Top Ten Most Thrilling Academic Moments at CFHS

1.      1. Getting accepted into Northwestern: Perhaps more than the elation of receiving admission to such a fantastic school, I was greeted that day by an enthusiastic cafeteria of applause.  I mostly grant this to the general merriment of the last day before spring break and the fun of clapping, but still, “what a fight. What a victory” (Kesey 275)

2.      2. Doing the entire Othello datasheet in 13 consecutive hours: Sorry Ms. Serensky, the truth had to come out. I did not know how epic the task before me would be, so I spent the day in the library lazily looking for quotes, but altogether not getting anything accomplished.  The thrilling part came with a sigh after printing the beast and was reiterated when I got an A on it, with a shiny monkey sticker atop.  One might think, “this was so stupid. I don’t do s*** like this,” but sadly, I do-quite often (Currie 205).

3.      3. Completing all the essays on the AP English 11 Test: I remain notorious, much to my chagrin, for struggling to finish timed essays.  So when I took the AP Test and somehow found enough time to complete all three essays, I was baffled and overjoyed.  I was much more satisfied when I walked into the commons and found Ms. Serensky, who asked but one simple question—had I finished? She gave me a look like “the happiness of more than one life depends on your answer” (Wilde 52).  Fortunately for everyone, I could answer with a smiling yes.

4.      4. Earning a Cup of Knowledge in AP Chemistry: I got not one, but two shiny beakers for earning the highest grade on a chapter test.  I won’t mention the multitude that a Mr. Alex Kreger has won.  I try to ignore him and think of my small victories, even if they were on the classic PV=nRT tests. In fact, I like to think that “the other kids think [I’m] a Jedi or something” (Currie 59).

5.      5. Induction into the Cum Laude Society: There’s nothing quite like recognition when people notice, “there’s a sensible, intellectual girl!” (Wilde 18). More than the administration recognizing the hard work associated with high GPA, I most enjoyed the photo of the fall inductees.  This photo was serendipitously taken on Superhero Day in Homecoming Week, so Kyle had his ten-year-old power ranger costume on.

6.      6. Beating Sam “35” Schiferl in AP Comp. Sci.: Sam and I sat next to each other for most of second semester of AP Computer Science.  As per usual, he made a competition out of most everything, from who could log on to their computer fastest (when I got to class first, I would inevitably be disqualified) to the progress book grades once we logged on.  So you can imagine my excitement when we received a Friday AP problem back and I earned a higher score, making any of his intelligence, for the day at least, defunct. “He’s never written a single book, so you can imagine how much he knows” (Wilde 34).

7.      7. Appearances on Bobbie’s Blog Banter: I do believe I was the first blog to be bantered, back when I made an awkward comment about marrying Andrew Weaver to get a W last name.  I didn’t know how to react in those early stages, but now I accept the credit gracefully, all the while beaming with joy on the inside. There are few things that offer the same surprise and pride than a Serensky nod in the form of a slot of BBB.  Apparently, I love the recognition in front of my peers, “I am very fond of being looked at” (Wilde 35)

Academic success!
Look at him fist pump that diploma!

8.      8. Getting Accepted into Villanova: It was a lovely December afternoon when I received a text from Jillian telling me to check my ‘Nova account.  She effectively took out any surprise in finding a letter or email, so good or bad, “I could see it coming” (Kesey 172). 

9.      9. Winning the Best Essay For Those in AP English 11 Who Wrote About Uncle Pa Keating Award: Judging by the sheer length of the title, it was quite a narrow pool to win from.  But still, the competition was fierce and “I worked at it” (Kesey 288).  I would not be embarrassed to say that the “very special person” ribbon is currently hanging on my wall; in fact, I may bring it to college for bragging rights.

10.  10. Art in the Tiger Times: “This last is both a relief and a worry” (Currie 177).  My painting of my brother and grandpa appeared on the back cover of the Tiger Times completely to my surprise.  I think the newspaper staff must have snuck into the art room to steal it.  But I was excited, even thrilled, and happy to get featured in such a way.  And now, the piece, albeit a dark photocopy, hangs on the AP English 12 board.

