school papers and prayer

i was asked by a friend with an upcoming research paper due for school, if i had any advice on how to research?  i am by far not an expert (i do know some experts!), but i am comfortable with the research process, so i shared what i could and tried to be helpful.  after our conversation, i pulled out the magic book i have from my intro to college writing class which i took several years ago (On Writing, by Wendy Bishop) to see if I found any useful tidbits to pass along.

the author says (p 398) to think of research as it really is, "a process of finding out; that is, learning, as well as finding support for your ideas and presenting your thinking and arguments in the company of the thinking and arguments of others."

she goes on--
"all writers research.  they do this because they love to learn about the world in ways that inform their writing.  writers study the world: they observe it, they interview its inhabitants, they record the results of their studies and thoughts. ... whether consulting your memory or an on-line database, you're searching for information and voices to strengthen your own voice.  when you quote an authority, you show that you've considered the thoughts and positions of others.  you also align yourself with that individual in an ongoing, community discussion....  when readers realize you're grounded and connected- that you've done your researcher's homework, they begin to listen to your points with less resistance.  you gain a hearing and your views are respected."

i like the perspective she offers here-- it makes research seem like a more natural task and less daunting.  and maybe, just maybe, even fun!

i was thinking about this and realized that research for writing is a lot like praying (or giving a talk in church).  you start with a question, and then you research to come to an answer.  that research involves asking God, and it also involves utilizing the materials He's made available to us.  scriptures, conference talks, the ensign, other published materials, church leaders, friends and family, as well as more secular, non-religious materials.  in the process of getting information from all these sources, we become informed on our topic in question.  in fact, we become informed on more than just our specific question, but also on the general topics surrounding it.  eventually, we are able to consider all of this information and obtain an answer to our question.  sometimes we figure out that answer step by step as we ponder all we have researched.  sometimes, that answer is spoken by the Holy Spirit directly to our minds.  either way, the research we have done is critical to prepare our minds, so the answer can not only be accepted, but also understood.  when an answer to prayer comes to a prepared mind, the recipient is able to act upon it and then reap blessings and further direction.

Richard G Scott said, "it is a mistake to assume that every prayer we offer will be answered immediately.  some prayers require considerable effort on our part."  (see conference talk from 1989)  sometimes we have to do a lot of research to come to an answer.

let's consider the story of Joseph Smith Jr when he was just a young teenager.  he wanted to know which church to join, so he researched it.  not only did he go to the different churches in his area, but he spoke with the pastors and members and he spoke with with his family.  he considered all that each had to say.  he also read the scriptures and prayed about it.  he heeded he prompting of james 1:5 which addresses all those who lack wisdom, and prompts them to ask of God, who "giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not".  Joseph was determined to obtain an answer, so he heeded this call and went to a quiet place in the woods to pray vocally.  after a great struggle, he relates "I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.  ... When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air.  One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other- This is My Beloved Son.  Hear Him!"  Joseph was visited by none other than God the Father and Jesus Christ.  his question was answered by Christ, who instructed him to join none of the religions- for they were all wrong and incomplete.  Joseph then became an instrument for Jesus Christ, to restore His gospel in its entirety upon the earth.  (See Joseph Smith-History)

research also informs answers we have already received.  D&C 8:1-2 reads "I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost."  Elder Scott elaborates, "When we receive an impression in our heart, we can use our mind either to rationalize it away or to accomplish it."  when we use our mind to help us accomplish impressions given to our hearts, that also often involves research.

a few years ago i was wanting to go back to school, but felt that my health at the time would not permit it.  i had spent a couple years praying, going to doctors, trying new medicines and treatments, going to the temple, and receiving priesthood blessings.  one summer i visited some friends at BYU-Idaho for a vacation.  while there, i also wanted to scope out the place, hoping that someday i may be well enough to attend.  during this trip, i felt impressed that i should start school there that very fall.  the semester was to start within 2 months from my vacation.  i had a to do a lot of work and research to make this happen.  i spoke with multiple administrative people on campus, sent a petition to the appeals committee, got a letter from my doctor, scouted out housing, and discussed my decision with my family (who all then rallied behind me in support).  it happened, and about 2 months after receiving the answer to go to school, i began my studies at BYU-Idaho.  it was nothing short of a series of miracles which enabled me to make it there.  but i had to prepare myself for those miracles, and i had to research all of the options available to me.

i know that through prayer, personal study, and action, we can receive answers to our questions and direction in our lives.  i know that as we pattern our life in all ways after gospel principles, we will be blessed.  asking God and then studying out our concerns is a gospel process- an eternal method- for obtaining knowledge and answers.  if this process is followed, we will be blessed in all aspects of our lives.

de-stuck-ification

So I have this essay I have to finish for a class I already took but didn't finish, and I've been avoiding really digging in and accomplishing much. Now it's getting down to the wire and I'm afraid that I must actually write... Bear with me, please, as I babble. Or you can just not read this. Whichever.

Now we'll try a prompt... Why am I stuck? (Wait a moment while I find some nice background music for myself... my playlist? hopefully it won't get too distracting... otherwise I'll opt out for classical later....)

Why am I stuck?
aside from the fact that I've procrastinated... but then it comes down to- why have i procrastinated? enough questions.
my first thought is-- i haven't done enough research. i don't know enough about bone marrow transplants to write and essay on them. some little stubborn voice inside me says- so what! who said that a research essay about bone marrow transplants had to be just about the technical aspect? you've done other research- lots of it! you've talked to roo and interviewed her, gone thru emails, and watched her live the effects of the transplant and the illness that necessitated it. that is research enough for a pretty strong essay foundation. you have put a lot of thought into it all- even if most of that time, that thought has been in the back of your head. processing, as it were. okay then, so just get type and get those digesting thoughts digested and forming a final product- even if that product isn't pretty, it is much more substantial than it would be if it were still stuck in your bowels. (sorry readers for the gross metaphor/analogy-ing... that's just the way i've come to think, i guess. i guess it's similar to using roo's stomach hole as a body part when we played mad libs.) if you don't like the product, then flush it down the toilet. at least it will then be out of your system and you'll be able to to better digest other thoughts, hopefully producing something, though rough and unpolished and maybe even somewhat incoherent, you may still produce something worth revising and finishing. cutting chunks of something or other out of a big rock until you get a chunk that might just have potential, then scraping it around with your knife or whatever other tools you have, forming it into a lovely little stone to be quite admired. and so, don't be afraid to babble and produce some crappy work. there's a reason that rough drafts might just have the label "crap". so finish up the digestion process and produce some already!!
alrighty then, if i don't have to worry so much about the amount of research i've done (i could do tons and still feel uncomfortable), what am i worrying about?
and there it is... it's the fact that i will be writing about a dear friend. how do i do her justice in writing about her? i need to be honest- blunt. i need to get as close as i can to expressing truth, or rather-- to presenting truth, in such a manner that allows others to analyze it on their. and trust, that people will analyze the material appropriately and come to the correct conclusions. isn't that what good writing does? presents some material, then guides the reader to the well of truth, hoping that they may just partake of it themselves.... you can lead a horse to water, but you have to trust him to decide whether or not to drink.
okay, so the essay will be about not the oversweeping arching topic of bone marrow transplants in general- forget donnell e. thomas. forget the fact that the assignment was to write about something that happened the year i was born. put in italics at the top, if you feel you must, this message- "the year i was born, dr. donnell e. thomas recieved a nobel prize for his pioneering work with bone marrow transplants. this is a story about a recipient of the fruits of his labors- an evidence of the noble work he has done and how it has altered our world, leaving it better." then be done with all thought of trying to tie in your birth year.

a bone marrow transplant kept my friend here. for seven years. an early death, she knew was inevitable. if only i had known! if only i had taken the time and the courage to talk to her more about it! instead, i ignored the fact. disbelieved it. when she died, it slapped me in the face. her long fight for her life was over. i thank my God that it lasted as long as it did, and in the next breath, i think Him that it is over. most of all- i thank my God for the gift of my friend.
a bone marrow transplant brushes death. most of us walk down the sidewalk, see Death further along the way, and cross the street, hoping that doing so will discourage him and cause him to leave. a patient and her caregivers see Death not too far down the road, and realize that they can't cross the street to the other side. Death will come. so they mosey on up to him, look him in the eye, shake his hand, and say "please, go down the way a bit more and wait for me there. i'd like to walk along this sidewalk a bit longer." and then they keep walking, acutely aware of Death's proximity, but not knowing how far ahead he may actually be, or even if he is just walking by their side. is he laughing at how you boldly shook his hand? or is he respecting you for that boldness, and willing to wait for you to go with him a little while?
roo's bone marrow was Death's accomplice. first there was the aplastic anemia. (reference Anemia.) then there was the myelodysplasia.

i'll come back to this later. time for a break.

in progress... a special community (??)

So, I currently am not enjoying how my community essay is going along (the one about greenriver and seminary), so I am going to see what will happen if I change my subject entirely. I am toying with the idea of writing about the community in the developmentally disabled section of the special education division of my high school. I will edit this post as I come along with my writing, so just be aware that what you see now may not be what it'll look like in a day or two (until I tell you that I'm done writing it and have moved on to another draft). Also, I have initialized the names for privacy purposes, and I have changed details here and there (and will change more along the way) for the same reason as well.
~Cassanndre


"No hitting, no kicking.... No hitting, no kicking!!" I look over at M. as he leans forward in his chair, looking assertively into F.'s eyes.
"Good job?" F. asks, his voice low and garbled as if he were a human sublifer underwater.
"No, not a good job." M. states firmly. Not with malice, but with a stern and clear voice. M. points to the small room to his right, "go bounce", he says as he stands up and positions his body as a wall between F. and the rest of the room, so F. has nowhere to go from his chair at his desk but to the small room with the large blue ball on which to bounce.
A strange sight, I always think when M. works on correcting F.'s inappropriate behavior. F. is on the tall side of average, while M. is on the rather short side, being no more than two inches taller than my 5 foot 2 inch self. Very strange that someone as small as M. can so effectively head off aggressive behavior from F. I wonder what F. was trying to do this time. And how did M. spot it? Was it F.'s body language and hand moving forward ever so slightly, as if testing the water, that got M.'s attention? How does stay so constantly aware of every little motion of F.'s all day long? That must be exhausting... Is it rewarding to him? How does he know what to do?

