Rumi is a famous poet, and in class, we made poems based on his, which was really hard, because he was really good. He wrote poems about a lot, life, death, love, things like that. I wrote one about life and death.
Dawn
At the first light of dawn
A newborn lamb cries out
While a crow stares down from above
On the edge of night
A wolf, bane of the dark
Comes out to feast on it’s prey
One soul may go
But Earth still turns
And when the clouds part
The destined path becomes clear
We walked around the school in humanities and took pictures of what we found, then made personification poems from it. I wrote one about a sidewalk cellar and a statue, this is the one about the cellar.
Gaps
Why do people fear me?
Stuck to a sidewalk
Doors wide open
Waiting for visitors to come into my embrace
I am a bird
So much potential
But trapped in an open cage.
I want to be like the people
I want to loved
Just one person comes
To empty me out every week
In class we had made poems based on Rumi poems (I wrote a post on mine), that kind of gave everyone a reputation on how they write. We then chose someone to write in the style of. Mine is a cinquain in the style of Will.
The Sidewalk
Sidewalk
sometimes wet, but
mostly dry, like a bowl of
chicken soup, just used by
someone
Yep, it’s stupid.
Kira was the name of my dog who died last year on Thanksgiving, I had her all my life so it was really important to me. I wrote my first poem this year about her:
Rest in peace Kira
Lost on a Thanksgiving night
Time for a new dog
Something worth mentioning, I got a new dog, Norman!
In Humanities, we wrote an essay about the book we just read, Shabanu, Daughter of the Wind. We chose a topic based on the book, such as women’s rights. I chose how Shabanu had a bad father.
Think of how you would feel if your father never cared about how you felt, and everything he did was based on what was best for him. Bad parenting is guaranteed to leave a mark on the child. In the book Shabanu, Daughter of the Wind by Suzanne Fisher Staples, a twelve year old girl, Shabanu, had a difficult life growing up, especially because of her father. Dadi was a terrible father because he did things behind people’s backs, he broke promises and worst of all, he beat his daughter, Shabanu.
Dadi did things behind people’s backs. He wrestles and bets with others, without telling his family, and that’s just one example. On page 101, Dadi’s cover got blown, “They remind me of Kalu and Tipu… All at once I realize it’s Dadi!” Dadi was wrestling to get money, but he didn’t tell anyone that he was doing it, not even his wife. Therefore he must have thought that it was bad. If that’s not enough to convince someone, he also broke some pretty big promises.
Dadi broke promises. He promised not to sell Guluband, but he made a deal with Wardak to sell him, along with many other camels. Dadi then bought back a bit of Shabanu’s love by getting her the dog, Sher Dil. On page 62, Shabanu screamed, “‘You promised!’ I shrieked. ‘Liar. You lied!’ Wardak has untethered the male camels, and Guluband is just getting to his feet.” Shabanu was devastated by Dadi because he just sold all his male camels to a possible terrorist group. But none of that even is comparable to the worst thing that he did. He beat Shabanu.
Most of all, Dadi was a horrid father because he beat Shabanu. Dadi beat Shabanu multiple times, including when she didn’t tell him that she was of age, even though he found out three days later. On page 240, Shabanu thought, “I refuse to cry out, and Dadi in his fury is like Tipu, bloodlust in his eyes. He can beat me to death if he likes.” Dadi started beating Shabanu just because she didn’t tell him that she was of age. Shabanu had earlier heard Dadi yell, “I’ll throttle her!” and she ran away in fear. This only scratches the surface on what horrible things Dadi has done to Shabanu and his family.
Dadi is a father that no one would want to have to care for them for their entire lives. Who would want a father that did things behind people’s back, broke important promises and beat their children? Dadi didn’t even let Shabanu get any choice of who she married, and whom she was assigned to was a 55 year old man. How would you feel if you had to grow up in fear of your father? Would you run away? Or would you be trapped like Shabanu?
In humanities, we made news reports about things like daily life and food. I did real estate with Will and Freddie, it’s pretty short, and it doesn’t have much in common with Shabanu, but we had fun with it.
Script:
Freddie: Welcome back to Shabanuws: Real Estate Edition! I am Amu Kamat reporting from Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan. Today my fellow colleague, Ahmed Ali, will be showing the very wealthy American Adam Soldairs, around a very fine mud house. Over to you, Tamak.
Will: Thank you, Amu. Now we will start the tour with Adam.
Armant: Thank you Tamak, I’ve traveled far and wide to find the perfect house, and this might just be it.
Will: Now we have the entrance, a very grand and well built house. Did I mention, it has a very good door?
Armant: So if you want a place without any visitors, and no civilization for miles, then would this be the place?
Will: Yes, but watch out for Nazir Mohammed, he uh, he doesn’t exactly like people very much… Anyway, let’s go inside, I’m burning out here!
Will: Here is the main bathroom. It’s very nice, for it has a toilet and sink!
Armant: Very nice indeed. Can we pause for a second, I want to, uhh try out the bathroom.
Will: sorry for the interruption. Now, we are in the bedroom.
Armant: Quite a nice bedroom here, good bed, almost soundproof walls, and very relaxing. How solid are the walls though?
Will: As solid as mud can be.
Armant: I may have misheard you… did you say mud?
Will: The walls are almost entirely mud.
Armant: So then very fragile
Either we go to a different room or we go back to Freddie
Freddie: We seem to have a technical difficulty, if you would like a house in the middle of nowhere and a toba near it, than this is this house for you! Shabanuw’s reporting daily, come back tomorrow for more news!
