Dead Poets Society Notes + Q's on Mr. Keating

Mr. Keating, an English teacher, comes to a private all boys Eastern school where he is put in charge of a class full of many diverse personalities.

The school has high expectations of their students, almost all of which graduate and go on to ivy league universities.

 Mr. Keating has a very unusual way of teaching, and uses inspiration and unique ways to teach his class to motivate the boys to acquire a deeper understanding of English.

-Main character, Todd, is constantly controlled by his parents, who decide his future and the classes he
takes, and have little respect for classes such as English, that have nothing to do with going to medical school.

- Mr. Keating faces a lot of opposition from other teachers at the school because of his unique methods of teaching, which involve singular thinking

- Free thinking and taking charge of ones own life is the key to education.

-A group of boys starts the Dead Poets society, a group that reads poetry at night. The society becomes a break from life in the boys lives, and allows them to better understand themselves.

- Todd becomes increasingly interested in poetry overtime, and unravels a passion for the arts. His family disapprove, and keep restricting him from following his interests.

- The climax of the movie is when Todd performs Midsummer Nights Dream, and is encouraged by Mr. Keating to act. Todd finds joy and stress relief from his schooling, and finds joy when he acts in the Shakespearean play. Todd begins to entertain the ideas of not going to medical school, but his family forces him.

- Todd acts in the play, and realizes that wants to be an actor and feels like he finally has purpose in his life, but his father informs him that that is not possible.

- Todd believes that his father will never let him do what he wants, and in desperation commits suicide.
This greatly impacts the school and depresses his friends.

- Afterwards, Todds family files complaints against Mr. Keating, and Mr. Keating is dismissed; However, when he is about to leave the English class salutes him by standing up and calling him Captain my Captain, and Mr. Keating leaves.

- This movie reveals a lot about the pressure kids are under to succeed, and sometimes a great teacher can inspire and relief stress in children, and reveal to them that they are full of possibilities and do not need to be what their parents want of them, but what they want to be.      

Stand and Deliver Notes + Is Mr. Escalante a good teacher?

-Low class Hispanic community, suggests the suspicion and inferiority towards minority races
-Teacher does not leave work despite health problems, reveals his loyalty towards his students
-Suspected cheating because not only do all the children pass the test, but they are a minority group and it is extremely unusual for so many to pass in one school.
-Retake is scheduled because investigators believe they are guilty
-Children retake test, despite only one night of reviewing
-All pass again
- Reveals teachers great talent for teaching younger generations, and for years to come he keeps on teaching AP Calculus.
-Teacher uses humor and high standards to motivate his students, challenging them to take AP Calculus exam, but there will be a price..... they must take a rigorous math course and go to summer school, while other children their age run around "barefoot and naked" (Stand and Deliver)

Q: is Mr. Escalante a good teacher?
A: I think Mr. Escalante is a good teacher, and even though his teaching style isn't exactly my preference as I prefer more gentle and building up ways of teaching, he is very charismatic and is successful in inspiring his students. He also stays strong when his students and him are accused of cheating, and lets his work with the children in his class show for itself when they all retake the exam. One example is when he lines his classroom up and has them recite answers, and when he dresses up on the first day of school. Using these unique teaching methods inspired his students.

My Views On Teaching In Schools

I, being a navy brat, have experienced just about every type of high school you could imagine, from private, public, and online schooling. I, also being a motivated learner, have been very disappointed the school system. I have experienced teachers who hate their jobs, who verbally abuse their students, who break down crying because they are so disappointing in us and that we will never enter a noteworthy university. From all these experiences I have noticed many serious flaws in the American education system, primarily with the teachers. Before I go on, I must say that I have had teachers that have greatly inspired me, but the multitude of ones that show no motivation in their job is appalling. Teachers need to show that they believe in their students, which is something I have seen they rarely do. Also, they need to recognize that just because a child is having trouble or is not interested in a class doesn't mean he or she is stupid, but that they just need extra help. Teachers also need to embrace individuality, and different intelligence's, and encourage creativity.      

