Commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, on June 12, 2005.

  

 

Transcript:

 



I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.
The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?
It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.
And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.
It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned Coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:
Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and sans serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But 10 years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backward 10 years later.
Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.
My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents' garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4,000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.
I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down — that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.
During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the world's first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.
I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.
My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.
This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960s, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors and Polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: It was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.
Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much.

"I have a dream" speech by Martin Luther King

 

 

Transcript:

 

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. *We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only."* We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

 

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

 

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

 

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

                Free at last! Free at last!

                Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³

 

Watch "The Lottery" in movie form.

The Lottery Part 1

The Lottery Part 2

The Hunger Games vs The Lottery (by Shirley Jackson)

Please print and read this short story The Lottery as we will be making comparisons with The Hunger Games.

Gift of the Magi by O Henry

Discussion Questions:

1. Why did Della feel that a gift bought with only $1.87 wasn’t good enough for Jim?
2. What clues does the author give us to indicate that Della is going to cut her hair and sell it?
3. Why did Della feel it was important for Jim’s watch to have a nice chain?
4. How did Jim hide his disappointment when he saw Della’s hair?
5. Why was Della worried that Jim wouldn’t like her with short hair? Do you think that sentiment was common for the time period?
6. How was the act that each character did selfless?
7. How did Della and Jim make the most of the situation?
8. O’Henry mentions how the characters are both wise and unwise? Explain.
9. O’Henry is famous for his twists and surprise endings in stories. List and explain the importance of the twists or surprise endings in this story.

Writing Assignment:

O’Henry is famous for his twists and surprise endings in his stories. Identify these within this story. Explain how they help to develop and contribute to the story. Why do you think that O’Henry chose to add twists? How would the story be different without the twists?

O’Henry mentions how the characters are both wise and unwise. Explain what the author means by that. Are any of the character’s actions common for people in that time period? Explain why or why not.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost


Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.


My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.


He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.


The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

The Hunger Games

Secondary 2 The Hunger Games

Read the attached article and learn about what inspired Suzanne Collins to write the book.





And as discussed in class - The actor who acted as Cinna in the movie is actually a singer (Lenny Kravitz)

Sec 1 Editing Worksheets to print by 19th January 2015

Please do not complete the worksheets, just bring them on Monday 19th January for Completion.


Click here to get the 3 Editing Exercises. (For Sec 1s ONLY)

Dearest Sec 2GR (2015),

As promised for your reading pleasure!!!

The Lottery and

Harrison Bergeron

The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Inspired by Gilman’s own struggles with post-natal depression, the story portrays an unnamed narrator’s descent into madness, inspired partly by the sinister yellow wallpaper in the room in which she is staying, but also by her physician husband’s oppressive “treatment.

Listen to a READING of the story!



A short episode of Twilight Zone that is based on The Yellow Wallpaper.




A song called "Yellow Creep Around"



WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Short Stories : The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Welcome to the Language Arts Blog and here begins our 2014 ride!!

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" by James Thurber is about Walter Mitty, a brow-beaten middle aged man who dreams of so much more. Focus on characterization, see what you can glean from the specific facts given.

Do not go gentle into that good night

by Dylan Thomas



Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Supplementary reading (Newspapers)

Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe 1809–1849

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.


I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.


And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.


The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.


But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;


For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

Wallace Stevens

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.

IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?

VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.

XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.

XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry

by Howard Nemerov


Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned to pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.

There came a moment that you couldn’t tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.

The Changing Light

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The changing light at San Francisco is none of your East Coast light none of your pearly light of Paris The light of San Francisco is a sea light an island light And the light of fog blanketing the hills drifting in at night through the Golden Gate to lie on the city at dawn And then the halcyon late mornings after the fog burns off and the sun paints white houses with the sea light of Greece with sharp clean shadows making the town look like it had just been painted But the wind comes up at four o'clock sweeping the hills And then the veil of light of early evening And then another scrim when the new night fog floats in And in that vale of light the city drifts anchorless upon the ocean

Break, Break, Break

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809–1892



Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.


O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!


And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!


Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

We Real Cool (American Literature)

by Gwendolyn Brooks




The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

so you want to be a writer?

by Charles Bukowski
if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don't do it. if you're doing it for money or fame, don't do it. if you're doing it because you want women in your bed, don't do it. if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don't do it. if it's hard work just thinking about doing it, don't do it. if you're trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, do something else. if you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you're not ready. don't be like so many writers, don't be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self- love. the libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. don't add to that. don't do it. unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was.

