Equal to Evil

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Before you start reading, I’d like to say that this poem is based on a true story (exaggeratedly).  Can you guess what it’s about?  Anyway, I hope you enjoy/can possibly relate! 🙂  – Holly

Equal to Evil

by Holly Nguyen

Today, one thing gets us good salaries,
Yet it’s far from a good laugh
Its teachings require firm mastery –
A difficult, excruciating task.
Complex lessons taught in the morning,
Two -second distractions seal awful fates.
It’s hard to resist, and unbelievably boring.
But the board is already covered at such a fast rate.
Headaches plague me through the day,
But Orchestra heals my tepid soul. 
In class, I shouldn’t have dreamt away.
Or I wouldn’t encounter an eventual toll…
Printed packets of practice problems,
Penetrate my packed planner in pen.
At home, I’ll have to solve them,
And face this same cycle again.
Video tutorials prevail the teacher,
And comprehension pulls me forward.
That’s when I become eager
For what awaits me next in this order.
Days pass, and the class is silent with fear,
Mechanical pencil tip digs into my skin.
The quizzes are distributed, faces queer,
But I become certain I will win.
Under half an hour’s record,
I achieve it with confidence
And with such devoted effort
That this unit won’t make me wince.
Next lesson shortly arrives,
To me it’s somewhat tough,
But later there’s a surprise –
My quiz grade came rough.
As I juggle the old while grasping the new,
Other teachers bring heaps of more work.
Procrastination comes and accomplishes a few,
And I accuse it for being a huge jerk.

2 AM yet still awake
I review everything in dim light,
Stupid question twenty-eight
Got me stumped throughout the night.
Then the sun comes to rise with radiance,
Opposing my unsightly, sleep-deprived image. 
The alarm clock rings, and I need to sleep in
But anxiety and today’s test keep me on edge.
Shoes dragging across the school floor,
Exhaustion poisons my system.
My mind and joints become sore
Knowing this test will judge my existence.
Last-minute studying conquers the room;
Everybody seems completely ready.
But for me, it’s sleep, but time zooms
To the point where my knowledge is unsteady.
What the heck is this…?
I groggily pondered,
And I try to reminisce
Something like it, for my honor.
90 minutes for 100 points,
The clock stalls to help,
Yet the test has me annoyed,
From lack of memory, you could tell.
Finally, I finish,
No time to double-check,
Though I definitely wasn’t quickest,
That test alone was heck.
Scores release a week later,
Mine’s too brutal to even say.
But the only thing that’ll make me greater
Is future preparation for the next day.
This villain’s name is a four letter word,
With sole intentions to hurt and deceive.
Although it’s more like a four letter curse,
I think we all can admit that it’s heinous indeed.

The War Cry

paul.koch3 Comments
Ethan McFerren
Mr. Koch
English 9H
May 18, 2015
The War Cry
            Chinadyawaho, or Waho as his friends called him, was deeply saddened because of the cruel desires of the foreigners. When the foreigners had arrived in their beat-up, desperate looking wooden ships, their only thoughts were of pity, kindness, and friendliness. Waho’s Cheyenne ancestors had aided them, listening to their odd accented questions about building proper shelters and where to camp to avoid predators. They learned how to plant and preserve their precious crops of maize, carrots, and cabbage in the fertile young land. The foreigners had learned and grown; only too much. They knew the layout of the land, and where the camps were. They had developed selfish desires and plotted on their own friends, seeking out how to eliminate them. Before they had known it, they were pushed out of their true and rightful land, and outmatched in weaponry and numbers. This resulted in the natives being crowded into highly guarded and supervised complexes, these small, uncomfortable, and musty places of life, where innocent and guiltless dark skinned men, women and children were kept. They were treated like inmates in a jail, but why? They were Native Americans, who had helped their so-called friends. The only true Americans as Waho thought, the free and proud and… imprisoned.
They were like doves in a bronze cage and dolphins in an unforgiving net, trapped helplessly. The reservations were horrible. They were constantly being watched with no privacy whatsoever. The guards had specific and strict patrol duties and night shifts. This was their reward for helping their friends.
            Soon, this would all change. Navajo Nation, the biggest Native American reservation that covered the corners of Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico, was powerful. They consisted of close to 200,000 vengeful Native Americans. They had the numbers, the will, the want, and the need, to escape from their chains of shame. They needed much more space, a place where the natives could live like they wanted to, dress like they wanted to, have their own laws, and their own government. They needed a place where proud green forest rose high, a place of crisp, fresh wood for tools, filled with singing birds and leaping deer, fat turkeys, and silver wolves. A place that would conceal their elaborate and decorative teepees, with cool aqua pools, the overwhelming and rich aroma of venison cooking, the chopping of woodpeckers. They needed a home.
This was all a dream, until now.
The day of escape was near to come. Waho had talked to hundreds of strong and courageous men who hailed from tribes like the Navajo, Cheyenne, Sioux, and many others. They wanted to try to release themselves from their unrightfully determined predicament. Waho had to admit that they were weakened, but not dead. The nails of their captivity were tightened once, but now coming loose. The bars were holding, but not for much longer. The keys were dangling, but they weren’t out of reach.
He was stirring and mixing the unrest into something that would hopefully change the future of all Native Americans. He had heard tales from his equally optimistic son Jaulawena about the government plummeting, the economy struggling, the leaders rule shaky. If this wasn’t a better time to ambush, then when was?
            It was time for the retake, revival, and reawakening of Native Americans. It was time to regain what was rightfully theirs. It was time for the Native Americans to free the helpless natives from their reservations. Waho’s grandfather once said: “The difference between a wise man and a fool is one priceless asset: their wits.” Waho was growing old, but his dreams were not yet fulfilled. They were very close.
           