Laundering Through Poetry

Without a doubt, my favorite poem of the year goes by the name “Sorting Laundry,” by the wonderfully acclaimed poet, Elisavietta Ritchie.  To begin, with a name like Elisavietta, a poem has to impress.  True, it’s no Ernest, but still, “it is a divine name. It has a music of own” (11).  The title and action of the poem reminds me of my favorite domestic activity: sorting laundry, of course! This is a lie, actually.  As much as I love the organization of going through dirty clothes and sorting them by color, I get stressed out deciding whether or not the in-betweens like light, light blues belong in the colors or whites.  I would offer to do all of your laundry, since I am oh so good at the task, but “I don’t like your clothes” so I certainly would not like to sort through them (30).  In fact, “your dress is sadly simple” (47).  But that is neither here nor there.  Back to the beautiful poetry of Elisavietta Ritchie.  Despite the long overall length of the poem, at a whopping 51 lines, each singular line had well under ten words each.  A big thanks for that Ms. Ritchie, you made my reading experience an enjoyable one! My favorite moment, by far, happened in the fourteenth stanza (have fun counting)  when the poem shifts from nostalgic laundering to intense desperation with the line “former lover…”.  The ellipsis certainly helps display that change, but my first time reading through it, I chuckled from the surprise.  I thank Elisavietta Ritchie for the entertaining and enthralling poem, and for teaching me “the Vital Importance of” forgiving and forgetting lover’s issues and never holding on to jealousy (54).

Confrontation

Dallas Green: “Good to meet you. Good to meet you” (76). I’m Dallas Green.

Dale Harding: Oh I know very well who you are. I only wish I could say the same to you.

Green: What?! We’ve only just met! How have I upset you?

Harding: Oh, I think you know why.

Green: Is this about Vera?

Harding: And the truth comes out! I knew this day would come. It’s so typical of her. But to choose someone with such a “crusty surface” (66)? Seriously Vera? Why not me? I’ve got to be more handsome than this guy… right? … [trails off, bordering an anxiety attack]

Green: “enjoying the view son?” (76).  I don’t need this mockery.  You think it was just a fling “just to piss in your soup?” (79). I really love her.

Harding: I’ve heard enough.  I think it’s time that you should go.

Green: “I do what I want” (79).

Harding: So I’ve heard.

Green: “You think you can come here and intimidate me?” (79).  Not on my watch, sir.  If you want to fight, let’s fight.  I’m gonna get real weird with it.  Let’s take this outside.

Harding: We’re not going anywhere.  In fact, “you won’t be going any place for a while” (75).  Except, perhaps, to the Ward for a lovely lobotomy.  I’ve got friends in high places, Green.

Our Own Disturbed Ward

Ah, multiple choice game day.  Everyone around me feels hyped up and they’re smiling as they enter the AP English 12 room, what an odd sight to see.  I, for one, do not share their merriment for these days.  I don’t much enjoy forced conflict, I would much rather go about my business quietly, silently even.  People call me Chief Bromden, but in this room, I am by no means the chief; I will most likely end up on the losing team.  Assuredly, I don’t even hold a candle to the self-named Dream Team.  Looking over in disgust, I see their team, team 6, announced.  Instead of whooping or doing a fun choreographed cheer, or even sitting awkwardly, as my team, Team 7, will undoubtedly choose, the Dream Team vainly holds a simple number one in the air.  How I loathe them: “they are in contact on a high voltage wave length of hate” (31). No need to cheer or say anything when their team is called; a smug index finger pointed high is all they need to communicate what place they will receive. 

            “’A toast to toast!’” Kelly shouts for the room to hear.  Wow, what a clever team name. I like the simple and strong alliteration from Team Toast.  Not only that, but they can do so much with that word! They can make a toast to toast as Kelly just exclaimed; they can propel toast into the air by pantomiming a toaster; they can even tell other teams that they will be toast.  How versatile—I wish I was on Team Toast with those great girls over there.  I think if they don’t win, this might go down as my worst day in AP English 12. 

            The game begins.  Ms. Serensky announces that number one will go to … all groups.  I feel a rush of joy as my team wins a tally on the board.  But I remind myself, “it’s a minor battle in a big war” with that and each point (113).  The game progresses and I see that I am losing this war.  My hope wanes and I see the fog rolling in.  I wish I could shut myself out from this cruel world, from the sad embarrassment of getting dead last in the multiple choice competition.  Just above me in the ranks, but still obtaining zero extra credit points, is the mighty Team Toast.  The points were so close, so palpable, there for the taking.  However, the wretched Dream Team’s satisfied first place faces only serve to amplify how the extra credit points do not exist for me.  “But if they don’t exist,” I think, “how can a man see them?” (90). Perhaps I do belong back at the mental ward.  I certainly won’t survive here, not with my deaf mute discussion grade.

