Assignment:
Print out and read Thoreau's essay "Walking" and Stegners essay "Wilderness" (in letter format).
Write an essay comparing and contrasting, with paraphrasing, the two works using quotes from each work. In addition, include a Works Cited page, providing correctly formatted attribution to your sources.
Bring pre-writing or essay draft on Tuesday.
Exercise:
10 most common logical fallacies
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Cardiac Obliteration - Introductions
In 1984, he crossed the United States. At least 10 young women were abducted and raped. He murdered seven. This is her story. (sensational detail)
April was cold that year and the day was overcast, cooling the silver light to shadow even before its rays fell upon the ground. The desert, normally alive in the warm spring air, was still and somber. A world waiting, it seemed, for her next breath. (setting)
You spend years teaching your children how to be safe. They listen and they learn, you hope. “Look both ways before you cross the street.“ “Don’t put your hand on a bare burner.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” Everyday maxims of common sense, lived by rote each day until, one day, they are forgotten. Safety is pushed aside, and danger takes their hand. (narration)
April was cold that year and the day was overcast, cooling the silver light to shadow even before its rays fell upon the ground. The desert, normally alive in the warm spring air, was still and somber. A world waiting, it seemed, for her next breath. (setting)
You spend years teaching your children how to be safe. They listen and they learn, you hope. “Look both ways before you cross the street.“ “Don’t put your hand on a bare burner.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” Everyday maxims of common sense, lived by rote each day until, one day, they are forgotten. Safety is pushed aside, and danger takes their hand. (narration)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
INTRODUCTIONS
Here are my three introductions. I don't know what one I like the best! I know we will be reviewing these in class but here they are!
1. When Jessica was younger, the summer months were her favorite. She would lie in the green grass and make the clouds look like silly shapes with her imagination. She would race her brothers on the hot cement. If she ever tripped and fell, her daddy was always there to pick her up and kiss her skinned knee. That would make everything better. (anecdote)
2. "Don’t cry honey, it’s just a skinned knee,” her father said softly as he scooped her up off the pavement. His strong arms carried her small body inside the house and set her by the couch. The tears still streamed down her cheeks. As his lips met her knee suddenly the crying stopped. All the pain she felt was gone. Her daddy could fix anything. (Quotes)
3. Why is the pavement so hard? Jessica was crying hysterically. Her knee was skinned, a very minor injury. But Jessica was 6 years old. That magnified the pain and severity of her injury. Help was on the way. Her father had come to the rescue. Softly pressing his lips against her knee he asked her if it felt better. She nodded yes. (Question)
4. When people skin their knees, antiseptic and a bandaid is usually needed . The antiseptic is needed to clean out germs and bacteria from the wound. The bandaid is needed to keep germs and bacteria from entering the wound. But when little Jessica skins her knee all she needs is a kiss from her daddy to make it all better. (funnel)
1. When Jessica was younger, the summer months were her favorite. She would lie in the green grass and make the clouds look like silly shapes with her imagination. She would race her brothers on the hot cement. If she ever tripped and fell, her daddy was always there to pick her up and kiss her skinned knee. That would make everything better. (anecdote)
2. "Don’t cry honey, it’s just a skinned knee,” her father said softly as he scooped her up off the pavement. His strong arms carried her small body inside the house and set her by the couch. The tears still streamed down her cheeks. As his lips met her knee suddenly the crying stopped. All the pain she felt was gone. Her daddy could fix anything. (Quotes)
3. Why is the pavement so hard? Jessica was crying hysterically. Her knee was skinned, a very minor injury. But Jessica was 6 years old. That magnified the pain and severity of her injury. Help was on the way. Her father had come to the rescue. Softly pressing his lips against her knee he asked her if it felt better. She nodded yes. (Question)
4. When people skin their knees, antiseptic and a bandaid is usually needed . The antiseptic is needed to clean out germs and bacteria from the wound. The bandaid is needed to keep germs and bacteria from entering the wound. But when little Jessica skins her knee all she needs is a kiss from her daddy to make it all better. (funnel)
To Turn In On Tuesday 3/17
2 copies or your essay draft; 2 copies of your e-tutor report; 2 copies of your completed essay; 3 (identified) introductions to your essay; 2 copies of your essay with each sentence labeled (Simple, Compound, Complex, Compound/Complex).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
the performance
The performance:
He was just sitting there knowing it was coming, thoughts running through his mind of what he was going to do for a whole minute, he hardly even notices as the teacher asks him from a chair away if he is ready to go. As people turn to listen to his answer looking to embarrassed him as he gives a whimpery reply Yeah sure... He rises from the chair slowly wishing it was over and he was returning to his seat. Pulling his instrument out he moves forward slowly the whole world is resting on his shoulders and he is showing it. He tries all of the crap they tell you to calm you down, the deep breaths, the picture of everyone in their underwear he stops for a second when this idea takes shape in his minds eye. Looking around at a picture of everyone in their underwear isn't exactly appealing to him. He feels what was left of the blood in his face drain to his feet. He feels an imaginary kiss of heat as he sits in the "hot seat" Thinking of a way to forestall what he knows he must do he rises with pain in his eyes
"Right I forgot to say my stuff... he starts.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." the teacher says in his most reassuring tone. "I'll do it anyways." he says in response he knows what he wants to say but the works won't seem to come out.