Thesis of Educational Narrative

My Thesis statement Ideas

My experience in Cuba not only inspired me to improve my language skills, but changed my view of the world as a place full of endless cultures and experiences.

Language was never very important to me until I moved to Cuba, and meeting a stranger who shared my language would forever inspire me to pursue my dreams of learning and experiencing other cultures.

 

Second to Final Draft of Essay

How I Discovered My Second Language Rough Draft

❝The limits of my language are the limits of my world.❞

‒Ludwig Wittgenstein

                My mother grew up in the projects of western Puerto Rico. Her family could barely make ends meet each month, and she struggled to get through school. Twenty years later, while many of her classmates were still in the same neighborhood suffering from drug addictions, she was finishing her master’s degree in New York City, and learning English. I have always been proud of my mother, and thankful that she found the strength to break the loop of poverty and dysfunction for a better life. Since I can remember she has always told me how learning English opened up the world to her, and for that same reason she taught me and my siblings her native language. Just like learning English broadened her perspective of the world, she knew Spanish would broaden mine. And she was right.                                         

                I learned my second language as a child, but as I grew I never appreciated it. It was simply an extra ability I had, a secret code that I used when communicating with my mother. I never thought I had something special, and I never thought I would loose it. But as I grew and began spending more time away from home my second language began to suffer. I began to forget words, slowly but steadily, and soon found it harder to speak with my relatives. It startled me, but I found I didn’t care enough to make the effort to practice. None of my friends spoke Spanish, or knew anyone besides me who did, so my abilities didn’t seem in demand, or even welcomed when I revealed them. Then, during the winter of 2011, my father received orders to deploy to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. We were used to moving around, but this Naval Base would be the most unique places I have ever lived. My first impression was far from inspiring: an arid, isolated base with less than 4,000 inhabitants, including military and civilians. Because of the US embargo, we could only leave the base on a plane to the states, and after learning this I was further convinced that this would be a dull and uninteresting oversea experience. But as my family settled in and I began to submerse myself in the ‘Gitmo Culture’ as everyone called it, my life drastically changed.                                                                                        

