Monday, December 10, 2012

Reflective post on our last class

This class has made me laugh, cry, and at times want to explode with frustration. Most of lifes accomplishments are never easy. I always say, we learn through our mistakes. I realized that I learned a great deal about myself through my writing. I also have learned that I have much to learn still to be the accomplished writer I would like to be in the future. This class has been very helpful, for one of my long time dreams is to write and illustrate children and tween books. Our professor was strong in her convictions as an educator and was passionate about writing. I gained a lot of insightful information from this writing course to utilize further in life and in my academic pursuits. In a "cliche" nutshell I want to heal the world through my art and life experiences; my heartache and my triumphs. I will dearly miss my classmates, but wish them all the best and hope to see them in the future.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Sexism in the media

This is a portrayal of early advertising in America, although the female pictured here is not half nude,there is still a strong feeling of sexism. You would never imagine a man in this role. We are almost programed to except the female in this role, for this reason over the course of time it has become an excepted norm.
We can look at todays advertising and not question why we are still portrayed in an objectifying way and still dominated by men. This type of media psychologically programs our brians and can kill self esteem. In the documentary Miss representation females get the message that beauty is their most important quality;therfore, males get a similar message that this is all we are(Newsom 2011) on the other hand if we put a man in an ad and represent him in a similar manor it would seem out of place. This would at least be equal, for we are told we are a country of equal rights. This is the point that the documentary is trying to get across. In the medias eyes we are not equal, we are a money making commodity.
I never had a real role model as a child, But as an adult I found strength in looking toward my aunts. They have come along way in life and always held a moral ground. They kept their values close at heart. Both of my aunts became nurses and today are amazing strong females. When my daughter was born I was fortunate to meet another amazing role model. My friend Joann, When I met her she was fighting breast cancer. Yet at the same time raising a family, while going through a divorce. Joann also was not afraid to start her new life after divorce, for she opened up her own business. With determination and a few prayers she made her goal sucessful. Joann is still a single mother and strong woman. For this she has three outstanding children and now has a second business. She has been a strong influence in my life. Today she is unfortunetly fighting cancer once again. Her spirit and strength as a woman carries over in to all she does. She remains positive as we all continue to pray for her speedy recovery. My aunt's and my friend Joann have been a priceless help as I continue to grow as a woman. They are a true representation of a role model. Since the media is everywhere we must becareful not to fall in to the trap of it. We are stronger then that, and can show our younger generation that they can be too. Education is the only way to fight back. Their are many strong women out there in the world, yet they are not used as an example. This is hurting our country. The price we pay to be beautiful can not out weigh our true value. We are more than just an exterior shell.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Group Presentation by Arely,Lauren, and lynn

http://prezi.com/g4yt5m7ixogj/god-dr-buzzard-and-the-bolito-man/?auth_key=5136794992d20878a85a3cfa8a0f2f57b7afcb70

Monday, October 22, 2012

God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito man.

                               Sabelo Island's Behavior Cemetery is a landmark and resting place. 

     Sabelo is home to The Geechee people, you can hear the whisper of their ancestors echo through the trees. This tiny beautiful island has been inhabited by the Geechee people for nine generations, dating back to slavery. A peaceful and humble community, They are being faced with the reality, that they may be forced to move.  Taxes continue to rise,  and so does their fear of their home becoming a vacation destination.
     Although I do not have deep rooted ancestral links to where I grew up like the Geechee,my heart goes out to their community. My cultural heritage is in El Salvador, I was up rooted from my native land during a very intense civil war. During a time when tens of thousands of people including women and children were being massacred, I was one of the lucky ones. The book God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito man speaks a great deal on religion, spirits, and root (voodoo) as the Geechee call it. I can relate to their spiritual belief in the sense that; there must have been an angel watching and protecting me in El Salvador, because I made it all the way to Pennsylvania.
                                                                                                             
     My adoptive family is not as tight nit as the Geechee community, They are sprinkled and scattered from the east cost, to the west cost. As the Geechee people embrace their culture and everyday way of life, I too embrace my roots, and wish to one day visit my ancestral land. I also make and eat Papusas which are a local native treat popular in El Salvador. The Geechee people take pride in who they are and stay close like one big family. They will always have their Geechee pride, even if they don't win their fight to save their land. Hopefully though, they will continue to remain on their island they have nurtured and called home for over 200 years. They are forever a part of the earth that they walk on.