Those thoughts are ones I wonder every day as I hear the well known phrase of, "no hitting, no kicking". I am used to this phrase, though it does not cease to set me wondering.
What is F. thinking when he tries to assualt someone? [note- by "assualt", I mean behave in a way that could cause himself or someone else physical harm.] Is he aware that his behavior will cause another person (or himself) pain? What is he thinking? F.'s behavior is so different from behaviors that I normally exhibit or see exhibited in my family and friends- so much so that I can barely even fathom what his thought processes are. The one thing I am reasonably sure of is that when F. behaves in whatever manner he behaves in, it makes sense to him. It may not make any sense to me or M. why F. is more prone to assualting when M. drinks something in front of him, but I am quite positive that hitting and kicking are perfectly reasonable reactions to whatever stimuli it is that F. is reacting to- at least, they are perfectly reasonable to F. To M. however, F.'s behavioral specialist, and to every other employee in the special education department, it just doesn't make sense.

burp!
"T.! Did you just burp?" I ask, my eyebrows raised in suprise, chin tucked in, and lips pursed in a playful but persistant smile.
"I-oh-oh," T. slurs, his voice dipping and rising as most peoples' do as he lifts his shoulders with his palms raised up.
"You do too know, T." I give my best imitation of my mother's reproving look.
"Oh-oooooooo!!" T. swings his arm in a disappointed surrender, as if saying "dang it! you caught me!".
"what do you do when you burp, T.?" I suppress a smile, trying to be serious and also patient as T. processes.
"I-oh-oh." T. smiles. I love his smile. It's one of those smiles that I'm sure at first sight makes mothers light up with joy and pride for their child.
"You do too know." Pause. T. looks at me. Nothing. "Excuse me," I say and model the sign with my hands. "Say it or sign it, please."
"Oh-oooooo!" Just as I expected- the one word he should use the most, he usually refuses to use.
"Oh-oooooo!" I mimic, eyes and mouth wide open as I play along. I then sign EXCUSE-ME very clearly for T. "Do that, please, and then I'll stop bugging you about it."
T. stays in his seat, hands folded on his lap. He shakes his head briefly.
I sigh. "You know I'm not gonna leave you alone about it until you say 'Excuse me', so you should just say it now and you can go back to your snack."
A blank stare. Then, a few minutes later, after some coaxing, I see some movement. I almost missed it, but there it is, half-hidden beneath his desk, T. is signing EXUSE-ME.
"Is that 'excuse me', T.?" I ask in surprise and extreme interest, leaning forward in my seat.
T. shrugs, and smiles.
"That was, wasn't it?" I nod my head in approval.
T. hesitates, and then nods briefly.
"Yay!! Thank you, T. for saying EXCUSE-ME!! Good job! Hi-five!" T. sticks his hand up like a tree, and I reach forward and give him a hi-five.

16 November 2006

Today I worked with D. on the concepts of empty and not-empty. I know that he understands the concepts, because when he walks up to a bin to recycle that turns out being empty, he turns around and walks away. However, the fact that many thoughts, or concepts, like that can be expressed with things called words, I don't think he realizes. Oh, he knows that if I point to me he says "Cassy" and point to him is "D." and point to the teacher is "R." and to that one student, "I." "T." "S." etc. Although he usually needs some prodding along with that, as well.
I point to the recycling bin full with papers before D. picks it up.
"What's in there?"
D. looks up at me. "Doo-ga-doo-ga-doo-ga!" He mumbles; his pitch wavering like a broken stereo. I remember what Mrs. B. told me- that reaction can mean that he is confused and doesn't know what to do.
"You know this. Look in. What's in there?" D. looks in. "Something, right?" I show him the sign.
"suh-ding" D. repeats.
"Something, good! Show me with your hands; say it with your hands." I repeat the sign. D. repeats me.
GOOD-JOB I sign. "goo jah" D. says in response.
"Yes, good job!" We repeat the exercize. "Go ahead and empty it now." D. grabs the bin and empties it into the four foot high, round recycling receptacle. He then sets the bin down.
"What's in there, D.?"
He looks at me. "suh-ding." He's repeating what I told him before, exhibiting that he doesn't understand the meaning of the word.
Patiently I explain. "No, nothing. Nothing." And I show him the sign. "What's in there? D., look. What's in there? Nothing."
"nuh-ting"
"Good! Sign it with me, please." I show him the sign. "What's in there, D.?"
"nuh-ting!"
"Good job. Sign it please." He signs NOTHING.
"Good job! Hi-five!" D. smiles faintly and gives me a high-five.
I look around and spot a piece of paper. I grab it and stick it in the bin. D. makes a move to remove it to his receptacle. I sign, NO. STOP. WAIT. He stops and stands in front of me, looking at me, then the bin, then back at me. I point to the bin. "Look at it. What's in there?"
"nuh-ting" He's repeating what I said before again.
"No." I grab the piece of paper, show him, shake it around and drop it back in. "Something" I stress as I show him the sign.
"suh-ting" he says, and SOMETHING, he signs.
"Good! Good Job!" The inside part of my fingertips of my right hand touch my mouth and then my hand moves down until the back side lands flat in my left hand. GOOD JOB.
I take the paper out. "What's in there, D.?"
"suh-ting" He's still repeating.
"No, nothing." He says it. I sign it. D. signs it. I put the paper back in. "What's in there, now?"
"nuh-ting"
We work on this for a few minutes, until a magical moment. The paper is in the bin. "What's in there, D.?"
"suh-ting" he says. I take the paper out quickly.
"What's in there now?"
"nuh-ting!" D. says.
"Yes!!!!! Good job! Nothing's in there! Good!" And I give him a double high five. Progress.
However, I find ten minutes later when we work on the concept again, I have to repeat teaching it to him just as before. Except for one small detail. He gets it more quickly this time.

fulwiler's revision sequence for essay two

on page 328 in On Writing: A Process Reader by Wendy Bishop, Toby Fulwiler says that in doing a revision of an essay one should focus more on action, dialogue, detail, and minimizing summary and judgements.

Cassànndrè Sager
Whetham Engl 110
Fulwiler’s Revision Sequence
12 November 2006

5:20 and the alarm buzzes at me like a bee. I swat at it, successfully gaining myself a few more minutes of snoozing time. 5:40 and I hear my brother in the shower. I should probably get up. A few minutes later I’m eating breakfast and reading my scriptures. Then pulling my clothes on and negotiating with my belt to buckle in the right spot. Grab my bag, my flute, my water, a quick glance at the mirror, and I’m out the door- still wishing Mom would let me drive to the church. Oh well, at least I get “shotgun”.
Arrive at the church and it’s 6:20. I’m late. Again. I get out of the car and join the ten or so other students spilling into the church foyer and joining the pool of students standing and chatting there.
“Hi Cassànndrè…” Courtney says almost shyly, but I know better than to believe she is.
“Hey Courtney! Christine! Why aren’t you two in class yet, huh?”
“’cuz I don’t feel like it yet!!” I give Christine “the look” in response. “I’ll be there in a moment!!!” She exasperates, sounding defeated.
I nod at students from other classrooms, saying hello to some, on my way to my classroom. Past the stairs, the restroom, the drinking fountain…. There’s the door. Grab the handle and slowly open while peeking through the crack. Are they saying prayer? No. Good. I open the door the rest of the way and hesitantly step inside, keeping my hand steadily on the door as it closes- I don’t want to be too much of a distraction. I head to my seat, sit down, take out my “triple-combo” (book containing three different sets of scripture. A “quad” has for sets of scripture in it- including the Bible), pen, paper, and water bottle. I then grab the hymn book and turn to the right page and fumble while trying to sing the alto line for a certain song. Marianne turns back to look at me and I can tell from her glare that she’s thinking to me, “you’re flat!!!” Get over it, Marianne. Of course I’m flat. I’m always flat. You know this. So move on already!! Gosh…. The student attempting to conduct the music at the head of the room finishes spelling his name in the air in cursive and tries to make the end look like he really is ending the song. He grabs his scriptures and opens to a random page (this is an interpretation of one’s assignment of giving the daily “spiritual thought”), finds a verse of scripture that has been marked by himself sometime ago. He reads it out loud, and stumbles through some sort of explanation of what the verse is getting at and what it means to him.
“Uh… the spiritual thought today is on James ….. er, one…. Five…. ‘If any of you lack wisdom… let him ask of God… that giveth to all men .... literary…. No, literally?.... oh, thanks, Josh… liberally and …. What Michael? Oh, upbraid… eth not…. And it shall be given… him.’” A pause. The class looks at him as he shifts his weight…. “Um… this scripture is an important one…. ‘cuz, um, if we ever like have a question about something about the church or school or whatever… yeah, we can ask God about it… and he won’t um…. Upbraid us… which is nice, ‘cuz I don’t have enough hair for a braid anyhow. Um… Amen.” And then the opening prayer is started.
TIME-OUT!! Are you confused, Reader? Where are we, you ask. A church. Make sense, can I go on with my story yet? No? Fine, what’s your next question. Why the heck are we at a church at six thirty in the morning on a weekday? (I actually didn’t tell you about the weekday part, reader, I forgot that detail, so I’ll tell you now. It’s a weekday. Doesn’t matter which one, really… just a weekday.) Oh, so is that why you’re confused, Reader? We’re at seminary. Okay, there I answered your question, let’s go. What? You mean to say that you don’t know what seminary is? That’s weird… Oh well, I guess I can explain it to you. Every morning on weekdays I wake up at this time and go through the above ritual to attend seminary. Seminary takes place in the church because it is a church class the high school students of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It’s like a Sunday School class, except for the fact that it’s not on Sundays. I learn about my religion, the scriptures, and Church history at seminary. There, is that better now? Can I go on with my story, now? Oh good, thank you so very much. Okay, where was I? Oh, right. ACTION!!
“Today,” Sister Utterback tells us “we are studying ‘D and C’ sections 35, 36, and part of 37. That’s a lot to cover, so pay attention everyone, okay? Spencer… pay attention. Thank you. Yes, you too Derek. Thank you, David.” Many of the class members are chatting quietly while Sister Utterback delivers her lesson. I shoot them an evil glare here and there, somewhat reminiscent of my freshman days when I really was perturbed by their babble. Now it doesn’t bother me much, just as long as it doesn’t get out of hand and I can still concentrate on the lesson.
In all truthfulness, the students aren’t that bad. They participate in the lesson. “What do you think is being said right here?” Says Sister Utterback. A few students raise their hands and volunteer answers. “Good. Can you think of any ways that you can relate to what happened in this scripture?” We all think very hard (except for the couple students that are sleeping very hard), but most of us come up empty, and those of us that don’t are too shy to offer our opinion. Sister Utterback volunteers her own example of how (for example) her sons were like Nephi and Laman and Lemuel, with one son eager to do the chores asked of him, while the other two sons complained and continued to watch cartoons. (In the story with Nephi, Laman, and Lemuel, Nephi went and did what his father asked him to do, while Laman and Lemuel basically sat on their butts complaining about having to do soo much that they really didn’t care about and didn’t see a point to doing.) “What are things that each of us can do to be more like Nephi and less like Laman and Lemuel?” She is standing at the whiteboard, pen in hand, ready to write down whatever answers we produce. We know some answers- the answers that are normally given to questions in church like these. The answers are colloquially referred to as the “Mormon Standard Answers”. Read your scriptures, says one student. Pray every day, says another. Go to church every Sunday. Go to seminary!!! (This answer gets a look of appraise from the teacher.) Listen to my parents. Listen to the prophets. Choose the right (the teacher just writes down “CTR” on the whiteboard for this one).
The class ends with a prayer, and I go throughout my day thinking about Nephi, and remembering what Sister Utterback said about being like Nephi, not like Laman and Lemuel.
I walk from the church to the high school, where I go for orchestra first period and to be a peer tutor second period. I then walk home from school and get on the computer. Time for my college classes.
I type in the password to actually use the computer. My step-dad is very protective of his computer, and more-so of us, his kids. He doesn’t want us getting on the internet and accessing inappropriate material, so he locks the computer when he doesn’t want us going on. I happen to have a password that will get me logged on, but with minimal “security clearance” online- basically, my online activity is severely restricted. However, that doesn’t bother me much, because everything that is restricted I don’t surf for anyhow.
Open up Internet Explorer. Thinking of a friend of mine who hates Windows and who calls Internet Explorer, “the evil blue ‘E’”. What a silly boy. F6 takes me to the URL address field. Greenriver.blackboard.com I type, with what I would like to feel is lightning-quick speed. Login. And Now I’m at college.
My English class offers the most peer interacting opportunities of my three classes. In Pyschology we are enoucarged to interact in the student interaction section, however barely anyone does. In my history, the only possible interaction would be to reply to other peoples’ discussion posts. (Which aren’t really necessarily discussion-type of posts, that’s just what they’re called. They’re basically just responses to a discussion-type of prompt.) However, in English, there are many activities that require interaction with the other students. I enjoy this, actually- it is a nice change of pace to me. Many times I don’t like the effort of such assignments as peer reviews, but I do appreciate the oppurtunites to get to know the other students through reading their work. It is a very peculiar thing- what you discover about people through their writing.
Jen says it’s time for another crappy rough draft. Jen is the teacher. If I were in high school I’d be calling her Ms. Whetham; in seminary it would be Sister Whetham; but here in college, she says to call her Jen, and so I am on a first name basis with a teacher I have never met.
I write about very personal things in this class sometimes. Especially in my freewrites and in this essay. Yes, this essay especially is a difficulty for me. Why? Well, I suppose the fact that I’m writing about seminary makes it difficult. You see, feelings about my religion come easily for expression surrounded by church members. However, even with other church members around, it is rather difficult for me to articulate these ideas and feelings, while still trying to be curteous to others’ beliefs and slightly aloof emotionally, so as to not cause anyone uncomfort at the intensity of my religious “ferocity” or whatever. I have a stigma- do not discuss church topics in school. The fact that I have “church” spelled all over this paper is an interesting thing for me. Quite a change. Not orthodox.
So, Jen says to work on our crappy rough drafts. The only things is, she doesn’t say “crappy”. She uses tha awful “s-word”, which is okay, because I’m sure it’s not a bad thing to her, but to me, however, it is out of place. Little things like that are big differences to me. I am so used to polite and curteous young men to interact with. When I begin to regularly set foot on the college campus, will the men/young men there be curteous? Or will they just continue babbling about sex and breasts as do most high school boys? I am preparing myself so that I will not be surprised when I enter on to the college campus.
I am sitting at the computer typing typing typing. I have been reading today and doing chores. It is late and I am tired and hoping that my state of conciousness will not affect my writing too severely. As soon as I finish this essay, or essay revision (whichever), I will submit the work to my English class online. And look, I’m done. So now it’s time to copy and paste.