Works Cited

http://www.infoplease.com/toptens/indianreservations.html

Schizophrenia

paul.koch3 Comments
It’s a disease of the mind,
A mountain that’s too hard to climb.
Voices ringing,
Angels singing,
Trying harder to forget the pain,
I’m not to blame!
My mind is tearing itself apart,
And blood is flowing.
This game is way too hard,
And my anger’s growing.
My heart reaches out to the forgotten,
Wishing the past never happened.
Voices screaming!
The angels aren’t redeeming.
I see faces throughout my passing life,
Why can’t I get through all this strife?
Make them stop.
I said make them stop!
I’m left with my thoughts,
Something I wish I was without.
Ignore it!
They tell me I’m okay,
When I don’t have a say.
I’ve had enough!
I’ve got no idea,
I’m clouded by dementia.
They say I am a madman.
Sporadic and ecstatic,
I’m breaking old habits,
By staying in the dark,
A bite sharper than my bark,
I’m babbling on about nothing,
When I’m talking about something,
Something I need isn’t there,
It’s not fair!
They say I am a madman,
And that’s who I am.

Socratic Seminar – Culture and Love

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Critical Thinking, Inquiry and Wonder
The Window Questions:  These should be the primary focus of your discussion and preparation.
Why is “Where” important?
What happens when cultures interact?
What is my role in the local and global community?
What are the implications of doing something forbidden?
What is love?
___
Prepare for the seminar by reading the texts, preparing your notes, and thinking about connections between the texts, other stories we have read in class and other stories you, or your classmates, researched during the year.
________________
The Setup
__________________
The Rubric

Anatomy

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We are human, not machines.  We are not perfect, and we are far from being a complete disaster. This is all written in our code, our anatomy.

Anatomy
I’m diverse,
Like the written verse,
In a world where everything seems rehearsed.
I’m a flame,
That no one can tame,
But sometimes the burning is inhumane.
I’m human,
It’s what I do,
I fall and rise with the chosen few.
It’s coded,
Within me,
It’s all entangled with my anatomy.
I’m a sharp edge,
But I made the pledge,
To only kill when my anger’s tipped off the ledge.
I’m tranquility,
A garden of harmony,
But sometimes my opposite gets the best of me.
I’m human,
It’s what I do,
I fall and rise with the chosen few.
It’s coded,
Within me,
It’s all entangled with my anatomy.
Not machines,
With parts too clean,
And no minds with the imagination to dream.
We are alive,
With an endless drive,
To find our wings and take to the sky.
We’re human,
It’s what we do,
We fall and rise with the chosen few.
We’re all alike,
In an endless fight,
To determine what we call wrong and right.

Sound Check | A Journey Through Cinema and Sound

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This is my big question project. The film focuses on how the addition of sound changed the film industry. I hope you enjoy it!

                                                                                                                                                                         
 Thanks and Special Mentions:
Special thanks to Cameron Starbuck for narrating my project this time around. More thanks to my English buddies, Garrett and Gwyn, for helping me out in pretty much all aspects of the project. Thanks to Mr. Koch for helping me choose my topic. A big thank you to everyone who supplied their opinions by taking my survey. Thank YOU for watching my project. Feedback is always appreciated!