                 About half of the people who had come there to fill the civilian jobs were from other countries, primarily the Philippines, Jamaica, the Middle-east, and Cuba itself. I had never lived with so many different kinds of people before, and most importantly, been around so many different languages. At school I met kids that had been all over the world, from all kinds of families, cultures, and religions. I got my first job in the local library and spent my days trying to understand crowds of Jamaican workers chatting in their native Patois, and when soldiers checked out their books I would try to guess where they came from by their accents. I was constantly amazed and delighted by this new multi-culture world, and yet I felt inferior. I came from a tight, primarily Caucasian town that frankly never looked far beyond the next County Fair. My friends had all grown up together, where dating each other, and hoped to marry each other. Even though I had practically been born on an airplane, flying from Puerto Rico to Washington DC to Florida or wherever my dad was called, I had spent enough time in one town to forget that I was worldly. It’s funny though, how one glimpse of a new and mysterious world can forever fill you with wanderlust. I immediately began to perk up whenever I heard an elderly Cuban shouting in Spanish over a tense game of dominos, or when a fellow student mentioned he was from Argentina. For the first time I began to feel proud of knowing another language, that I could come out of my shell and speak freely without the fear of surprised sideways glances or frowns in my direction. I didn’t, however, understand the full extent of my mother’s gift until I caught the entrepreneurship bug during the tropical winter I turned fifteen.                                                                                                                                                They called it the monthly Art Fair, a low key gathering of fellow crafters who would put their creative masterpieces up for sale. I, being the penny pinching and scheming teenager I was and might still be, saw it as a fantastic chance to make some money. If you had come to the December 2011 Art Fair, you would have seen about twenty vendors, at the mercy of southern winds, frantically trying to sell their product and keep it taped to their table at the same time. You would have seen me as well, sitting alone at a table covered in trembling Christmas cards hand painted by yours truly, trying to put on the confident face of a salesman. Business was great, and a few hours before the fair ended I was considering packing up and taking my plump jar of cash with me, when a young man walked up to me and began gesturing to my cards and making strange hand signals. All the poise and confidence that had been growing in me that night immediately blew away with the wind. I was panic stricken. Was this man insulting me? Was he trying to ask me something about my cards? I didn’t know, I didn’t know! Even now I couldn’t say what it was that made me ask “do you speak Spanish?”  but I am so happy I did. Immediately his face brightened, and he smiled triumphantly: “Si! Si!” I felt a rush of relief and began to explain where I was from. We talked for the rest of the night.                                                                                                                 I would later learn that the man I met was a Cuban refugee, who had left his home one night and swam for miles, hiding during the day and constantly fearing that Cuban officials would find him. He had left his parents and friends, never to see them again, and began a near hopeless quest to escape Cuba by the sea. He and twenty other young men crowded onto a small raft made of trash that they had scavenged, without belongings or food, and together made their way towards the haven of Guantanamo Bay, the nearest US territory. There was a small chance that they would be spotted by the coast guard, and even smaller that they wouldn’t be sent back to their starved and poverty stricken life in Cuba, but they succeeded. He and his fellow survivors would raise money during their stay at the military base and later move to Australia, beginning a new life full of endless opportunity. But the night of that Art Fair I didn’t know all this, all I knew was that this stranger and I had something in common. Our language. And if it wasn't for that, we might still be there trying to communicate through hand signals and broken English. That experience changed my perspective of the world forever. It wasn't a grand, public thing that made me suddenly begin proclaiming that I was bilingual, but it started a very important trend. I began to practice my Spanish, watch movies, listen to the Cuban radio, and take advanced classes at school. I was surprised to find that I was still incredibly fluent, I just needed to prefect my grammar. Instead of hiding my heritage, I began to embrace it, and to open up to other people. Knowing more than one language can break all kinds of barriers between people, and find common ground where you never thought there was. I have made so many friends that I would have never known if I hadn’t put myself out there and practice speaking Spanish with them. Sometimes I could speak the language better than them, other times they would gently correct my misuse of a word, but we would always have a good time. When you speak in a foreign language with someone you suddenly begin to truly listen to them, hanging on every word and comment with relish. Before I came to Cuba I never had experienced that, and it has changed my life for the better. No matter where I live now I feel like there is a world outside of my own, a world full of culture and language and experiences. I had known Spanish since I was a child, and yet I hadn’t discovered it until now.

Ken Robinson How School Kills Creativity Notes

The main idea of the talk is quite interesting: that everyone is interested in education. The world is completely unpredictable and no one knows what the world is going to be like a year from now, and yet we are educating our children to prepare for it. Mr. Robinson makes the argument that we as a society need to rethink how we teach our children. We believe that a degree and ability in core subjects taught in school are what defines intelligence, but creativity. We need to accept that different people have different abilities, and that each one of us has a talent, we are just made to believe we only have one that the world views as intelligence. Other points Mr. Robinson made were as follows:
- Creativity is as important as literacy
- Children are not frightened to be wrong.
- If you are not prepared to be wrong, you are no longer creative.
- We are educating children out of their creativity.
- Creativity is not focused on in school, but core subjects like Math and Language and Science.
- Our society teaches the creativity is less.
- We need to rethink the way we teach and see intelligence.

How I Discovered My Second Language Rough Draft

❝The limits of my language are the limits of my world.❞

‒Ludwig Wittgenstein

                My mother grew up in the projects of western Puerto Rico. Her family could barely make ends meet each month, and she struggled to get through school. Twenty years later, while many of her classmates were still in the same neighborhood suffering from drug addictions, she was finishing her master’s degree in New York City, and learning English. I have always been proud of my mother, and thankful that she found the strength to break the loop of poverty and dysfunction for a better life. Since I can remember she has always told me how learning English opened up the world to her, and for that same reason she taught me and my siblings her native language. Just like learning English broadened her perspective of the world, she knew Spanish would broaden mine. And she was right.                                          

