Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Rise and Fall of a Dynasty
On the day of our first multiple choice game this year, everyone quickly found their teams, scheming to assemble a squad replete with some of the titans of A.P. English. I myself joined what would later be known as the Dream Team, the much-maligned group of Thomas Donley, Sam Schiferl, John Shoemaker, and myself. Of course, we were merely an assemblage of driven, motivated students looking to do our best on the multiple choice test, preparing for the later A.P. test and doing our teacher proud. As most English students know, though, the Dream Team was lambasted from the very beginning. Unequivocally, mercilessly we were torn at by our opposition and neutral third parties. We may have talked ourselves up a bit, merely for the purpose of building our self-confidence of course, but we could feel the class's undeserved hatred for us "rearing up, higher... beyond human capability" (McEwan 146). By assembling a strong team and employing some competitive banter, the Dream Team had hoped to push our class to its intellectual limits and, in turn, help everyone become a more confident student. Yet "we live, I regret to say, in an age of surfaces" (Wilde 47). The other students seemed incapable of grasping our underlying intentions, so in return for our subtle benevolence we received only enmity. Though deeply saddened, we still competed that day, doing our best to maintain a competitive yet controlled environment. The game was played, and we lost. I will not lie, even this loss felt like someone had "touched on each side of [my] head with wires" (Kesey 69). Yet the real tragedy that day was not our loss, but rather the inability of our peers to realize that we only meant to enhance their academic experience through our style of play. Why, then, was this my favorite day of A.P. English? Well, our peers thought that they had defeated the Dream Team once and for all. But out of the ashes of the fallen Dream Team awoke an entirely new beast, a phoenix rising intent on revenge for the abuse that it had endured. The Dream Team crumbled. From its foundations rose the Redeem Team.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Lanark Gives Lane an Intervention
[Location: England. Time: Friday afternoon. The Situation: Lane (The Importance of Being Earnest) and Paul Lanark (Amsterdam) are both shopping at their local Costco when they accidentally collide and are forced to begin a conversation:
Lane: My apologies, good sir. I didn't see you rounding that corner.
Lanark: No problem at all, chap.
Lane: Say, you haven't seen any cucumbers in this place, have you? You see, "there were no cucumbers in the market this morning" (8).
Lanark: No, I'm afraid I haven't, and I've purchased items from all throughout the store. "I suppose you'd call it sampling" (178).
Lane: Oh well, thank you for your help. OH MY, WHAT IS THAT DREADFUL BEAST THAT RESTS UPON YOUR SHOULDER?!?
Lanark: That is "the Flea itself"!!! (178). Quickly! Swat it away!
Lane: No.
Lanark: Why not?
Lane: I don't want to.
Lanark: Why?
Lane: "I didn't think it polite" (1).
Lanark: But that is a flea, which would of course care little for the manners of men.
Lane: I never think it a good idea to swat fleas, sir. One day, they may swat back.
Lanark: Are you attempting to befriend that flea?
Lane: Well, yes, I suppose. "I don't know how many years on this Earth I got left. I'm gonna get real weird with it." (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia).
Lanark: What? In Costco? I absolutely refuse to listen to such dreadful talk. Good day.
Lane: Good morrow, sir.
Lane: My apologies, good sir. I didn't see you rounding that corner.
Lanark: No problem at all, chap.
Lane: Say, you haven't seen any cucumbers in this place, have you? You see, "there were no cucumbers in the market this morning" (8).
Lanark: No, I'm afraid I haven't, and I've purchased items from all throughout the store. "I suppose you'd call it sampling" (178).
Lane: Oh well, thank you for your help. OH MY, WHAT IS THAT DREADFUL BEAST THAT RESTS UPON YOUR SHOULDER?!?
Lanark: That is "the Flea itself"!!! (178). Quickly! Swat it away!
Lane: No.
Lanark: Why not?
Lane: I don't want to.
Lanark: Why?
Lane: "I didn't think it polite" (1).
