Middle and Elementary English: What We've Learned By Ashley Lasko

Before discussing what skills we have taken away from our middle school and grade school years, I’d like to clarify a few things. To begin, I have met some amazing teachers before my first year as a high school student. I am avoiding listing specific teachers, as I would inevitably neglect to mention a few. However, I can confidently say many teachers in middle and elementary schools have been tasked with preparing me for later years, and all have excelled. Also, I will only be analyzing the “irony” of middle school and grade school from an English perspective, considering the blog is dedicated to the study of English.

In regards to this post’s focus, I have discovered I went into High School misinformed. I believed the first sentence in any essay consisted of a question, fact, quote, or definition; that three body paragraphs were guaranteed to earn a passing grade; theses had to have an idea and three supporting details; and a standard paragraph must have 5 to 8 sentences. Of course, the possibility that a Freshman walked into school on the first day knowing a high school-worthy design for an essay is likely. Nonetheless, my experience with my peers and teachers suggest many students have developed strict habits that limit and deteriorate their writing.

The patterns listed earlier can plague a student’s writing, but can aid a second or third grader still learning how to properly express ideas through pencil and paper. Early in an educational career, students develop skills to answer open-ended questions and argue points. Limiting grade school students introductions, paragraphs, sentences, and theses ensures students will put proper effort into their work and that the student’s work will be correct. Unfortunately, students are guided through this “elementary” structure of an essay but not informed of a more formal and free style in middle school. I will acknowledge that in middle school English teachers also cover a variety of skills; such as reading, inferences, quotes, and counter-arguments. Both grade and middle school teachers have a vast curriculum to teach their students within a limited time. Sophisticated essay skills are never taught simply because of the way education is organized.

The early introduction of simple essay skills, and the lack of introduction to improved abilities later on, can undermine a student’s writing. However, English teachers in high school have been willing to clarify and introduce to these skills to their students. I did not write this blog with the intent of belittling teachers who are currently working in elementary or grade school, or to blame a specific group for the lack of skills my peers and I entered high school with. I constructed this blog with the intent of directing attention to a problem. While a proper, perfect solution to this problem may not exist, I believe aid from teachers as well as extra work from students led to the fantastic writers and readers I learn besides today.

Thank you for reading my blog, and thanks for all the teachers I’ve had throughout the years. I know this statement is overused, but I truly would not be as skilled as I am today without all of your effort.

Characteristics of an Epic Poem Hero By Caroline Kepler

All Epics are focused around a hero or multiple heroes and the journey or deed they must complete. What makes a hero a hero in an epic poem comes down to their characteristics. Most heroes are males with an important social standing, like a noble or wealthy family, and have a historical importance. Mentally, their own ideals are reflective of their societies, since they have their society or societies depending on them and their actions usually determine their nation's fate. In addition, they generally display the timeless traits of courage, loyalty, and honor. Physically, since the weight of their nation is on their shoulders they have an appearance larger than life that allows them to perform super human deeds. A classic example of a hero with these attributes would be Beowulf. Beowulf was a Geat noblemen of Sweden and accepted the task of fighting a dragon, a long with other foes, to protect his society and the Danes.

Early Mornings By: Bailey Kellenberger

         5:15. The alarm rang. Time to get up. There was a still chill that filled her body as she removed her down comforter and placed her feet on the hard wood floors that felt like ice. She remained on the edge of her bed contemplating whether she should crawl back under the covers and continue her dream of the life she wished she had or if she should throw on her favorite pairs of jeans, go make the coffee and get ready for work.

           Although the coffee tasted like lard, she managed to finish the cup she had poured for herself. She slung her worn out leather bag over her aching body and hustled out the door. The streets were filled with styrofoam cups and mustard yellow shopping bags. Rats ran down and through the rainstorm drain. A dark grey cloud haunted the day. As she forced herself to saunter down the broken sidewalk, she saw a decrepit women beating our an old rug over her firescape. The old womens eyes were sharp and harsh. They told a story of hardships, pain, and heartbreak at just one glance. She prayed that she would never end up like that. She wanted more for her life. She wanted to travel, explore, and make a difference. Instead she was stuck working early morning shifts at the local diner and late night shifts cleaning used motel rooms. She often wondered if she would ever escape. She felt as if she was on a roller coaster that seemed to only go downwards. She was consumed within her thoughts of what she would one day become when she began to cross the street. Two bright lights appeared and a long horn rang throughout the air.
           5:15. The alarm rang. Time to get up. 

