Adrielle Massey
Odyssey Essay
Sophomore English
20 May 2008
"ITHICANS! Lay down your arms now, And go your ways with no more bloodshed" (381). The Odyssey, what a book, what a legacy for Homer to have left behind. Although this book may be an epic story of good versus evil, it is, however, not for everyone. The Odyssey should be taught in school, but at the same time it should not. Do not worry though, there is a way to fix the problem at hand.
Odysseus is the archetype of heroes and The Odyssey is the archetype of heroic journeys. This is a very good story to be taught in school with the beautiful writings of how "Dawn spread her roselight over the sky," (106) but may to a more advanced crowd. The epic story of Odysseus is a very challenging read, after having finished, it gives the reader a sense of pride in oneself and their reading abilities. It also exposes the reader to new vocabulary that would be very beneficial to the reader later down the road of their life. As The Odyssey is set in Greece, very far into the past, the book pushes the reader into a whole new world of different cultures and times. These are a few reasons why The Odyssey should be read in school by a more elite group of students.
Now, as wonderful as The Odyssey is with its articulate writing, it is not meant for everyone. Some students find the book much too difficult and get frustrated. For example, the epithets in the book can prove most confusing, such as, "Menelaus, the red-haired king" (48). If the student does not understand the book at hand, then they are getting nothing out of the literature and may as well be staying at home. To some people, The Odyssey means nothing to them, and will never help them in their later life. For many, in this world which is already hard to succeed in, and forcing The Odyssey, just exacerbates the struggle.
But have no fear! There is an answer to the question of how to make the English room behoove every student that sits within the constricting seats within the walls they dwell. First, the teacher needs to not worry about hurting a student’s feelings. Teachers give students assignments and make them learn "for their own good,” so why not come to reality and "for the good of the child" be honest with them. Split the class into two sub-classes. That feeble reason of not wanting to offend students needs to be eradicated, for the educators are truly only hurting the students more by not meeting the child’s standards. With the spilt class have one being the more advanced group, and the other the less advanced. Have the more elect pupils read pieces of literature like The Odyssey, and the other students read something a little easier that will help them then build upon the skills that they already have. The middle ground is ineffective and unfair. Why are the elite students being denied the approbation to be challenged? By reading an easy book the teacher is holding back the students that excel, and equally important, the other students reading a difficult book get nothing out of it. Students may feel indignant due of this injustice.
So, in conclusion, The Odyssey should be read by high school students, but also the teacher needs to think more carefully of which students. We could fix this problem by splitting the class into two sub-classes. Although The Odyssey is a grand piece of literature, it only needs to be endured by the more prominent English students, because it is pivotal for each student to be challenged within their own limits. Only then does true valuable learning occur.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Creepy Poem
Adrielle Massey
Personal Poem
Sophomore English
6 February 2007
Death is calling me.
It is an infant beckoning to its mother.
I imprison It in a barred crib in my mind.
It grabs at my soul as a child grabs its mother's skirt.
"Please! Leave me be! I beg you, not tonight," I plead.
It calls again, "You'll never leave me will you mother?"
I sob and know that for another night I am defeated.
Death stabs again.
It's reaching, reaching, reaching for something deeper.
Its tiny hands knock against something hollow.
CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK!
Death begins to beat against it.
It's beating, beating, beating in sync with my heart.
I fall again into myself...into what Death calls home.
It smiles as it screams.
Its cries are nails on a chalk board.
It's scratching, beating, terrorizing my hard heart until it opens.
Death enters and begins to scream once more.
Its sated cries pierce through me, and echo through my hollow cavity.
Death begins to dance.
Spinning, twirling, spiraling in circles,
Never ending until I cease to exist.
And then, when I am nothing it whispers.
Whispers softly in my ear,
"I'll be back in the morning."
okay, so before you judge me by saying that i need mental help, please allow me to explain. i thought that it would be funny to portray death as a baby. perhaps that is sick in itself, but i don't actually feel this way.
Personal Poem
Sophomore English
6 February 2007
Death is calling me.
It is an infant beckoning to its mother.
I imprison It in a barred crib in my mind.
It grabs at my soul as a child grabs its mother's skirt.
"Please! Leave me be! I beg you, not tonight," I plead.
It calls again, "You'll never leave me will you mother?"
I sob and know that for another night I am defeated.
Death stabs again.
It's reaching, reaching, reaching for something deeper.
Its tiny hands knock against something hollow.
CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK!
Death begins to beat against it.
It's beating, beating, beating in sync with my heart.
I fall again into myself...into what Death calls home.
It smiles as it screams.
Its cries are nails on a chalk board.
It's scratching, beating, terrorizing my hard heart until it opens.
Death enters and begins to scream once more.
Its sated cries pierce through me, and echo through my hollow cavity.