          I learned my second language as a child, but as I grew I never appreciated it. It was simply an extra ability I had, a secret code that I used when communicating with my mother. I never thought I had something special, and I never thought I would loose it. But as I grew and began spending more time away from home my second language began to suffer. I began to forget words, slowly but steadily, and soon found it harder to speak with my relatives. It startled me, but I found I didn’t care enough to make the effort to practice. None of my friends spoke Spanish, or knew anyone besides me who did, so my abilities didn’t seem in demand, or even welcomed when I revealed them. Then, during the winter of 2011, my father received orders to deploy to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. We were used to moving around, but this Naval Base would be the most unique places I have ever lived. My first impression was far from inspiring: an arid, isolated base with less than 4,000 inhabitants, including military and civilians. Because of the US embargo, we could only leave the base on a plane to the states, and after learning this I was further convinced that this would be a dull and uninteresting oversea experience. But as my family settled in and I began to submerse myself in the ‘Gitmo Culture’ as everyone called it, my life drastically changed.                                                                                           About half of the people who had come there to fill the civilian jobs were from other countries, primarily the Philippines, Jamaica, the Middle-east, and Cuba itself. I had never lived with so many different kinds of people before, and most importantly, been around so many different languages. At school I met kids that had been all over the world, from all kinds of families, cultures, and religions. I got my first job in the local library and spent my days trying to understand crowds of Jamaican workers chatting in their native Patua, and when soldiers checked out their books I would try to guess where they came from by their accents. I was constantly amazed and delighted by this new multi-culture world, and yet I felt inferior. I came from a tight, primarily Caucasian town that frankly never looked far beyond the next County Fair. My friends had all grown up together, where dating each other, and hoped to marry each other. Even though I had practically been born on an airplane, flying from Puerto Rico to Washington DC to Florida or wherever my dad was called, I had spent enough time in one town to forget that I was worldly. It’s funny though, how one glimpse of a new and mysterious world can forever fill you with wanderlust. I immediately began to perk up whenever I heard an elderly Cuban shouting in Spanish over a tense game of dominos, or when a fellow student mentioned he was from Argentina. For the first time I began to feel proud of knowing another language, that I could come out of my shell and speak freely without the fear of surprised sideways glances or frowns in my direction. I didn’t, however, understand the full extent of my mother’s gift until I caught the entrepreneurship bug during the tropical winter I turned fifteen.                                                                                They called it the monthly Art Fair, a low key gathering of fellow crafters who would put their creative masterpieces up for sale. I, being the penny pinching and scheming teenager I was and might still be, saw it as a fantastic chance to make some money. If you had come to the December 2011 craft fair you would have seen about twenty vendors, at the mercy of southern winds, frantically trying to sell their product and keep it taped to their table at the same time. You would have seen me as well, sitting alone at a table covered in trembling Christmas cards hand painted by yours truly, trying to put on the confident face of a salesman. Business was great, and a few hours before the fair ended I was considering packing up and taking my plump jar of cash with me, when a young man walked up to me and began gesturing to my cards and making strange hand signals. All the poise and confidence that had been growing in me that night immediately blew away with the wind. I was panic stricken, was this man insulting me? Was he trying to ask me something about my cards? I didn’t know, I didn’t know! Even now I couldn’t say what it was that made me ask do you speak Spanish? but I am so happy I did. Immediately his face brightened and he smiled triumphantly Si! Si! I felt a rush of relief and began to explain where I was from. We talked for the rest of the night.