runnning with scissors

what did i do?
1) I started out on Thursday at Russell Ridge Center- a home school resource center for home schooled kids. Marianne pritned out the assignment and I went and printed out my essay- well actually, both my rough draft and my memory draft. This was because I couldn't decide which one to do, so I chose them both. I cut 'em out (that was pretty fun...) and started looking at them, until "Mom" Chesley looked stole them from me and looked them. I was somewhat ambivlanet about this activity just because I was thinking it was a pretty "far out there" activity. However, afterwards, I found that I really enjoyed the power of cutting up an essay- I showed it my sister, "Hey Mary, guess what all of these scraps of paper are?"
"what?"
"my essay"
"what?!!"
That was pretty danged funny. After cutting it up, I shuffled 'em and read through them and started placing them in piles of "mostly about seminary" and "about semianry and greenriver" (i had focused a great deal on seminary, so this was a good dividing idea because it got rid of the unneeded ones quickly) I then went through the others and continued to seperate them until i had an idea of paragraphs i wanted to keep. i identified my core paragraph, and then identified body paragraphs by what they talked about and grouped like paragraphs togethoer.
2)conceptual revision? well, I learned athat there are different ways to play with paragraphs in essays, and that often you have some gold in an essay, you just need to mess around with it, perhaps even destroy it a little bit....
3)I think my new essay flows better and is bit more focused than previously. Especially as far as different topics, I grouped the paragraphs togethor and then filled in some weaker spots or changed sentence structures a bit here and there, so it most definately flows better, and is more focused as well!


Running with Scissors

As human beings, each person belongs to a number of communites. Some people belong to sports teams, others book clubs, service organizations, and the list goes on. Most people also belong to more than one community as well. I belong to many communities- including the communities of Greenriver Community College and LDS Seminary.
Greenriver is an academic institution. Seminary is a theological class for high school students of the LDS faith. Greenriver offers a wide variety of classes for students to take to either become qualified in a degree of their choice or to transfer to a University or large College. Seminary is an early morning LDS church class for high school youth that provides a community of support for helping youth in upholding their standards.
On my first day of seminary, I had only been in Kent for about two and half months. I didn't know anything about anybody, and so I just showed up to the class that some lady in the church foyer told me to go to. So, I showed up there. For two days. And finally I realized, that I happened to be the only freshman in that class! Whooops! Whathappened? Well, I ended up finding the appropriate class (which drove me creazy with soo much noise going on and obnoxious freshman boys, and the other part was the teacher- Bro Sellers- who had been in the military and knew how to handle obnoxious young men. Most of the time. There are somethngs that they don't- no, can't- teach in the military- getting a posse of 14-15 year old boys to be quiet is one of them! Oh how I detested those young men for talking that year! And destested I truly did- how dare they talk and ruin the lesson for me?
My first day of Greenriver was quite different actually- since all of those classes were online, I had to wait the dreadful wait until noon when the classes opened online. This was awful. I checked at eleven, just to see if they'd open earlier by any chance. Of course they didn't. I then was bombarded with class information like sylabbus' and class due dates and my first assignments.... it was scary!! But also very exciting- to be in control of my education and to have soo much learning to learn ahead of me!!
Another thing about seminary and Greenriver that differs, is the atmosphere. i've only set foot on the acutal campus a couple of times, but my impression of it is that it's a lot more "loos" than seminary. That makes sense, however. For example- we don't swear in seminary. Part of it is because of all the people that e xpect each other not to, and the other part is that we're all in the church, and that's how we show respect. That part is that most of us just think it's plain silly to swear.
The first time I fully realized this particular difference between greenriver and seminary was in my english 110 class. Within the first scouple of weeks I was given an assignement to read an essay by some author about crappy rough drafts- except the word "crappy" wasn't used- the "S-word" was used in it's stead. I looked at that assignment and did a double take. Crappy (but not "crappy") rough drafts?! Okay, I suppose that it's considered alright to use language like that in college. I'm extremely uncaccustomed to it, but I guess Ican see where they're coming from.... (If you saw the rough draft of this essay, you'd see how it's title "crappy rough draft") In seminary, such language isn't even considered being used because everyone kneows that it's an unacceptable practice. This one apsect of Greenriver i've had to adjust to, knowing that many people don't consider such language inappropriate and don'ot share my opinions conerning it. I now brace myselc mentally for english 110 every time I access the class online. I don ejnjoye this class, don't get me wrong- I enjoy writing and haven't enjoyed it so much I htink in a very long while; however- it woudl be nmice if i didn't have to worry about what peopole are going to say and whether or not it willl be appropriate.
With (for example) young men from my semianry class, I ahve no such worries. I know that if I am around them they will not say anthing inappropriate- no wswaring, cussing, vulgar language, dirt jokes, secual innuendos- none of that which when I hear it makes me cringe. What's also nice is, for example, in mycomtemporary world issues (CWI) class last year, a boy named Isaac from my semianry class was in it with myself. And we would talk about different htings in tat class that tend to be very convtroversial matters. I aboslutely loves it when we broaches a topic like that and when a slightly "skewed" (to my opinion) opinion was offered, Isaac and I could just glance at each other and grimace- our thoughts echoing one another. What a lovely feeling of reassurance!! To know that I am not alone in my opinions and beliefs, or views.
A similar experience happened in my freshman history class. Mr. Larsen (during a unit on Greece) drew an excessive amount of attnetion the the male genitalia on a greek statue in a picture, and also the female "endowments" (that's what we'll refer to the breasts as)- the upstanding LDS boys in my class looked way and groanded at the taecher's audacity. With these young men, I don't have to worry about them viewing my body as an object to be admired that being the sole reason they enjoy my copmpany. I iknow that while they might struggle with viewing my body as such, the fact is that in this struggle they continue trying to do their best in choosing the right.
I'm quite sure that Greenriver's population would not enable such feeligns of security- such backup in making wise decisions. But that's okay as well, because that is not Greenriver's nature, nor its purpose. Seminary's purpose is to lift and support and teach its students and help them to lead better, happy, righteous lives. greenriver's purpose is to produce good, well-educated citizens. Both noble causes, but very different purposes at work behind them.
They type of people at greenriver and seminary vary as well. seminary's students are mostly all mormon, which means that they all have the same standards that each is encourage to uphold. We have expectations of conduct from one another. Greenriver is much more diverse than semianry- consisting of many different ethincities (semianry's students are mostly "white", USA-born students). What an interesting these two institutions make!
At greenriver much of what I learn is brand new information. Knowledge I have never encountered before, and in each online class, different moethords of handling the classroom. Whears in seminary all of the classes and different teachers are organized mostly the same. At greenriver, teachers have much more say in the control of the structure of their class.
in semianry i hear many thigns which i have been taught growing up. every now and then there will be a fact that i have never heard of before, but usually i am reminded of previous lessons- "oh yes! I remember learning that..." and then what I learned before is expounded upn.
every year in seminary, we also start out with hat is known as "The Plan of Salvation". we talk about the pre-mortal life, life on earth, and death, and what it all means and what the purpose of each is. for greenriver, classes, there is no such overarching theme- except for maybe the existence of a syllable...
There's one other difference between greenriver and seminary. greenriver has teachers that rae experienced (in most cases) in teaching and pretty much experts in their fields (know whatthey're talking about from tons of experience). semianry can have a wider-range of teacher skills. for example, i had a Bro Dysart for semianry last year. He taught very interesting lessons, but at the beginning of the school year it was quite obvious that he lacked the knack for adding the necessary interest for teenagers in his lesson. Because of this many of his students ended up leaving- probably for a "better" teacher. Through out the yaer, bro dysart would occasaionally have a different teacher ocme in and teach his students and he's watch with us and I think what he was doing was learning how to teach us well. Over the yera he became a much more adept teacher- focusing his lessons more and making them of an extreme more amount of interst to the audience. It was a spectacular experience to witness.
Both greenriver and semianry have their perks, but between the two institutions, I prefer seminary. this is just because of the nature of the class. people may say that seminary tdoesn't taech anyhting that cna't be taught at home or at church. that is true, but seminary provides and unequlaed ppurtunity for daily teaching in an enviroment with other peopeple whome the students can realte to and interact with, thus providing and unparalled support which the likes of cannot be foudn at home or church. people may say that semianry is useless. it is not. as any semianry student- most will say that they notice how starting their day of f with seminary changes the whole outcome of the day.

