Death Be Not Proud: A Hero

“Death be not Proud” tells the story of Johnny Gunther’s struggle with a brain tumor that took his life at the mere age of seventeen, told by his father, journalist John Gunther. At the time that this all happened little was known in the world of medicine about brain tumors and how to treat them. For this reason, Johnny had to undergo many procedures that had not been tried before. Yet through it all, he maintained his friendliness and his bravery until the very end.

To me, this a hero. To me a hero is not someone who is able to rise from weakness to strength; but rather a person who is able to rise from strength to weakness and still stay brave. I feel that Johnny Gunther fits this description perfectly. The main three heroic traits that Johnny possesses are bravery, kindness, and dedication.

The first trait Johnny holds that makes him a hero is his bravery. As mentioned before, Johnny underwent many new operations and procedures that doctors didn’t know were 100% safe yet. But Johnny never protested having these procedures performed on him. He also never seemed scared to die or worried the doctors didn’t know what they were doing.

The second trait that I believe made him a hero was his kindness. Throughout the duration of his sickness he always treated his parents and doctors as friendly as possible. For example, there was a night that Johnny refused to call the nurse because he didn’t want her to have to take care of him when he knew she’d be tired. He thanked all the doctors who helped him and he thanked his parents for everything as well. He rarely snapped at anybody and when he did he was quick to apologize. I believe this made him a hero because under the circumstances I can imagine it would be very hard not to lose his temper.

And the third and most important trait was Johnny’s dedication. Despite his brain tumor that was slowly eating away at him and making it harder and harder for him to perform everyday tasks, Johnny still stay dedicated to the hobbies and things he felt passionate about. During the period of his brain tumor he still managed to graduate high school, and apply for Harvard law school. He never let the high probability of his death interfere with his dreams. And I believe this is what made him a true hero. He did not fear death, he just feared running out of time.

Johnny didn’t choose to be a hero. And in the end, he couldn’t fight the tumor and passed away. But what Johnny accomplished was greater than fighting cancer or a brain tumor, he spread hope. He gave hope to the doctors who couldn’t believe how long he’d ought the tumor. He also gave hope to cancer patients everywhere that having cancer doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. You just become aware that the time you have on the world may be shorter than you expected. But this should in no way stop you from doing the things you love. As Johnny did, you have to keep living.

My Everyday Hero

What makes a person a hero? Wearing a cape and saving the town from harm? Is it having a medal dangling around your neck and having your name remembered? Is it having ed for something great? When we hear the word “hero”, we often tend to think of Batman or Hercules. But what about the real heroes? The heroes who go unawarded? These people, the everyday heroes, are the ones who deserve the real credit. And my everyday hero is my mother.

In elementary school, when we are asked to write about who we love the most or what we’re most thankful for, it is often times our mothers. And why shouldn’t it be? Mothers are the true heroes of the world. From the time we take our first breath to the time we are handed our diplomas their lives are focused on giving us the best that they can offer. And my mother is no exception. Being a single parent with two young daughters was not an easy task, but I can not remember a time in my life when she was not trying her best to give me the things that would shape me into the person I strive to be today. If I wanted to go on that expensive field trip to New York, she’d work extra hours to make sure I had enough money to go. If my sister wanted that new video game, my mom would be standing in line at midnight just to make sure she got the “deluxe pack”. This might make us sound spoiled but that is not the case, she does these things because she wants to, not because she feels an obligation to. 

And then there is her listening; I have never known someone who listens the way my mother does. From the time we were little kids she made sure we knew that we knew we could come to her about anything, even the bad things. And yes, there have been bad things. But through it all she listens calmly and gives us her opinion on how to handle every situation. I trust her the way some girls trust their best friends, and know that our honesty and openness with each other has made our relationship stronger. 

And lastly, her kindness. My mother lives by the saying “treat others the way you want to be treated”. She is always looking for a way to help other people, even if she is not fond of that person. Her pleases are always followed with a thank-you, and she is always saying “I’m sorry”, even if there is nothing to apologize for. Her bright personality and positivity is sometimes found to be an annoying trait by others, but most people accept her kindness and appreciate it. 

Mothers are the real heroes. They are the ones who dedicate their lives to making sure our lives are full of everything we need to be happy and successful. They may never save a town from The Joker or slice Medusa’s head off, but they’re heroes in their own way. A way that lives on generation to generation. Everyday, I am thankful for my hero. Make sure to be thankful for yours. 

