My favorite project is my map project. I really liked the assignment for the map project. I liked how we got to incorporate places that were important to us. What I did for the assignment was I made a mobile and attached glass pieces with parts of the city that were important to me. It was a really great symbol of everywhere that was important to me. I overall loved doing this project.
In Humanities, we have been learning about a lot of poetry. Here are three of my favorite poems that I wrote:
Though we have come far
Though we have come far,
We have much farther to go.
For one’s gender must not decide one’s pay.
Or one’s talent.
For we should come so far,
That we laugh at the insane and distant thought of certain genders having certain jobs
Laugh at the horrid thought of gender inequality
Just being a distant memory
Too far in the past
But something to learn from
While going in the future
For it’s so unbelievable to think,
That there are so many instances where gender is a limit,
And though we’ve come far,
We can’t stop until every gender is equal.
My inspiration behind this poem was I wanted to write a poem that was more of a speech, and less poetic. I decided to write about a topic that I really care about, which is sexism. I think my poem has repetition, and is a narrative poem. I’m really proud of this poem because I think it sends a message.
The Glass Ceiling
They’re standing up there,
Triumphantly
I wonder,
How did this happen?
If I had been born differently, would it be different?
Would I be triumphant?
Instead of sitting here,
Watching their success.
Their happiness.
Their non-existent sorrow.
Why are they standing there?
Not even breaking a sweat,
While I’m down here, sweating hard,
Earning 79 cents to their dollar.
I would raise my voice if I thought it would make any difference.
But as I look up at them, and they work unseeingly, I realize,
They feel no remorse for me,
Or anyone else down here.
They only care for their own prosperity,
That should have been mine.
They say I’m not working hard enough,
Deep down, I’m wondering if it’s true,
If they really are working harder than I am,
And as I sit beneath them,
I ask myself why
I’m looking up at a glass ceiling, while they look at the sky.
My inspiration for this poem was that I really wanted to write a poem about gender inequality. I think it doesn’t have very many elements of poetry, except for imagery. I am very proud of this poem because I think it is very powerful, and I also just really love the way it sounds.
Pages
Pages,
Some of plenty,
Some, quite lacking color,
Some, tasty, deep and meaningful,
All loved
My inspiration behind this poem was I really wanted to write a poem about books, and it happened to be on the same day that we wrote Cinquains, so I decided to write a Cinquain about books. In my poem, there is a lot of repetition. I think my poem turned out very well. I really like how it lists the different qualities of books.
For final map project, I decided to make a mobile out of my glass pieces. I used a little piece from the subway map on each of my glass pieces, and then used sharpie and wrote in the rest of the map. I had a lot of fun with this project. It was fun making the mobile, because I had never made one before.
In Humanities, we all got into groups and were asked to make newscasts and newspaper articles based on Shabanu. Stella, Eli, Emma and I decided to make an Obituary section. We made Obituarys for Auntie’s baby and grandpa. In our newscast, we interviewed both Shabanu and Auntie and made commercials to go with everything.
Here is the Shabanu movie:
Here is the Shabanu Obituarys:
JINDWADDA, 60
Jindwadda Ali Abbasi died yesterday. He died in peace. He died because of a sandstorm in Pakistan, and he died a few days later, because of the effect. We can’t be one hundred percent certain, but Jindwadda was very injured during the sandstorm. It’s a miracle that he even survived. He was found outside, and conscious but asked specifically to be buried in Derawar, but unfortunately, his request couldn’t be fulfilled. Jindwadda died in the night about 10 days after the sandstorm. “I want to die at Derawar” his family remember him saying.
Grandpa fought in the war between Pakistan and Afghanistan. He fought hard for his country, and we will take today to appreciate his hard work in the army, and be sure that his death has been noticed.
INFANT, 0
Auntie’s baby died in the womb from technical issues. He was suffocated by the umbilical cord. “It was another boy,” Her sister says after the death. The midwife who tried to help is Shahzada’s sister, who is a family friend of the Abbasi’s. Shahzada used herbs and powders to help, but unfortunately it was too late to save the baby. According to witnesses, the state of the mother was frightening, for the color in her eyes was not visible. After the death of the baby, Auntie was said to have slept peacefully in a green tunic. The baby was buried, and the birth was never spoken of again. According to family, the mother’s pregnancy was unknown to everyone except possibly the father. Auntie did in fact show signs of pregnancy, such as tiredness, weakness and gaining weight. Shabanu did have suspicions about the pregnancy, but thought it might be rude to mention it.