The First Few Weeks by Kamryn Foster

For the past two weeks, we have been working on our Summer Reading Expository Essays. They are comparing and contrasting two of the required books that we read on either theme, characterization, topics, or anything that comes to mind! Many people in this class are very talented writers, so I am excited to hear about their writing accomplishments through this assignment! The way our classroom runs that gives us enough time to get the work we need done, is Mrs. Kopp’s new “Flex Schedule”. She gives us information on Monday and Tuesday, and by her tips and advice, we set the table for achieving greatness on Wednesday and Thursday! To cool off and relax, we read our independent reading books on Friday to ease the stress of school away. Personally, I love this new perspective of teaching, for it gives the students more responsibility in getting assignments done. I have enjoyed this class, the way it’s managed, and my peers so far, and I am so excited to see where the year takes us! 

Are We Products of a Learning (R)evolution? (By Chris Hwang)

In the eyes of most students, every new school year is accompanied by a set of expectations, hopes, fears, and anxieties. This was no different for me and I have come to expect a fair amount of surprises. After all, I have already been a student for more than two thirds of my life. Without giving it much thought until recently, I now realize that each new school year has been accompanied by new methods of learning (and teaching). In sixth grade, my former middle school in CT adopted the common core. Imagine mass chaos and confusion among the students and teachers as the traditional was ditched for the new. Then just before 9th grade, my family relocated to NJ, which has given me even more perspective. And now, I start my 2nd year of high school. So for me, it has been one big transition after the next. I thought to myself, “can I stomach another big transition at school this year?” After reflecting on my first three weeks of attending Mrs. Kopp’s English 10H class, I can sense that this will be an exciting year for me and hopefully for my classmates. For starters, this English class doesn’t appear to be your typical lecture-style class where we sit back as passive learners trying to ingest all that the teacher has dictated. Nor have we been forced to read a ton of “mandatory” textbook material. Mrs. Kopp is encouraging us to become active learners where we have freedom to select what we want to read while developing our “own” voice to write about whatever is on our minds whether the topic is humorous, trivial, or even controversial. I have written personal journals in the past so freestyle writing isn’t exactly new to me. However, this is my first time blogging and blogging implies that I will have an audience. Thus, before starting this blog, I contemplated taking the “safe” road and writing about something mundane and neutral. However, I kept getting drawn to the fact that I have been given carte blanche to use my own creativity to say what I want to say in my own voice.

So I’ve decided to take a risk and relay my personal thoughts about a topic that is controversial and sometimes polarizing. That is, the topic of testing. The perpetual cycle of eat, sleep, test, repeat doesn’t seem to ever end. On any given week, it is a mathematical certainty that we will be forced to endure an abundance of tests. We will need to endure formative after formative and summative after summative exams. When did the tide turn? Did all the testing accompany common core or was it here all along? Is all the testing really necessary to prove that we are learning or that the teachers are teaching? And it’s not just the testing that makes many of us anxious and stressed. It’s also the amount of prep. work (studying) for the tests that induces anxiety, fear, and fatigue. I would rather be motivated by the desire to learn vs. the fear of performing poorly on a test. As a varsity athlete, I know the importance of balancing academics with athletics. But are we really balancing the “learning” or is it more about the “testing?” Last winter, I recall a two-week period in which I was tested 13 times. Yes, thirteen exams in a short two-week period. Mathematically, that equates to 9 hours of testing. While studying for those tests, I couldn’t help but wonder whether those 9 hours of testing could’ve been 9 hours of learning (teacher instruction) instead. After all, testing time is precious learning time. On top of that testing, I spent at least 15 or more hours preparing for those tests. This brings me to my next point. There are other ways to measure student understanding and growth. Perhaps that can be another topic for my next blog.