Death begins to dance.
Spinning, twirling, spiraling in circles,
Never ending until I cease to exist.
And then, when I am nothing it whispers.
Whispers softly in my ear,
"I'll be back in the morning."
okay, so before you judge me by saying that i need mental help, please allow me to explain. i thought that it would be funny to portray death as a baby. perhaps that is sick in itself, but i don't actually feel this way.
Myth of Persephone
Adrielle Maassey
Cereal Box Story
Sophomore English
March 6, 2008
Zeus, the god of the gods, got jiggy with Demeter, because he does the whole incest thing. Then together Demeter bore Persephone, and she loved her very much. Persephone was a rambunctious child. She named all the plants and liked to paint them. I know, I was there.
Hiya, my name is shoe and I am Persephone’s conscience. She doesn't listen very often, but whatever. So there I was hanging with my self in Persephone's head, when she was painting some flowers. I'm not very artistic so I satisfied myself with some wine and music.
I was past the point of silliness when Persephone saw a bush. She eyed it for so me time, and she couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. Now, something that can capture Persephone's attention completely deserved to be looked at by me. She would have decided that she liked it, if she had come to the conclusion by herself, but there I was, intoxicated.
"Pull it up!" I laughingly yelled spilling some wine.
So, the one time she decides to listen to me we all get screwed over. She pulled up the bush with some struggle, but eventually her god-like strength triumphed, and the bush emerged from the ground. She threw it carelessly aside and continued to paint the flowers. I told her to color them brown but she refused.
From where she pulled the bush from the earth there laid a huge open hole into the black earth. Persephone paid it no mind and continued to paint. She didn't notice that the hole was growing larger until it was big enough to fit a small shed. I was dancing and singing "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" and gave it no mind.
So then Hades, Lord of the dead and brother to Demeter, arose from the hole riding in a black chariot which was pulled by horses as black as ebony. He gave Persephone a nasty grin, took her by the arm, and took us down into the seemingly endless abyss. I was giggling hysterically, but Persephone began to cry. Soon I passed out.
I awoke a week later with a line of drool from the corner of my mouth to the floor. I wiped it away with my sleeve and sat up trying to figure out what had been going on. I found out that Hades had been trying to beguile Persephone with gifts. She had refused them all and had pretended that they held no value to her, when really all she wanted to do was relish in the gifts bestowed upon her. She had refused to eat, but all thee time she was starving.
I knew that I was the reason for our unfavorable predicament. I soon became depressed and drank to get rid of my blues. The straight vodka burned my throat, but eventually loosed my joints and my tongue.
"Man, I'm starving Persephone! Eat something!"
Little did I know that this was the exact opposite of what she should have done. For earlier, once Demeter had found out what had become of her darling daughter she went to Mount Olympus and pled to Zeus for the return of her daughter, but to her dismay Zeus thought that the marriage was a grand idea and told her no.
Demeter got very, very angry and nothing on the earth grew. Zeus soon saw this and summoned Demeter to Mount Olympus. There he told her that she may go and retrieve her daughter from the underworld. So she sent Hermes to fetch Persephone.
However, Persephone had been stupid enough to listen to me, and accepted six seeds of a pomegranate from her little servant boy, that Hades had given her. She was overjoyed when Hermes came and took her above ground to her mother. I was so happy that I drank to celebrate.
Well, as it tuned out, because Persephone listened to me when I told her to eat something she technically had to stay with Hades, but Zeus feared Demeter's wrath on the land, so he came up with a compromise. Persephone would live for six months with her mother and six months with Hades.
So that is how the seasons came to be. When Persephone is with her mother the earth flourishes and is bountiful with green plants, but when she is away from her mother the land is desolate and covered with white snow.
so, in this one,we had to pick a god or goddess and rewrite a myth about them. i did, and incorporated myself into the story as Persephone's drunken conscience. yeah...
Cereal Box Story
Sophomore English
March 6, 2008
Zeus, the god of the gods, got jiggy with Demeter, because he does the whole incest thing. Then together Demeter bore Persephone, and she loved her very much. Persephone was a rambunctious child. She named all the plants and liked to paint them. I know, I was there.
Hiya, my name is shoe and I am Persephone’s conscience. She doesn't listen very often, but whatever. So there I was hanging with my self in Persephone's head, when she was painting some flowers. I'm not very artistic so I satisfied myself with some wine and music.
I was past the point of silliness when Persephone saw a bush. She eyed it for so me time, and she couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. Now, something that can capture Persephone's attention completely deserved to be looked at by me. She would have decided that she liked it, if she had come to the conclusion by herself, but there I was, intoxicated.
"Pull it up!" I laughingly yelled spilling some wine.