The mother herself is the spouse of a man who works in a government office and makes a very good salary, and sends her gifts. Her husband, Mr. Abbasi, is away a lot, and most people would even say that she’s lonely, but it brings her to joy the few times that her husband does come home. Mr. Abbasi is the brother of Dalil Abbasi, who is the spouse of Auntie’s sister. She is the mother of two lovely sons, ages three and five who are just starting to learn how to do work on the farm. When Auntie was at the age for marriage, she and her father went into search for a good husband. At first, they were unsuccessful, but after searching for a reasonable amount of time, she finally found her one and only husband. Shabanu, Auntie’s niece says, “Uncle comes several times a year, bringing Auntie gifts-quilts, shawls and brass pots. He brings us vegetables, wheat and lentils.”
In art, we were asked to make art pieces, that included a city subway map. My idea is to cut out multiple glass panels, and in each one put a different part of the city. My next step is to make more glass panels, and put more parts of the city. Overall, I have really enjoyed this
project.
New Child
I am very exited, for I am going to give birth to a child in a month and a bit. I have been preying for a boy every day. I can’t even begin to explain how I would feel if it wasn’t another boy. If I had a boy, they would be able to herd animals and do farm work. I don’t even know how my sister deals with the fact that she had daughters. And TWO! I just don’t understand why Allah hates her so much. Allah has blessed me with two sons, who will be married to beautiful women. Oh how excited I am. I really hope that my boys will get along with my future child, and if it is a boy, hopefully my children will teach him to do work.
If it is a daughter, I will know that I did something wrong. I have tried to be on my best behavior so that Allah will bless me with boys. I have been restraining my self from saying rude comments to my sister and my nieces,but it’s SOOO hard! Oh how exited I am to give birth to a boy, and then I can stop being on my best behavior.
How To Sew Silk:
I have been spending all of my time lately sewing silk garments for my two wonderful sons. When they grow older, I will teach their wives to sew silk as well, so I can start sewing garments that I can wear, while their wives will sew beautiful garments for them. I decided to teach you some of my techniques, for it is said that I am quite talented at sewing.
First, you must wash your silk fabric in soapy water that is over a fire. Choose the color silk that you most appreciate. I love yellow silk. This water should be sweet instead of salty, so you should try the water before using it.
Then, you must rinse the silk with cold water that is sweet. Before rinsing the silk, you must add in some sirka to the water as well. Then rinse it a second time, this time with no sirka and just cold water.
If you have a clothesline, you must dry it on the clothesline. You should try and dry it out when it is windy, but you must make sure that there are no sandstorms coming your way before you dry it off, for your silk will be ruined.
Then, choose out your needle. It should be thin and sharp, so that it doesn’t leave holes inside of the fabric.
When you are choosing your thread, you must choose thread to match your fabric. I always use yellow thread, and I suggest you use yellow too.
You must wash your hands in warm, sweet water before sewing your fabric. If you don’t, it will get quite dirty.
Next, you must hand-baste the silk pieces together. Hand-basting is a technique of using long, loose stitches to hold fabric together and make sewing easier. This is good for people who are starting out sewing. This is very time consuming so I would suggest having a cup of milk tea by your side to drink. You also must sew at a steady slow pace.
Last, you must finish the seams, and wear it as you wish.
To submit to the Brooklyn Public Library, Zoe and I decided to write a poem. It is called The Glass Ceiling. It is about one of the 8th graders workshops, that was about women in the workplace. In that workshop, there was a lot of talking about the glass ceiling. The glass ceiling is basically a limit for women that is not there for men when it comes to work. If someone has to choose between women and men for a job, they are more likely to chose men. I decided to write about this in my poem. My poem is about a women looking up at a metaphorical glass ceiling. She is looking up at men, while the men are doing so many different things, while she is sitting below them, doing the same work that they are but she isn’t getting paid as much as the other men. She is questioning if she was a different gender, if she would be up there with all of the other men, or if she would still be down under them metaphorically. Here is my first draft of my poem:
They’re standing up there,
Triumphantly
When I wonder,
How did this happen?
If I had been born differently, would it be different?