So are we products of a learning evolution or learning revolution? Evolution implies continuous enhancement and revolution implies sudden change (usually brought about by a catastrophe). The jury is still out. For now, I will enjoy the privilege granted to me by Mrs. Kopp and our new flex schedule to select my own books for independent reading and to blog about any topic that is near and dear to me. To put things in perspective, I write all the time because I need to. This time, I wrote (blogged) because I enjoyed it.

Gold by Juleanna Green

    I was falling.
    Not the fast, my God, I’m going to die, type of falling.
    But the slow, graceful kind.
    It was beautiful. I felt a soft breeze, like breath in the air. I could smell Spring. A golden sunset was all I could see. It was like autumn colors, like fireworks, like…. like his hair.
    But who was he? Who was this young man, whom I saw so vividly in my mind? His perfect hair, his loving smile, his knowing eyes. His eyes were emerald, and they seemed to look directly into my own eyes, as though he knew me. Yet I could not recall anything about him.
    But I had no time to think about that now. Just by the feel of the air, I knew I was nearing my final destination. I was in my final moments, as I began to plummet towards the ground, destined for my life to end, now, with no memories of who I was, of where I was from, of who he was.
    I closed my eyes, preparing for impact. Instead of ground, though, my back was greeted by water- or at least what felt like water. It created the same kind of splash, and I was still falling, slowly as though submerged, but I could breath. As if by magic, I landed gently in a small clearing, trees creating a ring around the grass. Nearby, a river whispered, ever so softly, pleading with me to come closer, to relax in it’s waters, to be free.
    Slowly, I stood up. I felt a sharp, agonizing pain in my chest, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Solemnly, I studied my surroundings, hoping against hope that I would know where I was, to no avail. It was neither dark nor light, like dusk, right before the last of the sunlight slipped away. I circled the clearing multiple times, unsure of which of three found paths I should follow.
One was littered with beautiful spring flowers, and I could feel the warmth radiating from the inside of the forest; this was most pleasing to my eyes.
    Another, directly across the clearing, was dark and damp, yet omitted truth throughout the trees, amongst the boughs; this was most pleasing to my mind.
    The third and final way was dimly lit, the trees intimately woven, so little to no light, of what little there was, could be seen. It was mysterious, the path nearly overgrown, and of this one I was most curious; this was the most pleasing to my heart.
    After long contemplation, I chose the latter of the three. Slowly but surely, I stepped out into my chosen path- that was when I first realized that I was barefoot. Noticing this, I stopped and assessed the rest of my garments. A long, flowing white dress that fell to the ground and almost covered my feet, with three-quarter sleeves and a gold rope tied around the middle. Although beautiful at one point, it was now tattered from the waist down, scratched and torn and covered in dirt. Curious, I thought, but I had to trudge onwards- I don’t know how, but I knew that I had to find something, or someone. Maybe it was him.
    The path seemed to go on forever, and I began to wonder if it was getting to be late; but how could it have been, when it was no more darker than it had been when I began? After what seemed like hours and hours of blindly following a compact, barely visible trail, I found it. The river.
    It gleamed silver, white foam bubbling along the sides. The water flowed by, sleepy yet steadfast. From one bank to another, a fallen tree laid uprooted across the stream. Calmly and gracefully, I balanced my way over the log, but stopped at the center, where I sat down and put one foot into the brook beneath me. A strange ripple was created when my toes entered the water; the liquid travelled around my foot.
    Out of nowhere, a dog padded up besides me and laid himself across the log. He was a golden retriever, with long golden hair. Gold, I thought, reaching out to touch his fur. As my fingers laced between the silky hairs that covered his body, I was overwhelmed by a memory:
    A boy with hair the color of the sun, and girl beside him. Laying on a blanket, in the woods. He wore a button-up, short-sleeved shirt, the top two or three buttons undone, and black pants. She wore a long, white dress, with a golden rope or ribbon tied about her waist. Her dirty-blonde hair was in a braid draped over her left shoulder. Her brilliantly blue eyes lit up with joy as she talked with the young man. They were laughing together, about their dog, a long-haired golden retriever, who had somehow managed to fall into the river. He came over to them, happy and drenched, and began to cuddle with them, much to their playful dismay.
    My eyes came back into focus. I removed my foot out of the stream, and looked down at my reflection. The most stunning thing I noticed about my facial features were my eyes. They were bright blue, like the sky on a spring morning. I looked back up again, and felt for my hair. It was a bit undone, but it unmistakably had been in a braid.
    Suddenly, I heard a quiet twang from behind me in the forest. Before I could turn around, the ache in my chest had returned, although this time it did not go away. I forced my head down, to see what had happened, dreading what I thought to be true. Sticking out from the middle of by chest was an arrow, with a bright red tip. I felt blood dripping out of my chest, and saw it drip, drip, drip, into the creek below. In my mind flashed another memory, that made me remember him, remember everything.
    Blood gurgled in the boy’s mouth, a broken arrow lodged in his abdomen; it had broken when he fell to the ground, so one half lay beside him while one half remained inside of him. He looked up at her; his eyes now seemed pale green, not as bright as they once were.
    “Run,” he said to her, as she cradled his body against hers. “Go!”
    She didn’t want to leave him, but knew what she must do. Grieving, she took off, not knowing where she was headed, nor if they were still behind her. She felt her dress tear on thorns and branches, but she did not have time to stop. They would be upon her soon.
    Suddenly, the trees opened up, and there was nothing. Just the end. She turned around, and saw her foe, emerging from the trees. Desperately, she turned back towards the abyss, hoping that she missed something, begging the universe for one last chance. Once she heard the sound of the bow string being pulled back, she knew it was too late. She stood tall, one last defiance; she would not go down afraid. She heard the string release an arrow, as though in slow motion, and felt it sink into her skin. She turned, unsure of what to do, but lost her balance,and fell, back first, into the unknown. She looked up at the bright gold sunset, and closed her eyes.
     Back in the present, I was drifting away. I realized then that I had been carrying this wound for my whole journey. I just hadn’t been able to remember that it was there. My head began to spin, and I had to lay down. No, I tried to tell myself, You have to sit up. You have to stay strong. You have to live! But I was so tired… Just a short rest. My left arm hung off of the log, my fingertips dragging in the current. The dog came back, though I hadn’t even realized he was gone, and began to lick my back, around the arrow shaft; licking my wounds.
    I felt my last bit of strength begin to drain out of my body, and closed my eyes to the sweet song of the river, its tide washing away the crimson stain of my blood, soon to forget me and my memories.

