Who The Heck Are You?

In sixth grade, you have a project called “Who The Heck Are You?”. I’m going to take you through the process of this project

Step 1) For step one, we had to write a letter to the person we wanted to interview. In my letter I wrote why I picked Xin and when we could do the interview. Then I left the letter on Xin’s desk and waited for him to get back to me. One thing I wrote on the letter was: Even though you’re my advisor, I still don’t know you all that well.

Step 2) I had to think of ten questions to ask Xin. I started off with obvious things like when and where were you born? Where did you go to school? Where do you currently live? What inspired you to teach? Why did you pick LREI? Then I did some more personal questions like what is your most embarrassing moment? Now it’s time for the interview.

Step 3) I met up with Xin in the world language room. Xin seemed very calm during the interview. But why tell you about it when you could listen to it.

Step 4) For step four, we had to take apart the interview and put it into a template that looked like this: InterviewIdeasTemplateStep2 Here’s what it looked like finished: CopyofInterviewIdeasTemplateStep2

Step 5) Finally, I finished my project. I really enjoyed the whole process. I learned so many things about Xin that I never knew. This whole process was amazing and I really enjoyed it. Here’s the final product: The Language Bridge
By, Ben
Imagine your teacher singing in the mirror. Good. Now imagine a quiet, shy person doing that. You’re imagining Xin. Want to hear more crazy facts about Xin? Just keep on reading. Xin was born on Christmas Day, 1984, in a small town in northwest China. He went to a public school. That was also the first place he taught. “The very first class I taught, I was a middle school student.” As a kid, Xin was very clumsy. Falling down a lot and getting himself in to trouble. In fact, when he was eight, he got shot! But that’s a story for later. Anyway, Xin was always inspired by teachers. As I said before, yes, Xin did teach his first class in middle school. His english teacher was sick. All he did was tell the class what they had to do. It’s not much, but it still counts. His dream had been to be a teacher from then on. His next time teaching was in high school. He taught a mini lesson and when he finished, the whole class started clapping for him. In his mind, Xin was thinking, “That felt pretty good.”
After graduating college, Xin came to the Big Apple for grad school. “That’s what brought me to the states.” After grad school, Xin started working at a private language school in Beijing. He taught people of all ages. From four year olds to adults. Then he had his demo lesson at LREI. Xin said that he really liked the school’s philosophy and the freedom he has here.”We don’t have this in China.” He also loved all the teachers. They’re like a second family to him. “It is a great pleasure to be working with these people.” Xin also loves his students and enjoys watching them learn and grow. “I’m like a bridge connecting between different cultures, and that’s very special to me.” I found that very interesting. It’s a very smart way to think of what he does. Xin said that teaching is a big responsibility, but also one of the most fun things to do. Xin enjoys working at LREI and following both his dreams. A teacher, and a musicians. Not much of a singer though. Hmmmmm. Oh well, let’s end this story with a “bang.” (You’ll understand why bang is funny in a moment)
Xin seemed a little reluctant to tell me this one. When I asked him what his most embarrassing moment was, he looks at me and says: “I got shot when I was like eight years old.” I know, you’re thinking: “Wait what? How is Xin still alive?” So Xin was going home from school. He had a burger type of snack. (It comes into play later) In China, they have BB rifles. You can pay the owner to try it. The owners have a row of targets. You shoot at each of them once and see how many you hit. So Xin was on his way home eating the important burger snack. Then he hear cheering and saw a big crowd all huddled around something. Xin was only eight, so he was small enough to squeeze through the crowd. He saw two or three teens that were about eighteen or nineteen. They were shooting targets. Xin stayed and watched for a while. When they finished, people started to leave. The crowd was way to big to go around, so Xin went through, right in front of the targets. Then Xin heard a “bang!” People started yelling at Xin. “All the people were all yelling: Hey, who’s this little kid, just walking right in front of the targets?” Xin was very confused. Apparently, people were just leaving because they felt like it. Embarrassed, Xin quickly left. Then he thought: “Man, my head is really wet.” and then “What’s all this wet stuff?” (This is were the important burger snack comes into play) So on the burger snack, there’s a napkin so your hand doesn’t get all greasy. So Xin wiped his forehead with the napkin. When he looked at the napkin, it wasn’t water. The napkin was dyed red. Xin tried to make sure no one noticed, but it was too late. Everyone ran, terrified. Especially the teens that were shooting. Only the owner stayed. He ask Xin where he lived and carried Xin to the hospital. With some surgery, they fixed Xin up and told him he was lucky that the little metal ball didn’t touch his brain, (It was really close though) or hit him in the eye because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. When Xin got home, he was scared that his dad would be mad. (Hey, that rhymes) His dad was mad. He wanted to find the owner and give him a piece of his mind. (I don’t think he knew the owner took Xin to the hospital) Xin lived and the world kept spinning. From a little clumsy boy, to one of the best teachers in the world. Now you know not to judge a book by its cover. Everyone has a story. You don’t have to be Indiana Jones to find it.