Newspaper Articles (Supplementary Reading)

Inspiration for Tic-Tac-Toe

Inspiration for your Digital Storytelling -

With Recitation:



Without Recitation (Ignore after the "phone rings")



Inspiration for your Choral Reading -

Mother by Evelyn O'Connor

Mother says “don’t look at the sun, it will blind you”

so I don’t look at her.

I orbit the past, a seething mass of nuclear energy.



Sunspots float before my mind:

swimming in the pool, splashing in the sea, going to the library

eating Easter chocolate nests, plum puddings at Christmas,

gingerbread men and

now and then éclairs

oozing

cream

down

greedy

fingers.



Once I saw a solar eclipse

your edges suddenly clear and crisp,

burning strength into our bones.

But it was over all to quickly

and my vision blurred.



Then I confess I found you lost

convinced we had gobbled you up

so many of us always wanting, needing,

asking, pleading, bleeding dry your store of selfless love.



Yet you never burn out, you never burn up.



Doubtless we could search to the ends of the earth

for something you would not do for us

but why waste time?



The sun keeps shining and never will die.

Newspaper Articles (Supplemetary Reading)

Unbidden
by Rae Armantrout


The ghosts swarm.
They speak as one
person. Each
loves you. Each
has left something
undone.

•

Did the palo verde
blush yellow
all at once?

Today's edges
are so sharp

they might cut
anything that moved.

•

The way a lost
word

will come back
unbidden.

You're not interested
in it now,

only
in knowing
where it's been.

Haunted Houses
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,—

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

Best of Sec 2SY's Consolidated New Perfect 2 Poem

You’re the ketchup to my fries.
Or you can be the shelter when it storms.
You can be the acceleration I feel in my heart.
Cause you’re the inspiration to my soul.
You’re the window to my life.
You’re the door to my destiny.
You can be the mortal and I can be your angel.
You can be the Nutella to my bread.
Cause you are the full-marks to my tests.
Cause you’re the object to my reflection.
You can be the beat I feel in my heart.
You can be the tingle I feel in my toes.
You can be the laces to my boots.
You can be the thrill that I feel on our first date.
You can be the RNA and I can be your DNA.
You can be the bee to my flower.
You can be the colours to my rainbow.
You can be the melody and I can be your harmony.
You can be the lock and I can be your key.
You can be the canvas that I beautify if we ever paint a future together.
You can be the strings to my guitar.
You can be the field and I can be your flowers.

Best of Sec 2GY's Consolidated New Perfect 2 Poem

You can be the cool I feel in my drool.
You can be popcorn and I can be your Coke.
You can be the portable battery that I need if we ever run out of phone battery.
You can be the “x” from the questions when it is Math.
Or you can be the vaccination when it is H7N9
You’re the spectacles to my short-sightedness.
You can be the instinct I feel in my gut.
You’re the cure to my illness.
You can be the fork to my spoon.
You can be the oxygen I feel in my veins.
You can be the pimple and I can be your cream.
Cause you’re the Ba to my Na-na.
Cause you’re the brush to my easel… you’re the fur to my weasel.
You can be the sweat that I drip if we ever do CIP.
Cause you’re the twinkle to my eyes.
You can be the scars that I have if we ever fell.
You’re the Oreo to my McFlurry.
You can be the nail to my finger.
You’re the French to my fries.

Poetry Competition (Inter-school)

The competition is called GalACSy and is organized by ACS (I). Timely as we are covering poetry this term :)

The subject that your poem is based on is ASTRONOMY.

The themes that you could attempt are:
(a) Seeing the stars
(b) Beautiful Night Sky
(c) Brutal Space
(d) General Astronomy

Please follow these instructions:
(1) There is a limit to 200 words
(2) Save the document on PDF format
(3) Email and attach the finished ASTRONOMICAL poem to galacsy.acsi@gmail.com
(4) Don't forget to c.c. me on the same email to mrs.ferntastic@gmail.com
(5) On the email include (a) your full name (b) school & class (c) email address (d)the school's number - 6252-4048 (do not put your own personal number)(e)Poem's title
(6) Send it in by 4th May 2013 (Saturday)

Secondary 2 Language Arts (Situational Writing)

NEWSPAPER REPORT WRITING
25 marks – 30% of CA

Deadline:29th April 2013 (Monday)

You are advised to write a feature article between 200 and 250 words for this assignment. You should read the information carefully and plan your answers before beginning to write.

