The Wizard of Oz-Beyond the Yellow Brick Road

The Wizard of Oz-Beyond the Yellow Brick Road â€Å"Toto, I have a feeling were not in Kansas anymore,† claims Dorothy Gale as she explores her new world of lively color in the Land of Oz. The film The Wizard of Oz, adapted from L. Frank Baums childrens book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, released in movie theaters in 1939 and nominated for an Oscar Award for Best Cinematography and Color (The Internet Movie Database).The famous musical tells a story of a young girl Dorothy who gets lost in the Land of Oz and travels long and far to the Emerald City. At the Emerald City, she finds the Wizard of Oz, who she hopes will help her get back home to Kansas. On her journey she befriends the Scarecrow, the Tinman, and the Cowardly Lion; at the same time, she must also avoid the Wicked Witch of the West who tries to take Dorothys enchanted ruby slippers. The Wizard of Oz has a unique characteristic in that it was one of the first films to include Technicolor (The Internet Movie Database). Transitioning into colored films became an imp ortant event in film history. The movie industry now had the technology capable of filming in sound and color, which dynamically influences a movie. The Wizard of Oz contains many colorful items that play key roles in the film: the yellow brick road, Dorothys ruby slippers, and the Emerald City. One might find it intriguing to learn that since the idea of Technicolor has been applied, certain colors symbolize important ideas. Although many viewers enjoy watching The Wizard of Oz and may think nothing more of it but as a mere fairy tale classic, the use of Technicolor conveyed many aspects about American history in the early 1900s including racial issues, economic issues, and political issues. Colors were used as a technique to represent social classes or certain races. Once Dorothy steps out of her house after the twister, she stares in awe at the vibrant colors of Munchkinland. These colors help the audience to determine the protagonist and antagonists. For instance, the Wicked Witch of the West and her Winkies, the guardians of the castle, have green skin, unlike those who appear to be human like Dorothy. The differences in color tie to the â€Å"public discourse on race in 1900† (Ritter 173). These references to racial disputes reflected the times in the early 1900s, or post Civil War. While recovering from the Civil War, many former African American slaves struggled to continue living their lives now that Abraham Lincolns Emancipation Proclamation has been established. They had the opportunity to find jobs, but still had difficulty merging with the white community. Baum published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in 1900 and incorporated racial (social) issues at that certain point in time in order to point out that there existed a segregated culture. Historians refer to the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century as the Gilded Age, an era which featured concerns about social change (190).The movie depicts the differences among the groups of characters and displays how they do not cooperate well together. Another example of utilizing color to express a change in social class is coloring the Emerald City. As Dorothy and her friends trot along the yellow brick road, the film captures the Emerald Citys elegant, resplendent towers from afar; the city itself has magnificent structures radiant in green splendor. Baum associates the people of the Emerald City as well as the Wizard of Oz with the color â€Å"wealthy green . . . [as] . . . selfish, st ingy, and false,† (184) which in the end, the Wizard proves to be when he does not keep his promise to help Dorothy and her newfound friends. The reference to green does not indicate that a certain race is selfish; rather, it exemplifies the idea that at this time in history, serious turmoil existed between different cultures and races. Overall, color orientation enables the audience to understand relationships among the characters. The film also uses Technicolor to recognize the economic crisis occurring during the late nineteenth century, referred to as the Gilded Age and during Americas Great Depression. In the beginning and end of the motion picture, Dorothy is back home in Kansas, where the setting is set in a bronze, sepia color, unlike the Land of Oz, containing all the colors of the rainbow. The overall look of Kansas is â€Å"bleak. . . [including] . . . the house, people, and prairie . . .