November 28, 1994
Butterfly fly away becuse I'm going to catch you. You will end up in a jar.
December 1, 1994
When me and my family go out a robber mit come in and get scerd and yele like this AHHHHHH! cus of the alarm.
February 16, 1995
I ate the sun and no more sun.
-Elisa, age 6, First Grade
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
When I Grow Up...
c. 1995:
"I want to be a singer when I grow up. I want to be a singer because I want almost everybody to know me. I plan on joining up with my cousin because she helped me write a song called 'Thanksgiving.'"
c. 1997:
"When I grow up I want to be a pianist. I want to be a pianist because I feel I am very good at piano. My piano teacher, Ms. Carol, gives me lessons. Every Friday I can learn a new step of music. Ms. Carol is a very nice teacher."
c. 1998:
"When I grow up I want to be a scientist, but not just any scientist! I want to be one that studies insects, arachnids, and bugs. (Snakes, too!) Why do I want to study those things? I want to because they are interesting to me. That isn't something you hear from a girl, right? Wrong! Girls can like bugs and stuff too, but anyways, I want to be one of those scientists because I want to learn a whole lot more about bugs, insects, arachnids, and snakes."
What I'm Actually Doing:
I am going to school to be a psychologist (almost done with my B.A.)! I'm going to apply to a graduate program for the fall of 2010. If I don't get into the doctorate program that I want, I am going to apply for a master's. The details aren't completely ironed out, as far as what I'm going to do with these degrees goes, but I've got some ideas. And oh, they're good ones.
In the meantime, I'm working part-time at a shoe store. Y-yay shoes? I have this song stuck in my head the entire time I'm working: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCF3ywukQYA (Warning: There are some cusses in that video)
Even though my "original plans" didn't pan out, I'm really happy with the direction that my life is going in.
But then, you never know if I'm gonna change my mind... again...
"I want to be a singer when I grow up. I want to be a singer because I want almost everybody to know me. I plan on joining up with my cousin because she helped me write a song called 'Thanksgiving.'"
c. 1997:
"When I grow up I want to be a pianist. I want to be a pianist because I feel I am very good at piano. My piano teacher, Ms. Carol, gives me lessons. Every Friday I can learn a new step of music. Ms. Carol is a very nice teacher."
c. 1998:
"When I grow up I want to be a scientist, but not just any scientist! I want to be one that studies insects, arachnids, and bugs. (Snakes, too!) Why do I want to study those things? I want to because they are interesting to me. That isn't something you hear from a girl, right? Wrong! Girls can like bugs and stuff too, but anyways, I want to be one of those scientists because I want to learn a whole lot more about bugs, insects, arachnids, and snakes."
What I'm Actually Doing:
I am going to school to be a psychologist (almost done with my B.A.)! I'm going to apply to a graduate program for the fall of 2010. If I don't get into the doctorate program that I want, I am going to apply for a master's. The details aren't completely ironed out, as far as what I'm going to do with these degrees goes, but I've got some ideas. And oh, they're good ones.
In the meantime, I'm working part-time at a shoe store. Y-yay shoes? I have this song stuck in my head the entire time I'm working: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCF3ywukQYA (Warning: There are some cusses in that video)
Even though my "original plans" didn't pan out, I'm really happy with the direction that my life is going in.
But then, you never know if I'm gonna change my mind... again...
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Origin Story
"Can you see the future
of the dropping day
when the stippled light
steps into its own skin
O how we live
for those pinpoints
unconscious of
the simple pocks--imprints,
intrinsic epiphanies.
-T. Davern
Make sure you seek out the epiphanies, because you can learn a lot from them. Best of luck in the future, and keep that creative energy working for you.
-T. Davern"
I know that this blog is supposed to be for things that I have written, but I felt it was necessary that I include this piece. This was written in my senior yearbook by one of the most (if not THE most) influential teachers I have ever had.
I first met Thomas Davern on the first day of my senior year in high school. I had signed up for a class called Media Literacy, and that was the first class of the day. I also noticed that I had the same teacher for my English 4 AP class. "Great," I thought, "With my luck, he'll hate me and it will be super awkward because I have to see him twice. Every day." Thankfully, this was not the case.
I walked into Portable 32 to find a young, silver-haired man, sitting at his desk and listening to his iPod. "Whaaaaaat." This man did NOT fit in with my schema of what an English teacher was. "Shouldn't he be like... old? Teachers don't listen to iPods!" Lesson One from Davern: let go of your preconceived notions.
As the year went on, I found my respect for this man growing exponentially. I felt comfortable talking to him about ANYTHING. Movies, books, music, current events, hypothetical situations, anything was on the table for this man. He encouraged us to ask questions, to bring up topics. Anything that engaged our attention was welcome for discussion. Lesson Two from Davern: you can learn a lot from a good conversation.
Through movies and books, he put wonderful stories in our heads, and taught us how to make each one our own. Nothing was unable to be analyzed. Additionally, when analyzing anything (whether it be a piece of literature or a film), there is no one answer that is right. There is a myriad of answers that can be given, especially when different people look at the same piece. Lesson Three from Davern: you can learn a lot when you pick out the pieces that make up the whole. Lesson Four from Davern: don't stop at the first answer; see what else you can come up with. You might surprise yourself.
It's kind of funny that I very rarely ever called him "Mr. Davern." Usually it was just "Davern." Occassionally, he was referred to as "The Dav," but that was very rare. I think I might have tried calling him Thomas a couple of times, but it felt weird. Davern was just right. I was told that I should REALLY call him Mr. Davern, out of respect. To me, dropping the formality of calling him Mr. was a bigger sign of respect, though. I felt that being able to just call him Davern showed that I was comfortable with him and that his lessons were really getting through to me. Each time he gave us another assignment, I was chomping at the bit to see what I could do for this one. Each time I was given a chance to show him that I could be creative and let him see what I'd learned from him, I was ready.