I can’t stop thinking about Guluband. Ever since Wardak came and took him, he’s all I can think about. So I’ve decided to make a how-to care for your camels book.
Okay, so first things first, if you’ve had a dog it’s kind of similar. Always stay near them until they warm up to you, it should take about a week at least. After they’ve gotten used to you, get something that will help you get their attention, for example a song. That’s what I used for Guluband. If you have a herd, you may want to dress them up, so they stick out and you can tell if it’s them. That should be everything, I hope this helped you take care of you’re camels.
Dear diary,
I’m starting to worry about Phulan, all she can think about is Hamir and the wedding. She spends all her days wondering what he looks like and acts like. And now I have to follow her around! I can’t help Mithoo, or tend to the other camels, I just have to watch her do nothing, it’s driving me insane. “Daydreaming has overtaken Phulan’s every waking minute.”
Dear diary,
Phulan’s life is ruined, Hamir is dead. Nazir Mohammed was going to take Phulan, and killed Hamir instead. All Phulan does now is mourn and feel bad for herself. I pity her, but I miss the old Phulan. “‘Empty’, says Phulan. ‘As if nothing inside me or outside is worth caring about.'”
Who the heck are you is a project where we chose someone to interview and recorded their answers.
At first we wrote letters to interviewee, to ask them if they would be okay with being interviewed. If they accepted, we then wrote questions for them, if not, then we would choose someone else. My interviewee was my cousin, who grew up in Berkeley Hills, California, with his sister, Sophie. He went to an art college in Chicago and now lives in New York City. The questions that I asked him were:
Next came the interview. I recorded it on my phone, it lasted 30 minutes. I learned about his childhood, his life in college and what he’s doing now.
Then we wrote the most interesting parts about it, and drafted out 2 pages, telling the story of the interviewee.
Life of an Artist
By, Armant
Imagine what it’s like to grow up just south of the famous Golden Gate Bridge, surrounded by vineyards. Will Becker is my cousin who grew up in Berkeley Hills with his sister, Sophie, and went to a public school, even though his parent’s considered sending him off to boarding school. His grandfather on his mother’s side owns a vineyard and makes wine. Everyone was friendly where he grew up, “If you called someone something mean, you would be the scum of the earth to everyone else.” Will got into trouble often as a child, while his sister hardly ever did. He started playing lacrosse when he was in fifth grade on a team called the Bears. Hardly anyone played lacrosse in the Berkeley, so there were about as many lacrosse teams as there are intramural teams in this school. “Our team was the pretty much the worst team, and we hadn’t won in about a year, and when we did break our streak of losing, our coach bought us taco bell. Then we started winning more games, without getting taco bell at the end.” For his seventh grade games, his coach would create a drink called baby bear blood, which was a mix between red gatorade and flaming hot cheetos. Then he would leave it in his car for a week to get the players energetic and excited. Most people either got sick or vomited (it didn’t work).
In his graduating year of high school, Will had no idea what to do next. “My parents said they wanted me to go to college, but I didn’t know what they meant.” He didn’t know what to study, he thought about history, or science, but neither really satisfied him. He knew he wanted to be involved with art after he saw a program called Oxbo, which inspired him to look into 3D art and sculptures. He then went to a school in Chicago called School of the Art Institute, which was associated with a museum. “This is what I want to be around for the rest of my life, this is where I belong.” He said. In his last year of college his grandfather fell ill with leukemia (brain cancer). Will felt empty because he lived close to them until he went to college, and work kept piling on, which just added to his stress and sadness. He felt like a part of himself had left him, because they saw each other so much and because of that they were so close. It wasn’t the first time he had dealt with death, his dog passed away two years before, his grandmother on his father’s side passed away already, but this one hit him harder than all the other ones “I got a call from my mom a week before, saying he had cancer, but he was so strong that I had thought I would at least see him again.” Will saw his grandmother on her deathbed a year later than her husband. She had a recurrence of brain cancer, but this time she didn’t have her love of her life to keep her determined. She stayed sick for about a month of sadness. Everyone knew it was coming, and that she wasn’t going to overcome it this time. Will visited her about two weeks before she succumbed to cancer. She was lying in her bed listening to 80s music. Will asked if she liked it, and she quickly replied no. So he changed the music to her favorite band and tried to talk to her, but she was hardly replying to what he said. After about ten minutes, he gave her a hug and left the room. He was aware that it would be the last time he would see her, and because of that tears were pouring down his face. It seemed that in her last moments, she was also suffering from dementia too, because she seemed to forget some people were. Will also saw his grandparents on his father’s side the day before he passed away. “When I tried to start up a conversation, he didn’t respond to me. He just stared up into the ceiling.” He wasn’t as close to him as the other grandparents, but he still knew him, so it hurt that he would never see nor hear his grandfather again.
After Will was finished in college he was considering moving to LA, but he decided to move here, New York, instead, because he has family here (me), and lot’s of people are moving to LA, so he wanted to try something new. Also there are a lot of artists in New York and it’s housing is cheaper here than in Chicago or Los Angeles. Will now lives in Brooklyn, exploring galleries and museums, drawing pictures and sculpting on the computer, making friends and going to clubs.
Arabian Nights is about a king whose brother’s wife left him, and he swore to kill everyone by marrying them and killing them the next day.
One day, a woman named Scheherazade wedded him, and every night she would tell him a story, and he would be too intrigued to kill her. Each night the story is left off at a cliff-hanger, so he would always want to know what happened next. All of the stories are well known, such as Aladdin and Alibaba.