Reading... Friend or Foe? (By Eve Curras)

On September 22nd, 2016- I took a poll of the students in my Honors English Period 3 Class.  The question I asked was, do you like to read and followed that question with do you read in your free time?  As Honors students, the obvious answer would be everyone in an Honors English class would enjoy literature and read regularly in their free-time.  That is not the case.  Of the 19 students I asked in my class, 14 said they enjoyed reading and read regularly.  The other 5 said they did not.  When I inquired as to why they did not enjoy reading, most said they were too busy and there always seemed so many other things to do.  One student who answered no, Alyssa Stouch, stated, "I'm really busy and reading means too many paper cuts."  That's when I realized, the fear of paper cuts (Pulpuslaceratapopohobia) it truly what is preventing the youth of America from reading on a regular basis!

In all seriousness, I took this poll because I was intrigued as to how many of my classmates took and Honors English course because they enjoy reading and learning about the history of literature and the English language.  Too often, I feel, school's focus more on testing and assessments rather than the subject itself.  School should be a place that encourages learning and sparks interests in the minds of the students of America.  Rather than focusing on preparing a student to pass the AP Exam, teachers should encourage academic enthusiasm so that school can mean more than what's in the grade-book.  I can only hope that by the end of the year this statistic will be 19-0, and those who do not seem to think they have the time will make the time to open a book and dive into the many world's within novels.