Lanark: But that is a flea, which would of course care little for the manners of men.
Lane: I never think it a good idea to swat fleas, sir. One day, they may swat back.
Lanark: Are you attempting to befriend that flea?
Lane: Well, yes, I suppose. "I don't know how many years on this Earth I got left. I'm gonna get real weird with it." (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia).
Lanark: What? In Costco? I absolutely refuse to listen to such dreadful talk. Good day.
Lane: Good morrow, sir.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Walk in the Park
From the diary of Clive Linley:
Today, the students of Ms. Serensky's A.P. English class absolutely tore me to part for failing to do anything when I witnessed an altercation between a man and a woman. One student, Carolyn Weaver, went so far as to say that I must "take some of the blame for the rape and murder of the girl," and many other students echoed this sentiment. Of course, I must wholeheartedly disagree with these ludicrous accusations. I was, after all, merely taking a relaxing walk through the countryside when I heard a man and a woman "arguing - a marital row, most likely" (92-93). And by all appearances, that's precisely what it was. Although at one point "the man took a step toward her and seized her by the elbow," I thought little of it - from what I had seen, this was a simple domestic dispute (93). I had absolutely no business getting involved in this altercation, as I knew neither the parties involved nor the background surrounding their fight. If I had attempted to step in, "they might both turn on [me] for presuming to interfere" (94). Unfortunately, I had seen nothing that suggested the gravity of the outcome of this dispute. How was I to know that this man was a rapist and murderer? Should I have thrust myself into an apparent marital dispute and asked if the man was planning to rape and subsequently murder this innocent woman? Apparently, I should assume that every man that yells at a woman is a murderer. The cruel, heartless students seemed to be suggesting this. I will cry myself to sleep tonight.
Sincerely,
Clive
Today, the students of Ms. Serensky's A.P. English class absolutely tore me to part for failing to do anything when I witnessed an altercation between a man and a woman. One student, Carolyn Weaver, went so far as to say that I must "take some of the blame for the rape and murder of the girl," and many other students echoed this sentiment. Of course, I must wholeheartedly disagree with these ludicrous accusations. I was, after all, merely taking a relaxing walk through the countryside when I heard a man and a woman "arguing - a marital row, most likely" (92-93). And by all appearances, that's precisely what it was. Although at one point "the man took a step toward her and seized her by the elbow," I thought little of it - from what I had seen, this was a simple domestic dispute (93). I had absolutely no business getting involved in this altercation, as I knew neither the parties involved nor the background surrounding their fight. If I had attempted to step in, "they might both turn on [me] for presuming to interfere" (94). Unfortunately, I had seen nothing that suggested the gravity of the outcome of this dispute. How was I to know that this man was a rapist and murderer? Should I have thrust myself into an apparent marital dispute and asked if the man was planning to rape and subsequently murder this innocent woman? Apparently, I should assume that every man that yells at a woman is a murderer. The cruel, heartless students seemed to be suggesting this. I will cry myself to sleep tonight.
Sincerely,
Clive
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Afternoon With Algernon
Me: Good day, Algernon. Nice to see you on this fine morning. I'm here to talk to you about A.P. English 11.
Algernon: Ah, yes, I'm familiar with the subject. I have a bit of a history with it, in fact. When I took the class about 100 years ago, it was taught by a certain Bobby Joe Serensky (Mr. Serensky to us, of course). He was a generous professor, always lenient with grades and forgiving on late assignments. At the end of each class, after assigning our reading for the night, he would say, "Resist the desire to read carefully for tomorrow, students." I believe, if I'm not mistaken, that you know his great-granddaughter, Ms. Serensky. Is she of a similar disposition?
Me: She... uh... well... I guess you could say that... uh...
Algernon: "Come on, old boy, you had much better have the thing out at once" (5).
Me: She's a much more difficult teacher than her great-grandfather, to be honest.
Algernon: "I'm sorry for that, for your sake" (1).
Me: No, don't be. I actually appreciate it - Ms. Serensky's lack of generosity makes it feel as if you truly earn your grade. An A is worth something.