So, the one time she decides to listen to me we all get screwed over. She pulled up the bush with some struggle, but eventually her god-like strength triumphed, and the bush emerged from the ground. She threw it carelessly aside and continued to paint the flowers. I told her to color them brown but she refused.
From where she pulled the bush from the earth there laid a huge open hole into the black earth. Persephone paid it no mind and continued to paint. She didn't notice that the hole was growing larger until it was big enough to fit a small shed. I was dancing and singing "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" and gave it no mind.
So then Hades, Lord of the dead and brother to Demeter, arose from the hole riding in a black chariot which was pulled by horses as black as ebony. He gave Persephone a nasty grin, took her by the arm, and took us down into the seemingly endless abyss. I was giggling hysterically, but Persephone began to cry. Soon I passed out.
I awoke a week later with a line of drool from the corner of my mouth to the floor. I wiped it away with my sleeve and sat up trying to figure out what had been going on. I found out that Hades had been trying to beguile Persephone with gifts. She had refused them all and had pretended that they held no value to her, when really all she wanted to do was relish in the gifts bestowed upon her. She had refused to eat, but all thee time she was starving.
I knew that I was the reason for our unfavorable predicament. I soon became depressed and drank to get rid of my blues. The straight vodka burned my throat, but eventually loosed my joints and my tongue.
"Man, I'm starving Persephone! Eat something!"
Little did I know that this was the exact opposite of what she should have done. For earlier, once Demeter had found out what had become of her darling daughter she went to Mount Olympus and pled to Zeus for the return of her daughter, but to her dismay Zeus thought that the marriage was a grand idea and told her no.
Demeter got very, very angry and nothing on the earth grew. Zeus soon saw this and summoned Demeter to Mount Olympus. There he told her that she may go and retrieve her daughter from the underworld. So she sent Hermes to fetch Persephone.
However, Persephone had been stupid enough to listen to me, and accepted six seeds of a pomegranate from her little servant boy, that Hades had given her. She was overjoyed when Hermes came and took her above ground to her mother. I was so happy that I drank to celebrate.
Well, as it tuned out, because Persephone listened to me when I told her to eat something she technically had to stay with Hades, but Zeus feared Demeter's wrath on the land, so he came up with a compromise. Persephone would live for six months with her mother and six months with Hades.
So that is how the seasons came to be. When Persephone is with her mother the earth flourishes and is bountiful with green plants, but when she is away from her mother the land is desolate and covered with white snow.
so, in this one,we had to pick a god or goddess and rewrite a myth about them. i did, and incorporated myself into the story as Persephone's drunken conscience. yeah...
Book Review
Adrielle Massey
Book Review Essay
Sophomore English
22 January 2008
The Giving Tree is a wonderous book with intriguing evasive qualities, simple writing, but complex concepts that makes one prod their cerebellum with a sharp stick.
The book is a mystery in itself. The reader does not know very much about the tree or the boy. The author, Shel Silverstein, does not provide a name, as the young human is simply referred to as "the boy" and the tree is just that, "the tree." The reader has no idea where this depressing story is taking place, but the lack of titles and locations makes the story universal and identifiable for anyone willing to set eyes on the book and intake the information it is offering.
As The Giving Tree is only approximatley 52 pages long and posesses a facile language; it is considered a children's book. This makes the book easy to understand with uncomplex words. There are no puns or idoms, the words that make up the story are very direct, understandable by everyone. A child of five to whom is being read a bedtime story can relate to the story the same as a 50-year-old college English professor who just wished to read a well-written piece of literature.
Now, even though the book has an easy way of putting words together it still makes the reader ponder the actions of the characters long after the last page is turned and the book is returned to the dusty shelves it calls home. The Giving Tree is an engaging piece of literature with an elaborate message. This message is so valuable to everyone because however the reader interperates it, the answer is always correct. The book explores the natural evils of humanity, and whether one can bring themself to understand or deem the lack of generosity of the boy unforgivable, either are acceptable.
The Giving Tree is one of the best books ever written because of its obscure yet tantalizing qualities. The book takes such effortless understanding that anyone can enjoy it. Best of all, it is an intricate story of a boy and tree that is elaborate but not impossible to understand.
so this assignment was okay. Not too terrible, but not fun...just an assignment...
Book Review Essay
Sophomore English
22 January 2008
The Giving Tree is a wonderous book with intriguing evasive qualities, simple writing, but complex concepts that makes one prod their cerebellum with a sharp stick.
The book is a mystery in itself. The reader does not know very much about the tree or the boy. The author, Shel Silverstein, does not provide a name, as the young human is simply referred to as "the boy" and the tree is just that, "the tree." The reader has no idea where this depressing story is taking place, but the lack of titles and locations makes the story universal and identifiable for anyone willing to set eyes on the book and intake the information it is offering.