"Okay what im going to be playing using the force of his will he gets the final words out.
Is a bunch of stuff that just sort of goes together and hopefully sounds okay.
He hears the snickers of the people two rows ahead of him as they joke about his little speech. With a bitterly cruel thought he knows they were being careful to be just loud enough for him to hear their comments but subtle and quite enough for the teacher in his old age to not be able to hear them. He looks at the instrument in his hands alien to him for that second. It almost hurts as the click of his memory of the past weeks of learning this fall back into place. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he almost wishes he had a god or something to pray to for strength. He feels the eyes of his peers washing over his whole form. Opening his eyes he knows its now or never. As the jittery tempo starts in his mind, the follows to his mouth.
"One and Two and 3 and Four and..." he whispers to himself.
He starts by matching the tempo he is counting to himself with his right hand moving it exactly where it needs to go. He slowly adds his left hand, it coming so naturally he makes him jump a little causing his tempo to falter a little. Shaking his head he gets his tempo back in a hurry accidentally speeding it up a little bit. His feet have decided to take the tempo from his mouth. For a moment he got lost in his beat and it was perfect, just as he had practiced. Then one slip occurred. Unanticipating this he stopped suddenly trying to get the part to work out slowly as the teacher had taught he tries, once, twice, three times. He hears his breath get caught in his throat. The sound that escapes him is an unfamiliar cross between a moan and a sigh. Looking up he starts again slower than before. Resuming the rhythm he had before he improvises around the part he can't do. Thinking it has been long enough he slows to almost a complete stop. Looking up he forget he needed an ending. On the spur of the moment he jumps out at the first thing that comes to mind. Playing it as loud as he can manage the pure sound of it makes him visibly jump. Beginning to raise the applause begins slowly and dies almost as fast as it starts. Keeping his eyes to the floor he lets his feet guide him back to his seat, hoping to fade into the faceless crowd. He lowers himself into his seat and falls back into it. The teacher complements him on a good job improvising when he needed to. Blocking out the rest of the world he closes his eyes and the world around him falls away.
He was just sitting there knowing it was coming, thoughts running through his mind of what he was going to do for a whole minute, he hardly even notices as the teacher asks him from a chair away if he is ready to go. As people turn to listen to his answer looking to embarrassed him as he gives a whimpery reply Yeah sure... He rises from the chair slowly wishing it was over and he was returning to his seat. Pulling his instrument out he moves forward slowly the whole world is resting on his shoulders and he is showing it. He tries all of the crap they tell you to calm you down, the deep breaths, the picture of everyone in their underwear he stops for a second when this idea takes shape in his minds eye. Looking around at a picture of everyone in their underwear isn't exactly appealing to him. He feels what was left of the blood in his face drain to his feet. He feels an imaginary kiss of heat as he sits in the "hot seat" Thinking of a way to forestall what he knows he must do he rises with pain in his eyes
"Right I forgot to say my stuff... he starts.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." the teacher says in his most reassuring tone. "I'll do it anyways." he says in response he knows what he wants to say but the works won't seem to come out.
"Okay what im going to be playing using the force of his will he gets the final words out.
Is a bunch of stuff that just sort of goes together and hopefully sounds okay.
He hears the snickers of the people two rows ahead of him as they joke about his little speech. With a bitterly cruel thought he knows they were being careful to be just loud enough for him to hear their comments but subtle and quite enough for the teacher in his old age to not be able to hear them. He looks at the instrument in his hands alien to him for that second. It almost hurts as the click of his memory of the past weeks of learning this fall back into place. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he almost wishes he had a god or something to pray to for strength. He feels the eyes of his peers washing over his whole form. Opening his eyes he knows its now or never. As the jittery tempo starts in his mind, the follows to his mouth.
"One and Two and 3 and Four and..." he whispers to himself.
He starts by matching the tempo he is counting to himself with his right hand moving it exactly where it needs to go. He slowly adds his left hand, it coming so naturally he makes him jump a little causing his tempo to falter a little. Shaking his head he gets his tempo back in a hurry accidentally speeding it up a little bit. His feet have decided to take the tempo from his mouth. For a moment he got lost in his beat and it was perfect, just as he had practiced. Then one slip occurred. Unanticipating this he stopped suddenly trying to get the part to work out slowly as the teacher had taught he tries, once, twice, three times. He hears his breath get caught in his throat. The sound that escapes him is an unfamiliar cross between a moan and a sigh. Looking up he starts again slower than before. Resuming the rhythm he had before he improvises around the part he can't do. Thinking it has been long enough he slows to almost a complete stop. Looking up he forget he needed an ending. On the spur of the moment he jumps out at the first thing that comes to mind. Playing it as loud as he can manage the pure sound of it makes him visibly jump. Beginning to raise the applause begins slowly and dies almost as fast as it starts. Keeping his eyes to the floor he lets his feet guide him back to his seat, hoping to fade into the faceless crowd. He lowers himself into his seat and falls back into it. The teacher complements him on a good job improvising when he needed to. Blocking out the rest of the world he closes his eyes and the world around him falls away.
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