Algernon: That sounds dreadful. What precisely is wrong with you? You actually want to work? The mere thought makes me shudder. And what would you say was your least favorite aspect of A.P. English 11?
Me: Well, probably all of the reading required over the summer that we used for maybe a week or two. We had to read four books if I remember correctly, and it seemed sort of pointless to read so much and such specific books.
Algernon: "Oh! it is absurd to have a hard-and-fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn't" (4).
Me: Not really. I understand that we need some sort of academic structure to our summers to prevent our brains from essentially melting into unusable piles of neurons and synapses.
Algernon: I understand completely. One must have new experiences in order to continue growing as a person. For example, "I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn't for Bunbury's extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn't be able to dine with you at Willis's to-night" (6).
Me: (Awkward Pause) Did you just ask me out on a date?
Algernon: No, you asked me. "You are absurdly careless about sending out invitations" (6).
Me: This is getting a bit too personal for me.
Algernon "Got nice neighbors in your part of Shropshire?" (2).
Me: How do you know where I live?!?! Stay away from my family!
Algernon: "I don't know that I am much interested in your family life" (2).
Me: You're right about that. It'll be hard to be interested in my family from prison! (After I have you arrested and imprisoned for sodomy and gross indecency under Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885, also known as the Labouchere Amendment).
Algernon: Ah, yes, I'm familiar with the subject. I have a bit of a history with it, in fact. When I took the class about 100 years ago, it was taught by a certain Bobby Joe Serensky (Mr. Serensky to us, of course). He was a generous professor, always lenient with grades and forgiving on late assignments. At the end of each class, after assigning our reading for the night, he would say, "Resist the desire to read carefully for tomorrow, students." I believe, if I'm not mistaken, that you know his great-granddaughter, Ms. Serensky. Is she of a similar disposition?
Me: She... uh... well... I guess you could say that... uh...
Algernon: "Come on, old boy, you had much better have the thing out at once" (5).
Me: She's a much more difficult teacher than her great-grandfather, to be honest.
Algernon: "I'm sorry for that, for your sake" (1).
Me: No, don't be. I actually appreciate it - Ms. Serensky's lack of generosity makes it feel as if you truly earn your grade. An A is worth something.
Algernon: That sounds dreadful. What precisely is wrong with you? You actually want to work? The mere thought makes me shudder. And what would you say was your least favorite aspect of A.P. English 11?
Me: Well, probably all of the reading required over the summer that we used for maybe a week or two. We had to read four books if I remember correctly, and it seemed sort of pointless to read so much and such specific books.
Algernon: "Oh! it is absurd to have a hard-and-fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn't" (4).
Me: Not really. I understand that we need some sort of academic structure to our summers to prevent our brains from essentially melting into unusable piles of neurons and synapses.
Algernon: I understand completely. One must have new experiences in order to continue growing as a person. For example, "I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn't for Bunbury's extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn't be able to dine with you at Willis's to-night" (6).
Me: (Awkward Pause) Did you just ask me out on a date?
Algernon: No, you asked me. "You are absurdly careless about sending out invitations" (6).
Me: This is getting a bit too personal for me.
Algernon "Got nice neighbors in your part of Shropshire?" (2).
Me: How do you know where I live?!?! Stay away from my family!
Algernon: "I don't know that I am much interested in your family life" (2).
Me: You're right about that. It'll be hard to be interested in my family from prison! (After I have you arrested and imprisoned for sodomy and gross indecency under Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885, also known as the Labouchere Amendment).
Thursday, March 17, 2011
The Hobo
College. A bastion of higher education. A place where students gather from around the world to better themselves academically. With these thoughts in mind, I entered my first college class at the University of Richmond, a creative writing class. The day prior, I had asked my host student, Will, what classes he had the next day. He listed them off: "Organic Chemistry, Integrated Physiology... oh, and Creative Writing" he shakes his head vigorously with this final addition, suggesting that Creative Writing comes far from recommended. As a visiting student, though, I want to experience the full range of college classes.