Me Before You Review by Chloe Caldi

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes is a heart wrenching story of a woman who is stuck in her very small world with no way (or want) to get out. Louisa still lives in the town she grew up in, with her whole family, in a bedroom much too small for a twenty-six year old. She is not out having fun, she's working in a cafe to help support her family. When the cafe shuts down, she desperately searches for another job. As fate would have it, she is hired by Camilla Traynor, the mother of quadriplegic Will Traynor, to become his caregiver. Louisa's positive and cheerful attitude is almost diminished when Will tests her daily with his incredibly cynical and sarcastic comments. Eventually, Louisa's quirkiness leaves an impression on Will, and they slowly become friends. As their relationship develops, they individually become better people, and are forever scored on each other's hearts.

A Personal Anecdote, by Derek Campbell

  
Recently, a friend of mine (for some strange reason) decided to start writing a bit of a short story. It is a fantasy tale of magic and wonder, reminiscent of traditional Norse Mythology with a bit of a Game of Thrones feel. Enter Yae Segour, a kingdom of people edged deep into a stone volcano after one man slain the dragon of the volcano. After a merge with the magic realm of Airaht, the protectors of the keep (known as the Yaenai) learned magic to further protect their home. After all that exposition we are introduced to a peculiar child and his mentor Balathor, to which the child had just slain a dragon in a very unconventional way. Aside from that, not much else happens in the first chapter, but have have been promised a possible second chapter. I found the story very intriguing, and the fact that a good friend of mine started writing it made it all the more interesting. NOTE: the story has entirely created by my friend, and i merely had the joy reading it and making suggestions. Overall, i'm very excited for the next part of this epic.

Girl on the Train Book Review by Emma Bova

Over the summer, students were required to choose a book off of a list to read and eventually participate in a book chat about it. I chose the book The Girl on the Train, by Paula Hawkins.

The Girl on the Train is set in present day London, where the main character, Rachel takes the train from Ashbury to London every day attempting to keep up the act that she still had a job when in reality: she is an alcoholic, she lost her job, has no money, and no husband. In Rachel's daily adventures, and the change in perspective, we find out a lot about Megan and Scott, the couple whom Rachel has been spying on, and Anna, the girl that Rachel's ex husband Tom cheated on her with.

As the book progresses, Megan goes missing and Rachel finds herself getting more and more involved in Scott's life, and in Tom's and Anna's lives. She begins to ponder whether or not she was involved in Megan's disappearance. Rachel does not remember anything that happened that night, because she was wasted and eventually passed out. Soon it is months later, and nobody knows where Megan is. Rachel begins to dig deeper into the situation and goes on a mini investigation to find out what happened at all costs, and what Rachel finds out is shocking.

I highly recommend this book, it always keeps you on the edge of your seat and you always want to keep reading more. It is a thrilling book, that is excellently written, and is a wonderful use of changing perspectives. Tomorrow there will be a school book chat about the book we chose, and students will get to discuss what they thought of their book.

Welcome to our Blog! By Mrs. Danielle Kopp

Thank you so much for taking the time to read our blog! This blog is an experiment from a 10th grade Honors British and World Literature class.  My goal is to allow each of my students a chance to produce published work multiple times throughout the year.  Their task is to write about something related to our class or to reading and writing in general.  The students have carte blanche to use their own creativity and have fun with their blog posts.  A new blog post will be added by a different student each day and each student will end up posting about once a month. The students chose the blog name and created the design as a group.

 I hope that you enjoy reading our blog and that you comment on posts that you find interesting or exceptional.  I know that all my students would love and appreciate seeing comments on their posts.  This blog is also a great way for parents, guardians, family members, and friends to stay up to date with the topics we are studying in class. Please feel free to sign up for email notifications so that you will receive an email when a new post is added. 

 My hope is that this blog will be a place for students to thrive as writers and that they'll enjoy the process!  Thanks for stopping by!