Current Events Write Up: US woman’s search for son ends in Lockerbie heartbreak

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US woman’s search for son ends in Lockerbie heartbreak

U.S. woman Carol King-Eckersley began looking for the baby she gave up when she was 19 in 2012 only to discover he had been killed in the Lockerbie bombing, a terrorist bombing that brought down a plane going form London to New York. For decades, King-Eckersley refrained from searching for her son, but finally the 65-year old gave in after her husband died. She knew his adoptive name, and while searching for him found his name on a website that listed students who had died in the bombing. She was heartbroken and attended a remembrance service for her son at Syracuse University.

I think this was really tragic. I think when you have a kid, you always share a bond with him or her, even if you’re not together. To find out that your son is dead, even if you never knew him, is just unimaginable. My mom thinks it’s really tragic that she imagined him for so long only to find out that he had been gone the whole time, and I agree. The author had no bias.

Current Events Write Up: Teacher Disciplined for “Santa is White” remark

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Teacher Disciplined for “Santa is White” remark

In New Mexico, Cleveland High School students were told they could come to school dressed as a Christmas character. When an African American boy, Christopher Rougier, came to school dressed as Santa Claus, one of his teachers, whose name has not been released, said to him, “Don’t you know Santa Clause is white? Why are you wearing that?” This outraged the boy’s father. The teacher felt very badly about the remark and reported it himself to the school principal, as well as apologizing to the boy and his family. However, the boy’s father still feels that if this is the teacher’s attitude, it could affect his classroom and has pulled his son out of the teacher’s class.

I think this was a very, very stupid thing for the teacher to have done. Although no harm may have been intended, America is still fighting to get rid of racial prejudice, and for an adult to single out a kid, in school no less, which is supposed to be a safe learning environment, is absolutely inappropriate. My mom also thinks it was a really silly thing of him to do, and she is glad the teacher apologized to the boy’s family. She also thinks that it would be gracious of the boy’s father to accept the teacher’s apology if he has not already.

This article showed no bias. I thought both sides of the issue were fairly presented.

Current Events Write Up: This Mom Lost 3 Children To HIV. She’s Making Sure No Other Mother Suffers Such A Devastating Loss

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In Zambia, Africa, a woman known as Connie lost three of her children in the 1980’s to HIV (Human immunodeficiency virus). When her children got sick, she suspected it was HIV, but wasn’t brave enough to find out, and they passed away. When her husband got very sick, Connie felt she had no choice but to get tested, and she and her husband both tested positive for HIV. Both got treatment, and Connie found a new purpose in life as an AIDS ambassador and peer counselor. She tests people for AIDS in surroundings they are comfortable in and helps those who test positive figure out what treatment option is best for them. She also lends support to people with AIDS or HIV. In 2012, Connie had a healthy baby who tested negative for HIV.

Here is the Yahoo! link to the article: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/01/world-aids-day_n_4350872.html?ncid=txtlnkusaolp00000592

I think Connie is an amazing woman. She decided to rise out of the ashes of her old life and do real good in the world. She could have just decided to go on with her life, not doing anything important. She could have decided to be a victim. Instead she chose to help others, which is really admirable. My friend Angelina thought it was a very good idea for her to go seek help, especially because it was the reason she was able to have a healthy, HIV-free baby.

This article is not an opinion-based one, but it was obvious the author thinks Connie is an incredible, strong, brave woman, which is true.

Current Events Write Up: Victims’ Family Speaks Out Against Sentencing in ‘Affluenza’ Case

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Victims’ Family Speaks Out Against Sentencing in ‘Affluenza’ Case

In Texas, Eric Boyles lost his wife Hallie and his daughter Shelby in a car crash caused by an intoxicated sixteen-year-old boy, Ethan Couch. Couch was driving at 70 mph in a 40 mph zone when he caused the crash that killed Hallie and Shelby Boyles along with two others and seriously injuring one other. Couch’s blood alcohol level directly after the crash was three times the legal limit and there was valium in his system. Because Couch has always been privileged and has never had boundaries, a psychologist argued in the trial that Couch was a victim of “affluenza”, a disorder that supposedly proved that Cocuh was not responsible for his actions because he could not tell the difference between right and wrong. The boy was given ten years probation. Obviously, this infuriated Eric Boyles, who thinks Couch’s wealth and status definitely played into the sentence and feels betrayed by the system.