[which] . . . are all ‘dull and gray† (177). The dramatic contrast in colors between Kansas and the Land of Oz shows how dismal and depressed the residents of Kansas felt while suffering from the poor economy; this represents the dismay many farmers experienced in the United States during the early 1900s. In the film, Dorothy comes from Kansas, where there reside clusters of independent farmers. Baum published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in 1900, the â€Å"cusp between the decline of Populism and producer ism and the rise of consumerism and corporate liberalism† (198). At this time, many farmers created labor movements due to devastating droughts (198). In 1939, â€Å"Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer brought the Oz tale to screen in vivid color . . . [while] . . . the nation was recuperating from the depression and preparing itself for the challenge of World War II† (199). Color made an impact on the audience in that it inspired them to regain hope that â€Å"[America] would emerge, as Dorothy did, stronger for the difficulties they faced and overcame† (199). In the movie, transitioning from black and white to bright colors allows the audience to relate to Dorothy. The black and white setting represents America during the Great Depression. When Dorothy, representing the common people, is in the Land of Oz, she overcomes her obstacles, which represents America overcoming World War II. The use of color gives off a sense of optimism for the audience about the troubles that lay ahead. Many noticeable items in the movie play a key role in Dorothys journey, but also correspond to important political ideas. In fact, â€Å"The economic and political tumult of the 1880s and 1890s was reflected in competing cultural understandings of American society† (198). Glinda, the Witch of the North, explains to Dorothy that the Wizard of Oz can help her find her way home to Kansas. In order to reach the Wizard of Oz, she must follow the yellow brick road that leads her to the Emerald City, found in the center of the Land of Oz. The yellow brick road symbolizes the gold standard, the current form of currency (Rockoff 746). Many financial reformers â€Å"criticized the gold standard and the National Banking System [. . .] for favoring industrial over agricultural development† (191). Many have analyzed both the movie and book and have interpreted it as a monetary allegory about Populists (Hansen 254). Dorothy represents the Populist Party, while the yellow brick road that leads to the Emerald City signifies Washington, D.C., â€Å"controlled by the ‘Money Power and gold traders† (Ritter 194). Even though the yellow brick road shows Dorothy the way to the Wizard, she still does not find her solution of returning home when she arrives. Very much like a moment in history, this event correlates to the decline of the Populists who cried out to government in dire need for help with crops and farmland. For example, a group of â€Å"unemployed men, suffering under the economic depression of the 1890s, [. . .] marched from Ohio to Washington to demand work and relief, but [. . .] were dispersed rather than rewarded† (183). Dorothys journey and this small group of men are alike in that both parties sought for help, but never initially received any. In t he Emerald City, the significance of the color green relates to greenbacks, or paper money, which many people of the United States referred to as â€Å"a form of false value† (184). This color coding can also relate back to the Wizard. The Wizard of Oz provides important historical references that took place in the United States of America. The movie allows us to escape from reality and discover somewhere over the rainbow a fantasy dreamland where adventure and excitement await us. The magic of The Wizard of Oz has an indelible memory to all ages, throughout the ages. As one of the most notable films in pop culture, the motion picture has obtained many outstanding awards thanks to an unforgettable cast and crew. Not only does the film remain a Hollywood classic, but it serves as historical documentation. As technology has progressed throughout time, the film has used the latest advances of Technicolor to produce a meaningful piece of artwork embedded with racial, economic, and political references. No matter what type of audience views the movie, each individual can relate to the idea that despite ongoing conflicts, â€Å"theres no place like home.†

Vampire Academy Chapter 3

THREE SENDING US STRAIGHT TO CLASS after our meeting seemed beyond cruel, but that's exactly what Kirova did. Lissa was led away, and I watched her go, glad the bond would allow me to keep reading her emotional temperature. They actually sent me to one of the guidance counselors first. He was an ancient Moroi guy, one I remembered from before I'd left. I honestly couldn't believe he was still around. The guy was so freaking old, he should have retired. Or died. The visit took all of five minutes. He said nothing about my return and asked a few questions about what classes I'd taken in Chicago and Portland. He compared those against my old file and hastily scrawled out a new schedule. I took it sullenly and headed out to my first class. 1st Period Advanced Guardian Combat Techniques 2nd Period Bodyguard Theory and Personal Protection 3 3rd Period Weight Training and Conditioning 4th Period Senior Language Arts (Novices) -Lunch – 5th Period Animal Behavior and Physiology 6th Period Pre-calculus 7th Period Moroi Culture 4 8th Period Slavic Art Ugh. I'd forgotten how long the Academy's school day was. Novices and Moroi took separate classes during the first half of the day, which meant I wouldn't see Lissa until after lunch – if we had any afternoon classes together. Most of them were standard senior classes, so I felt my odds were pretty good. Slavic art struck me as the kind of elective no one signed up for, so hopefully they'd stuck her in there too. Dimitri and Alberta escorted me to the guardians' gym for first period, neither one acknowledging my existence. Walking behind them, I saw how Alberta wore her hair in a short, pixie cut that showed her promise mark and molnija marks. A lot of female guardians did this. It didn't matter so much for me now, since my neck had no tattoos yet, but I didn't want to ever cut my hair. She and Dimitri didn't say anything and walked along almost like it was any other day. When we arrived, the reactions of my peers indicated it was anything but. They were in the middle of setting up when we entered the gym, and just like in the commons, all eyes fell on me. I couldn't decide if I felt like a rock star or a circus freak. All right, then. If I was going to be stuck here for a while, I wasn't going to act afraid of them all anymore. Lissa and I had once held this school's respect, and it was time to remind everyone of that. Scanning the staring, openmouthed novices, I looked for a familiar face. Most of them were guys. One caught my eye, and I could barely hold back my grin. â€Å"Hey Mason, wipe the drool off your face. If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your own time.† A few snorts and snickers broke the awed silence, and Mason Ashford snapped out of his haze, giving me a lopsided smile. With red hair that stuck up everywhere and a smattering of freckles, he was nice-looking, though not exactly hot. He was also one of the funniest guys I knew. We'd been good friends back in the day. â€Å"This is my time, Hathaway. I'm leading today's session.† â€Å"Oh yeah?† I retorted. â€Å"Huh. Well, I guess this is a good time to think about me naked, then.† â€Å"It's always a good a time to think about you naked,† added someone nearby, breaking the tension further. Eddie Castile. Another friend of mine. Dimitri shook his head and walked off, muttering something in Russian that didn't sound complimentary. But as for me? ­well, just like that, I was one of the novices again. They were an easygoing bunch, less focused on pedigree and politics than the Moroi students. The class engulfed me, and I found myself laughing and seeing those I'd nearly forgotten about. Everyone wanted to know where we'd been; apparently Lissa and I had become legends. I couldn't tell them why we'd left, of course, so I offered up a lot of taunts and wouldn't-you-like-to-knows that served just as well. The happy reunion lasted a few more minutes before the adult guardian who oversaw the training came over and scolded Mason for neglecting his duties. Still grinning, he barked out orders to everyone, explaining what exercises to start with. Uneasily I realized I didn't know most of them. â€Å"Come on, Hathaway,† he said, taking my arm. â€Å"You can be my partner. Let's see what you've been doing all this time.† An hour later, he had his answer. â€Å"Not practicing, huh?† â€Å"Ow,† I groaned, momentarily incapable of normal speech. He extended a hand and helped me up from the mat he'd knocked me down on – about fifty times. â€Å"I hate you,† I told him, rubbing a spot on my thigh that was going to have a wicked bruise tomorrow. â€Å"You'd hate me more if I held back.† â€Å"Yeah, that's true,† I agreed, staggering along as the class put the equipment back. â€Å"You actually did okay.† â€Å"What? I just had my ass handed to me.† â€Å"Well, of course you did. It's been two years. But hey, you're still walking. That's something.† He grinned mockingly. â€Å"Did I mention I hate you?† He flashed me another smile, which quickly faded to something more serious. â€Å"Don't take this the wrong way? ­I mean, you really are a scrapper, but there's no way you'll be able to take your trials in the spring – â€Å" â€Å"They're making me take extra practice sessions,† I explained. Not that it mattered. I planned on getting Lissa and me out of here before these practices really became an issue. â€Å"I'll be ready.† â€Å"Extra sessions with who?† â€Å"That tall guy. Dimitri.† Mason stopped walking and stared at me. â€Å"You're putting in extra time with Belikov?† â€Å"Yeah, so what?† â€Å"So the man is a god.† â€Å"Exaggerate much?† I asked. â€Å"No, I'm serious. I mean, he's all quiet and antisocial usually, but when he fights? ­wow. If you think you're hurting now, you're going to be dead when he's done with you.† Great. Something else to improve my day. I elbowed him and went on to second period. That class covered the essentials of being a bodyguard and was required for all seniors. Actually, it was the third in a series that had started junior year. That meant I was behind in this class too, but I hoped protecting Lissa in the real world had given me some insight. Our instructor was Stan Alto, whom we referred to simply as â€Å"Stan† behind his back and â€Å"Guardian Alto† in formal settings. He was a little older than Dimitri, but not nearly as tall, and he always looked pissed off. Today, that look intensified when he walked into the classroom and saw me sitting there. His eyes widened in mock surprise as he circled the room and came to stand beside my desk. â€Å"What's this? No one told me we had a guest speaker here today. Rose Hathaway. What a privilege! How very generous of you to take time out of your busy schedule and share your knowledge with us.† I felt my cheeks burning, but in a great show of self-control, I stopped myself from telling him to fuck off. I'm pretty sure my face must have delivered that message, however, because his sneer increased. He gestured for me to stand up. â€Å"Well, come on, come on. Don't sit there! Come up to the front so you can help me lecture the class.† I sank into my seat. â€Å"You don't really mean – â€Å" The taunting smile dried up. â€Å"I mean exactly what I say, Hathaway. Go to the front of the class.† A thick silence enveloped the room. Stan was a scary instructor, and most of the class was too awed to laugh at my disgrace quite yet. Refusing to crack, I strode up to the front of the room and turned to face the class. I gave them a bold look and tossed my hair over my shoulders, earning a few sympathetic smiles from my friends. I then noticed I had a larger audience than expected. A few guardians – including Dimitri – lingered in the back of the room. Outside the Academy, guardians focused on one-on-one protection. Here, guardians had a lot more people to protect and they had to train the novices. So rather than follow any one person around, they worked shifts guarding the school as a whole and monitoring classes. â€Å"So, Hathaway,† said Stan cheerfully, strolling back up to the front with me. â€Å"Enlighten us about your protective techniques.† â€Å"My? ­techniques?† â€Å"Of course. Because presumably you must have had some sort of plan the rest of us couldn't understand when you took an underage Moroi royal out of the Academy and exposed her to constant Strigoi threats.† It was the Kirova lecture all over again, except with more witnesses. â€Å"We never ran into any Strigoi,† I replied stiffly. â€Å"Obviously,† he said with a snicker. â€Å"I already figured that out, seeing as how you're still alive.† I wanted to shout that maybe I could have defeated a Strigoi, but after getting beat up in the last class, I now suspected I couldn't have survived an attack by Mason, let alone an actual Strigoi. When I didn't say anything, Stan started pacing in front of the class. â€Å"So what'd you do? How'd you make sure she stayed safe? Did you avoid going out at night?† â€Å"Sometimes.† That was true – especially when we'd first run away. We'd relaxed a little after months went by with no attacks. â€Å"Sometimes,† he repeated in a high-pitched voice, making my answer sound incredibly stupid. â€Å"Well then, I suppose you slept during the day and stayed on guard at night.† â€Å"Er? ­no.† â€Å"No? But that's one of the first things mentioned in the chapter on solo guarding. Oh wait, you wouldn't know that because you weren't here.† I swallowed back more swear words. â€Å"I watched the area whenever we went out,† I said, needing to defend myself. â€Å"Oh? Well that's something. Did you use Carnegie's Quadrant Surveillance Method or the Rotational Survey?† I didn't say anything. â€Å"Ah. I'm guessing you used the Hathaway Glance-Around-When-You-Remember-To Method.† â€Å"No!† I exclaimed angrily. â€Å"That's not true. I watched her. She's still alive, isn't she?† He walked back up to me and leaned toward my face. â€Å"Because you got lucky.† â€Å"Strigoi aren't lurking around every corner out there,† I shot back. â€Å"It's not like what we've been taught. It's safer than you guys make it sound.† â€Å"Safer? Safer? We are at war with the Strigoi!† he yelled. I could smell coffee on his breath, he was so close. â€Å"One of them could walk right up to you and snap your pretty little neck before you even noticed him – and he'd barely break a sweat doing it. You might have more speed and strength than a Moroi or a human, but you are nothing, nothing, compared to a Strigoi. They are deadly, and they are powerful. And do you know what makes them more powerful?† No way was I going to let this jerk make me cry. Looking away from him, I tried to focus on something else. My eyes rested on Dimitri and the other guardians. They were watching my humiliation, stone-faced. â€Å"Moroi blood,† I whispered. â€Å"What was that?† asked Stan loudly. â€Å"I didn't catch it.† I spun back around to face him. â€Å"Moroi blood! Moroi blood makes them stronger.† He nodded in satisfaction and took a few steps back. â€Å"Yes. It does. It makes them stronger and harder to destroy. They'll kill and drink from a human or dhampir, but they want Moroi blood more than anything else. They seek it. They've turned to the dark side to gain immortality, and they want to do whatever they can to keep that immortality. Desperate Strigoi have attacked Moroi in public. Groups of Strigoi have raided academies exactly like this one. There are Strigoi who have lived for thousands of years and fed off generations of Moroi. They're almost impossible to kill. And that is why Moroi numbers are dropping. They aren't strong enough – even with guardians – to protect themselves. Some Moroi don't even see the point of running anymore and are simply turning Strigoi by choice. And as the Moroi disappear? ­Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"? ­so do the dhampirs,† I finished. â€Å"Well,† he said, licking sprayed spit off his lips. â€Å"It looks like you learned something after all. Now we'll have to see if you can learn enough to pass this class and qualify for your field experience next semester.† Ouch. I spent the rest of that horrible class – in my seat, thankfully – replaying those last words in my mind. The senior-year field experience was the best part of a novice's education. We'd have no classes for half a semester. Instead, we'd each be assigned a Moroi student to guard and follow around. The adult guardians would monitor us and test us with staged attacks and other threats. How a novice passed that field experience was almost as important as all the rest of her grades combined. It could influence which Moroi she got assigned to after graduation. And me? There was only one Moroi I wanted. Two classes later, I finally earned my lunch escape. As I stumbled across campus toward the commons, Dimitri fell into step beside me, not looking particularly godlike – unless you counted his godly good looks. â€Å"I suppose you saw what happened in Stan's class?† I asked, not bothering with titles. â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"And you don't think that was unfair?† â€Å"Was he right? Do you think you were fully prepared to protect Vasilisa?† I looked down at the ground. â€Å"I kept her alive,† I mumbled. â€Å"How did you do fighting against your classmates today?† The question was mean. I didn't answer and knew I didn't need to. I'd had another training class after Stan's, and no doubt Dimitri had watched me get beat up there too. â€Å"If you can't fight them – â€Å" â€Å"Yeah, yeah, I know,† I snapped. He slowed his long stride to match my pain-filled one. â€Å"You're strong and fast by nature. You just need to keep yourself trained. Didn't you play any sports while you were gone?† â€Å"Sure,† I shrugged. â€Å"Now and then.† â€Å"You didn't join any teams?† â€Å"Too much work. If I'd wanted to practice that much, I'd have stayed here.† He gave me an exasperated look. â€Å"You'll never be able to really protect the princess if you don't hone your skills. You'll always be lacking.† â€Å"I'll be able to protect her,† I said fiercely. â€Å"You have no guarantees of being assigned to her, you know – for your field experience or after you graduate.† Dimitri's voice was low and unapologetic. They hadn't given me a warm and fuzzy mentor. â€Å"No one wants to waste the bond – but no one's going to give her an inadequate guardian either. If you want to be with her, then you need to work for it. You have your lessons. You have me. Use us or don't. You're an ideal choice to guard Vasilisa when you both graduate – if you can prove you're worthy. I hope you will.† â€Å"Lissa, call her Lissa,† I corrected. She hated her full name, much preferring the Americanized nickname. He walked away, and suddenly, I didn't feel like such a badass anymore. By now, I'd burned up a lot of time leaving class. Most everyone else had long since sprinted inside the commons for lunch, eager to maximize their social time. I'd almost made it back there myself when a voice under the door's overhang called to me. â€Å"Rose?† Peering in the voice's direction, I caught sight of Victor Dashkov, his kind face smiling at me as he leaned on a cane near the building's wall. His two guardians stood nearby at a polite distance. â€Å"Mr. Dash-er, Your Highness. Hi.† I caught myself just in time, having nearly forgotten Moroi royal terms. I hadn't used them while living among humans. The Moroi chose their rulers from among twelve royal families. The eldest in the family got the title of â€Å"prince† or â€Å"princess.† Lissa had gotten hers because she was the only one left in her line. â€Å"How was your first day?† he asked. â€Å"Not over yet.† I tried to think of something conversational. â€Å"Are you visiting here for a while?† â€Å"I'll be leaving this afternoon after I say hello to Natalie. When I heard Vasilisa – and you – had returned, I simply had to come see you.† I nodded, not sure what else to say. He was more Lissa's friend than mine. â€Å"I wanted to tell you? ­Ã¢â‚¬  He spoke hesitantly. â€Å"I understand the gravity of what you did, but I think Headmistress Kirova failed to acknowledge something. You did keep Vasilisa safe all this time. That is impressive.† â€Å"Well, it's not like I faced down Strigoi or anything,† I said. â€Å"But you faced down some things?† â€Å"Sure. The school sent psi-hounds once.† â€Å"Remarkable.† â€Å"Not really. Avoiding them was pretty easy.† He laughed. â€Å"I've hunted with them before. They aren't that easy to evade, not with their powers and intelligence.† It was true. Psi-hounds were one of many types of magical creatures that wandered the world, creatures that humans never knew about or else didn't believe they'd really seen. The hounds traveled in packs and shared a sort of psychic communication that made them particularly deadly to their prey – as did the fact that they resembled mutant wolves. â€Å"Did you face anything else?† I shrugged. â€Å"Little things here and there.† â€Å"Remarkable,† he repeated. â€Å"Lucky, I think. It turns out I'm really behind in all this guardian stuff.† I sounded just like Stan now. â€Å"You're a smart girl. You'll catch up. And you also have your bond.† I looked away. My ability to â€Å"feel† Lissa had been such a secret for so long, it felt weird to have others know about it. â€Å"The histories are full of stories of guardians who could feel when their charges were in danger,† Victor continued. â€Å"I've made a hobby of studying up on it and some of the ancient ways. I've heard it's a tremendous asset.† â€Å"I guess.† I shrugged. What a boring hobby, I thought, imagining him poring over prehistoric histories in some dank library covered in spiderwebs. Victor tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. Kirova and the others had had the same look when we'd mentioned our connection, like we were lab rats. â€Å"What is it like – if you don't mind me asking?† â€Å"It's? ­I don't know. I just sort of always have this hum of how she feels. Usually it's just emotions. We can't send messages or anything.† I didn't tell him about slipping into her head. That part of it was hard even for me to understand. â€Å"But it doesn't work the other way? She doesn't sense you?† I shook my head. His face shone with wonder. â€Å"How did it happen?† â€Å"I don't know,† I said, still glancing away. â€Å"Just started two years ago.† He frowned. â€Å"Near the time of the accident?† Hesitantly, I nodded. The accident was not something I wanted to talk about, that was for sure. Lissa's memories were bad enough without my own mixing into them. Twisted metal. A sensation of hot, then cold, then hot again. Lissa screaming over me, screaming for me to wake up, screaming for her parents and her brother to wake up. None of them had, only me. And the doctors said that was a miracle in itself. They said I shouldn't have survived. Apparently sensing my discomfort, Victor let the moment go and returned to his earlier excitement. â€Å"I can still barely believe this. It's been so long since this has happened. If it did happen more often? ­just think what it could do for the safety of all Moroi. If only others could experience this too. I'll have to do more research and see if we can replicate it with others.† â€Å"Yeah.† I was getting impatient, despite how much I liked him. Natalie rambled a lot, and it was pretty clear which parent she'd inherited that quality from. Lunch was ticking down, and although Moroi and novices shared afternoon classes, Lissa and I wouldn't have much time to talk. â€Å"Perhaps we could – † He started coughing, a great, seizing fit that made his whole body shake. His disease, Sandovsky's Syndrome, took the lungs down with it while dragging the body toward death. I cast an anxious look at his guardians, and one of them stepped forward. â€Å"Your Highness,† he said politely, â€Å"you need to go inside. It's too cold out here.† Victor nodded. â€Å"Yes, yes. And I'm sure Rose here wants to eat.† He turned to me. â€Å"Thank you for speaking to me. I can't emphasize how much it means to me that Vasilisa is safe – and that you helped with that. I'd promised her father I'd look after her if anything happened to him, and I felt like quite the failure when you left.† A sinking sensation filled my stomach as I imagined him wracked with guilt and worry over our disappearance. Until now, I hadn't really thought about how others might have felt about us leaving. We made our goodbyes, and I finally arrived inside the school. As I did, I felt Lissa's anxiety spike. Ignoring the pain in my legs, I picked up my pace into the commons. And nearly ran right into her. She didn't see me, though. Neither did the people standing with her: Aaron and that little doll girl. I stopped and listened, just catching the end of the conversation. The girl leaned toward Lissa, who seemed more stunned than anything else. â€Å"It looks to me like it came from a garage sale. I thought a precious Dragomir would have standards.† Scorn dripped off the word Dragomir. Grabbing Doll Girl by the shoulder, I jerked her away. She was so light, she stumbled three feet and nearly fell. â€Å"She does have standards,† I said, â€Å"which is why you're done talking to her.†

A Letter Of A New Collection Entitled Representations Of...

You have been invited to speak at the book launch of a new collection entitled Representations of Change. In your speech explain and assess the ways in which change is represented in the texts included in this collection. In your answer, you should refer to the TWO texts studied in class, and at least ONE other related text of your own choosing. Imagine shifting from one side to another, in a dark cold night with the ocean so deep and infinite, and the waves are playing with you like a little tennis ball. You are lost in an ocean of blue, and there is no end in sight. Well, good morning ladies and gentlemen, I’m the author Nancy Leon and I’m present here today to launch my new book collection ‘Representations of change’. This†¦show more content†¦This poem was written by a young Vietnamese girl; Hein Nguyen, her life changing experience was filled with hardships and challenges that she expresses beautifully in her poem using many poetic language devices such as sophisticated emotive and descriptive language. The second text that inspired me to write was a photograph taken by Andrew McConnell of a young Syrian child, who arrived to a small island near Turkey by a boat. The little child’s pain and suffering that were a result of the massive change in his life are portrayed by various visual techniques such as body language, gaze and colour contrast. Lastly the third text is the book cover; ‘Goodbye, Vietnam’ by Gloria Whelan. The book cover succeeds to narrate the story of the girl on the front cover very effectively using simple visu al techniques such as facial expression, colour contrast and positioning. It is very difficult to imagine their situations, let alone living them! By the end of this speech, I’m sure that you will understand and empathise with those characters and that will increase your interest in reading my book collection ‘Representations of Change’ because they contain similar concept of changing lives and its effects on boat people. â€Å"Over the China Sea† poem includes language techniques that help the audience understand the concept of changing lives. Nguyen went through a massive change that affected her physically, emotionally and intellectually and this is supported by evidence found

How to Write a Descriptive Essay about Fear

Fear is peculiar topic to write about. On the one hand, one thinks that it is supposed to be easy – after all, no one can truthfully say that he has never experienced fear in his life. On the other hand, it turns out to be really, really difficult once you actually try to write something – what is fear? How to characterize it? How does one write about it? When you write a descriptive essay about fear you are supposed to give a clear-cut, easy-to-understand definition of the subject. It doesn’t mean that your definition should be primitive – nothing of the kind. ‘Simple’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘simplistic’, just like ‘convoluted’ doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with ‘smart’. Remember that definition is supposed to define something, not to make it even less understandable for a reader. If possible, avoid overly complex constructions, which don’t add anything to the topic. Don’t try to look cleverer and more sophisticated than you are – if you overuse scientific terminology it indicates the fact that you try to hide your own incompetence behind the shield of words. But don’t fall into the opposite extreme – if you put your thoughts into the words more appropriate for a Middle School student it doesn’t showca se your intellect in a favorable way as well. However, it is only one take on how you may and are supposed to write an essay about fear. You shouldn’t forget that first of all, descriptive essay as a genre of writing presupposes that you should give a detailed and colorful recounting of something – in this case, a concept or, probably, an experience. If you can strengthen the quality of your description by introducing your own memory of dealing with fear, you will probably make your work much more interesting and personal than if you simply recount some other person’s opinion on what the fear is. Remember – there are very few cases when personal touch doesn’t do your work a world of good. Your tutor (professor, teacher, committee, underline as necessary) has to read dozens of similar essays every time he checks the homework, and he is certain to be tired of reading the same things over and over again. Even if your essay is generally well-written, in case you write some commonplace truths it wouldn’t be very exciting reading. And vice versa – even if your writing is somewhat on the poor side, introducing some unique elements, descriptions of personal experience and recollections of your own impression when encountering something terribly frightening may save your grade. You needn’t necessarily have a near-death experience in your past. Every person can remember a situation in which he had been frightened out of his wits – just write about it, and a good grade is as good as yours.