As The Giving Tree is only approximatley 52 pages long and posesses a facile language; it is considered a children's book. This makes the book easy to understand with uncomplex words. There are no puns or idoms, the words that make up the story are very direct, understandable by everyone. A child of five to whom is being read a bedtime story can relate to the story the same as a 50-year-old college English professor who just wished to read a well-written piece of literature.
Now, even though the book has an easy way of putting words together it still makes the reader ponder the actions of the characters long after the last page is turned and the book is returned to the dusty shelves it calls home. The Giving Tree is an engaging piece of literature with an elaborate message. This message is so valuable to everyone because however the reader interperates it, the answer is always correct. The book explores the natural evils of humanity, and whether one can bring themself to understand or deem the lack of generosity of the boy unforgivable, either are acceptable.
The Giving Tree is one of the best books ever written because of its obscure yet tantalizing qualities. The book takes such effortless understanding that anyone can enjoy it. Best of all, it is an intricate story of a boy and tree that is elaborate but not impossible to understand.
so this assignment was okay. Not too terrible, but not fun...just an assignment...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Things Fall Apart Summary
I hate this book SOOOOOOO much. We have only just finished chapter 4 and I'm ready to SHOOT myself in the head! It's the same with every book that you have to read in an English class. It's tells you about a people that are soon supressed by some sort of evil force and it looks like all hope is lost. Then some person gives a pretty good pep talk and the people are revived with a new passion to save themselves and fight back. They do, someone important dies, and everyone is happy,yada yada yada...THE END! Hmmm..., well I dunno what to really say now, but I really don't wanna go back and sit there to do nothing, so I'll try to think of something productive to write about on this blog thing. \/ That thing right there is me. I'm bored and mad.
OO
___
Okonkwo is a mean histrionic, and antisocial maniac that should be put to death for every reason you can possibly conceive in the great expanse of your brain and all it's functions. Unoka is lazy, but is still a pretty cool guy. I have no respect for him, but i don't have any hate for him either. Yeah, I think that I have ranted just about enough. Believe you me, I could go longer, but I suspect that Ms. Turcotte may get anxious. Kk, catch you on the flip side.
p.s. they ruined my mad face, cuz they're bungholes. they moved the eyebrows from the rest of his face.
OO
___
Okonkwo is a mean histrionic, and antisocial maniac that should be put to death for every reason you can possibly conceive in the great expanse of your brain and all it's functions. Unoka is lazy, but is still a pretty cool guy. I have no respect for him, but i don't have any hate for him either. Yeah, I think that I have ranted just about enough. Believe you me, I could go longer, but I suspect that Ms. Turcotte may get anxious. Kk, catch you on the flip side.
p.s. they ruined my mad face, cuz they're bungholes. they moved the eyebrows from the rest of his face.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Silly Sentences
So we did some silly sentences on our Palm Pilots. You put in 5 verbs, adjectives, nouns, prepositional phrases and adverbs, and the computer will randomnly put the words together to make silly sentences. Here are mine.
1) The raw homedog defocated hoeishly around the mullbarry bush.
2)A bootylicious tramp licked akwardly below the fridge.
3)A putrid pedaphile licked akwardly into the great wide open.
4)An egotistical tramp defocated akwardly on top of the world.
5)A bootylicious pedaphile licked carrngly on top of the world.
So those are my silly sentences. I hope you enjoyed them. They made me laugh histarically. (sp?)
1) The raw homedog defocated hoeishly around the mullbarry bush.
2)A bootylicious tramp licked akwardly below the fridge.
3)A putrid pedaphile licked akwardly into the great wide open.
4)An egotistical tramp defocated akwardly on top of the world.
5)A bootylicious pedaphile licked carrngly on top of the world.
So those are my silly sentences. I hope you enjoyed them. They made me laugh histarically. (sp?)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
About Paragraph Formula
I HATE IT! I HAVE NEVER HATED SOMETHING THIS MUCH BEFORE IN MY LIFE! AND TRUST ME I HAVE DONE QUITE A LOT OF HATING IN MY SHORT 16 YEARS. NO ONE HATES MORE THAN I DO. SO WHAT DOES THAT TELL YOU ABOUT HOW MUCH I HATE PARAGRAPH OUTLINES. THEY'RE FUTILE. I WOULD RATHER JUST JUST WRITE WHAT I THINK AND ORGANIZE IT LATER. OTHERWISE I FORGET WHAT I WANNA SAY AND I EFFING HATE OUTLINES. ALL OF THEM. PARAGRAPH OUTLINES, NOTE OUTLINES, ESSAY OUTLINES. THEY STINKETH AND THE FIRST PERSON THAT THOUGHT OF THEM SHOULD DIE OF GHONNOREA. (sp?)
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