Assertive

         Recently, a fellow AP Englisher (who shall remain nameless) asked me how I talk in discussions. As in, how do I make it known that I want to talk next without cutting someone off. Now, most of you probably know that I like to talk and have no problem voicing my opinion. I usually try to talk when there is a lull in discussion because I hate awkward silences, and I am really sorry if I have ever cut anyone off. But anyway, I cannot honestly say that I have a specific method for leading into my talking. However, for those of you who have trouble asserting themselves in class discussion, I have a few easy tips that I think may come in handy. And as an added bonus I get to compose a blog list.

1. Bring a gavel to class. Any time you wish to speak, bang the gavel on your desk and say "order in the classroom." When everyone stops to stare at you in shock, you can quickly jump in with your point.

2. Start slow clapping. After the previous person finishes speaking, loudly and slowly start clapping so as to prevent others from talking before you.

3. Pretend to choke. This one requires some acting skills because you need to seem convincing. When the rest of the class is watching you in concern, you can make a quick recovery and start talking.

4. Fall out of your desk. Do not do this quietly, but make a big scene out of it. This will divert attention to you and give you the opportunity to make a statement

5. Form an alliance. Join forces with as many people in the classes you can and develop a secret signal. When you wish to speak, perform the secret signal in order to make the other students in your alliance start humming. This will create general confusion and allow you to speak.

6. Hide in the ceiling before class. Kick your way out and cause panic with your entrance. Everyone else will be stunned into silence.

7. Bribery. I do not want to get too specific on this one. I'm just throwing it out there; when in doubt, bribe.

 

Six word paper? I wish

Pick your poison, both mean stress.

Genius? Not So Much

       The thought was, quite simply, that it might not be going to far to say that Clive was... an idiot. An idiot. It was a term he had applied to many others in his lifetime, most recently his former best friend. A word he had never dared associate with himself. But now, looking back on all he had accomplished in such a short time, idiot really seemed like the appropriate word. Not so long ago Clive had lived a simple and happy life; working on his latest masterpiece whilst enjoying the spoils of the cultured class. But it had not been enough. He wanted a higher status, a greater legacy. He wanted everyone to remember his name. And maybe they would now, just not for the right reasons. He thought of his house which might appear in a documentary film someday. An expose about how the desire for fame leads to ruin. Or perhaps how a relatively stable man managed to go down in flames in a matter of days: "The Clive Linley Story: From Composer to Clown."  Looking back, his errors seemed rather obvious. If only the average person was blessed with foresight, rather than hindsight. He had known that the tune at the end of his symphony sounded familiar. The echo of something greater. Something, he assumed, that he would create. That he would will into being. Too bad someone had beaten him to the punch a few centuries ago. At the very least, he would not have to bear witness the public reaction when they heard Clive Linley's pathetic Millennial Symphony. But why, oh why, had he not found his final interaction with Vernon suspicious? He thought it only natural that Vernon, the flea of society, would want to reconcile with the man on the cusp of icon status. He had been so very eager to enact his own plan of vengeance that he had ignored the very obvious signs of Vernon's identical plan. And now he was dead. Dead. With no one to care that he was. No friend to retrieve his remains. No one to write his biography. Yes, idiot sounded just about right.    

 Beethoven who?

Dear Anyone...

        Text messages are great: convenient, simple, and to the point. Can you believe that people used to talk to each other? Or worse yet, write letters to each other. Yeah, I know, gross. So when I found an old shoebox containing letters my grandfather had received in the 1950s and 60s, I was naturally curious. How did these poor people communicate back in the Stone Age before texts? You can imagine my surprise when I found that the letters were funny, interesting, and touching, even decades later. For instance, Mike, one of my grandpa's college friends, worked in the Marine Corps. In a letter dated June 2, 1957, Mike wrote, "Professor Ed Paul once stated that our class had only two interests- sex and athletics. At the time I wittingly suggested that we really didn't care for athletics." Despite the fact that this letter is more than 50 years old, I still laughed out loud when I read it. And even though Mike was clearly trying to be funny throughout his letter, he still managed to sound deep and profound without really trying. He described his training for the position of first Lieutenant and said, "I do have 44 men to lead. Or should I say experiment with. They play victim while I learn to be a leader of men." The phrase "leader of men" really struck me for some reason. Beneath Mike's joking exterior, I could sense he felt a lot of responsibility in caring for his men. Another one of my grandpa's friends worked at a Goodyear plant in Java, Indonesia. At the time, the Indonesians wanted to annex West New Guinea which the Dutch has possession of, thus leading to fighting and riots. Fred wrote of the events,”So we now have a country that is potentially the third richest country on Earth facing hunger and political chaos. Also I'm a little angry that the U.S. abstained from voting in the U.N." I had never even heard of this event before. The last place I expected to learn about an important international incident was in a letter to my grandpa. The first hand account is so much more affecting than the impersonal news stories that dominate the news today. Reading all of these letters made me sad that letter-writing seems to be a dying art. I am sure the rate of correspondence was a lot slower than in today's age; however, a letter conveys so much more depth and personality than simply shooting someone a text. A person has to actually sit down and plan out what to say and how to say it.