So despite the warning, I awake early that morning to attend Creative Writing. I'm barely in my seat when the professor announces that we will be having a special class today - each student will be assigned a person (a faculty member, university employee, etc.) to interview and write a short biography for. I, personally, fail to see the "Creative" aspect of this Creative Writing assignment, but I go along. As the professor doles out our interviewees, I take a quick peek at the slip of paper that Will gets - Dr. Vaughn, Pre-Health Advisor. That seems reasonable. I glance down at my own slip - The Hobo. That's all it says. I lean over to Will: "There must be some mistake. I... uhhh... I got a hobo. Well, not even a hobo. The Hobo." Will assures me that this is, in fact, a real, specific person: "He's a famous hobo that always walks around on campus. The employees have tried to force him to leave, but he always comes back, so they've just given up by now." Come on. I have to interview a hobo. The professor then hands us a list of questions to ask and sends us on our respective journeys.
As soon as leave, however, I realize I have no idea where I am going. Where am I supposed to find a hobo? I need to think like a hobo. My hobo self theorizes that perhaps I will find my man outside of the dining hall, looking for food that students don't want as they walk out. Bingo. I spot my hobo as I draw near to the dining hall exit. He certainly looks the part - there would be no confusing him with your average student, with his long, dirty-looking hair. Gathering my courage, I approach The Hobo and ask if I can interview him. He accepts, swelling with pride when I dub him a "campus celebrity." Only then do I open my piece of paper and examine the questions. Upon seeing them, I realize that this will be an incredibly awkward interview. Here is an approximate transcript:
Me: "So what is your name?"
Hobo: "Jermaine."
Me: "So what do you do for a living, Jermaine?"
Jermaine: "Nothing. I wander around looking for money or food."
Me: "Yeah, sorry, I totally knew that. I just have these questions I have to ask... So, where do you live?"
Jermaine: "The streets."
Me: "Yeah, again, I sort of knew that. Sorry I have to ask these. This is weird. So, what do you think is your most important contribution to the university?"
Jermaine: "Well, sometimes when kids throw a half eaten candy bar on the ground, I'll pick it up and eat the rest. So I sorta clean stuff up, I guess."
My thoughts: "Quick, Alex, pretend that that's not repulsive. Say something encouraging."
Me: "That's great, a regular environmentalist. You should get paid to do that. One last question: where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Jermaine: "Dead."
My thoughts: "Dammit, the man's suicidal. He'll probably kill me first. Pretend it's a joke. A really funny one... Oh, sweet mercy, he's smiling. It was a joke. Laugh with him."
Jermain: "I'm just messin' with you man - I think in ten years I'll have a nice job at this school, cleaning the gardens or something."
Me: "Well, Jermaine, I certainly hope you do. Thanks for your time."
Of course, I didn't even have to write the biography, because I left the next day. I certainly experienced a college class at its most quirky and terrifying, though. This assignment, whether it intended to or not, really captured a lot of what college is all about - it forced me to step outside of my comfort zone, meet new people, and experience the reality of the outside world. I hated it. But I want more.
So despite the warning, I awake early that morning to attend Creative Writing. I'm barely in my seat when the professor announces that we will be having a special class today - each student will be assigned a person (a faculty member, university employee, etc.) to interview and write a short biography for. I, personally, fail to see the "Creative" aspect of this Creative Writing assignment, but I go along. As the professor doles out our interviewees, I take a quick peek at the slip of paper that Will gets - Dr. Vaughn, Pre-Health Advisor. That seems reasonable. I glance down at my own slip - The Hobo. That's all it says. I lean over to Will: "There must be some mistake. I... uhhh... I got a hobo. Well, not even a hobo. The Hobo." Will assures me that this is, in fact, a real, specific person: "He's a famous hobo that always walks around on campus. The employees have tried to force him to leave, but he always comes back, so they've just given up by now." Come on. I have to interview a hobo. The professor then hands us a list of questions to ask and sends us on our respective journeys.