Would I be standing up there, triumphantly?
Instead of sitting here,
Watching their success, that could have been mine
While I’m down here, sweating hard.
Why are they standing there,
Doing the same work that I am,
They say I’m not working hard enough,
That they are.
I wish I could at least say that’s not true
That I don’t believe everything I hear
Deep down, I’m wondering if it’s true
If they really are sweating harder than me
I know I should think that what they say isn’t true,
That I am working harder than them,
But as I sit under them,
I wonder if it is why
I’m looking up at a glass ceiling and they look at the sky
And here is my final draft:
They’re standing up there,
Triumphantly
I wonder,
How did this happen?
If I had been born differently, would it be different?
Would I be triumphant?
Instead of sitting here,
Watching their success.
Their happiness.
Their non-existent sorrow.
Why are they standing there?
Not even breaking a sweat,
While I’m down here, sweating hard,
Earning 79 cents to their dollar.
I would raise my voice if I thought it would make any difference.
But as I look up at them, and they work unseeingly, I realize,
They feel no remorse for me,
Or anyone else down here.
They only care for their own prosperity,
That should have been mine.
They say I’m not working hard enough,
Deep down, I’m wondering if it’s true,
If they really are working harder than I am,
And as I sit beneath them,
I ask myself why,
I’m looking up at a glass ceiling, while they look at the sky.
I think this poem really inspired me to do more poetry. This poem signifies some of my best work, and I am very proud of it.
Transitional epithelium is a type of tissue consisting of multiple layers of epithelial cells which can contract and expand. There are different types of epithelium cells. There’s simple squamous epithelium, which allows things to pass through it:
There is cuboidal epithelium which is used to absorb:
There is simple columnar epithelium which absorbs and secretes mucus and enzymes:
There is pseudostratified columnar epithelium which secretes mucus and moves mucus:
There is stratified squamous epithelium which protects against abrasion:
There is stratified cuboidal epithelium which is protective tissue:
There is stratified columnar epithelium which secretes and protects:
Last, there is transitional epithelium which allows the urinary organs to expand and stretch:
This is the type of epithelium that we are focused on. There is It is so named because of this function in the transition of degree of distension. This tissue structure type is found in urothelium, including that of the urinary bladder, the ureters, and the superior urethra and gland ducts of the prostate. When the bladder is empty, it looks like an inverted pyramid but when it’s full, it’s shaped like an oval:
The reason for this is because the bladder is made of epithelial cells which can contract and expand, as said before.
In the base of the bladder, there’s a structure called a trigone, which is the triangular area made up of the openings from the ureters and the opening into the urethra.
Throughout the whole year in Humanities, we have spent a lot of time writing all different kinds of writing pieces. I wrote a lot that I’m proud of, but there is one that I really worked hard on and I am very proud of it. I am very proud of it because I think it has a lot of description. It also showed improvement in my writing, because I usually describe every little thing, but this time I think I only described everything where the description was important to the story. Here is my piece:
“For homework, read pages 68 through 98 of Pride and Prejudice,” Ms. Clarkson said. Zoe was holding her breath and looking at the clock. Zoe has thick and straight dark brown hair. Her eyes are light blue. Today, she is wearing a lime green dress with a thick fabric. She is wearing her favorite glossy red Doc Martens. Right then, it was 3:14 and 48 seconds. Right before Ms. Clarkson was about to assign more homework, the loud bell rang. Zoe’s bag was already ready, filled with all her notebooks and folders, so that she doesn’t forget anything. When the bell rang, Zoe threw on her coat and sprinted out the door. She ran through the large hallway with all the lockers, and through the door leading outside to the park. When she was outside, she smiled when she felt the crisp fall air. She jogged out the park fence, and down the narrow sidewalk.
The colored trees made Zoe smile. The sunlight illuminated them and made them glow. Her feet clattered along the cobblestone road as she jogged, and stopped clattering when she got back on the sidewalk. She went on this way for around fifteen minutes until she got to the coffee shop. She ran inside, and saw tall Tom. She ran up to the cash register.
“Would you like your usual of hot cocoa with extra whipped cream?” Tall tom asked.
