- 1.2 begins with religious song and also is the first reference to the title.
- Troy and Rose as foils: money, Nword, kids, Troy's experience in sports
- Why is Troy so angry on page 28? Why does he leave Rose to go to Taylor's?
- Why is it so hard for Troy to build the fence? See page 28?
- Is Troy stingy or realistic in terms of money?
- In what ways is Troy a contradiction? How does he contradict himself?
- Who is the more nobler character Troy or Cory?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Fences 1.2 - 1.4
Questions and Observations
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Their Eyes Were Watching God - Predictions and Questions
Their Eyes Were Watching God begins with Janie sauntering into town and the gossip that lingers after her steps. Yet the story is Janie’s and before she begins the narrator comments that she is “full of that oldest human longing – self revelation.”
Chapter 2 begins when Janie retells the story of how and when she first discovered she was black.
In chapter 3, Nanny tells Janie that she is a woman because her “womanhood” is “on her” and now that she is a woman she must get married.
The rest of the chapter focuses largely on Nanny as she rocks Janie and explains to her the need for marriage. Nanny describes a hierarchical system with white men at the top, black men, and black woman at the bottom. She compares black woman to mules. Unlike Black Boy, Nanny’s suggests that within the racial system there exists a subordinate group based upon sex. Her argument continues when she explains to Janie that she is all Janie has and she will soon die and that Janie can’t “stand alone by [her] self.” Nanny tells Janie the story of how she was raped by her master and how Janie’s mother was raped by her school teacher. When Janie confesses to Nanny that she is unhappy in her marriage Nanny finds it ridiculous that she would be unhappy if her husband is not beating her.
Chapter 3 ends with the following “Janie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman.”
The story of Janie discovering that she was black and the story of her grandmother and mother suggest to me that Janie’s story of “self revelation” will be about her understanding her race and her sex and just as Janie sees her life “like a great tree” the metaphor of nature seems to push the story of her life along.
At the end of chapter 3 the narrator comments that Janie becomes a woman as the result of one of her dreams dying. Yet, the beginning of the book reads “his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.”
Questions:
1. What do you think of the above? I have no idea!
2. Both in Black Boy and in Their Eyes Were Watching God we have read accounts of a black person discovering they were black. I have never heard of or read any account of a white person discovering they were white. Have you? Probably be not. Why do you think that is? What does this suggest about our perception of race even today?
2. Before we continue to read Eyes, how do you think sex and race are connected?
Chapter 2 begins when Janie retells the story of how and when she first discovered she was black.
In chapter 3, Nanny tells Janie that she is a woman because her “womanhood” is “on her” and now that she is a woman she must get married.
The rest of the chapter focuses largely on Nanny as she rocks Janie and explains to her the need for marriage. Nanny describes a hierarchical system with white men at the top, black men, and black woman at the bottom. She compares black woman to mules. Unlike Black Boy, Nanny’s suggests that within the racial system there exists a subordinate group based upon sex. Her argument continues when she explains to Janie that she is all Janie has and she will soon die and that Janie can’t “stand alone by [her] self.” Nanny tells Janie the story of how she was raped by her master and how Janie’s mother was raped by her school teacher. When Janie confesses to Nanny that she is unhappy in her marriage Nanny finds it ridiculous that she would be unhappy if her husband is not beating her.
Chapter 3 ends with the following “Janie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman.”
The story of Janie discovering that she was black and the story of her grandmother and mother suggest to me that Janie’s story of “self revelation” will be about her understanding her race and her sex and just as Janie sees her life “like a great tree” the metaphor of nature seems to push the story of her life along.
At the end of chapter 3 the narrator comments that Janie becomes a woman as the result of one of her dreams dying. Yet, the beginning of the book reads “his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.”
Questions:
1. What do you think of the above? I have no idea!
2. Both in Black Boy and in Their Eyes Were Watching God we have read accounts of a black person discovering they were black. I have never heard of or read any account of a white person discovering they were white. Have you? Probably be not. Why do you think that is? What does this suggest about our perception of race even today?
2. Before we continue to read Eyes, how do you think sex and race are connected?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
“I was beginning to dream the dreams” –p169
In chapter 7, Richard continues to develop his own unique sense of self, of purpose, of determination. His fascination with reading and writing leads him to the Southern Register where he publishes The Voodoo of Hell’s Half-Acre, his very first work of literature.