This is absolutely ridiculous. Ten years probation? Judge, what were you thinking? AFFLUENZA? I think it’s called being a SPOILED BRAT. This kid didn’t even apologize to the families or show any remorse. It’s one thing to call him a sociopath, because that wouldn’t surprise me at all. But affluenza? Give me a break! I did some research on my own about the crash, and police said it was one of the worst crashes they had ever seen. People who called the crash in were horrified. Bodies were just littered all over. And one of the kids who was in the crash? Totally paralyzed because of it. Can’t. Even. Talk. It disgusts me that our judicial system would place such a light punishment on someone who has made such a horrible mistake and hurt so many. Of course, it WAS a mistake, but he should still be held accountable for his actions! My mom thinks the affluenza defense is ridiculous and Couch should be held responsible for his actions, because not doing so is just catering to his sense of entitlement. If he actually had to accept the consequences of his actions, she thinks he would have a much better chance of becoming a responsible adult.

I felt that the author of this article was biased in favor of the victims’ families because no defense was offered on Couch’s behalf.

Propaganda Posters

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Screen Shot 2013-10-30 at 12.02.36 PMMy first poster is promoting communism. It claims that capitalism lacks order because anyone can have any business. It also says that free speech will be the death of capitalists. At the bottom of the poster, Carlos the strawberry says he would like to be blue instead of red, and the others shun him.

Screen Shot 2013-10-30 at 12.02.18 PM My second poster is promoting capitalism. It says that capitalists have strong morals, putting the emphasis on “we”, which implies that communists don’t have strong morals. It also says that communism takes away one’s freedom and implies that one would stop being a patriot if one went red, or communist.

Current Events Write Up: Police: Nev. school shooter, 12, got gun from home

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Yesterday in Nevada, a twelve-year-old boy brought a gun to his school, took it out, and shot another boy in the shoulder. When a teacher approached him and told him to put the gun away, the boy refused and shot the man in the chest, fatally wounding him. He then shot another student in the abdomen before fatally shooting himself. Both students who were shot are recovering and are going to be fine. Police say the boy, whose name is not being released by the press, got the handgun from his home and his parents may be facing charges.

This sickens me. Kids shooting kids and murdering teachers is just so wrong. This boy was just a kid! He wasn’t even my age, and he shot up his school! Why didn’t anyone see the warning signs? Why did he have access to a gun? Why do things like this happen?

My mom obviously thinks what happened is tragic, and she wonders how a twelve-year-old boy could be angry and despondent enough to kill himself and others in this way. She also thinks his parents are criminally negligent and should be charged, as should anyone who gives a child access to a gun. The author of this Yahoo! article,  Scott Sonner, showed no bias.

Creative Writing: Opening Adjective

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Once upon a time, in a faraway land called Old City, there was a girl suffering from writer’s block. Her ailment was silly, to say the least; her teacher had provided several very nice prompts for her to begin with that really should have inspired her. All excerpts from books or stories by experienced and just generally eloquent writers, the prompt sentences were original and descriptive, conjuring vivid imagery with each new word. And still the girl struggled.

The girl’s name was Princess Coffee Kangaroo, Coffee to her friends and Roo to her family. At the moment she was sitting at her desk in her school, the Old City Institute of Higher Education, or OCIHE. The school was a towering display of blue brick turrets perched precariously on a similarly textured and colored box that had arm-like hallways sticking out in every direction. It was a bit flashy for Tree’s tastes, but her old school, Buckingham Academy…well, don’t even get her started on Buckingham.