My Plague Letter

March 13,1348
Dear Brother Joseph,

The apocalypse is upon us. Elodie is in bed with sin on her arms. Each of these oozing, rough bumps is the size of a ripe orange. She says they sting and can’t ever get up from bed, for the ones on her groin will put her in agony. She wakes up every night, screaming. My wife’s silk touch has left us as has everything else she had to offer. Damn the flagellants. Every single one of those damned souls. My wife took Edmond with her who was to be my apprentice in two sennights. Crazy woman. My son had done no wrong. Whipping him was the only sin she committed. I am being driven crazy with fear. In the thirty one years I have been alive, I have never seen such terrors as this. Elodie seems to be fading in and out of our world. The devil brings her to Hell and back. God has abandoned us just as the Pope and bishops have. Elodie has been shaking in bed, while her nose bleeds sin. Her skin turned black as if she was roasting under a fire. I fear every breath she takes is her last. I do miss Edmond, who had no pestilence. The devil had no interest in Edmond. Though he died pitifully like the rest. The miasmas seeped inside my poor, Edmond. Miasmas went in Edmond and bloody sin came out. The town is in anarchy. The flagellants burned down ten houses today. I think I will leave town. I pack my bags while Elodie pleads for me to bring her with me.

The piper’s flute no longer plays. It just sits next to him, covered in blood like him. The sound of his flute is replaced with screams for mercy and the wailing of the flagellants. The sweet smells from the bakery has been replaced with the smell of death. The beautiful streets of France are no longer beautiful. The streets are painted red. Unfortunately, not with paint. Money is scarce. I have barely enough money to buy food for me. I can not let Elodie starve though. But then things got worse. Lately Elodie refuses to eat. I will not let her starve though. She seems lifeless, as if she is a giant puppet, resting on the puppeteer’s shelf. I attempted to pop the bumps of Hell on her arm. She screamed when I popped the first one. I could not bear to hear her scream, so I stopped. That was about one hour ago. I have lost all hope. France has lost all hope. We will all die soon enough. I have stopped trying to fight it. I have lost my job, for no one wants merchants to come with the risk of the pestilence and miasmas hitching a ride. I can no longer stand the wrath of God. There is no one to save us now. I might as well kill myself. Quick and painless. Elodie too. Yes, that will be fine. No, that won’t. I apologize. I can not think straight knowing that I could die at any second. Last sennight, I was walking with one of my closest friends and his cousin. The cousin started coughing. He even coughed on my friend, Edgar Holtzman. Then it happened. His cousin started to shake. He fell on the ground, and became a fountain of blood. First he coughed some blood, then he started to vomit blood. Two days later, my friend had the same fate. Just when it seemed things could not get much worse, one of my good friend in Spain told me that the prince of Spain could not think straight ever since the death of his beloved Joanne.

No castle wall, no set of doors, no matter how thick, can stop this horror. This is a never ending apocalypse. When you get this, do not write me back. It is a waste of paper and ink. Just meet me at the bottom of the hills in four sennights. If you do not find me there, I am dead. Another victim of this never ending form of Hell on Earth.

Hope to see you at the hills,
Axel Leon