Two significant things strike me in connection with Richards’s accomplishment.
1. The editor of the newspaper is an important person for Richard. Though Richard does not spend too much time recognizing this fact, the editor is the first person in his life who patiently and politely answers all of his questions. Additionally, the editor is the only person to ever encourage him to write!
2. The dialogue printed on pages 166 – 167 is incredibly endearing! Richard, honestly answers his fellow classmates as they ask “Why [did you write it]?” and “But what are they publishing it for?” and again “Who told you to do that?” Richard displays, what I can only describe as a sort of child-like- maturity. Like a child he doesn’t take into consideration other people’s reactions or judgments and does things simply “Because [he] wanted to”. At the same time, he has the courage to go against his family and others.
While Richard confesses that if he had known about the negative reaction he received he would not have published in the first place, but chapter after chapter we see that Richard is willing to defy his family’s religious convictions as well as other practices in his home.
If Richard had known about the negative reaction he would have gotten from his being published do you think he would not have submitted his story as he says he would have?
“The whole of my being felt violated, and I knew that my own fear had helped to violate it” – pg 192
Both chapters 8 and 9 examine Richard’s behavior around white people. In chapter 8, Richard conducts himself with such grace and dignity when he politely and stalwartly refuses to deliver the principal’s written speech. No matter what the costs, he “like[s] to do things right.”
Yet chapter 9 is a shift in his behavior. After a montage of horrific and racially charged memories of violence, Richard experiments with adopting a more submissive attitude that Griggs suggests. The chapter ends with Richard having an emotional breakdown and resolutely deciding to leave the South.
In trying to flee from the Southern way of life Richard becomes a part of the very racist system that he is trying to escape in order to make money. This directly contrasts with his behavior in the previous chapter.
Does Richard have to engage with/in the system in some ways in order to beat it?
In chapter 7, Richard continues to develop his own unique sense of self, of purpose, of determination. His fascination with reading and writing leads him to the Southern Register where he publishes The Voodoo of Hell’s Half-Acre, his very first work of literature.
Two significant things strike me in connection with Richards’s accomplishment.
1. The editor of the newspaper is an important person for Richard. Though Richard does not spend too much time recognizing this fact, the editor is the first person in his life who patiently and politely answers all of his questions. Additionally, the editor is the only person to ever encourage him to write!
2. The dialogue printed on pages 166 – 167 is incredibly endearing! Richard, honestly answers his fellow classmates as they ask “Why [did you write it]?” and “But what are they publishing it for?” and again “Who told you to do that?” Richard displays, what I can only describe as a sort of child-like- maturity. Like a child he doesn’t take into consideration other people’s reactions or judgments and does things simply “Because [he] wanted to”. At the same time, he has the courage to go against his family and others.
While Richard confesses that if he had known about the negative reaction he received he would not have published in the first place, but chapter after chapter we see that Richard is willing to defy his family’s religious convictions as well as other practices in his home.
If Richard had known about the negative reaction he would have gotten from his being published do you think he would not have submitted his story as he says he would have?
“The whole of my being felt violated, and I knew that my own fear had helped to violate it” – pg 192
Both chapters 8 and 9 examine Richard’s behavior around white people. In chapter 8, Richard conducts himself with such grace and dignity when he politely and stalwartly refuses to deliver the principal’s written speech. No matter what the costs, he “like[s] to do things right.”
Yet chapter 9 is a shift in his behavior. After a montage of horrific and racially charged memories of violence, Richard experiments with adopting a more submissive attitude that Griggs suggests. The chapter ends with Richard having an emotional breakdown and resolutely deciding to leave the South.
In trying to flee from the Southern way of life Richard becomes a part of the very racist system that he is trying to escape in order to make money. This directly contrasts with his behavior in the previous chapter.
Does Richard have to engage with/in the system in some ways in order to beat it?
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Things Fall Apart Chapter 22 Questions
In chapter 22 Enoch commits the ultimate transgression when he rips off the egwuwu's mask in public. The spirit is said to have died, but we read that the man under the mask is simply shielded and lead away from the crowd. How can this scene possibly serve as a metaphor for the fate of the Ibo culture's religious traditions? Also, throughout our reading of Things Fall Apart, Achebe seems to poke fun at or find fault with both Ibo culture and the traditions of the Christians. Is Achebe more critical of one culture? Is he trying to say that they are both frivolous? Is he trying to provide examples that unite the two?
