Thursday, January 15, 2009

Arguement

Consider the likelihood of the following scenario:

You are twenty-five years old: college medical student by day, in search of a job by night. It's Friday morning - the very beginning of a productive weekend - and you have a job interview at St. Jude's Children's Hospital. You are nervous, excited, perhaps a little nauseous as you step inside the building. You feel small as the walls envelope you. You feel big in your brand new suit, ready to take on the harsh reality of suffering and sorrow, or so you think. The interview goes less than smoothly when your now not-so-potential boss calls you out on using a few too many fallacies in your discourse. Pale from embarrassment you slouch in your chair and hope for invisibility; intentions were good but perhaps relying on sentimentality is not the way to go. Your interviewer shakes your hand and says, We'll call, but you think in your head, You won't. A last minute question is asked, last chance to regain some dignity. Somehow, you say the right thing. Your brain spills some answer about the regeneration of cells in the human body and you're in. He hires you on the spot, gives you a position you weren't even applying for, a much better position than the one you were applying for. You think to yourself, If it wasn't for that four years of gym in high school I would have never gotten my dream job.

Many of the events created in the above scenario are quite plausible. I'm sure somewhere there must have been a med student - perhaps not exactly 25 years old - applying for a job at some well known and influential hospital. Perhaps their interview didn't go well, not all do. Perhaps there was one redeeming question that caused them to get their job. the probability of this is low, but it is not a complete stretch. The overstretching occurs in the last sentence. How possible is it that someone will utter those words after high school? How relevant is Physical Education to its students' futures? Does it serve a purpose besides being a 40 minute slot filler? In most cases, the answers to these questions are negative. Because most students learn absolutely nothing of use in gym class,they should not be required to take all four years of Physical Education in high school.

Gym class is, in all honesty, a joke. Students walk into the locker rooms, most of them late, and if they are there before the bell, they take their time getting changed. Eventually, the teacher is fed up with waiting, marches in and herds them out. Amount of time wasted: approximately 6 minutes. As soon as all (or most of) the students gather in the designated area of their class, the teacher stumbles through the process of attendance. The class is dispersed. Girls are standing around talking about the latest gossip or the latest test they bombed. No one is where they are assigned to be. Teacher does nothing to direct or discipline them. Amount of time wasted: approximately 5 minutes. Finally, the class begins. The teacher attempts to achieve full participation in warm ups. Participation usually reaches a high of 5 out of 40 students actually trying. Amount of time wasted: about 9 minutes. Before you know it, you have 20 minutes left in the period, not including the time you need to change back into your regular school clothes. You have worked out enough to break a sweat, but that's about it. If gym classes were organized more efficiently and had a more rigorous curriculum more students would at least be able to appreciate and understand the reason behind the class.

Because the classes are run the way they are, students view gym negatively and perhaps may take it a step further and view all types of exercise negatively. If one does not have experience in team sports and/or individual activities it is easy to get the wrong impression of this concept. Even the ones that do participate in sports find gym to be a waste of time, especially because they have an idea of what real exercise is and how it is achieved. Would it not, then, be a wise decision to allow students to opt out of a gym class for perhaps, an AP class they've always wanted to take but could never fit into the schedule, an elective that will challenge them intellectually or creatively, even a Study Hall to get some work done.

Education is meant to prepare students for their aspirations. Perhaps my earlier scenario could be true if the man were to say he learned the information thanks to AP Biology. We'll never really know. It is easy to create scenarios and manipulate them to prove a point. But as a high school senior, taking her fourth year of gym, I can confidently say that the other evidence speaks for itself. The idea of physical education is appealing and reasonable, but its application in the school system is less than desirable. Students should have the option of taking other, more challenging classes instead of gym. Give us knowledge or give us death!

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Happy Ice Day!

i want to be like this:

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Last minute Christmas preparations

I'm a procrastinator in every sense of the word. I even put off buying, wrapping, giving gifts. Instead, I went out in the snow yesterday. I tried to build an igloo; the snow was too fluffy. I tried to make a snow angel; I stepped in and ruined its shape. I tried to chase my dog; I fell on my knees into the cold and stayed there for longer than I thought comfortable. The holiday season just puts me in a leisurely mood which creates my leisurely pace. I slowly begin preparing for Christmas at the beginning of December, miscalculating, always, how much time I have. Christmas never seems to be near until it actually is. Then all chaos erupts and I'm left blogging about my own personal downfall: procrastination.

Monday, December 1, 2008

For another class, but I thought I'd share here.

The Things That I Don't Remember
(in the voice of my grandmother)
by A.S

I say I am from
leftovers:
the war, fierce,
the food, scarce.
I remain unsatisfied,
wrapped in pestilence,
desperately searching for
a fragment of hope
that mingles
with the stars.

I say
"I am from Poland."
The real thing,
(not a mirage)
holding Her ground
like a mother
cradling her newborn
in an atmosphere
of hate,
of threat.

I say I am from a land where
lore and legend
lead faithful minds,
and knowledge
leads to
violent death
instead of
faithful lives.

I say I am from
mother's woolen scarves,
father's cobbled shoes,
brother's overalls,
brother's teeshirts,
brother's socks,
sweaters,
the clothes I love.

I say I am from
a race
of giants
whose footsteps
trudge a distance
of oceans
and continents
faster than
planes
ever could.

I am from
things that aren't funny,
things that aren't easy,
things that aren't portable,
redeemable,
answerable,
comprehensible.

I am from
a myriad of embellished stories
told to grandchildren
I will soon forget.

I am from
one teaspoon of sugar
in my tea
today.