    

Sunday, October 7, 2012

"Inspiration"

"I asked for strength and was given
difficulties to make me strong.
I asked for wisdom and was given problems to solve.
I asked for prosperity and was given a brain and brawn to work.
I asked for courage and was given
danger to overcome.
I asked for love and was given troubled people to help.
I asked for favors and was given
opportunities.
I received nothing I wanted...

but I received everything I needed."
                                                                                                        -  Unknown

Monday, September 24, 2012

Blog post 4: Opinion on "Waiting for Superman".

 

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     In the early 80's Jean Anyon wrote "Social Class and the Hidden Curriculum of Work". Jean was concerned for the way children were being educated. Over 30 years have gone by. In 2010 a documentary was created called "Waiting for Superman" about our ever failing school systems. 

     I was disturbed to see that not much has changed. We are still battling issues of a failing education system in the richest country in the world. In this documentary they showed some of the worst reading scores in our country. Our nations own capital was at the top of this list.

  Why has nothing changed? Millions of children are dropping out of school, and the ones who graduate are hardly prepared to go on to a four year college.  Waiting for Superman analyzed these questions and many more, the results were alarming.

     The documentary showed how even though one teacher in a district may not be doing a great job, another may be doing a good job, they are both getting paid the same. The one doing the bad job can not be fired due to tenure. 

     These teachers with poor teaching skills will continue to teach our children.  Maria, the mother of Francisco, only realized that her own education was poor growing up when she went to college. Her college education taught her more about the system. If you are lucky enough to get your child into a charter school, your child may have a chance. The lottery system is used to pick each student.  Most of us send our children to public school and hope our children's teachers are doing a good job.

      I moved my family last year to Bethlehem, not a big city like New York City or Philadelphia, but a city just the same.  Many children that attend my sons school come from a housing project. I bring this fact up because of a struggle I faced last year with a teacher in the district.  My son was barely getting homework and was not feeling challenged enough. When I met with his teacher to ask why, she told me because most of the children come from housing and the parents don't care. The homework wont get done, so why bother.  I made her send home extra work each day for my son and worked with him at home. I also experienced "bad teacher" issues when my children were in a suburban district.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I do feel while the school system does fail at times, so do parents. I can see this as an epidemic we need to handle as leaders, as parents, as teachers,we all must protect are children from falling through the cracks of the system.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Blog 3: NLH school experience

Northern Lehigh High School

     Today the student body ranges from around 625- 650 students. This is not a drastic climb since the day I walked down the hallways. I grew up in Washington Township, right outside Slatington, Pennsylvania. This is where my hometown school is located. I moved here when I was 18 months old. I am originally from El Salvador, but was adopted into a Caucasian, Protestant family. They moved here to get away from all the growth and change taking place in New York City. I became a suburbanite. My parents home was the first in the neighborhood, other than an old farm house dating back to the 1800's. The town had its perks, It was quiet and nothing bad ever happened, but it was quiet and nothing ever happened. Far away and tucked away from the rest of the world we were.

     My parents had money and I lived In a great neighborhood. Growing up and going to school would not have posed such a challenge to me, had I not felt so different from everyone else.  I knew from the first day of school that I was the 1 percentile.  My mother would have to constantly fight with my kindergarten teacher, who for one reason or another treated me very different from the rest of my classmates. Things eventually died down and I spent the remainder of my elementary years without too much incident. Junior High was a whole other animal. Children at the beginning of puberty, trying to come into their own. It can be a fragile time for most. It is where everyone starts being lumped into categories based off status and looks. Its where I got my first real dose of racism. Riding home on a bus and being called a "Spic" for the first time is something you never forget when you're a child. The feeling of not always fitting in grew greater and greater. I eventually began to not like school. By the time I went to High School I wanted to be anywhere else but there. I forced my parents to  send me to half day Vo-Tech, this is where my increasing passion for art flourished. I also fit in better, it was more diverse, ethnically speaking.  My parents still made me take college prep classes at home school, but all the while I don't remember speaking much to any guidance councelor. There was not much guidance for those who were not at the very top of the academic chart or on a sports team. I was officially a Vo- Techer. Vo-Tech students were labeled  as outcasts. If you went to full day Vo-Tech and received your education there, the learning requirements were minimal. They did not expect much from these "inner city" children. I can relate this part of my schooling to Jean Anyon's "working class shools" concept. NLH would be "The middle class school" as Anyon would say. 
    
     So the rest of school I became this fragile shell of existence. The best years of my life, not really. I was tired of all these labels. I was me, but not one person could see the real me in this existential form of isolation. The remainder of school was a bit of a blur,   I can tell you that I took my diploma and ran out those doors, I could not wait to be free. I could not wait to break free.