As soon as leave, however, I realize I have no idea where I am going. Where am I supposed to find a hobo? I need to think like a hobo. My hobo self theorizes that perhaps I will find my man outside of the dining hall, looking for food that students don't want as they walk out. Bingo. I spot my hobo as I draw near to the dining hall exit. He certainly looks the part - there would be no confusing him with your average student, with his long, dirty-looking hair. Gathering my courage, I approach The Hobo and ask if I can interview him. He accepts, swelling with pride when I dub him a "campus celebrity." Only then do I open my piece of paper and examine the questions. Upon seeing them, I realize that this will be an incredibly awkward interview. Here is an approximate transcript:
Me: "So what is your name?"
Hobo: "Jermaine."
Me: "So what do you do for a living, Jermaine?"
Jermaine: "Nothing. I wander around looking for money or food."
Me: "Yeah, sorry, I totally knew that. I just have these questions I have to ask... So, where do you live?"
Jermaine: "The streets."
Me: "Yeah, again, I sort of knew that. Sorry I have to ask these. This is weird. So, what do you think is your most important contribution to the university?"
Jermaine: "Well, sometimes when kids throw a half eaten candy bar on the ground, I'll pick it up and eat the rest. So I sorta clean stuff up, I guess."
My thoughts: "Quick, Alex, pretend that that's not repulsive. Say something encouraging."
Me: "That's great, a regular environmentalist. You should get paid to do that. One last question: where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Jermaine: "Dead."
My thoughts: "Dammit, the man's suicidal. He'll probably kill me first. Pretend it's a joke. A really funny one... Oh, sweet mercy, he's smiling. It was a joke. Laugh with him."
Jermain: "I'm just messin' with you man - I think in ten years I'll have a nice job at this school, cleaning the gardens or something."
Me: "Well, Jermaine, I certainly hope you do. Thanks for your time."
Of course, I didn't even have to write the biography, because I left the next day. I certainly experienced a college class at its most quirky and terrifying, though. This assignment, whether it intended to or not, really captured a lot of what college is all about - it forced me to step outside of my comfort zone, meet new people, and experience the reality of the outside world. I hated it. But I want more.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Spongebob: The Rise and Demise
As a kid, I grew up on Spongebob Squarepants. As an adolescent, Spongebob remains a timeless classic to me. Others, including adults, would casually dismiss Spongebob as an immature show for children. I beg to differ. The humor is, believe it or not, surprisingly high brow. Here are a few quotes as examples:
"The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/wat
- "Is mayonnaise an instrument?" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/wat
- "Now you must acquire a taste for... free form jazz" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/wat
"Squidward, you're steaming. You're like a steamed vegetable, only smarter" - Spongebob Squarepants
"You can't fool me. I listen to public radio!" - Squidward Tentacles
"But don't a genius live in lamps?" - Patrick Star
"Dumb people are always blissfully unaware of how dumb they really are" - Patrick Star
Here is a longer excerpt:
Flying Dutchman: "Listen! We're heading down to Bikini Bottom tonight for a little haunting spree, so I want this ship to look good and scary!"
SpongeBob: "You mean you want it to look good...and scary. Well, I think we can probably..."
Patrick: "No, no, I think he means he wants it to look so good that it's scary"
SpongeBob: "Or maybe that by looking so scary you forget that it doesn't look good!"
Patrick: "I don't get it"
SpongeBob: "Look, it's easy, it simply means that..."
Flying Dutchman: "Never mind what it means! I just want it to look scary! That's it! You know, mold growing on the ceilings and bugs in the sink"
SpongeBob: "So, you don't want it to look good?"
As good as Spongebob once was, though, it has fallen upon dark times. After the third season, most of the writers and the producer left the show, and it has suffered ever since. All I ask is that everyone give it a chance (at least seasons one through three).