You are the Talkative Man in the stories Malgudi Days. As a reporter for the local Indian newspaper in Malgudi Town, you have been tasked to write a feature article to showcase the Culture of India. Your article is to be published in mid-June in line with the “Visit India” month organized by the Indian Tourism Board whose theme is “Indian Culture”

Your feature article should include the following:

• Layout of a News Story eg. Headline, byline, body, ending
• Focus on one interesting aspect of Indian culture observed in the stories of malgudi Days eg. Customs, beliefs, art, music, religion etc.
• Interviews with people and their stories

Your feature article should target tourists interested to know more about the culture of India. It must also be informative and presented in a newspaper column format.

Note: Completed article must be organized and grammatical.

Comprehension Answers (Tigress Tycoons)

Dear 2 GR,

Here are the answers to the comprehension practice, please mark and see if you have any questions, will see you at Contact Time on Monday morning.

Visual Text Practice

All classes to print and complete this supplementary copy of Visual Text practice.

Visual Text Practice

For Secondary 2 GR, 2CO & 2SY to complete.

Transition Words

To improve your writing, you need to make sure that your ideas, both in sentences and paragraphs, flow fluently or are coherent and that the gap between ideas is bridged smoothly. One way to do this is by using transitions - words or phrases or techniques that help bring two ideas together. Transitional words and phrases represent one way of gaining coherence. Certain words help continue an idea, indicate a shift of though or contrast, or sum up a conclusion. Check the following list of words to find those that will pull your sentences and paragraphs together.

The Difference between Recounts & Narrative Essays

RECOUNT

A recount is a record of events. It gives the background to the events that took place.
It has a series of events told in the past tense. Time markers such as “yesterday”, “then”, “soon” are used to sequence the events.

The core of a recount is its sequence of events.

Recounts are used most often in :
- Newspaper articles – preceedings of a trial, description of a soccer match, events before and after the occurrence of natural disasters
- Police Reports
- Biographies
- Autobiographies
- Diary Entries
- Historical Records

NARRATIVE

A narrative is a story. It has a background to the story. It has an element of suspense introduced by a complication (key element). Just as in real life, some sort of problem arises which the main character or characters in the story need to deal with. It has a resolution which tells how the main character or characters confront the problem and resolve it.

For example :

"Although that accident happened five years ago, I can still remember every lurid detail, and I do not think I will shed its memory. Taylor still has not completely forgiven me. How can I blame him? I have not even forgiven myself."



Narratives are used in :
- Fables
- Myths and Legends
- Detective Stories
- Adventure Stories
- Thrillers
- Period Dramas

Narratives are written mainly for entertainment. They carry either a moral or message derived from the events in which characters are involved.

In the Orientation stage:

(1)Characters are introduced (who?)
(2)Setting is established (where? when?)

In the Complication stage:

(1)One or more of the characters face a problem. Details of the incident is unfolded.


In the Coda stage:

(1) Writer highlights the main message of the story

(2) Main character/characters reflect on the situation and express their feelings about the situation

In the Resolution stage:

(1) Main character or characters confront the problem and/or overcome the problem.

In composition writing, we write a NARRATIVE instead of a recount, which is written in the past tense.

The Possibility of Evil by Shirley Jackson

Does the writing of Shirley Jackson appeal to you? This next story I am introducing you to would show how Jackson harps on the idea that humans are innately evil / nasty.

Plot:
Miss Adela Strangeworth lives in her ancestral home. She is described prominently as a harmless old lady but through conversations with the townspeople, it is evident that Miss Strangeworth often believes that she owns the town. She also takes great pride in the orderliness of her house, as well as her family roses. However, Miss Strangeworth a quiet figure in her town; she often writes anonymous poison pen letters to her neighbors.

"The Yellow Wallpaper" is a 6,000-word short story by the American writer Charlotte Perkins Gilman, illustrating attitudes in the 19th century toward women's physical and mental health.

Presented in the first person, about a woman whose physician husband has confined her to the upstairs bedroom of a house he has rented for the summer. She is forbidden from working, and has to hide her journal from him, so she can recuperate.

You may want to listen to the audio version of the story, while you read and annotate your short story.