               I would later learn that the man I met was a Cuban refugee, who had left his home one night and swam for miles, hiding during the day and constantly afraid that Cuban officials would find him. He had left his parents and friends, never to see them again, and began a near hopeless quest to escape Cuba by the sea. He and twenty other young men crowded onto a small raft made of trash that they had scavenged, without belongings or food, and together made their way towards the haven of Guantanamo Bay, the nearest US territory. There was a small chance that they would be spotted by the coast guard, and even smaller that they wouldn’t be sent back to their starved and poverty stricken life in Cuba, but they succeeded. He and his fellow survivors would raise money during their stay at the military base and later move to Australia, beginning a new life full of endless opportunity. But the night of that Art Fair I didn’t know all this, all I knew was that this stranger and I had something in common. Our language. And if it wasn't for that, we might still be there trying to communicate through hand signals and broken English. That experience changed my perspective of the world forever. It wasn't a grand, public thing that made me suddenly begin proclaiming that I was bilingual, but it started a very important trend. I began to practice my Spanish, watch movies, listen to the Cuban radio, and take advanced classes at school. I was surprised to find that I was still incredibly fluent, I just needed to prefect my grammar. Instead of hiding my heritage, I began to embrace it, and to open up to other people. Knowing more than one language can break all kinds of barriers between people, and find common ground where you never thought there was. I have made so many friends that I would have never known if I hadn’t put myself out there and practice speaking Spanish with them. Sometimes I could speak the language better than them, other times they would gently correct my misuse of a word, but we would always have a good time. When you speak in a foreign language with someone you suddenly begin to truly listen to them, hanging on every word and comment with relish. Before I came to Cuba I never had experienced that, and it has changed my life for the better. No matter where I live now I feel like there is a world outside of my own, a world full of culture and language and experiences. I had known Spanish since I was a child, and yet I hadn’t discovered it until now.       

My favorite educational narrative I have read so far is Feross' How I Learned to Program Computers. I like how he introduced the content of his narrative by his intro sentence "I learned how to program by working on lots of different website projects starting from a pretty young age, (pgh #1)" This narrative was unique because it described a life long learning process, how Feross' began at a young age learning about web design and over time became a successful computer programmer. His style was clear and simple, and even though his writing was not noteworthy I liked its matter-of-fact style. Not only did Feross use pictures to enhance his blog, but he described what he was doing so that the reader could learn as they read. I liked that Feross also encouraged his reader to realize the power of working hard to achieve your goals, and that usually what you can learn can be shared with others.        

Two Cubing Ideas

Who What Why Where When How Cubing Idea

      Did you know that the very first submarine was used in the revolutionary war? An inventor named Bushnell convinced the US government to fund the creation of an underwater vessel from 1771-5. When it was finished is looked somewhat like a large tar covered egg, and could move underwater without detection. Its purpose, Bushnell hoped, would be to reach an enemy British vessel and attach a mine to the hull. On the night of 1776 in Boston Harbor the Turtle was launched for a test run. Even though the mission ultimately failed, it will forever be remembered as the innovated brain-child of a groundbreaking inventor.     

        Roses are arguably the most symbolic flowers in British history. It is a large, sweet smelling bloom with many petals and comes in a variety of different colors. It is similar to flowers such as the carnation, but has a unique color, scent, and a thorny stem, all prominent characteristics of the rose. When I look at a rose I think of how its beauty transcends all classes of people, adorning a Dukes family crest and decorating the Queens Palace grounds, while also serving as a simple declaration of love from a common farmer to his sweetheart. The rose’s most famous color variety is a rich red, with soft petals ironically pared with sharp thorns. Understanding the symbolism behind the Rose can teach you a great deal about British monarchy, citizens, as well as appreciating its purpose in famous stories such as Lewis Caroll’s Alice in Wonderland. Roses are truly a one of a kind flower.

Summary of my Ed. Narrative

I have decided to write my educational narrative on learning a second language. My mother grew up in Puerto Rico, and she taught me Spanish at a young age. Even though I do not remember first learning the language, it has impacted me throughout my entire life. During junior high and high school I learned to appreciate the language, and when I moved to a Naval Base in Cuba for two years I met many wonderful people who also spoke my language, and I found the world slowly opening up to me. I have planned out my essay and decided to not only do it chronologically, but highlight specific moments in my life that made me further understand and appreciated my language, starting with my mother teaching us our Hispanic heritage, to living in Puerto Rico, exceeding in my language studies in school, and then traveling to Cuba. If it had not been for my mother and father encouraging my to keep my language even when we lived in primarily English speaking towns, I might have never learned Spanish, and I am so happy I did. Knowing another language gives you confidence while traveling, allows you to empathize with all kinds of people, and reveals a whole new world of countries and cultures that you can now understand, literally and otherwise.    