"The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/wat
- "Is mayonnaise an instrument?" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/wat
- "Now you must acquire a taste for... free form jazz" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/wat
"Squidward, you're steaming. You're like a steamed vegetable, only smarter" - Spongebob Squarepants
"You can't fool me. I listen to public radio!" - Squidward Tentacles
"But don't a genius live in lamps?" - Patrick Star
"Dumb people are always blissfully unaware of how dumb they really are" - Patrick Star
Here is a longer excerpt:
Flying Dutchman: "Listen! We're heading down to Bikini Bottom tonight for a little haunting spree, so I want this ship to look good and scary!"
SpongeBob: "You mean you want it to look good...and scary. Well, I think we can probably..."
Patrick: "No, no, I think he means he wants it to look so good that it's scary"
SpongeBob: "Or maybe that by looking so scary you forget that it doesn't look good!"
Patrick: "I don't get it"
SpongeBob: "Look, it's easy, it simply means that..."
Flying Dutchman: "Never mind what it means! I just want it to look scary! That's it! You know, mold growing on the ceilings and bugs in the sink"
SpongeBob: "So, you don't want it to look good?"
As good as Spongebob once was, though, it has fallen upon dark times. After the third season, most of the writers and the producer left the show, and it has suffered ever since. All I ask is that everyone give it a chance (at least seasons one through three).
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Academic Challenge
Academic Challenge, or Ac. Chal., as the kids are calling it these days, is one of the best kept secrets of Chagrin Falls High School. This selective club is the high school equivalent of the Skull and Bones, the secret society at Yale University whose members have included George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush, and William Howard Taft. Or, rather, it was - Ac. Chal. was unfortunately disbanded this year by Coach Josh "D.J. Mixmaster" Maas. Mr. Maas, the faculty adviser for the club, told me last year that we would not have Academic Challenge this year. When I asked why, he responded, "Because I don't like to lose." As bad as this sounds, Mr. Maas is right - we never stand a chance against most other schools. It's not that we lack intelligent students. The problem is that our Academic Challenge team members are all involved in sports or other extracurricular activities. However, at Solon, for example, kids on the team do Ac. Chal. and Ac. Chal. only.
I have discovered the secret that will ensure our future success, though. For years I have heard legends of a time bygone when our team achieved great things. But these seemed to be just mythical tales of better times, twisted by time and proud students. Recently, though, I heard something that forced me to reconsider my opinion of past Academic Challenge teams - rumor has it that a certain Ms. Serensky was once an integral part of the squad. A coach. Coach Serensky. It has a nice ring to it. Imagine the possibilities with Mr. Maas and Ms. Serensky together at the helm of our team.
The most intriguing aspect of this is the idea of Ms. Serensky in a social setting (sort of). Take last year, for example - we had a chow down after one of our competitions for Ac. Chal., and we invited Mr. Maas. And he actually showed up. He spent a few minutes talking to parents upstairs, but then came downstairs to hang out with the kids - that was where he felt more comfortable, playing ping pong and watching t.v. with us. Just imagine playing ping pong with Ms. Serensky. Brought to you by the one and only Academic Challenge.
I have discovered the secret that will ensure our future success, though. For years I have heard legends of a time bygone when our team achieved great things. But these seemed to be just mythical tales of better times, twisted by time and proud students. Recently, though, I heard something that forced me to reconsider my opinion of past Academic Challenge teams - rumor has it that a certain Ms. Serensky was once an integral part of the squad. A coach. Coach Serensky. It has a nice ring to it. Imagine the possibilities with Mr. Maas and Ms. Serensky together at the helm of our team.
The most intriguing aspect of this is the idea of Ms. Serensky in a social setting (sort of). Take last year, for example - we had a chow down after one of our competitions for Ac. Chal., and we invited Mr. Maas. And he actually showed up. He spent a few minutes talking to parents upstairs, but then came downstairs to hang out with the kids - that was where he felt more comfortable, playing ping pong and watching t.v. with us. Just imagine playing ping pong with Ms. Serensky. Brought to you by the one and only Academic Challenge.
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