essay 2- memory draft

November 6, 2006- Engl 110- Memory Draft for essay #2

Greenriver Community College and LDS Seminary each have their ups and downs. Seminary is very early in the morning, and the students don't get to pick their classes (in most cases) or class times. Greenriver is much more flexible- allowing for picking different classes with different teachers at various times. Seminary teaches about the gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, aka, the "Mormon Church". It has four years of study (for four years of highschol) which rotate every year- what is being studied rotates, I mean. For my friend Kaitlyn, her freshman year she studied the Old Testament, then the New Testament her sophomore year (my freshman year), the Book of Mormon her junor yea, and now the Doctrine andCovenants this, her senior year. That's the "real" order of things in my opinion, but it really doesn't matter what order it all comes in, as long as one gets all four years of instruction.
Every year in seminarywe start out with what is knownin the Church as The Plan of Salvation. We talk about the pre-mortal life, the veil, life on earth, death, and life after death and living throughout the eternities. For Greenriver classes, there is no such overarching theme that stretches over each course. The only things that are reliably shared in each and every class at Greenriver would be syllabus'!
In seminary, I hear many things which I have been taught growing up. Every now and then there will be a fact that I have never ever heard of before, but usually I reminded of preivious lessons- "oh yes! I remember learning that…" and then what I learned before was expounded upon.
At Greenriver, much of what I learn is brand new. Knowledge I have never encountered before, and in each online class, different methods of handling the classroom. Whereas in seminary all of the classes and different teachers are organized mostly the same. At Greenriver, teachers have much more say in the control of the structure of their class. Not that I have anything against the teaching methods of seminary, I am just noting a difference. And that is all.
Greenriver is much more diverse than seminary. Yes, seminary has students of many interests and backgrounds, but we all have the uniting factor that we are LDS. Since moving to Kent, WA- all of my close friends have been LDS. It's interesting how back in Snohomish most of my friends were not LDS, but here, the vast majority of them are. I love that, I really do. I also like how there is seem to be a good number of running start students at Greenriver- students my age. That is comforting- to know that I am not the only "youngin'" in a class of mine.
My first day of seminary, I had only been in Kent for about 2 and half months. I didn't know anything about anybody, and so I just showed up to the class that some lady in the church foyer told me to go to. So, I showed up there. For two days. And finally I realized, that I happened to be the only freshman in that class! Whoops! What happened? Well, I ended up finding the appropriate class (which drove me crazy with soo much noise going on and chit-chat) and that felt a bit more comfortable, I worried less about falling asleep. I think part of that was the talkative and obnoxious freshman boys, and the other part was the teacher- Brother Sellers- who had been in the military and knew how to handle obnoxious young men. Most of the time. There are some things that they don't, no- can't- teach in the military- getting a posse of 14-15 year old boys to be quiet is one of them! Oh, how I detested those young men for talking that year! And detested I truly did- how dare they talk and ruin the lesson for me?
Now, I occasionally lean over to Marianne in Seminary and chat with her. Or pass notes about whatever comes to mind… It's pretty dang humorous.
Another thing about seminary and greenriver that differs, is the atmosphere. I've only set foot on the actulay Greenriver schoola couple of times, but my impression that it is … a lot more loose than greenriver. That makes sense, however. We don't swear at seminary, Part of it is because of all of the people that expect each other not to swear, and the other part is that we're in the church, and that's how we show respect . And the last part of it is that we think it's plain and silly to swear.
I remember the first week of last year's seminary class. Brother Dysart (who was a new teacher, I'm completely sure) got frustrated with some young men who were chatting in the back of the room. So, what does he do? Lifts up his arm, and makes a pass at the man in the middle of this chat group. It hits Derek Titus. Poor Derek.. Actually, that's an exaggeration. It just about hit Derek Titus. Brother Dysart didn't start out as a very skilled teacher, either.
That's another difference between Greenriver and seminary. Greenriver has teachers that know how to teach (at least one would hope they do at least!) and are pretty much experts in their fields. Seminary can have inexperienced leaders. It was pretty obvious that Brother Dysart didn't know what he was doing sometimes. I find it extremely extraordinaly interesting, as well as occasionally boring. But, I got to see him improve over the year. Some students decided to go to other classroom, because they thought that it was boring in Brother Dysart's class. They felt that they didn't learn anything. I learned that people can grow. And it was fascinating to watchy as Brother Dysart's style of teach grew to a comprehensible type.
The type f people at Greenriver and at Seminary vary as well. Seminary's students are mostly all Mormon, which means that they all have the same standards that each is encouraged to uphold. We have expectations of conduct from another, which involve (at times) being obnoixus, and other tiems are when it is time to be quiet and just listen to the calm, soothing music. What an interesting comparision these two make!

essay #2- crappy rough draft

Cassànndrè Sager
2 November 2006
Essay #2- crappy rough draft

As human beings, each person belongs to a number of communities. Some people belong to sports teams, others book clubs, service organizations, and the list goes on. Most people also belong to more than one community as well. I belong to many communities- including the communities of Greenriver Communtiy College and Seminary.
Greenriver is an academic institution. Seminary is a theological class for high school students of the LDS faith. Seminary is an early morning LDS church class for youth that provides a much-needed community of support for upholding church standards, values, and morals. Before proceeding very far, here’s a synapsis of what seminary is.
. It is an early morning class for girls and boys in high school with the course curriculum foundation in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the LDS Church, or the “Mormon Church”). There are four years of seminary- the Old Testament, New Testament, Book of Mormon, and Church History/Doctrine and Covenants.
Students learn about the text and also about how the information therein applies to them- the scriptures are personalized. In doing this, students learn good values.