Print the full text :

After Tanjong Rhu, we wil be attempting The Lottery. Some may find it similar to The Hunger Games. Please attempt reading and understanding the text and get it printed for class. Thanks.

I also found a Youtube video that you may like to view before we discuss the ideas and themes in class.

As promised Sec 2SY, the video of the announcement.

O the emotion and later see if you can pick out the similar clapping style in the later part of the video.



“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.”
― George Orwell




Do not stand at my grave and weep


Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.


Mary Elizabeth Frye

Follow this LINK to download the full story of The Scarlet Ibis as the one provided was an adapted version.I feel that you can push yourself a step further to reading more, be exposed to more literary devices and open to mimicking the writing techniques of well-established writers.

The Scarlet Ibis, Section VII


by Susan Hahn

Bird

Once, I got lost,
flew over that place,
saw the tourists in their wrinkled pastels.
The memorial between the barracks B
The bronze barbed-wire figures twisted
to torment, the wedged-shaped
building, its barred entrance,
the strip of marble extending
through a hole in the roof,
the menorah resting at the top.
I felt weak
and landed on it.
No one could believe what they saw B
me resting there B
so they pretended not to see.
(pause)
I stood for much more than a moment,
watched all those bare legs
move from spot to spot,
thought how much I needed
to find a way back
to my flock.


Lady

And you expect me to believe this?


Bird

As I do you
(pause)
and do not.

Here is the link to the simple version of MERCHANT of VENICE. Read this first before we attack the actual Shakespearean text :)

Character Traits Template (Kira Kira)

Use this template to help you prepare notes for the end-of-year exams! Work hard now, slog less later:)
Remember that the notes should support the PEE format and you need to document your evidence clearly.

Compare and contrast characters (Kira Kira)

In Kira Kira, Cynthia Kadohata uses this technique - Compare and Contrasting of different characters to tell her story. You can use this strategy in your writing to play up differences, make elaborations or make a point!

Please print these Venn diagrams for use in class:

(1) Uncle Katsu vs Mr Takeshima
(2) Katie vs Lynn
(3) Katie vs Silly
(4) Young Katie vs pre-teen Katie

Kira Kira "Twitter" Chapter Summaries

Complete chapter summaries of the 16 chapters in Kira Kira. Please print it out and fill in the necessary.

It should capture:

(1) the main theme (central idea) of the chapter.

(2) write it from a reader's point-of-view.

(3) succinct and sophisticated language

Book Review - Kira Kira

A quick and concise summary of the book for those who have not read the book and some personal insights from the person who created the digital book review.

Listen to Kira Kira

Listen to the reading to this excerpt of Kira Kira

- take note not only of the pace but modulation of the reader.

Ask yourself the following questions after listening:

(1) When and where did the story take place?

(2) What major events happened in this chapter?

(3) Who were involved in each of these events?

Oral Practise - Info & Vocab Building

As promised, here are some newspaper cut-outs from the Singapore Straits Times. I have taken the liberty to cut out articles that contain issues which are usually of interest to the honourable people who set "O" Level Oral Packages; for example, usage of the internet, futuristic elements, eco-issues, social network and its effects, education and the silver tsunami (aging population).

I have also taken the liberty to underline words and phrases that you should be able to use with ease in your conversations and writing pieces. Make sure you read the articles to absorb the information and not only focus on the underlined words. As content is as important as lexicon (difficult word for vocabulary).

So, ABSORB AWAY!!!

POINT OF VIEW (POV)

Five Guidelines for Writing Character’s POV


(1) What will your character notice? Plant yourself into character and speak in the language of your character.


(2) What does your SPECIFIC character notice—what sets him apart? These details brings the scene to life as well as providing insight into your character.


(3)How do your character’s opinions reflect in his observations? Description from a character’s POV is a great way to show attitude and bias.


(4)What’s your character’s emotional state?


(5)How does your character use language? Incorporate characteristic phrases, gestures, and speech rhythm, incorporate them into the narrative itself.


From our previous exercise THE BIG BROWN DOG, words that you could have used: "bark, bay, beg, faithful, howl (in unison), whine, retrieve, yelp,snap, howl, wagging its tail, licking someone's face, sniff at, touching with its paws, ears erect, crawling, scratch,chew, gnaw, curled up", the list is endless. All these would give clues that you are writing in the perspective of a dog.





Here was some of your friends' commendable pieces: