The Bolshevik Revolution

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Fear

Paton starts this book with a thorough description of the land in South Africa. His first descriptions are positive, such as, “The grass is rich and matted, you cannot see the soil.” However, his third paragraph becomes negative in mood. He says “They fall to the valley below, and falling, change their nature. For they grow red and bare;”

`           Paton appears to be making a metaphor, comparing the grass to the people. As they start to become narrow-minded apartheidists, and the land is covered in hatred, the grass becomes barren. It also compares the elevation of the land to the people and cultural mood of South America. They are high hills, green and rich, while the people are together. But as the Apartheid takes over, the hills turn into valleys full of barren land. However the “fires” that burn the land may not be a metaphor, but actuality.

            I’m sure that in order for the white man to inhabit and control the land of blacks, they must have had to use physical power, such as burning villages. “The soil cannot keep them anymore” refers to all the hatred destroying lives. It forced people out of homes and the land they once lived on. As the metaphorical land is destroyed, the actual peoples’ lives are destroyed.

            “Some say the earth has bounty enough for all, and that more for one does not mean less for another.” Why is it treated like does not have enough bounty? Why do people act superior over one another because of the color of their skin? If “more for one does not mean less for another”, why don’t we treat it that way? I’ll tell you why. Fear.

            Fear rules all lives. “Is it not better to hold what we have, and to pay the price of it with fear?” No. He is saying that fear was the problem of the Apartheid. With so many blacks in the country, the whites had to establish fear in order to keep it under control. Paton states “For is it not fear that drives men to ponder these things at all?”. Meaning, fear is the reason for the Apartheid. Whites and blacks both fear each other.

            “Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing…. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.” is referring to fear being the root of all problems. The fear of his descendants and the ones after them will ruin their love for the nature of their own country, and will slowly destroy every aspect of that country. They won’t wake up in the morning thinking about how beautiful nature is, they will think of ways to avoid their fears.

The Diamond

Eric Skipper

19 November 2012

Ms. Harmon

Pre-AP English 10

The Diamond

            It’s a blistering hot summer day. I am dirty and sweaty from running and sliding. My breathing slows as I calm myself and slowly walk up to the dirty home plate. I keep one foot in, looking for a sign, but I don’t get one. I look calmly into the pitcher’s eyes as he gets set. He winds up and throws the ball hard, putting all of his effort behind it. It doesn’t matter, because I see it, and I see it well. It’s inside, over the plate, my favorite spot. I swing as hard as I can. Ping. It comes off the bat hard, I barely notice I hit it. Looking over to see where the ball is going, I see it sailing over the left field wall. With the power of God, I try to look professional by not grinning and laughing while I am rounding the bases, the way I was taught. I did it, I just hit my first home run. My teammates jump on me as I am touching home plate, my coach is grinning, telling me what a good hit that was.

            It’s a warm day, not exactly hot. I am sitting in one of the many green seats at the bottom row. I am pretty comfortable. I’m sitting down at this baseball game for once, not playing it, because it is a Redbirds game.  It’s not as fun to watch other players get to play my favorite sport, and have fun, while I am forced to sit and be jealous. They get to play this sport, and even get paid to do it. They are living the life. I really do not like being in places this big, people are everywhere. There are vendors, yelling out what they are selling, in a funny voice in an attempt to get more customers. You know what? I am kind of getting hungry. I ask my dad if he will go get me some food, of course he says I can go up there myself. I go to a stand with a nice, red counter. The fresh smell of hot dogs in the air. I look to see what the stand has on the red sign, and I see a lot of stuff. There are things like nachos, hot dogs, and even hamburgers. Or, I could choose to just buy a candy bar. But I see something I have never seen before. Barbecue Nachos? I will have to try some. If I don’t like them I will just let dad eat them. He will eat anything. I buy a Mountain Dew and some barbecue nachos. I go back to my seat to try them. These are amazing. Little do I know, I will hardly ever get to eat these in my life, even though I love them.

            Flash back to a few years before this, I am five years old. My dad and I are at another Redbirds game. With the hopes of catching a foul ball, my dad has gotten us seats right by the foul line. I ask why he thinks we will get a foul ball in these seats “Because righties will pull a lot of balls down the line, towards us” he says. I trust him, because he knows everything. I brought my new baseball glove! It still smells like new leather, my favorite smell ever. I have never been in such a large place with so many people. I don’t like a lot of people being around me. We are at the 6^th inning and still nothing. Dad keeps reassuring my impatient, five year old mind that I will get a foul ball hit to me. I am starting to doubt him. I am getting distracted really easily by all the people. I am getting up so I can go to the bathroom. As soon as I stand up. Crack, I hear the ball hit the bat, and my dad says “Here it comes, Eric!” I lean over, because the ball is not coming right at me, and I reach my glove out, and feel a violent jerk on my hand as the ball pounds it. But, I look in my glove, and I have it. My dad says “Good job! We can get it autographed after the game.” I don’t know what that means. Now the game is over, and I am walking up the bleachers, my dad says “Where are you going? We are getting it autographed.” So dad takes me down beside the dugout, where there are a lot of players and some coaches with pens in their hands, signing baseballs, baseball bats, and pictures. I hand my ball to one of the coaches, and he signs it for me, and I do the same with 3 more players. This is one of the first memories I have of baseball.

How I started Writing

I went to an underperforming school as a child, so I wasn’t expected to be able to correctly write sentences until around a year or two after the normal child. It turns out, that was not the case for me. I learned how to read and write the same time, if not earlier, than the average child. That’s when my ability to write kicked off.

I still remember the day when I was successfully able to read a  small novel in Kindergarten, because my teacher was amazed. I was lonely, because I couldn’t read with a group because I would show off, so I had to read higher books all on my own. I did not enjoy reading, by any means, but I loved writing, because it was just like talking, but I could think about something before writing it, so I could write things that I had put thought into.

Then, in the first grade, I was in a building with the higher grades, so when it was time to read, my teacher would send me to a third grade class to read and write with them. It was the perfect level for me, so every day, I went to a third grade class. I would write paragraphs with them, because we were not yet on essays. But I loved to write them, because I could say what I felt. I especially liked prompts that involved persuasion.

By the time I was in the 5^th grade, essays were really easy. I would get in trouble because I never used the brain storming methods that the teacher had taught me, because I would make up my entire essay as soon as I read the prompt. Truth is, I never learned the brain storming methods because I knew I would never need them.

The this day, the only tests I get excited for are ones that involve short answer explanations for things, and writing prompts that involve explanation or persuasion. Informal prompts are somewhat difficult for me, but I can still do them in 10 minutes of the 45 minutes that were given to us for standardized testing.

You can't Have a Cake and Eat it

       In the Story "The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World" by Garcia Marquez, it tells of a man who drowned at sea. They say he was as heavy as a horse. And that he was gigantic and handsome. But does that mean he had a good life?

       He probably got made fun of a lot because of his size.You know, tall people are generally pretty clumsy. And if you weigh as much as a horse, it will probably be pretty easy to fall and break a lot of people's stuff.

       And he was pretty handsome, right?With all the ladies fighting for him, he could never have an actual relationship or wife because all the women were stabbing each other so they could have him as there husband.

       So that's why he might not have had a very good life. That and the fact that he drowned in the middle of the ocean. So the moral of this story is, you can't have everything.