I have not been a student at Greenriver for very long, but in my experience thus far the community is vastly different from my seminary community.
The first time I fully realized the difference between Greenriver and seminary was in my English 110 class. Within the first couple of weeks I was given an assignment to read an essay by some author about S***** rough drafts. I did a double-take. S***** rough drafts?! Okay, I suppose that it’s considered alright to use language like that in college. I’m extremely unaccustomed to it, but I guess I can see where they’re coming from… (Do you see how the title of this essay is a crappy rough draft?) In seminary, such language isn’t even considered being used because everyone knows that it is an unacceptable practice. This one aspect of Greenriver I’ve had to adjust to, knowing that many people don’t consider such language inappropriate and don’t share my opinions concerning it. I now brace myself mentally for English 110 every time I access the class online. I do enjoy this class, don’t get me wrong- I enjoy writing, and haven’t enjoyed it so much I think in a very long while; however- it would be nice if I didn’t have to worry about what people are going to say and whether or not it will be appropriate.
And on that though, there is something to be said about the friends I have from seminary. Many teenage boys in high school (and many teenage boys and young adult males in college, as well, I’m sure) like to engage in conversations which, to say the least, are not very appropriate in the least bit. Around these sorts of people, I feel uncomfortable, always on my guard, thinking are they going to say something that makes me feel uncomfortable? If so, when? And how am I going to avoid having the conversation go further down that track? This is a very stressful way to feel when interacting with other people. It is difficult to be casual, easygoing, and to enjoy the young man if I constantly worried about what he’s going say and if I will need to direct the conversation in more appropriate paths of conversation.
With young men from my seminary class, I have no such worries. I know that if I am around them they will not say anything inappropriate- no swearing, cussing, vulgar language, dirty jokes, sexual innuendos- none of that which when I hear it makes me cringe. What’s also nice is, for example, in my contemporary world issues (CWI) class that I had last year, a boy named Isaac from my seminary class was in it with myself. And we would talk about different things in that class that tend to be very controversial issues. I absolutely loved it when we broached controversial topics which, being LDS, Isaac and I had our set-in-stone opinions concerning. Sometimes other students would say something concerning these topics that was a little off-color. I loved that simple glance at Isaac where I saw him glancing back and grimacing, his thoughts seeming to echo mine. Was that really necessary to say? Or when in Mr. Larsen’s class our freshman year, Mr. Larsen drew an excessive amount of attention to the male genitalia on a Greek statue, and the female “endowments” (that’s what we’ll call the breasts)- the upstanding LDS boys (who, by the way, are in my seminary class) looked away and groaned at the teacher’s audacity. With these young men I don’t have to worry about them viewing my body as an object to be admired and that being the sole reason they enjoy my company. I know that while they might struggle with viewing my body as such, but the fact is that in this struggle they continue trying their best to do what’s right.
That last idea is part of the reason why most of the seminary girls dress modestly- even for school dances like homecoming, they find dresses that do not plunge too low and also which have sleeves (if they don’t have sleeves, they make their own sleeves or wear a little jacket over their dress). The boys respect girls, do not swear, and aren’t interested in viewing inappropriate material. Many/most of these students work hard at school, and work at keeping a long-term perspective of how their choices today affect their life possibilities in the future.
You see, being LDS, we have values, and standards, and morals and we try to adhere to them like tape, sticking upfor what we believe in. But sometimes, Sunday worship service and Sunday school just aren’t enough. In our society which can be so corrupt and vulgar at times, we often need daily uplifting. Daily reminders of who we areand what we stand for. Seminary does this for today’s LDS youth. It helps us at this critical deciding time in our lives to stick to what we believe and stand up for it.Of course, in my example about the young men being upstanding, that goes two ways. I know young men who are extremely thankful for the large amount of girls who dress and behave modestly. Some of them like to say, “modest is hottest!!”, which always gets a laugh, but is also nice for the young women to hear. They don’t feel pressured around these good LDS girls to think about sex or other inappropriate behaviors. They are able to concentrate on the girls’ personalities instead of being distracted by their more physical endowments.
Thus far in my college experience, Greenriver has a bit of a different atmosphere. Which is alright- Greenriver is not an LDS school, and so I realize that it’s quite silly to expect it to live up to my standards of right and wrong and such. That’s okay. I don’t have a problem with the Greenriver is conducted, though I must say that I don’t prefer the manner in which the freedom of speech is being carried out. Sometimes I wish for a Freedom of Hearing law. I have the freedom to not hear what I don’t want to hear… J
Between seminary and Greenriver, I prefer seminary. This is just because of the nature of the class. . People may say that seminary doesn’t teach anything that can’t be taught at home or at church. That is true, but seminary provides an unequaled opportunity for daily teaching in an environment with other people whom the students can relate to and interact with, thus providing an unparalleled support which the likes of cannot be found at home or church. People may say that seminary is useless. It is not. Ask any seminary student, most will say that they notice how starting their day off with seminary changes the whole outcome of the day.
Seminary gets me started in the morning. It gets me started thinking critically and in making good decisions through out my day. I had to choose between seminary and Greenrvier, I would chose the first in just a couple heartbeats. Why? Although I love Greenriver, I believe that seminary has a greater influence on my life- on the choices I make and what I grow up to become and what sort of person I grow up to become.

essay map for essay #2

November 1 essay map

Essay map for essay 2-

*Seminary is an early morning LDS church class for youth that provides a much-needed community of support for upholding church standards, values, and morals.
It’s important to say this because seminary is a very important part of LDS youth’s lives- much more important than some people think. If people are aware of the good that seminary can do, it is hoped that they will be more supportive of it. It is a great augmentative force in LDS youth’s lives which reminds them of choosing the right and also gives them the opportunity to interact with other youth who have similar standards, thus forming friendships which are conducive to living a good, happy, and healthy life.
*To be convinced by my claim the first thing the reader needs to know is what seminary is. The reader needs to know this because that’s what the essay is about, and most people don’t know what it is. It is an early morning class for girls and boys in high school with the course curriculum foundation in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the LDS Church, or the “Mormon Church”). There are four years of seminary- the Old Testament, New Testament, Book of Mormon, and Church History/Doctrine and Covenants.
*The next thing my reader needs to know is what seminary teaches. That is important because it’s also what my essay is about. There are four years of seminary- the Old Testament, New Testament, Book of Mormon, and Church History/Doctrine and Covenants each comprising one year of seminary instruction. Students learn about the text and also about how the information therein applies to them- the scriptures are personalized. In doing this, students learn good values.
*The next thing a reader needs to know is what the typical seminary students are like- their personalities and life choices. Most of the girls dress modestly- even for school dances like homecoming, they find dresses that do not plunge too low and also which have sleeves (if they don’t have sleeves, they make their own sleeves or wear a little jacket over their dress). The boys respect girls, do not swear, and aren’t interested in viewing inappropriate material. Many/most of these students work hard at school, and work at keeping a long-term perspective of how their choices today affect their life possibilities in the future.
*The next thing my reader needs to know is counter arguments for the usefulness of seminary. Sometimes people may say that not all Mormons are good, and so the examples of seminary students I gave are the exception. Well, those examples are not the exception- they are the rule. It is a minority of seminary students that I know who do not stick to the standards taught to them and who make poor life choices. People may say that seminary doesn’t teach anything that can’t be taught at home or at church. That is true, but seminary provides an unequaled opportunity for daily teaching in an environment with other people whom the students can relate to and interact with, thus providing an unparalleled support which the likes of cannot be found at home or church. People may say that seminary is useless. It is not. Ask any seminary student, most will say that they notice how starting their day off with seminary changes the whole outcome of the day. They feel happier and do better at school and get along with people better. All this because they have seminary in the morning to start their day off right. If attending seminary can produce such results, then it must needs be a good thing.

essay structure invention

November 1, 2006- Engl 110- essay structure invention

PART ONE
Essay structure invention- “why?”

Why does my interpretation of this phenomenon of seminary matter to anyone besides me?
It lets people know about seminary, about the youth of my church. About how much we care about our religion and our beliefs and our standards and what sorts of techniques the church uses to raise its youth well. And you don’t need to be Mormon to come to seminary. So perhaps some people will have their kids come to seminary with us. That would be pretty cool. Maybe if more people came to seminary they’d start making better choices in their lives, and do better in school, and be happy and stuff. I know that I am extremely biased
It is a support for parents, church leaders, seminary teachers, high school teachers, seminary students, and upcoming seminary students (aka “seminary students to-be”). Why is it important to them? For parents- well, parents wake up at six o’clock in the morning to drive their children to seminary. Their children loose sleep for it. I think that expressing the value of seminary reassures these parents that their sacrifices are for something good- that in sacrificing an hour or so of sleep, they allow their children to have a daily experience which is beneficial to their daily lives.
Seminary teachers would benefit from hearing a student express the value of seminary because sometimes being a seminary teacher can be a thankless job. I do not know this from first-hand experience, however, I am aware of it through watching teachers. One day last year Brother Dysart got extremely upset- upset for him at least (it was pretty calm compared other peoples’ tempers that I’ve seen; he must just be a very placid sort of man)- because he had worked hard at his lesson, and what was the class doing? Well, one third wasn’t present, another third was sleeping, and the last third (excepting maybe two students) were talking. I felt bad for him (especially since I was one of the talking students…). It was the only day that he ever got upset with us like that. It really was. Freshman year Brother Sellers had a hard time as well. He had a bunch of obnoxious freshman boys who like to think they’re funny (okay, so they are actually pretty funny, I’ve realized now that they and I have matured a bit, but at the time I just got annoyed with them for detracting from my learning experience), and who would spend most of seminary talking. Poor Brother Sellers.
Such a previously explained explanation would benefit seminary students and seminary students-to-be because it will show them how seminary can impact their lives and how beneficial it can be for them. And also how much many current seminary students enjoy and reap great rewards from attending, and learning in, seminary.
Four hundred and seventy nine words. That’s not enough! Okay, so now it’s four hundred and ninety eight words. Fantastic. I’m done. (501)
Well, in conclusion, why is this topic important? ‘cuz it’s good to know what’s going on, and it’s also good to reassure people that things they do (or can do) are for their benefit. The end.
Essay structure invention- “what?”

What evidence shows that seminary being a good community for high school students is true?
The fact that high school students who attend regularly and who are willing to benefit from the class, are generally happy people who work hard at doing well in school and at being good people.
Isaac, Spencer, David, and Derek are pretty happy young men. They come to seminary in the morning often tired, but still retaining their good sense of humor. This was especially so today when Sister Utterback said that she brought donuts for the class. “Yeee-es!!” said Isaac. He, David, Spencer and Derek pretty much went very quickly over to the donuts. But it’s not just about donuts, you see, it’s also about behavior outside of the classroom. While I may not be well acquainted with all of these four boys, I do feel comfortable around them. I know that if I am around them they will not say anything inappropriate- no swearing, cussing, vulgar language, dirty jokes, sexual innuendos- none of that which when I hear it makes me cringe. What’s also nice is, for example, in my contemporary world issues (CWI) class that I had last year, Isaac was in it. And we would talk about different things- like gay marriage- in that class that tend to be very controversial issues. I absolutely loved it when we broached the topic of gay marriage and I was able to exchange a look with Isaac, and could tell that he was thinking, “ugh… gay marriage is not right; and I don’t really want to talk about it”. Or when in Mr. Larsen’s class our freshman year, Mr. Larsen drew an excessive amount of attention to the male genitalia on a Greek statue, and the female “endowments” (that’s what we’ll call the breasts)- the upstanding LDS boys (who, by the way, are in my seminary class) looked away and groaned at the teacher’s audacity. With these young men I don’t have to worry about them viewing my body as an object to be admired and that being the sole reason they enjoy my company. They are not that worldly.
You see, being LDS, we have values, and standards, and morals and we try to adhere to them like tape, sticking up for what we believe in. But sometimes, Sunday worship service and Sunday school just aren’t enough. In our society which can be so corrupt and vulgar at times, we often need daily uplifting. Daily reminders of who we are and what we stand for. Seminary does this for today’s LDS youth. It helps us at this critical deciding time in our lives to stick to what we believe and stand up for it.
Of course, in my example about the young men being upstanding, that goes two ways. I know young men who are extremely thankful for the large amount of girls who dress and behave modestly. Some of them like to say, “modest is hottest!!”, which always gets a laugh, but is also nice for the young women to hear. They don’t feel pressured around these good LDS girls to think about sex or other inappropriate behaviors. They are able to concentrate on the girls’ personalities instead of being distracted by their more physical endowments.
Essay structure invention- “how?”