Modern Day Heroes Vs. Ancient Heroes

 

            What does Harry Potter have in common with Theseus? What about Superman and Zeus? As we become exposed to more and more Greek mythology, it is much more evident where these modern-day hero tales derive from. There is a pattern that is followed in nearly every modern or ancient hero story. I will be comparing a modern day hero, Frodo Baggins from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and an ancient hero, Hercules, to demonstrate the similarity between the two stories.

            One of the very first things to look for in a hero’s story is the way their quest began. Heroes are often missing one or both parents and are instead raised by a close relative or have been adopted. Our modern hero, Frodo, was raised by his uncle Bilbo Baggins and Hercules was adopted by humans after he turned into a mortal. There is almost always a turning point in their life when they realize they are not normal and have a quest or a goal to achieve. For Frodo, he discovers that he has possessed through his uncle a very powerful ring that must be destroyed. For Hercules, he discovers that he is the son of a god and must do all that he can to restore his powers again.

            In every hero story, there is a task that must be completed. Frodo’s task was to deliver the ring to Mount Doom to have it destroyed. Hercules’s task was to complete the 12 labors to gain back his immortality. To complete these tasks, they receive help from others. Frodo gets advice from a wise wizard named Gandalf. Hercules received training from a centaur named Chiron. Through these helpers, both heroes discover something about themselves. Frodo discovers that despite being a hobbit (a race that is not known for being adventurous or brave) he is capable of saving Middle Earth. Hercules discovers his own strength and how to control it.

            In the end of the story, though, the character is still not fully happy. This is very common in all hero stories. After destroying the ring and returning to the Shire, Frodo feels like there is something missing and leaves with Gandalf to the Gray Havens. As for Hercules, he goes mad and ends up killing his wife and kids and sending himself in exile. From these endings, we learn that all heroes have flaws they cannot overcome: Frodo’s inability to be happy in one place and Hercules’s anger.

             If you have read any story that contains a hero, you may be able to recognize these characteristics in the story. It is important to learn about the ancient stories that provided the structure for storytelling and drama.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waiting For Godot

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52EbCaNPy1M&feature=player_embedded

Myth

Many years ago, there was a young girl by the name of Annabella. She lived alone with her widowed mother, Starla, in a small cottage by the sea. Her father had died when she was only fourteen. For this reason her mother had to take care of her alone. Their home country of Poptropica had been at war with Bottlecapsia for many years. Annabella and her mother had managed to stay safe in their small home but often feared that one day Bottlecapsian soldiers would come and disrupt the peace they had finally found.

When Annabella was young, her father often took her with him when he would go fishing. She loved everything about it: the salty water drenching her hair, the creaky noises the boat made as it was rocked back and forth by the waves, and the excitement that flowed through her as she reeled in a fish. But after her father died out at sea, her mother forbade her from fishing. Instead, they tried to make a living by making jewelry from the seashells that washed up on shore and selling them at the closest market. But their jewelry-selling business was failing and they were in desperate need for money. 

One cold, rainy morning Annabella snuck out through her bedroom window while her mother was still asleep. She walked to the dock by the shore where her father’s boat had been sitting untouched for three years. She used all of her strength to push it out to ocean. When it had reached the water, she hopped in and rowed out to sea. 

After an hour of fishing, she had had caught enough fish to last the two of them for months to come. She knew her mother would be angry at her, but she hoped that seeing all the fish would change her mind. As she got closer to shore, she couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. She squinted and looked towards the cottage. And that was when she saw it - fire. The cottage was in flames. Instead of rowing the boat to shore, she jumped out and swam - forgetting about the fish she left behind. 

But by the time she got there, it was too late. There were Bottlecapsian soldiers searching every inch of her house. They were going through her belongings; drawers, shelves, closets. She screamed for her mother and scrambled through the house to try and find her, but before she could she was seized by two large men who were much stronger than she. “You’re coming with us young lady,” one of them said. “I’m sure the King will be quite pleased.” Annabella let out another cry as they pulled her away from the house and feared she would never see her mother again. 

She gave into to the soldiers as they dragged her to Bottlecapsia’s fort. There, she happily embraced her mother as she was thrown into a cell with her. 

“Wait here. The king will be with you momentarily,” the larger of the two guards spat to the two women. They marched out of the chamber without a second glance.

“What did they do to you mother?” Annabella whispered as she looked over her mother. She was covered in bruises and scrapes; one eye was swollen shut. Annabella could see the many burn marks left on her body from the house fire.

“They took me from the kitchen; the pot I was tending fell over, and burned me badly. Not worse than the fire they started. They covered everything in dry grass and set it to flames. they took all of the jewelry we made along with the gold rings from your father.”

Annabella stared at her mother, speechless. How could someone be so heartless? Those rings were the only things the family had left from their father.