Friday, October 23, 2009
Things Fall Apart Chapter 5 Questions
At this point in the story we learn more about the customs within the compound and specifically about the relationships between Okonkwo and his wives, the wives and their children, and the children and Okonkwo. In each of these relationships one character sticks out to me, that is Ezinma. How is her relationship to her mother and to Okonkwo different than other characters within the story? How is it similar? What conclusions can we make based off of these comparisons?
Also, on page 41, Ezinma is told that she will "see something" because her eye is twitching. Could this be foreshadowing Ezinma's role as a witness? Or is it simply, just a reminder of the wrestling match to come?
And if, for some reasons, there is extra time....
What is Ikemefuna's role withing the family?
How and why does Obiageli serve as a foil to Ezinma?
Also, on page 41, Ezinma is told that she will "see something" because her eye is twitching. Could this be foreshadowing Ezinma's role as a witness? Or is it simply, just a reminder of the wrestling match to come?
And if, for some reasons, there is extra time....
What is Ikemefuna's role withing the family?
How and why does Obiageli serve as a foil to Ezinma?
Monday, October 5, 2009
A Day In the Life of Rebecca
In one burst of a move fueled by adrenaline, Rebecca’s eye lids flicked open, her heart hit her chest, her feet smacked the floor and the thick layer of covers swung in the air unleashing the heat that had been stored all night. No sound bothered Rebecca more than the shrill beeps of her alarm clock. That’s why she bought it; it was the only thing that could get her out of bed in the morning. Her autopilot mind began to move her. She wasn’t awake; she was just no longer asleep. Brushing teeth, washing face, packing bags. Slowly these activities brought her to full consciousness so that she was alert when it came time for her most cherished part of the morning.
Her favorite music softly bumped its way into her ears as Rebecca took a pencil to her eyes to create the thin dark lines that surrounded them. Her face hovered only inches from the mirror, as Rebecca took her gaze down her nose, over her nostrils, across her cheek bones, and then around her whole face. Spreading the liquid foundation, evening it out, kneading it into her skin, she was glad she had gotten up early so that she had time to complete this important ritual.
During the monotonous drive to school, Rebecca peered out of the glass window that separated her from the cold December air. Thirty minutes on the free way had gradually gone and her lane was not moving. She took this time to peer again out the window and to peer into the windows of all the other drivers. None looked back at her. They were all texting, talking, some were eating. One man was even shaving. They all drove by, locked safely in their cars, until a large minivan slowly pulled next to her. Surprisingly, Rebecca saw the round face of a little girl looking back at her, also peering out the window. The girl smiled, in that wonderful way, unafraid and honestly. Rebecca felt her face lift and the sides of her mouth rise. She was smiling back in that same way. The minivan with the friendly face of the little girl, who was equally surprised to see a face looking back, rolled away.
Now running a little bit late, Rebecca quickly walked past the buzzing conversations about the weekend to get to her locker and then to her history class. History, Algebra, and finally English, today none of them had anything in common with each other except that in each class she stared at the same pack of heads. In each class they were in front her, bobbing up and down ignoring everything and everyone in order to take careful notes.
Almost as irritating as the alarm that woke her in the morning was the obnoxious bell that sounded for lunch. Rebecca watched as all her classmates streamed through the door of the classroom only to immediately scatter once outside. Sandwich in hand, Rebecca eagerly walked over to Sam. They had no classes together, and they didn’t even share any of the same friends, but they did enjoy each other’s company. Sam could make Rebecca laugh, and Rebecca could do the same for Sam. Once again, Rebecca felt a smile spreading across her face as she looked into Sam’s eyes.
Their joking together ended when several of Sam’s friends came to sit with them. The subtle inside jokes they exchanged just couldn’t be extended to the rest of the group.
Symmetrically her afternoon was no radical departure from the first half of the day. Spanish and Physics came and went, heads bobbed up and down. And now it was time for her long ride home.