One time I had a book on my desk. He asked me what it was, and I told him that it was Moby Dick by Herman Melville. He swiftly stole away with my book as I continued working on my assignment. Moments later, he brought it back with certain pages marked with green tabs, and one blue tab. "These are key chapters in the book. The blue tab marks what some people call the most important chapter." I still have those chapters marked.
Instead of a rigid, no-nonsense teacher who expected everyone to learn everything by the book, we got someone who allowed us to express ourselves however we wanted. All he wanted was some form of expression, whether we were completely sincere or were simply parodying the lesson. It didn't matter, as long as we were using our brains. He taught me how to turn things upside down and inside out, to never take anything for granted and to find meaning in everything. Since taking classes with him, my experiences have been richer and more meaningful because I know now how to find beauty in everything. I know how to look for significance in every event, no matter how small. I know how to appreciate the tiniest miracles just as though they were the grandest marvels.
I have written this entry as a sort of thank you to Davern. Thanks for all the lessons you taught me. I've been able to use them inside the classroom and out. Thanks for introducing me to great movies and books that I watch and read over and over again to this day.
But most of all, thanks for the epiphanies, which I'll continue to seek for as long as I live.
of the dropping day
when the stippled light
steps into its own skin
O how we live
for those pinpoints
unconscious of
the simple pocks--imprints,
intrinsic epiphanies.
-T. Davern
Make sure you seek out the epiphanies, because you can learn a lot from them. Best of luck in the future, and keep that creative energy working for you.
-T. Davern"
I know that this blog is supposed to be for things that I have written, but I felt it was necessary that I include this piece. This was written in my senior yearbook by one of the most (if not THE most) influential teachers I have ever had.
I first met Thomas Davern on the first day of my senior year in high school. I had signed up for a class called Media Literacy, and that was the first class of the day. I also noticed that I had the same teacher for my English 4 AP class. "Great," I thought, "With my luck, he'll hate me and it will be super awkward because I have to see him twice. Every day." Thankfully, this was not the case.
I walked into Portable 32 to find a young, silver-haired man, sitting at his desk and listening to his iPod. "Whaaaaaat." This man did NOT fit in with my schema of what an English teacher was. "Shouldn't he be like... old? Teachers don't listen to iPods!" Lesson One from Davern: let go of your preconceived notions.
As the year went on, I found my respect for this man growing exponentially. I felt comfortable talking to him about ANYTHING. Movies, books, music, current events, hypothetical situations, anything was on the table for this man. He encouraged us to ask questions, to bring up topics. Anything that engaged our attention was welcome for discussion. Lesson Two from Davern: you can learn a lot from a good conversation.
Through movies and books, he put wonderful stories in our heads, and taught us how to make each one our own. Nothing was unable to be analyzed. Additionally, when analyzing anything (whether it be a piece of literature or a film), there is no one answer that is right. There is a myriad of answers that can be given, especially when different people look at the same piece. Lesson Three from Davern: you can learn a lot when you pick out the pieces that make up the whole. Lesson Four from Davern: don't stop at the first answer; see what else you can come up with. You might surprise yourself.
It's kind of funny that I very rarely ever called him "Mr. Davern." Usually it was just "Davern." Occassionally, he was referred to as "The Dav," but that was very rare. I think I might have tried calling him Thomas a couple of times, but it felt weird. Davern was just right. I was told that I should REALLY call him Mr. Davern, out of respect. To me, dropping the formality of calling him Mr. was a bigger sign of respect, though. I felt that being able to just call him Davern showed that I was comfortable with him and that his lessons were really getting through to me. Each time he gave us another assignment, I was chomping at the bit to see what I could do for this one. Each time I was given a chance to show him that I could be creative and let him see what I'd learned from him, I was ready.
One time I had a book on my desk. He asked me what it was, and I told him that it was Moby Dick by Herman Melville. He swiftly stole away with my book as I continued working on my assignment. Moments later, he brought it back with certain pages marked with green tabs, and one blue tab. "These are key chapters in the book. The blue tab marks what some people call the most important chapter." I still have those chapters marked.
Instead of a rigid, no-nonsense teacher who expected everyone to learn everything by the book, we got someone who allowed us to express ourselves however we wanted. All he wanted was some form of expression, whether we were completely sincere or were simply parodying the lesson. It didn't matter, as long as we were using our brains. He taught me how to turn things upside down and inside out, to never take anything for granted and to find meaning in everything. Since taking classes with him, my experiences have been richer and more meaningful because I know now how to find beauty in everything. I know how to look for significance in every event, no matter how small. I know how to appreciate the tiniest miracles just as though they were the grandest marvels.
I have written this entry as a sort of thank you to Davern. Thanks for all the lessons you taught me. I've been able to use them inside the classroom and out. Thanks for introducing me to great movies and books that I watch and read over and over again to this day.
But most of all, thanks for the epiphanies, which I'll continue to seek for as long as I live.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
February 14, 1997
"Dear Diary,
Today is Valentine's Day. But there is a tragic. My mom has a kidney stone and it hurts. And something else, you're my first and brand new diary. Well, I guess that's it for today, or should I say tonight? Goodbye."
-Elisa Leal, age 8
Today is Valentine's Day. But there is a tragic. My mom has a kidney stone and it hurts. And something else, you're my first and brand new diary. Well, I guess that's it for today, or should I say tonight? Goodbye."
-Elisa Leal, age 8
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