Letter From a Chagrin Falls Jail

Dear Junior,

            If there is one thing AP English 11 taught me, it’s that there is so much pain and sadness in this world.  And struggling.  And depression. And stress. Particularly in our world in Ms. Serensky’s class. From all the late nights reading, doing SOAPSTones, and worrying over in-class essays; I want what you so effortlessly have. You say, “I’d like one of those for myself. A life”, but face it Junior, at my age, you had a steady girlfriend, you were extremely intelligent—despite your rough family life, you had a lot going for you (186). And now you’re throwing that life quite away with your drugs and alcohol.  Try to see the positives in your life before it deteriorates further.  Things can change for the better if you let them.  For example, in my very first in-class writing assignment of AP English 11, I believe I wrote a total of three sentences.  I felt “paralyzed by the fear that I [would] screw it up,” so I spent minutes frozen in fear trying to perfect each sentence (99).  I received a rubric score of 2 on that essay and now I look back in amusement at how far I’ve come.  When you start at 2, there is nowhere to go but up.  Likewise, you can turn your life around.  Even with Amy gone and the apocalypse in the near future, there can shine a light at the end of the tunnel for you.  There is hope yet, Junior. You worried me when you cried that “any effort to escape was futile. That’s what the past year has felt like” (98).  Sure, Junior, we all feel that way.  In fact, regarding my past year in AP English 11, I may have said those exact words.  Often times I feel that there is no escaping the AP English classroom.  However, I dare say Harriet Jacobs felt just as trapped as you, and she endured for seven years!  At least you don’t live in a closet, you’ll always have that.

Sincerely,

Mary Beth

March 14

Countdown: T-minus four days. Until the beginning of OGT Week and thus five glorious days to sleep in? No… Until the next reading assignment for English? No. Until the first real day of daylight savings time? Much anticipated, I agree, but still no. Give up? This coming Monday is 3/14—Pi Day, of course!

As some of you may know, I work at Math Monkey, and this year we will have our first annual pi contest.   It will consist of taking videos of the students that enter reciting digits of pi and finally we will announce a winner on Pi Day!  If my memory serves me correctly, I recall we did a similar memorization of pi in sixth grade. I thought I was hot stuff for having about thirty digits memorized, but Emily won with two-hundred some digits. Congratulations, by the way Emily! Don’t worry; I’m not at all bitter.  Seriously though, you are a champion.  However your weak triple digit memorization pales in comparison to the tens of thousands on the pi world ranking list. Oh yes, you read correctly, there is a world ranking of memorized pi digits.  People do spend their time memorizing a slew of numbers whose order is without any rhyme or reason, and whose length is undetermined because higher technology computers only add digits as time goes on.  In spending their time memorizing, then reciting this endless list of numbers, these people take up the unachievable task.  They dream the impossible dream.  I say power to them if it makes them happy.  Students at the Maine School of Science and Mathematics seemed to enjoy themselves on Pi Day, 2003: http://www.memoryelixir.com/archive4.html#pi.

So this coming Monday, March 14, please remember Pi Day and pay homage to this great holiday! Even if it is just an approximation-of-pi day, technically.  Fun isn’t built on technicalities.

Don't Panic

This blog entry is what I would much rather write for the paragraph due tomorrow, instead of some focused mumbo-jumbo.  The prompt asks “how would you live if you knew, for sure, that everything will be destroyed when you are 36 years old?” I imagine apocalyptic conditions as the cause of everything getting destroyed in eighteen short years.  Therefore, I immediately thought of Douglas Adams’ novel, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, in which aliens demolish the Earth in order to make way for an intergalactic expressway.  For those of you who have not read this amazing book, or even those who think it’s unfathomable to read anything but a book for school during the academic year, I highly recommend giving this one a try.  Not only is it a relatively simple read, but Adams is hilarious—I find myself literally (and I mean literally) laughing out loud every few pages.  Anyway, in his novel, I find it interesting to look at how the people of Earth reacted to the sense of impending doom they faced upon hearing the world would explode in a matter of minutes, on that fateful Thursday.  Some people at a bar chose to put paper bags on their heads and lie down in one last futile attempt of protection. Mostly though, people screamed mindlessly and ran to nowhere in particular.  I, however, if placed in the situation of the end of the world, would like to live as the main character, Arthur Dent, did.  His best friend, Ford Prefect, is actually an extraterrestrial and had masqueraded as a human for a number of years, portraying himself as an out of work actor.  Ford saves Arthur from Earth’s demise and they go on to have fun adventures in space.  How great! So what would I do if I knew the world would end when I turn 36? I would hope one of my friends unveiled themselves as an alien and saved me.  As you may be able to tell, I have had this plan in effect for a few years now, that’s why I do theater…to meet actors who may one day save me from the end of the world.