How does the thesis stand up to the challenge of a counter-argument?
How does the introduction of new material affect the claims I’m making?
Possible argument: these students are just raised to be good students, and seminary doesn’t make a difference one way or the other because that’s just who they are.
Possible counter-argument: wrong. These students may or may not have good parents who raise them well, and may not have other good environments to be in in order to have their standards upheld. And if they do, well, good for them. However- seminary makes a difference because it reinforces what is taught at home and expounds on that. Often nowadays parents don’t have much time to sit down with their kids and teach them about their religion and in-depth teach them about good standards and values and morals and about how to uphold those and such. This is unfortunate, but it happens. Students come to seminary and learn things that parents don’t teach them at home (whether that be because of neglect to teach or just lack of time or knowledge). We are reminded about how bad choices lead to bad consequences and given scriptural advice concerning these matters as well. Seminary supports what a student already knows and does, making it easier to live making good decisions.
Possible argument (including new material): there are seminary students that don’t make very good choices- that do drugs, have sex, etc. yet they attend seminary regularly. Obviously seminary doesn’t make a difference in their lives.
Possible counter-argument: these students don’t care about seminary. But it’s more than that- they don’t follow their religion, and since seminary is a support to religion and faith, there must be faith and a willingness or conviction to follow what they know is right. Students that don’t have that attitude, that willingness or conviction, don’t have anything for seminary to augment. They go to seminary and very little of the lessons taught there affect them because they are not willing to accept them.
Possible argument: seminary just teaches a bunch of religious “hoo-ha”, or junk.
Possible counter-argument: seminary doesn’t teach a bunch of religious “hoo-ha” (that is soo fun to say!!). It teaches our religion, and that includes things like having good standards and integrity. Good standards such as being honest and hard working and respectful towards people. Keeping good care of your body- not drinking alcohol (ever), doing drugs, we even talk about getting enough sleep! (of course, most of the seminary students have a lot of trouble with that one.) The students in my seminary class that “walk the talk” (act on what they believe) are great students. They follow the counsel of the president of our church and study hard and work hard and uphold their standards.
I like my seminary class, and no one can convince me that it is a worthless class. I like going to the church in the morning before school and starting my day off learning about my religion and about the scriptures. I like the people that I meet through seminary and how they give me a support group for staying true to what I believe.

essay #2 invention- seminary community

A Little-known Community
Essay #2 invention for Engl 110
Cassànndrè Sager
29 October 2006
There is a community that is well-known among those who partake of my culture. Outside of my culture, people have rarely heard of it. Many times they do not understand why people choose to be a part of this community (of course, some people in the community itself don’t quite understand why they must be members of it, but that is another topic for another time).
It is not an ethnic, cultural, or interest-based community. There are Hispanics, Caucasions, African-Americans, Asians, Indians, and just about any race you could think of- in my community. Some play instruments, others play X-box. Some play both. Some want to grow up to be doctors, others engineers, software developers, musicians, accountants, mothers, fathers. Some have six siblings. Some have none. Some are gregarious and popular. Others are introverted, and not well-known. Even others still are made fun of by the general population. Some moved 7 times in their lives before the age of 18. Others have lived in the same house all their life. Some come from wealthy families that own nice cars. Others require financial aid for their groceries.
What could this incredibly diverse and unfamiliar community be? What ties all of these people together? It is seminary.
Is seminary really that diverse? Is it really that unfamiliar? And while we’re at it, asking questions about it- what in the world is seminary?!!
Dictionary.com offers ideas as to the definition, some of which come very close:
1. a special school providing education in theology, religious history, etc., primarily to prepare students for the priesthood, ministry, or rabbinate.
2. a school, esp. one of higher grade.
3. a school of secondary or higher level for young women.
4. a place of origin and propagation: a seminary of discontent.
5. A place or environment in which something is developed or nurtured.
However, none of those definitions tell you much about my seminary community. Before I attempt at a definition which not even a dictionary can achieve, perhaps I will try a different route to explaining this community.
5:20am. 97.3 is blasting music in my room, telling me to wake up, or else. I wake up, somewhat, and press the snooze button until about 5:30 or 5:45 (depending on what time I went to bed the previous night…). Then I get dressed, get breakfast, make myself pretty, nag my brother about being ready on time, tell our parents we’re just about ready, get my younger sisters awake and in the living room for family prayer. The elder of the two is on the couch with her huge quilt bundled about her, looking like a giant purple slug, within two minutes. It takes the younger about 3 minutes to be convinced to open her eyes. Another 2 to sit up. Then another 3 to actually get out of bed. (I am exaggerating this very little.) Parents come out. Family prayer. Then Mom or Dad take my brother and I out to the car (“Do you mind if I have shotgun, Rob?”), and then we’re on our way in the dark to the church building, arriving there within three minutes.
By now it’s usually about 6:15 or 6:20. We are late. Again. Why are we always late? It starts at 6:15, is it really such a problem to be ready at 6:10 or 6:05? We were on time everyday last week, why not this week? Oh well. It doesn’t really matter, I rationalize, because everyone else is usually late, too. Entering the foyer, there are several students my age who are procrastinating. We stand around a chat about school, dances, and how tired we are. I break through the little crowd and find my way to my classroom. (My classroom is one of the larger ones and actually has a piano because it happens to be where the young children go during church on Sundays.)
On days that I am (miraculously) early, Sisters Utterback and O’Neill are standing at the head of the classroom, talking, or finishing up last minute preparations for their lesson. That is not today, however. So I quietly walk in, trying to close the whining door softly behind me. There is a student with a Hymn book in hand pretending the conduct the music with the other. I watch, amused, as she spells her name in the air in cursive- nice try. Good thing no one’s watching her conduct anyhow. Since most of us are still half-asleep we mumble more than sing the song. Then the same student gives a devotional- I short, spiritual thought to start the day, and is followed by another student who says the opening prayer.
By this point I am at my table beside Marianne, feeling glad for the opportunity to complain about how my family made me late to seminary- again and how my parents still won’t let me drive to seminary. Today is Sister Utterback’s turn to teach the lesson.
“Good morning! Did you all get a lot of sleep last night?”
The awake students grunt. The ones that are working on catching up have their heads on their desks. Sister Utterback shoots the latter a sympathetic yet stern look- one only a mother could master.
“How did the football game against Kentlake go last night? Did Kentwood win?” Today Isaac, Derek, and Spencer have a funny story to share about that. They engage us in their tale of being caught by the security guard for drinking. Sister Utterback laughs at this. You must understand, dear reader, that these three young men were not actually drunk, nor have they ever considered drinking once in their lives. This is why the story is so remarkably funny. They are the least likely to be suspected of such a crime. The security guard pulled them aside from the bleachers and asked them,
“Have you been drinking?”
He gets a chorus of quizzical looks, followed by a slight pause, and then “no.” He looks at them suspiciously, wondering whether to trust these possible juvenile delinquents, but finally, after a bit of conversing, decides that they are perfectly sober young men, and releases them to enjoy the rest of the football game.
Derek gets a bit excited in the midst of telling this story, saying, “I was thinking ‘dude, we’re Mormon! we don’t drink! We don’t even watch R movies!’” (An aside- the type of “Mormon” that Derek is referring to is the type that actually follow their beliefs and stick to their standards.)
Sister Utterback allows the class a few moments of laughter and chatting (remember- she’s a mother, but also a teacher, and so knows how to handle us obnoxious sleepy-heads quite well). Then she grabs our attention and says, “That was a very funny story, Derek. Okay everyone, grab your scriptures, we are in Doctrine and Covenants section 29 today. Aubrey, will you read a verse from Matthew for me before we go into D&C? Thank you, the verse is….”
And the lesson finally starts. At 7:00am we have a closing prayer, and then all of the students leave for school. The teachers pack up their belongings and leave not too long afterwards. And the church is quiet.
What are the lessons in seminary about? They vary, depending on what scriptures we are focusing on. They are lessons that are centered around faith, repentance, gospel ordinances, consequences, long-term perspective, endurance, standards, integrity, respect, gratitude, knowledge, serving others, divine nature, individual worth, serving God, and many other such topics.
Dictionary.com wasn’t too far off the mark when it gave the definitions of, “a special school providing education in theology, religious history, etc.,” and “A place or environment in which something is developed or nurtured.” Seminary is where youth of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (also known by the common nickname of the Mormon church; often abbreviated to the LDS church) gather to learn daily about their religion and to be supported, nurtured, and instructed in living happy and fulfilling lives.
Many youth dislike seminary, or have days when they don’t want to go. However, we all eventually realize that it pays off. When asked what’s so good about seminary, many youth say something along the lines of, “it gets me through my day. I love starting my day with it because it just starts me off on the right foot. I notice a big difference on days when I go to school but don’t go to seminary- everything is harder and I don’t feel as good or happy.” Also, in the long run, these youth learn good standards and how to maintain them, thus eventually becoming successful adults who make a difference in the world.
This is the community which I am a part of every morning. This is the community that I loose a full hour of sleep for each morning. This is the community that I would never trade. This is seminary.