She turned to the chamber. There had to be a way out: a key, a hole in the door, a loose board. Nothing seemed to stand out. She stomped on the floor, but nothing would budge. 

“Sweetie, I need to warn you of something,” her mother said quietly. “The things they do to prisoners are terrible. They tear men limb from limb, just to hear them cry. They burn families pets in front of them just to see them squirm. I won’t even tell you what they do to the poor women who come into this chamber.”

“Listen to me Annabella,” her mother pleaded. “Drink this. it’s poison. I’ve overheard what the king has been saying. He’s going to turn you into a house slave. He’s going to mangle you and make sure you can’t escape. This is your only way to get out.”

“You really think it’s the only way? There’s no trap door or anything?” she asked.

“Please do it. They’ll come for you any minute. Just drink it while you have the time,” she begged, holding out the small vial of poison.
Annabella looked at her mother, grabbed the vile, and downed it in one swallow. “Mom,” she whispered. “I love-” the words didn’t even make it out of her mouth before she collapsed in her mother’s arms. 

When the guards returned they were furious. “The King planned on taking Annabella in as his wife! What have you done?” 
“Annabella decided to take her own life,” Starla said. “I knew she’d be happier that way. She didn’t deserve to be tortured and forced to marry a man as cruel as the King.”
The guards snickered. “Well, times are tough and the King needs a wife. None of the women from the kingdom can produce heirs for him. I’m sure you’d make a fine back-up.” They yanked her from the cell and pulled her to the castle. 
After the King approved of her, he scheduled the wedding for first thing the following morning. That night, Starla stayed awake in her tower looking out at the sky missing her daughter. “Oh Annabella, I know you’re in a better place but I miss you so much.” As she looked up, she saw something twinkling in the sky. You see, before this time there was nothing in the sky at night except for the moon. She looked out and squinted, trying to figure out what it could be. Then suddenly, she had the feeling that she was not alone. She felt that Annabella was with her. And then…she knew. That twinkling light was Annabella. Annabella remained in the sky every night to watch over her mother. 
Over the course of the next 10 years, the King constantly tried to produce a male heir with Starla. But every time she would give birth, the King would get angry. “That baby is too weak to be my heir,” or, “I will not have a female heir.” Every time this would happen the King would beat Starla and threaten to hurt the baby the following morning. So every night Starla would sneak to the highest tower of the castle. She would kiss the baby on the forehead and release it to the sky where it would turn into a star to watch over Starla. 
Every morning the King would ask where the baby went. “I got rid of it myself,” Starla would say. The King would get angry at first and considered hurting Starla, but the stars in the sky protected her and he was unable to bring himself to hurt her.
After many years of trying and failing to produce an acceptable heir, Starla awoke one night to the sound of a baby crying. There, in the crib next the bed, was a healthy, strong, beautiful baby boy. 
The baby grew up to be a fine young man Starla named Talin. He was caring and kind-hearted unlike his father, and when the King died Talin took over the Kingdom and renamed it “Annabellion” in memory of his older sister.
That is the story of how stars (named after Starla) came to be. Every time a mother loses her child, they are sent to the sky to watch over their parents and give them the comfort that they are still there.

Brief Introductory Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWvmjPfelcM&feature=player_embedded

Persuasive Essay

Dear Mr. Nelson,

There has recently been a lot of debate over whether or not parents should allow their kids to sign-up for and use social media as a tool in their education. I personally believe that social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter should not be used to education.

I feel my opinion is correct because so many teenagers use and abuse social media websites. Bullying, inappropriate language, and other negative behavior take place on these websites. Allowing kids to use these websites in school could be mistaken for promoting these kinds of activities. While there may be benefits to using social media websites as educational tools, I believe it would cause too many problems and that we should not use them.

Others may argue that it is acceptable for kids to use social websites in school. But because of social websites kids are getting lower grades and not spending enough time outside. School should be a place for learning with the tools teachers have always used. Not a place for social media.  

I hope you will take what I have said into consideration and choose to say no to using social media websites as tools for learning.

Best Wishes,

Jenna Owens

My First (And Probably Only) Friend

I woke up the first day of fifth grade thinking, this time next year I’ll be going to middle school. I smiled to myself as I thought about all the great things I could look forward to in the next year. The lockers, the classes, the freedom, and how popular I would be. And then it hit me, I had no friends. How could I be popular in middle school if I didn’t have any friends to be popular with? Now I know what you’re thinking, I was just an angsty eleven year old who thought the world was against her. But it was true. My best friend from third grade, Casey, had moved away over the summer. My friends from dance class went to other schools, and I didn’t know anyone in my class. How could I have lived in this town for six years and not made any best friends? But I told myself that this year would be different. Fifth grade would be the year I finally met a best friend.