Inside OCIHE’s thick castle walls, Roo sat, pondering the cause of her writer’s block. Maybe this was Roo’s problem. She simply pondered too much. She didn’t do it on purpose. She would have been happy to reside totally in reality, without dwelling on thoughts and concepts beyond her comprehension. Roo didn’t make any conscious effort to think about such topics. They just sort of invaded her thoughts without any regard for her feelings or so much as a how do you do. Of course, perhaps this was the custom among thoughts. Roo didn’t know.

It wasn’t long before Roo was completely immersed int he supposed etiquette of thoughts, and if she had remained in such a state, her life may have gone on completely normally. However, fate had other plans, and Roo soon became aware of a growing pain in her right temple. After asking her teacher Miss Sakura if she could got to the office, Roo stumbled up the old stone stairs, the ache in her head growing with each step. Suddenly, a tidal wave of pain came rushing at Roo’s brain. She cried out and fell to her knees, clutching her head in agony. Then, right when she was sure she was going to pass out, the pain vanished as quickly as it had come. Roo collapse on the ground, gasping and shuddering. She lay there for a long minute. After she had calmed down and could breathe again, she shakily got to her feet and glanced around, holding her breath. When  no crazed students and teachers came flooding into the stairwell, shouting and frantically dialing 911, Roo came to the conclusion that no one had seen or heard her random breakdown. Since her head didn’t hurt anymore, she slowly walked back downstairs, trembling slightly and utterly confused.

When Roo reached the lower level, she braced herself and entered her classroom, afraid that someone would say she looked strange.

What she found was a room full of unicorns.

Creative Writing: Delayed Adjective

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Rachel stared at her ruined doll, miserable. As a young child, she had played with Lissie every day. Her parents had given her other toys, of course, but she had always loved her Lissie the best. Her face wet with tears, she scooped up the broken toy, feeling vulnerable and alone. Glassy-eyed and pale, the doll lay there in her arms, her tragic face cracked now, and with harsh, jerky movements, Rachel wiped away her tears. If Mommy was here, she would get mad and say Rachel was weak for crying, that no man would ever want such an emotional girl…she would get more toys, wouldn’t she? Of course…Rachel knew that, but nothing could truly replace her friend. She was weak…so weak…so unlovable…

Suddenly, in a fit of rage, Rachel hurtled Lissie across the room with the kind of shriek one hears on a battlefield and watched her doll smash apart. A deranged giggle escaped her lips. They would pay for what they had done to Lissie, they would all pay…They were going to be sorry…just like they broke Lissie, she would break them…

Grabbing the kitchen knife, Rachel ran her finger along the edge and smiled at the pain, the sheer power she now possessed coursing through her veins, and donning a maniacal grin and a blood red dress just like Lissie’s, Rachel…no, Lissie…strode out the door, ready to play…

 

Creative Writing: Delayed Adverb

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The great war was over, finally. Both sides had lost many. Simba and Nala were dead, as were Shere Khan and Rajah. Tigger had lost his spring. Richard Parker had gone back to just being…Thirsty. Pride Rock was red with blood, lion and tiger alike. Everyone had scars now.

Kiara limped across the battlefield, observing the ruin all around her. They had won the war, but no one would know it from the looks of things on their side. White rocks that were black with dirt marked graves as far as the eye could see. Fire had turned the ground to soot.  Lions lay on the ground, exhausted from years of fighting. Even Kovu had no strength left in him and was collapsed in a heap on the ground. Of course, he hadn’t been the Kovu she had fallen in love with for a long, long time.