The Joy of Reading

Engl 110- Crappy Rough Draft #2 (essay 1)- october 2006

The Joy of Reading

There is this Gilmore Girls episode where one of the main characters, Rory, is showing a girl around the Yale Library. Rory walks up to the old books, takes one out of the shelf, opens it, and then extends it towards the girl, saying, “smell that! That is just the best smell in the world! I love it!! Don’t you love it?!!” Well, Rory, I happen to love it.
It's Sunday morning, and I get up out of bed. (I am a young elementary school child.) Go ask mom if I Can watch TV? No. It's Sunday. Just find something quiet to do. So I walk around our little apartment, bored, trying to figure out what to do. No TV. Brownies are off-limits. I see my mom's bookshelf, full of books from her college days and then just books that she likes and has collected over the years. I wander over to the bookshelf and take an old black book off the shelf. The corners of the cover are twisted in like they've just met up with a curling iron. The edge of the binding is slightly frayed. The blackness is undergoing a graying process; it is more black with gray spotches than it is just black- like my grandpa's hair. With the book closed, I can see the pages in between the front and back covers. They are uneven. I run my finger along the uneven, yellowed pages, feeling the texture of the book. I am in love with this book and I have not even opened it yet. It has texture and substance. It is interesting.
I open up the book. The words aren't typed in what we know as Times New Roman, but they are typed in what I know as Courier New. Intriguing. I continue to look at it. There are blue lines under the text and words written in the margins. I turn the page over and feel the back- I can feel the lines and words! The handwritting is nice, but the letters are slurred togethor. Sort of like a combination between print and cursive- the sort of combination that many people resort to when writing by hand in a hurry. There are many phrases here and there that are underlined. Many little phrases written off to the side. Circles around some words. Sometimes the lines turn from being straight to being squiggly. Sometimes the circles take on the shape of boxes. They all form a sort of jungle-gym, and I can feel them embossed on the other side of the page. I close my eyes and run my fingers across these embossed markings. I pretend that I am blind. However, I realize, If I were really blind, I would actually understand what I'm feeling. I then wonder, Why are these things underlined and drawn on? What makes that phrase so important, and that one ignored?
I lean closer to the book, I don't remember why, I just did. And then I discover the best part of old books. I lean in. Breath in. There it is. The loveliest smell in the whole world. It is a deep, warm smell. Strong like perfume. I think of the color brown. And of pot-pouri. It is a heavy smell. I smell the book, and then an army of molecules came surging towards me, ready to both please and overwhelm my olfactory senses. My eyes are closed. I take another breath- deep and slow, filling my diaphragm and then lungs with the savory scent. I want to read this book. I want to know what it has to say. And with that, I hopelessly dive into this world of books. I've fallen in love, and can't climb out of love. Nor do I want to.
That thought- I want to know what [this book] has to say- has influenced my reading. Various qualities of a book attract my initial attention. Those qualities can vary from the smell, the cover drawing, the title, the summary, the opinion of others... However, what secures my attention is when a deep curiosity is aroused. I want to know how Mr. Darcy and Lizzy fall in love. I go crazy trying to figure out what secret Mr. Rochester is hiding from Jane. Mr. DeWinter from Mrs. DeWinter. I pull my hair out wondering how it is that the little strings drawn on the cover are (theoretically) the basis of our universe. Once I have this yearning curiosity that makes my soul feel like it will be wrenched out if I don't satisfy it, well, that's when I pick up a book. And don't put it down. Until that curiosity is satisfied.
At the age of five (maybe four, maybe six), I had my baby blanket tied around my neck. It used to be pink, but is worn now, so much, to the point that it is white. I ran back and forth in the apartment with Baby Bear, my beloved panda bear who had gone everywhere with me since the age of six months (he would even be a princess with me a couple of halloweens later). I was a superhero. I was saving the world from... who knows what (I certainly don't remember)? And what did I have in my hand? The Random-House French Dictionary. Pocket sized.
"Mom, how do you say 'cat' in French?"
"Look it up."
Do you hear that sound? The fervent flipping of pages? It comes only when one seeks desperately for that one place where the answer to the world's biggest question lies (at the very least, the answer for this very moment). "'castor, casuel, catalogue, cataracte..." (I butcher those words) "Mom! There's no cat!" I'm complaining; whining.
Mom glances up from the kitchen counter, and looks at me. She takes into account where in the book I am looking, and the words that came out of my young mouth. "You're looking in the wrong section. You're in French to English, not English to French. You need to go to the back of the book."
So I faithfully travel to the farther back pages. Categorical- it must be on this page. "castaway- n. naufrage m., rjete m." Nope, not this one. "castigate- bv. chatier, punir." Still not the right one. Am I ever going to find it? "castle..castoff.. casua... casualties... cat! here it is!!"
" Okay, good job. What's the word?"
"... chat?..." I pronounce this like the english word 'chat' which means 'to talk informally'.
Mom chuckles a bit. "Not quite. Almost. In French it's pronounced 'shot'".
"oh... wait, so cats are shots? That doesn't make sense! Poor kitties!"
Despite the fact that cats and shots are synonymous in French (which is absolutely awful), I walked around with that book, learning the language, one word at time. (Until I stopped learnng and forgot it all.) Not that I ever learned very much, but the French dictionary captured my attention, and retained it, making me wonder, "how do I say such-and-such in French?" And with that, I continued to wonder what a book contained, Do I care about what's in that book? Is it interesting? If it is, I can probably learn from it! French began my introduction to non-fiction books.
Nowadays, when I read non-fiction, it ranges from american sign language to physics. I have a book by Stephen Hawking on my bookshelf. Another two by Brian Greene- these two are about string theory- the theory that may just unite general relativity and quantum mechanics. I have a book which discusses the nature/nurture debate. Another book in which a journalist chronicles a man's love for his brother, who has become sick, and whose life must be saved. Another book which is the story of an adult man who finally develops language. ASL dictionaries; Swahili phrasebook; Spanish books; The Book of Mormon in six different languages; German. I have a Keep It Simple Stupid guide to photography. I have the Student's Handbook, which technically belongs to my whole family, but is under the care of me. I have drawing books. Various novels... and so forth.
I peer tutor in the developmentally disabled (DD) department at Kentwood High School. I really enjoy this. The teenagers there are, overall, delightful, wonderful people who are happy with their lot in life. I hear the teachers talking about something having to do with Autism, or Down's Syndrome, or teaching methods, and I get curious. "What is ______?" They give me an answer, but I still have questions. I write down whatever it is I wonder about, and then by the time I am home, I log online and head to Google. From there I google the term, and learn about it. I have a new curiosity, and I will not stop reading till that hunger is satisfied! This process of looking up things which I don't know has stemmed from my initial curiosity and love for books. When "I don't know" is my answer (and I care to get the real one), I head to the written word of what it is my question is about. It's simple. I get the feedback.
Aside from constantly learning from the DD teenagers, I also am presented with a greater perspective. Reading has always come easily to me, and often I forget that for others it is much, much more difficult to read and get enjoyment out of it. I often wonder, if I couldn't read as well, would I enjoy it? Would it hold the same feeling of captivation for me as it does now? I think it might. I see these awesome teenagers struggle to read (some especially more than others), and I think to myself, that would suck. But then someone finally gets through whatever it is he or she is reading, and it is such a happy event. Finished! Triumphed! At those moments I realize that I have that exact same feeling with reading. My little sister just about has a party when she finishes a Winnie-the-Pooh book. I feel the exact same way when I finish a Jane Austen book. Finding out what a book has to say can result in happiness and self-satisfaction- no matter what book it is or what reading level it is geared towards. Whether it has that new book smell with glossy pages, or if it is yellow and smells of pot-pouri. It matters not. I am determined to be happy- because I can read, and in turn, can continue to learn.

The Joy of Reading- literacy narrative rough draft #2

The Joy of Reading

There is this Gilmore Girls episode where one of the main characters, Rory, is showing a girl around the Yale Library. Rory walks up to the old books, takes one out of the shelf, opens it, and then extends it towards the girl, saying, “smell that! That is just the best smell in the world! I love it!! Don’t you love it?!!” Well, Rory, I happen to love it.

It's Sunday morning, and I get up out of bed. (I am a young elementary school child.) Go ask mom if I Can watch TV? No. It's Sunday. Just find something quiet to do. So I walk around our little apartment, bored, trying to figure out what to do. No TV. Brownies are off-limits. I see my mom's bookshelf, full of books from her college days and then just books that she likes and has collected over the years. I wander over to the bookshelf and take an old black book off the shelf. The corners of the cover are twisted in like they've just met up with a curling iron. The edge of the binding is slightly frayed. The blackness is undergoing a graying process; it is more black with gray spotches than it is just black- like my grandpa's hair. With the book closed, I can see the pages in between the front and back covers. They are uneven. I run my finger along the uneven, yellowed pages, feeling the texture of the book. I am in love with this book and I have not even opened it yet. It has texture and substance. It is interesting.

I open up the book. The words aren't typed in what we know as Times New Roman, but they are typed in what I know as Courier New. Intriguing. I continue to look at it. There are blue lines under the text and words written in the margins. I turn the page over and feel the back- I can feel the lines and words! The handwritting is nice, but the letters are slurred togethor. Sort of like a combination between print and cursive- the sort of combination that many people resort to when writing by hand in a hurry. There are many phrases here and there that are underlined. Many little phrases written off to the side. Circles around some words. Sometimes the lines turn from being straight to being squiggly. Sometimes the circles take on the shape of boxes. They all form a sort of jungle-gym, and I can feel them embossed on the other side of the page. I close my eyes and run my fingers across these embossed markings. I pretend that I am blind. However, I realize, If I were really blind, I would actually understand what I'm feeling. I then wonder, Why are these things underlined and drawn on? What makes that phrase so important, and that one ignored?

I lean closer to the book, I don't remember why, I just did. And then I discover the best part of old books. I lean in. Breath in. There it is. The loveliest smell in the whole world. It is a deep, warm smell. Strong like perfume. I think of the color brown. And of pot-pouri. It is a heavy smell. I smell the book, and then an army of molecules came surging towards me, ready to both please and overwhelm my olfactory senses. My eyes are closed. I take another breath- deep and slow, filling my diaphragm and then lungs with the savory scent. I want to read this book. I want to know what it has to say. And with that, I hopelessly dive into this world of books. I've fallen in love, and can't climb out of love. Nor do I want to.

That thought- I want to know what [this book] has to say- has influenced my reading. Various qualities of a book attract my initial attention. Those qualities can vary from the smell, the cover drawing, the title, the summary, the opinion of others... However, what secures my attention is when a deep curiosity is aroused. I want to know how Mr. Darcy and Lizzy fall in love. I go crazy trying to figure out what secret Mr. Rochester is hiding from Jane. Mr. DeWinter from Mrs. DeWinter. I pull my hair out wondering how it is that the little strings drawn on the cover are (theoretically) the basis of our universe. Once I have this yearning curiosity that makes my soul feel like it will be wrenched out if I don't satisfy it, well, that's when I pick up a book. And don't put it down. Until that curiosity is satisfied.

At the age of five (maybe four, maybe six), I had my baby blanket tied around my neck. It used to be pink, but is worn now, so much, to the point that it is white. I ran back and forth in the apartment with Baby Bear, my beloved panda bear who had gone everywhere with me since the age of six months (he would even be a princess with me a couple of halloweens later). I was a superhero. I was saving the world from... who knows what (I certainly don't remember)? And what did I have in my hand? The Random-House French Dictionary. Pocket sized.

"Mom, how do you say 'cat' in French?"

"Look it up."

Do you hear that sound? The fervent flipping of pages? It comes only when one seeks desperately for that one place where the answer to the world's biggest question lies (at the very least, the answer for this very moment). "'castor, casuel, catalogue, cataracte..." (I butcher those words) "Mom! There's no cat!" I'm complaining; whining.

Mom glances up from the kitchen counter, and looks at me. She takes into account where in the book I am looking, and the words that came out of my young mouth. "You're looking in the wrong section. You're in French to English, not English to French. You need to go to the back of the book."