How I Learned...Travel Solo

Huston's narrative was very interesting and helpful. As a blog post it showed me a new method to to organize my posts, by breaking my topic up in sections and then adding more detail to it. As a narrative it revealed yet another way to approach my essay. Huston described experiences that she had while traveling alone, both positive and negative, and gave advice accordingly to help others in the same situation. I like how she started describing why she didn't like to travel alone, but turned a bad experience into a good one and taught herself to find joy in traveling solo. She also explained how to still 'feel' connected to others while traveling by yourself, by sharing photos and tweeting about her experiences. I like that her tone was very casual and friendly and understanding towards people, and empathized with them. I hope that in my educational narrative I can also connect with the reader by finding aspects of my experiences that everyone can relate to. The key to writing well is being able to connect with readers, and I think Huston was able to do that effectively. Even though her style was a bit too simplistic and casual for my taste, I think it would be very helpful for travelers.

Comparing and Contrasting Malcom X and Mike Rose Narratives

Both Malcom X’s narrative “Learning to Read” and Mike Rose’s “I just wanna be average” had distinct writing styles and unique content, yet both stories also have striking similarities in their theme that the right motivation can push you to further your academic career. Malcom X dropped out of school after 8^th grade, and when he got involved in criminal activity and landed in prison it would have been easy for him to give up hope. Despite this, this experience motivated him to learn how to read and become literate. Mike Rose’s essay is similar in the way that school was an experience that at first negatively affected him, but also motivated him to see it from a different perspective, that students should embrace average standards, and not be afraid to fail. This motivated Rose to get a college education. Both essay’s also follow a story and a chronological order, consistent with most narratives.

As to differences in both essays, Malcom and Rose convey their stories quite differently. While Malcom recalls his experiences from a rather detached view and focus on what he took from it, Rose almost transports you to his classroom, vividly describing people and dialogue and shifting tone throughout the essay, from anger and frustration, to inspiration and peace. I enjoyed reading both essays, which were very eloquently written, and can inspire anyone who has given up on their education, to think again.       

The most important thing I've ever learned

To be honest, I don't have one specific event in my live that I would call most important. Friends, teachers, strangers, even events completely unrelated to me have greatly impacted my life. To say one was more important than the others would be an injustice to someone I hold dear, but I will mention a few. My seventh grade teacher opened up the world of science to me, and I have stayed interested ever since. My Hispanic mother taught me to speak Spanish, and that has helped me appreciate cultures. My dad is in the military, has gone around the world and taken me with him, and opened the world up for my discovery. Strangers have made comments that have changed my perspective of the world, and books have changed my soul. I wish I could say one thing, but it all makes up who I am today, and I don't want to ever forget any of those hundreds of experiences.

Pre-Writing I've Used In The Past

Last year I was in a ap Literature class, so we had to write complete essays in less than 40 minutes, which was quite stressful! Because of that I have don't have a lot of experience with pre-writing, because the only pre-writing I would ever do is jotting down some quick notes before beginning my essay. Still, I think that basic outline method is still very helpful to me when preparing for a whole essay. I start by listing the main sections of my essay: Intro, Thesis, Body Paragraphs, and Conclusion. Then I fill each one of these sections with a few notes. Of course, if my essay is a narrative, I probably don't have to be so technical, but it still helps me organize my thoughts. I have also used the 'idea web' method in the past when I have been assigned an essay that doesn't have to be written immediately. I think this can be a great method if you have a lot of different points to make or things to mention throughout your essay. I find that if you just start writing, you usually forget important details and when you try to add them in afterwards, your paper ends up sounding forced. So pre-writing has been very helpful to me in the past, even though what I have done is very brief!    

Commentary on first paper assignment

I am very excited to write my educational narrative! I have written essays before, but never narrative-type ones. I am not sure what topic I'm going to choose, but it will be very helpful to swap ideas and comments with other people! Its always great to get honest feedback, and I think blogging will allow people to give me great tips on my writing. In the past I've always written very cut and dry informative essays, so I am brand new to the idea of finding content for your essay from your own memories, all in all I am looking forward to reading about everyone's educational experiences!