Who should I talk to first? I scanned the classroom looking for an eligible candidate. What about the brunette in the corner? Nah, she looks too snobby. Or that girl reading To Kill a Mockingbird? No, she probably doesn’t like to watch movies. And then, I saw her. Sitting two seats next to the boy with the acne problem, was my new best friend. Of course, she didn’t know it yet, but she would be. She was tall and had her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked just as bored as I did listening the teacher’s lecture. That would give us something to talk about. But how would I introduce myself? I scanned the classroom again, looking for something – anything that would give me an excuse to talk to her. I noticed the entire row of seats in front of her were empty. Maybe they were empty for a reason, but I didn’t care. I was desperate. “Excuse me,” I said, interrupting the teacher. “I can’t see the board from this seat. Can I move up to that row?” The teacher sighed, obviously annoyed. But she let me move anyway. 

I took my seat and turned around, taking a deep breath. “Hi,” I whispered, startling her. She just stared at me, expressionless. So awkward. “Um, I’m Jenna. I don’t think we’ve met before.” Silence. Did she not know English or something?

“I’m Taylor,” she mumbled. 

I smiled. “I know this is going to sound like, super lame but I don’t know anyone in this class and I think we would make really good friends.” 

“Oh … uh … I guess …” She stuttered and looked uncomfortable. Oh crap, I thought. 

“Look, how about we play together at recess? I’m sure we can find something to talk about.” This whole conversation was painfully uncomfortable. 

“Sure,” she said. 

I could have chosen anybody, but I chose Taylor.

After lunch I sat on the playground in my usual spot, under the big red slide. I slipped a note in Taylor’s binder during Math telling her where to meet me and hoped she had read it. After a few minutes, I saw her making her way across the blacktop. I waved at her. “Taylor! Over here!” 

I smiled at her when she reached me. “So, what kinds of games do you like to play?” I asked.

“Um,” she just sort of stared me at me awkwardly as she tried to come up with an answer. “I like, um, tag.” I hated tag.

“What about Harry Potter?” I asked her.

More blank staring. “Who is that?” My jaw dropped

“HARRY POTTER IS ONLY THE GREATEST WIZARD OF ALL TIME. HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHO HE IS?” I sighed loudly and walked over to the nearest tree, pulling off two branches. “Here is your wand,” I said, handing her a branch. “I’ll let you be Luna, and I’ll be Hermione. Avada Kavadra!” 

“Um, what is that?” She asked.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re dead. I killed you.” 

“Oh,” she said. A second later she was on the ground, playing dead. The sight of this made me laugh. Then she started laughing too. I helped her up and she let me explain different spells and what they meant. 

Once we got past the awkwardness, it didn’t take long for our friendship to develop. It started with hanging out at recess. Then we started sitting together at lunch, then in music class, then in art class. After a while people didn’t know us as just Taylor or just Jenna, they knew us as Taylor-and-Jenna. Always together. 

What was strange about our friendship was how different we were. I was the shortest girl in our class and she was nearly a foot taller. She had shiny, straight blonde hair that always looked perfect while my long, frizzy brown hair was always a mess. She had perfect vision, I wore glasses. She had two brothers, I had one sister. Her parents were together, mine were divorced. She loved sports, I hated them. Naturally, people were a little surprised to find out we were best friends. But we were. 

I still remember the first time I spent the night at her house. Her parents cooked spaghetti and we looked through her photo albums. “Who is that?” I asked, pointing to a picture of her and a girl our age. 

“Oh, that’s my best friend,” She said. I nodded, trying not to look jealous. But I must have made it pretty obvious. “I mean, before I moved here of course. Now you’re my best friend.”

We stayed up late that night, spilling gossip and telling secrets. “Hey,” I whispered. “You know that boy Richard? In our class? I have a crush on him. But you can’t tell him, okay? You have to promise.”

She told him anyway. But I forgave her. After all, she was my best friend.

And now, five years later, here we are. We’ve had our fair share of drama, including an entire year of not talking to each other at all, but through everything our friendship lives on. There is a quote by Desmond Tutu that goes “ You don’t get to choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.” Well, I may not be very religious, and I may not believe in miracles, but I think the same can apply to friends as well. It wasn’t a coincidence that I chose Taylor that day. We met for a reason. Even if our friendship mostly consists of eating junk food and watching movies at her house on the weekends, I wouldn’t want it any other way.