“Yes please!” Zoe exclaimed. Zoe watched as Tall Tom mixed in the Hershey’s cocoa powder and the hot milk. Then Tall Tom passed Zoe the can of whipped cream, and hot cocoa. Tall Tom always let Zoe do the whipped cream. Zoe squirted the whipped cream onto her hot cocoa. Zoe passed Tall Tom the whipped cream after she was done.
“3.75,” Tall Tom said. Zoe payed and put 1 dollar in the tip jar.
“Bye!” Zoe yelled as she was leaving.
“Bye!” Tall Tom said back. Zoe managed to run and drink her hot cocoa at the same time. She slurped it down in three huge gulps. After she drank all of her hot cocoa, Zoe walked up to a jewelry store. She looked through the window at one of those manikin necks, and on it hung half of a heart that said best friend on it. She walked into the store, and heard the bell on the top of the door ding. A woman with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stood at the register. Besides her, there was nobody else in the small store.
“How can I help you?” the woman asked.
“Can I please see your half heart necklaces please?” exclaimed Zoe. The woman held out six necklaces. Each were halves of a heart. There was one pair made of bronze, one pair made of silver and one pair made of gold. Zoe chose the one made of gold. The lady held both of the halves, and put one of the halves in its own velvet box.
“Do you want a box for the other one?” the woman asked.
“No thanks, that one’s for me. I’m giving one to my friend for her birthday, and keeping one so that we could each have half.”
“When’s your friend’s birthday?” the woman asked not very excitedly.
“Tonight, so I’ve gotta get there quick.”
“In that case, I’d better give you your necklaces.” the lady said, this time more excitedly. After she payed, Zoe went sprinting out the door and heard the bell as she was leaving. It was shocking how cold it was outside compared to how warm the shop was. Next stop, home, Zoe said to herself as she was leaving. She ran to her apartment building and poked her key in the slot. When she came in, it smelled like something cooking. She saw her mom standing at the kitchen counter, stirring pasta sauce. Her dad and sister were playing scrabble, her dad obviously winning. Zoe paced into her room, and picked up an orange backpack. She packed pjs, clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste and a hairbrush. After she finished packing, she calmly walked into the living room.
“Hi Mom,” Zoe said as she collapsed on a comfy green chair.
“Hi sweetie,” Her mom exclaimed, obviously preoccupied with adding the rigatoni to the marinara sauce. Zoe took the necklace that was in the box, and placed it on the table, next to her half of the necklace and tried to piece them together. After she pieced them together, she walked to the kitchen, necklaces in hand and dipped a finger in the pasta sauce to try it.
“Very good,” Zoe said with a satisfying look on her face.
“Am I allowed to go to Bridgette’s party by myself?” Zoe asked.
“I’m not sure…” said her mom.
“C’mon mom, it’s three blocks away.”
“Do you even know the way there?”
“Yes! I’ve walked there with you a million times!”
“Fine, but be careful crossing the street.” Her mom gave in.
“THANK YOU SO MUCH!!” Zoe screamed as she kissed her mom goodbye.
Zoe picked up her backpack and sprinted out the door and went back into the refreshing air. In the park right outside of Bridgette’s house, Zoe sat on one of the benches to check her phone. It read 3:12. 3 minutes until the party. She decided to look at the necklace again. She reached in the bag that she received from the store to put the necklaces in, but they weren’t there.
Zoe flashbacked to when she walked into her house. She remembered walking into her house, necklaces in hand. When she came home, she tried to piece her necklaces together. Then she went to try her mom’s homemade tomato sauce, with her necklaces in her hand. Then she left.
“Okay, so I had them when I came in, and then I had them when I pieced them together, then I tried the tomato sauce, and left. Oh no. OH NO!!! THEY LANDED IN THE TOMATO SAUCE!” Everyone in the park started staring at her, and she realized that everyone in the park just heard her. She sprinted back home, her hair blowing around in her face. When she got home, there were bowls of pasta on the table, each plate with tons of tomato sauce, drowning the pasta.
“Why did you come back home? Did you leave your toothbrush?”
“No. I think I dropped the necklaces in the tomato sauce.”
“What? I just put all of the tomato sauce on the pasta. When did they fall in the tomato sauce?
“When I came over to taste it.”
“Oh no.” Zoe’s mom said.
“Oh no.”
Five minutes later, Zoe, her dad, her sister and her mom were all scooping through the pasta, looking for the necklace. Even though there were only three bowls, there was a lot of pasta to be checked.