While we may be vastly different, there are core human experiences that connect us all.  This is evident in readers experiencing emotional connections to characters in novels who demonstrate their humanity.  Although readers may not know what it is like to be a woman in the Victorian period or a Puritan reverend, the human desires and secrets of Edna Pontellier and Reverend Dimmesdale make relatable and relevant today.

The Dreaded 5 Paragraph Essay

In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love.  ~Diego Marchi

According to Diego Marchi, “In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love” In other words, regardless of background, there are certain aspects of life, such as regret and love, that all people experience.  Each person and their experiences are unique, but essentially similar at the core.  These common experiences are what make us human and bind us together.  This is true of people from different backgrounds or time periods.  When authors create characters that embody the human experience, readers are more easily able to identify with them.  This is shown to be true in The Awakening, written by Kate Chopin, and The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.   In both of these works, readers are able to identify with main characters due to their humanity regardless of time period or background.

In her novel, The Awakening, Kate Chopin creates a character, Edna Pontellier, who realizes and is then defined by an unreachable dream; true freedom.  The desire for freedom is an overarching theme throughout the novel.  As a mother of two and an upper-class woman, Edna’s life has been defined by a sense of obligation and responsibility, which were core conventions for women in the 1800s.    Societal expectations dictate that Edna should be an elegant, respectable woman who embraces her role in marriage and motherhood.  Self-actualization and freedom is not a realistic dream for a woman in the 1800s.  Throughout the novel, Chopin utilizes a caged bird to symbolize Edna and women in the Victorian period.  As Edna awakens, it is clear that she has a passion for life.  She finds beauty in music, art, and life.  She has the potential to soar, like the bird, but is caged by societal expectations.  Even when she leaves her family and lives on her own, she is still subject to pressure to conform.  Unable to break away completely from societal conventions and unwilling to yield, she takes her own life.  If she cannot achieve her dream in life, she will assert her sense of independence and unwillingness to confirm in death.  Although the reader does not intimately know what it is like to be a woman in the Victorian period, the humanity in Edna’s unattainable dream makes her a truly relatable character. 

Similarly, in The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne creates an incredibly moving and relatable character in Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale.  Devoted to his congregation and role as a Puritan reverend, Dimmesdale struggles for years with an unspeakable secret.  He has committed adultery and fathered Pearl, Hester’s illegitimate daughter.  He struggles deeply with the idea of sin and guilt to the point where it has caused him physical illness.  This concept of sin is an over-aching theme throughout the novel.  Instead of accepting his sin and incorporating it as a part of his identity, like Hester has done, Dimmesdale spends years buckling under the pressure of hiding it.    Dimmesdale’s own mark on his chest, similar to Hester’s “A” symbolizes his self imposed judgment and secret connection to Hester.  Although Dimmesdale has committed a sin, his battle with guilt and maintaining his secret makes him a relatable character.  Every person has experienced some form of emotional turmoil over keeping a secret.  Dimmesdale is a moving character that illustrates the physical and psychological toll that that the burden of keeping a secret takes on people.  While they may not agree with his actions, readers will be able to relate to the experience of keeping a secret.

Diego Marchi was correct in stating; “In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love” These common experiences illustrate the similarity and unity between all people.  While we may be vastly different, there are core human experiences that connect us all.  This is evident in readers experiencing emotional connections to characters in novels who demonstrate their humanity.  Although readers may not know what it is like to be a woman in the Victorian period or a Puritan reverend, the human desires and secrets of Edna Pontellier and Reverend Dimmesdale make relatable and relevant today.