There was no one there, in the house when she arrived. However, it was hardly quiet. The stone floors made it so that the barks of the dogs seemed to come at her from all directions. Rebecca resigned herself to doing her math homework. Even with her notes directly in front of her the task was daunting. She read the equations scrawled during class and then the question in her book. They seemed utterly disconnected. She pushed the book away, although it had never been close, and commenced with other assignments.
Later she reached for the math book again. She passively guessed at one problem and left the next one blank. Her cell phone rang.
Robert was Rebecca’s best friend. He was also very good at math and he had called at precisely the right moment, as often only the most intuitive best friends can do. Patiently he explained the concept her, and when she finished her homework they began to talk. Because they lived on opposite sides of the country, talking for Robert and Rebecca was nothing brief. With two hours having gone by with Rebecca listening intently to his life at college, Robert apologetically inquired about her. She spoke. He listened.
She thought back on her day. The little girl's smile. Lunch with Sam. How Robert had called right when she had needed him.
“You know Robert, I’m really glad you called. I had the best day. Ok Let me tell you about this boy at my school, who you don’t know, His name is Sam. He’s so funny.”
And their hours passed together, reflecting, until both, on opposite sides of the country, were asleep phones still in hands.
Her favorite music softly bumped its way into her ears as Rebecca took a pencil to her eyes to create the thin dark lines that surrounded them. Her face hovered only inches from the mirror, as Rebecca took her gaze down her nose, over her nostrils, across her cheek bones, and then around her whole face. Spreading the liquid foundation, evening it out, kneading it into her skin, she was glad she had gotten up early so that she had time to complete this important ritual.
During the monotonous drive to school, Rebecca peered out of the glass window that separated her from the cold December air. Thirty minutes on the free way had gradually gone and her lane was not moving. She took this time to peer again out the window and to peer into the windows of all the other drivers. None looked back at her. They were all texting, talking, some were eating. One man was even shaving. They all drove by, locked safely in their cars, until a large minivan slowly pulled next to her. Surprisingly, Rebecca saw the round face of a little girl looking back at her, also peering out the window. The girl smiled, in that wonderful way, unafraid and honestly. Rebecca felt her face lift and the sides of her mouth rise. She was smiling back in that same way. The minivan with the friendly face of the little girl, who was equally surprised to see a face looking back, rolled away.
Now running a little bit late, Rebecca quickly walked past the buzzing conversations about the weekend to get to her locker and then to her history class. History, Algebra, and finally English, today none of them had anything in common with each other except that in each class she stared at the same pack of heads. In each class they were in front her, bobbing up and down ignoring everything and everyone in order to take careful notes.
Almost as irritating as the alarm that woke her in the morning was the obnoxious bell that sounded for lunch. Rebecca watched as all her classmates streamed through the door of the classroom only to immediately scatter once outside. Sandwich in hand, Rebecca eagerly walked over to Sam. They had no classes together, and they didn’t even share any of the same friends, but they did enjoy each other’s company. Sam could make Rebecca laugh, and Rebecca could do the same for Sam. Once again, Rebecca felt a smile spreading across her face as she looked into Sam’s eyes.
Their joking together ended when several of Sam’s friends came to sit with them. The subtle inside jokes they exchanged just couldn’t be extended to the rest of the group.
Symmetrically her afternoon was no radical departure from the first half of the day. Spanish and Physics came and went, heads bobbed up and down. And now it was time for her long ride home.
There was no one there, in the house when she arrived. However, it was hardly quiet. The stone floors made it so that the barks of the dogs seemed to come at her from all directions. Rebecca resigned herself to doing her math homework. Even with her notes directly in front of her the task was daunting. She read the equations scrawled during class and then the question in her book. They seemed utterly disconnected. She pushed the book away, although it had never been close, and commenced with other assignments.
Later she reached for the math book again. She passively guessed at one problem and left the next one blank. Her cell phone rang.
Robert was Rebecca’s best friend. He was also very good at math and he had called at precisely the right moment, as often only the most intuitive best friends can do. Patiently he explained the concept her, and when she finished her homework they began to talk. Because they lived on opposite sides of the country, talking for Robert and Rebecca was nothing brief. With two hours having gone by with Rebecca listening intently to his life at college, Robert apologetically inquired about her. She spoke. He listened.