I am from
the day after soon.

I am from
"Is that you?"

I am from

I am

I

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

We Were Made in the Stars

(Note: The title was inspired by a TV series on the History Channel called "The Universe." If there are any discrepancies as to the subject matter, please leave a comment and I'll do my best to explain. But I must say that my mind works in mysterious ways and not all things can be clearly expressed or explained.)

We Were Made in the Stars
by A.S.

The heavens didn't move
as our bodies fell
from them,
laughing
at the celestial mess
left behind.
Our laughter spread
like wildfire
and spewed
our remnants
unto this dustbin
called Earth.
Our home
is in the language
of the Cosmos
which we've extinguished
to a pristine drone.

We work in
factories, cubicles,
putting walls
around our minds
to help
synthesize knowledge,
con phenomenon
into thinking that
there is no vindication
where there is no truth,
only story
and the cosmic riddle
of our youth.

We study astrology,
astronomy,
and the properties
of falling bodies
until there aren't any
winter days
to sleep on.

"The galaxy is moving
away from us,"
but there is a revolution
in time
and space
that tells us otherwise.
We call this wise riot
mythology,
when our own existence
is merely
a mixture of mythology
and clever thinking.
Our whole life is spent
healing the mind
we tear
asunder.

I've wrapped mine
in ghostly shrouds
hoping to forget this ground
I stand on
and remember the sky
I came from.

The heavens didn't move,
we did.

So don't forget to look up.
There is so much to see.
WHERE DO WE BEGIN?

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Everything is in constant flux.

One cannot escape change, because change is inevitable. As I think back on who I was 1, 5, 16 years ago, I see the constant growth and transformations I have gone through. Right now, right this second, I am not the the two year old being spoiled by her grandparents, or the six year old wearing sun dresses, or the 10 year old picking forbidden flowers to gain her mother's love, or the 14 year old outcast, or even the 16 year old I was a month ago. My identity, my body, my life is ever changing. In the words of Heraclitus, "Everything is in constant flux." And it is.

It is said that the human body rebuilds itself every 7 years. Whether 7 years is an exact time, an approximation, or even a completely made up number is irrelevant. It is still fact that certain parts of the body change over time. The outer layer of our skin is changed daily, the water in our bodies is changed approximately every 96 hours, and our tissues alter their structures according to cell production. Even if none of this is true, one still knows that the body grows. Isn't growth still change? If one can prove that the physical aspects of our lives are changing, can the same be concluded about the mental aspects? It can be argued that the mind is the only thing that truly remains the same, or constant. I have read somewhere that the nerve cells in your brain last a lifetime and do not multiply. Does this alone disprove my whole argument?

The mind transcends the brain and does not limit itself the way the brain does. I believe that the mind grows the same way that the body does over time. Not in the literal sense, but through education, knowledge, and experience. As I look back on the years I mentioned earlier, I can say that in each stage of my life, both my body and mind were different. As a two year old, I was thin and small; I only spoke Polish, my mind was not aware of any other languages until more change occurred; and the most important things in my life were ice cream and cartoons. As a 6 year old, I was still thin, but taller; I spoke English, a language that still seemed foreign to my mind; and I'd help my mom take care of my newborn sister, a change in my life that I learned to love. As a 10 year old, I grew wider and taller; I resented the language I was born into as well as the mother I was born from for giving my sister more attention than she gave me. At 14, I began to resent myself. All of these physical and character traits were temporary. If these two elements have changed, what else is there to account for?

Some may disagree, but I believe I am made up of a body and a mind; the two are in constant flux whether or not I want them to be. I will continue to redefine myself until death. Tim O'Brien may believe that there is something else that makes him up, a soul perhaps, that is unchanging, that the essence of "Timmy" still remains, but I beg tot differ. I am no longer who I was in the beginning, and who knows who I'll be in the end.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Why I Write

by "Irene Gut Opdyke"

Sitting at an empty dinner table, stripped of the cloth used to cover it - with a red and white background and the Polski orzeł, Polish eagle, neatly stitched by Mamusia - my sisters and I helped make pierogi with nothing but our bare hands. We made hundreds a day, pushing patterns and folding circles into crescents of dough, cheese and potatoes. Back then, I never thought I would be a writer. I spent many years of my life being everything but. I was just a girl, a nurse, a Catholic, a patriot, a rescuer, a friend, a wife, and a mother. My roles have shaped me in many ways, but I knew it was my turn to shape the truth in my own hands. With this in mind, I wrote.

I write because of ignorance. Not my own, but that of others. I fear that one day my story will lose its voice and be taken over by those who do not know, those who deny, those who cannot tell the whole truth. This lost voice, I back up on paper. I write with detail, emotion, and fervor; I write for permanence.

I do not write for myself. My story is not about me, or for me, although I label it so. It is for the lives I was meant to protect, the lives that through the grace of God, I saved. It is for Mamusia and Tatuś, for my sisters, for the Poles, the Jews, even for the Russians and Germans. It is for anyone who is willing to listen.

I write to remember what I'm hoping to forget. Babies torn from the hands of mothers and thrown away, their pulp coloring the ground, two straight lines of Jews and Poles, handpicked by the Nazis and labeled "traitors," a mysterious trench dug deep in the forest, swollen from the number of bodies it must hide. I write because there are no more reasons to hide.

I've been recognized as brave, rebellious, and somewhat of a hero. But I am just a woman. One who's seen evil and put her foot down to force it to the ground. I am just a woman who told the truth. My story is my truth, their truth,

and I hope it will be your truth. Jak pozwolicie. If you let it.

Z Bogiem. Go With God.