After a time, Kiara saw what she had been searching for, and she limped over to the huge baobab tree that the lions had nicknamed the “Tree of Death” years ago, when the tigers had torched it. Being careful not to put pressure on her bad leg, she settled down in front of the five graves lined up in front of her, the resting places of her friends and family. A numbness spread through her at the thought of their awful deaths. Timon and Pumbaa, whose bodies were found ripped to shreds just outside of Pride Rock’s entrance, NO TRUCE scrawled on the stone in their blood. Rafiki, who had just withered away, a little more every day, when his tree died. Her parents, who had both received fatal wounds on the front line. She tried to conjure up something, anything for them, but all she couldn’t feel anything. Emotions had left Kiara’s life long ago, replaced by the mere unnerving sensation one gets when one loses a tooth, that there used to be something where there was now just emptiness.

Sometimes Kiara wanted to stay lying there with them forever. And why couldn’t she now? The war was over. She no longer had a responsibility to the pride. Kovu could lead them, couldn’t he? He would make a good leader, always putting the pride first. Kiara closed her eyes. She could just fade away here…

“Kiara?”

Reluctantly, Kiara lifted her drooping eyelids. Kovu was standing next to her with a hard look on his face. “The troops are asking about you,” he said. “They need you to tell them what’s happening.”

Kiara let her eyes close again. “I’m done with being needed, Kovu,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You can speak to them.”

“And say what? That you won’t see them because you’re busy moping?” He sounded disgusted. “Get up. We’re going.” Kiara didn’t answer. “Kiara,” he said, his voice a warning, “Get. Up.”

Kiara shifted away from him. “Go away, Kovu. I’m done.”

“You can’t just be done. You’re their leader.” Suddenly, she heard his voice soften. “It’s a new day, K.” Here eyes snapped open. Kovu hadn’t called her K since…since before the war. “The hard part is over now, baby. You can’t give up now.”

Kiara gasped and felt a single tear escape her eye. “It’s just so hard,” she whispered.

She felt a weight next to her and turned her face into Kovu’s shoulder. “I know that,” he said, his voice choked with tears. “It’s hard for all of us, baby. But you can’t lose hope.”

Then a torrent of tears escaped from her, and Kovu held her while she sobbed for what seemed like hours. “I’m sorry,” she finally got out, her voice still clogged with tears. “I’m so sorry, Kovu.”

He shushed her. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay.”

They lay there for a long time, Kiara crying softly. Finally, Kovu shifted away from her and stood up. “Are you ready for this?”

Kiara wiped her eyes with her paws and slowly got to her feet. ” Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready.” And together, they walked off toward Pride Rock, ready for a new life.

 

 

Creative Writing: Opening Adverb

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Outside, Poppy saw only a calm, beautiful night. Of course, she knew it was an illusion. There was no calm in Clarence.

With a loud sigh, Poppy turned away from the window, disgusted. Thinking about zombies always mad her stomach do flip-flops. She knew her family expected her to be stronger, but it was different for them. They didn’t feel like puking every time they saw a corpse. They actually fought on the front line. Ugh, thought Poppy. Gore. EW.

When she was a little girl, Poppy’s older brother Rory showed her her first zombie movie. That was before The Rise, when people still watched scary movies. Before horror flicks started to look a whole lot like real life. The movie was called Warm Bodies, and even though it was a comedy, she screamed her head off at the…well, the zombie scenes. Poppy had never had a high tolerance for fear in general, and at the time, it didn’t matter. But these days everyone was needed on the front line, even tiny Poppy. She was just glad she didn’t have to go–yet. The government couldn’t force her to do anything until congress passed the draft, and they had already vetoed it three times, thank God. However, the day was slowly drifting nearer and nearer…

Suddenly, the first in a series of high-pitched wails coming from the battlefield split the silence like a knife. Poppy, startled, screamed and flattened herself against the wall immediately, just like she had been taught in school. The wails continued, and Poppy pressed her hands tightly over her ears, her scream devolving into terrified sobs. Everyone in her village knew what the wails were. They were the sound of a human turning after having been bitten. Everyone also knew that if he was lucky, the guy’s screams would cut off very shortly, courtesy of his not-so-lucky buddy. Sure enough, they did. Poppy shakily uncovered her ears, whimpering, and slunk down to the floor.

I hate my life, she thought.