She thought back on her day. The little girl's smile. Lunch with Sam. How Robert had called right when she had needed him.
“You know Robert, I’m really glad you called. I had the best day. Ok Let me tell you about this boy at my school, who you don’t know, His name is Sam. He’s so funny.”
And their hours passed together, reflecting, until both, on opposite sides of the country, were asleep phones still in hands.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Spiderman – Have You Tried Using a Blow Torch?
I do not think I have ever enjoyed hearing a poem as much as I enjoyed listening to Mr. Coon read “Maybe Dat's Yowr Pwoblem Too” I thought it was witty, creative, imaginative and engaging, however; I do not agree with the notion that someone can not “buin der suit”.
What I struggle with in this poem are the lines where Spiderman does not follow his dream. While I agree that there are things people can not change, like their family, or their height, the majority of our life is in our control. I am and always have been a believer in the idea that for the most part, if you want to change and you have the right tools you can!
Spiderman explains that he wishes he could become a racecar driver to make his heart beat at a different rate. He complains about the monotonous routine of catching color t.v. slobs and delivering them to the police. So why then, why does he continue doing what makes him unhappy? The poem does not provide an answer and maybe that’s part of its goal, to make readers examine their lives and look at what it is that prevents them from doing what makes them happy.
I don’t want this blog entry to sound preachy nor do I want it to sound like some how I’ve figured this whole thing out, because I have not! I also do not intend to suggest that changing is something remotely simple. In fact, really rewiring your personal hardware is probably the most difficult thing for a person to do in life.
I can empathize with Spiderman’s situation. There was a point during junior year where I realized that my appearance, my “suit” not only did not match who I was but it was taking over who I was. A point where my suit was a burden emotionally and physically. I looked longingly at other suits that would make my heart beat at a different rate. The suit that I had had become too heavy for me, too tight. It was constricting and it didn’t fit. Because of it I couldn’t do the things that I really loved, like dance. My suit had become painful.
I have learned that yes, you can burn your suit. I took mine and burned it. There are many things I want to change about myself and I am intent on changing them! I don’t expect that tomorrow I will wake up a different person or that even in a year I will have morphed. Changing is in many cases a process.
Have you ever heard someone say that they had “found themselves”. Well one of my most favorite quotes is the following.
“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
- (unkown)
What I love about this quote is that it reminds me that there isn’t a mold for me that I have to go discover but rather I can be what ever I want to be. There is something wonderfully liberating, and exciting about this possibility.
What I struggle with in this poem are the lines where Spiderman does not follow his dream. While I agree that there are things people can not change, like their family, or their height, the majority of our life is in our control. I am and always have been a believer in the idea that for the most part, if you want to change and you have the right tools you can!
Spiderman explains that he wishes he could become a racecar driver to make his heart beat at a different rate. He complains about the monotonous routine of catching color t.v. slobs and delivering them to the police. So why then, why does he continue doing what makes him unhappy? The poem does not provide an answer and maybe that’s part of its goal, to make readers examine their lives and look at what it is that prevents them from doing what makes them happy.
I don’t want this blog entry to sound preachy nor do I want it to sound like some how I’ve figured this whole thing out, because I have not! I also do not intend to suggest that changing is something remotely simple. In fact, really rewiring your personal hardware is probably the most difficult thing for a person to do in life.
I can empathize with Spiderman’s situation. There was a point during junior year where I realized that my appearance, my “suit” not only did not match who I was but it was taking over who I was. A point where my suit was a burden emotionally and physically. I looked longingly at other suits that would make my heart beat at a different rate. The suit that I had had become too heavy for me, too tight. It was constricting and it didn’t fit. Because of it I couldn’t do the things that I really loved, like dance. My suit had become painful.
I have learned that yes, you can burn your suit. I took mine and burned it. There are many things I want to change about myself and I am intent on changing them! I don’t expect that tomorrow I will wake up a different person or that even in a year I will have morphed. Changing is in many cases a process.
Have you ever heard someone say that they had “found themselves”. Well one of my most favorite quotes is the following.
“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
- (unkown)
What I love about this quote is that it reminds me that there isn’t a mold for me that I have to go discover but rather I can be what ever I want to be. There is something wonderfully liberating, and exciting about this possibility.
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