So I faithfully travel to the farther back pages. Categorical- it must be on this page. "castaway- n. naufrage m., rjete m." Nope, not this one. "castigate- bv. chatier, punir." Still not the right one. Am I ever going to find it? "castle..castoff.. casua... casualties... cat! here it is!!"

" Okay, good job. What's the word?"

"... chat?..." I pronounce this like the english word 'chat' which means 'to talk informally'.

Mom chuckles a bit. "Not quite. Almost. In French it's pronounced 'shot'".

"oh... wait, so cats are shots? That doesn't make sense! Poor kitties!"

Despite the fact that cats and shots are synonymous in French (which is absolutely awful), I walked around with that book, learning the language, one word at time. (Until I stopped learnng and forgot it all.) Not that I ever learned very much, but the French dictionary captured my attention, and retained it, making me wonder, "how do I say such-and-such in French?" And with that, I continued to wonder what a book contained, Do I care about what's in that book? Is it interesting? If it is, I can probably learn from it! French began my introduction to non-fiction books.

Nowadays, when I read non-fiction, it ranges from american sign language to physics. I have a book by Stephen Hawking on my bookshelf. Another two by Brian Greene- these two are about string theory- the theory that may just unite general relativity and quantum mechanics. I have a book which discusses the nature/nurture debate. Another book in which a journalist chronicles a man's love for his brother, who has become sick, and whose life must be saved. Another book which is the story of an adult man who finally develops language. ASL dictionaries; Swahili phrasebook; Spanish books; The Book of Mormon in six different languages; German. I have a Keep It Simple Stupid guide to photography. I have the Student's Handbook, which technically belongs to my whole family, but is under the care of me. I have drawing books. Various novels... and so forth.

I peer tutor in the developmentally disabled (DD) department at Kentwood High School. I really enjoy this. The teenagers there are, overall, delightful, wonderful people who are happy with their lot in life. I hear the teachers talking about something having to do with Autism, or Down's Syndrome, or teaching methods, and I get curious. "What is ______?" They give me an answer, but I still have questions. I write down whatever it is I wonder about, and then by the time I am home, I log online and head to Google. From there I google the term, and learn about it. I have a new curiosity, and I will not stop reading till that hunger is satisfied! This process of looking up things which I don't know has stemmed from my initial curiosity and love for books. When "I don't know" is my answer (and I care to get the real one), I head to the written word of what it is my question is about. It's simple. I get the feedback.

Aside from constantly learning from the DD teenagers, I also am presented with a greater perspective. Reading has always come easily to me, and often I forget that for others it is much, much more difficult to read and get enjoyment out of it. I often wonder, if I couldn't read as well, would I enjoy it? Would it hold the same feeling of captivation for me as it does now? I think it might. I see these awesome teenagers struggle to read (some especially more than others), and I think to myself, that would suck. But then someone finally gets through whatever it is he or she is reading, and it is such a happy event. Finished! Triumphed! At those moments I realize that I have that exact same feeling with reading. My little sister just about has a party when she finishes a Winnie-the-Pooh book. I feel the exact same way when I finish a Jane Austen book. Finding out what a book has to say can result in happiness and self-satisfaction- no matter what book it is or what reading level it is geared towards. Whether it has that new book smell with glossy pages, or if it is yellow and smells of pot-pouri. It matters not. I am determined to be happy- because I can read, and in turn, can continue to learn.

literacy narrative crappy rough draft~ engl 110

Cassànndrè Sager
Engl 110 ~ literacy narrative “crappy” rough draft
12 October 2006

Focus questions~
do you think I any potential leads? Where are they?
what memories have I included in there that don't really belong (are somewhat irrevalant)?

My first memory involving reading and writing is when I was in pre-school. One day I decided that I wanted to spell my name. So, I grabbed a piece of paper, and a nice pen, and I began to spell. It took me a couple tries, but eventually, it turned out right, or so I thought. I slowly sounded out my name… the going got tough, so I turned to the teacher, who wrote my name down for me. I copied it onto a piece of paper. Look at it. Digested the spelling. Then I put away both the teachers’ paper and my own. I wrote my name. Correctly. Once again- or so I thought. That evening I showed my mom my hard work. “Look Mom! I spelled my name today!”
“Wow! Good job! But you missed just a little bit, let me show you.” Little did I know that this was a type of what was to come concerning my name. “You see, above your second ‘a’ and your ‘e’, there go these little accents, so the letters look like this-” and she wrote, “à” and “è”. This was the beginning of the saga of my name.

In first grade there were 40 kids in my class. Whenever Mrs. Tucker or Mrs. Lapic were gone (we had two teachers because the class size was so huge), the sub would call role. Well, she’d get to my name and say, “Cuh-san-druh Sager?” Well, that’s not how you pronounce my name. You see, my name isn’t spelled Cassandra, it’s spelled how you see it at the top of this paper- Cassànndrè, and it also happens to be pronounced differently. Well, I had told this to all of my fellow classmates at least ten times, so they all knew exactly how to inform the teacher of this.
“Cuh-saawwwn-druh!!!”
It was suddenly as if my small seven-year-old self had suddenly multiplied and become a choir of 40!

I’m told that the class did this also in the second grade by my friends; however, I don’t remember any of that…

For Christmas in first grade my Grandma Bridges gave me six Nancy Drew books- the first six. They were Chapter books!! What a change! I had already begun to read these mini-chapter books which were Wini-the-Pooh and somewhat difficult for other students to read, though I could read them without too much difficulty. Well, anyhow, I got my very first chapter books and began to read them, somewhat cautiously, for I had not an idea of what difficulty of reading they would be. I read the first. It took me a while. But I was committed to it.

Y’know, it occurs to me that books teach us commitment. Especially the longer ones. Unless you are committed to reading a book, then you’ll never finish it because books take time.

Well, Anyhow, I finally finished the first Nancy Drew book. It was very good. At that time I was one of the few students in my class reading chapter books, though I’m not sure if I really realized that difference.

Well, my youngest sister is eight now. She’s in the second grade. I was surprised recently when I found out that she has just started reading chapter books. I thought, I started a year younger than her… that’s kind of weird.

Not that I mean to point out how good of a reader I am. I’m about average, I’m sure. Slower than some, faster than some snails I know.

What else? Well, in the seventh grade I took a creative writing class. I enjoyed that class. Seventh grade was the year that I was depressed actually. I began to write a lot that year- lots of poetry and diary writing, actually. Some of my poetry was written fairly well, actually, but was depressing and very somber. Poetry and writing became my way to get out my emotions and feelings. To understand how I felt about what was going on. I had some troubles with a close friend, and I consequently wrote a few poems involvuing or inspired by him. I was very frustrated w/ my dad at that time as well, and so I’m sure that he was behind some of my reasons for writing. Well, creative writing was a fun experience. There was this one boy who
decided that didn’t like poetry, so what did he do? He wrote about cheese!

When I was in ninth grade I had to write a story. I decided that I wanted to write a fictionalized story of how my great-something grandparents met each other.

Well, it’s this fantastic story. Would you like to hear the beginning? Or an excerpt, let me find
you one, alrighty? Here’s the second paragraph- where the story starts.

“The wind fiercely buffeted the ship to and fro. Most of the sailors were not God-fearing men, but they could be, if a situation called for such "faith" or "selective faith" as the mainlanders disapprovingly called it. The skies were tumbling and turning, as if they could not make up their mind which way to turn, which way the sea should roll the boat… Franz, in the brief moments he could look up, could see the black and blue sky as clearly as if his world had been covered by a never-ending bruise.” (“True Love is Never Forgotten”. Cassànndrè Sager. http://home.comcast.net/~scottpre21/truelovestory.html%202004.)

I do enjoy writing, actually, once I find something to write about. I wrote an essay where I styled my type of writing after Jane Austen. Actually, I wrote two of those. I was very well
pleased with them when I finished. What fun they were to write!!

Now I am taking English 110 at Greenriver Community College. Where will this take my reading and writing experience? Well, probably not my reading experience so far as my writing one, because that class is called “College Writing”. I want to take a class that’s about reading things… I want to read classic books! But there are many books I would never read if not in a class, because I don’t know of them, or just don’t have time unless I have to. It’s unfortunate, but true.

It seems that the reading emphasis has been removed. There are not many people who appreciate that old book smell. There is this Gilmore Girls episode where one of the main characters, Rory, is showing a girl around the Yale Library. Rory walks up to the old books, takes one out of the shelf, opens it, and then extends it towards the girl, saying, “smell that! That is just the best smell in the world! I love it!! Don’t you love it?!!” Well, Rory, I happen to love that smell. My mom has some books that are older, and every once in a while I like to just open up one of those books and take a whiff. Oh! What lovely aromas lie within those worn pages! The aromas of Emily Dickinson’s poems. I suppose part of the beauty of their smell is the sense of nostalgia that I get, which really can’t belong to me, but must belong to someone else- perhaps Dickinson’s nostalgia from writing it. Nonetheless, the old smell seems to relate to me that oldness of the book and its works therein. It reflects the classical nature of the book, and enhances the enjoyment thereof.

Perhaps something I write will someday be in a book that has that old book smell.
Or, you know what would be lovely? To discover a book of some sort that is very old and that one of my ancestors wrote. Maybe a diary. I would like to come across something so very old like that! What a joy to read, as well! I like geneology, actually. I never really thought I would. It always seemed so boring. But it’s like searching for someone- I get to be a detective! I can learn about where I cam from. I am Welsh. How cool is that? I am Prussian- my people come from a country that no longer exists! Wow… I guess in an indirect way I can see how WWII affected myself- it affects my heritage. And since heritage is important, I suppose, then, that history can be, too. Sometimes.

Brynn recently came across these short stories that my mom wrote when she was in elementary school. One was titled “The Nice-Looking Man”. I don’t really remember what it’s about, but it has something to do with a man that looks nice, but actually is not a very nice person. I wonder what got that idea into her head… I should ask her sometime.

I guess I’ve come a very long way since I first learned to spell my name. I can spell other long words that are spelled kind of strangely. Like hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia. Microsoft Word tells me that I’ve spelled that wrong, but they don’t have any suggestions on how to spell it right. Doesn’t it seem that people can be like that sometimes? They have so much criticism to offer, but hardly any advice on rectifying whatever it is that they are criticizing! Well, anyhow, I have come far. I expect to go further.