Poem of the Land

Hello everyone, my name is J.N. and I am a sophomore in the class Poetic Justice. What my class and I do  is that we talk about certain poems that have a political meaning in them. We talk mainly about politics, as well as grammer/poetic devices. We went to such places as Gwendolyn Brooks College Prep, and the Poetry Foundation to learn and relate more to these subjects. What my class and I did for an assignment was that we had to create a poem that was talking about a political subject that was important to us or had relations to us. Multiple people did such things such as mental illness, rape, school structures, and much more. The topic that I talked about was immigration, which I will explain later on why I choose it. Still, what I found hard about this poem was to construct with all the criteria. These include such this as poetic tools/devices, grammar devices, and symbolism. We also had to make it about 4 minutes long. Still, I hope you all read/enjoy my poem.

Now, before we go on, a little background. 95% of the poem that is shown below mainly talks about a girl known as Rosa Maria Hernandez, who immigrated to the US when she was three months old. Apparently, her family needed medical help for their daughter, and there was little to no therapies/medical center for her conditions in Mexico. The family had illegally lived in the US for about ten years until Rosa was taken in an ambulance and sent to a children's hospital at Corpus Christia in Texas. She had surgery for her cerebral palsy in which she had before birth. On her way their, she was stopped by border police. They allowed her and her cousin to get to the hospital, following them all the way to the destination.The surgery was a success, but immediately after  she was taken to Children's Immigration Center in which she is still held their to this day. The reason this was even consider alright with the general police was that this was in the Trump Administration in 2017, in which more than 40% of deportations have grown since his registration.

The reason why I consider this a fellony is that I had seen somewhat of an experience with immigration. Not neccerally directly, but with family members who I can't even say their names without the fear of deportation. My mother, has worked in the Hispanic areas of Chicago and has supported friend/close clients who have immigrated to the US for a better life. What is even worse is how she has even seen(as well as myself) with the effects of deportation, such as an US born child never seeing his mother away do to the fact that she isn't born here. I fondly remember one experience, in which my mother and I went to a friends home, and help with the cooping family members of a parent being deported. I will never forget the face of a good man who I knew, cry right in front of me because heard his spouse was being taken from him by the police. What was worse was that he couldn't do anything about it because of his own unregistration. Even if it is a small impact, I believe this poem is extremely important to who I am, and who my loved ones are.

Poem of the Land - By J.N.

I can tell you stories million to one,
Of how people see and laugh at me for fun
I can give you gifts or tell why “greater good” gave me birth
I can tell you how everybody sees me this earth
I can talk to you of all the things I see wrong, and what I see sad,
I can tell I’m the strongest eagle, and some see it bad

But today, I will tell you all a simple tale,
On how I once thought of promise and love to hail
Of how if you worked like you matter, your life could be less of bitter,
How if you listen to others, there be no true sinners.
The dream I wish, for what it seemed and for those who hoped for me
The dream that courtmen ripped to shreds, to make themselves feel more free.

A family, who wanted this dream,
A family crossed land and could have crossed the creatures of sea.
A family, that came great lengths to me,
A family, who struggled to live happily
They went to a this place,
Where I came to thrive

Blocked by a wall and told this continent it is it’s separate space
Since the orders of 65
They jump through the wall,
Remained unseen,
Knowing for their days, they would be look like insects that crawl
At the eyes of the law it seems.

The heat on their palms and hands,
Sensed like scorpions scavenging on the sand.
As they grew desperately to help
I heard a little angel who cried and yelped

They gained the help, and help was given,
Just like work, it wasn’t hidden
The family handle an ocean of heat
Where in their eyes, it was grey and bleak

But it became cool, as time went by
The girl grew, growing stronger inside.
Yet they knew the child’s hourglass was breaking
Her eyes were dimming, her color was fading.

She was taken into a vehicle with containers/bed seats, side in which she had fear to see.
They kept to hear the sound tick tick, so to hope the machine wouldn’t beep
As the vehicle path was blocked, screeched to a stop
Two guardsmen went to the door knock ,knock

Yet, even at her darkened time when the family was tame and prayed
The people who ancestors were into the same darkened shade
Told this girl she could not be here, for law is order
Yet their blood didn’t come here, and knew their rules were broken

For them, she was an alien, an desecration
A ten year old criminal destined for discrimination
Men of law followed her to the hospital, and went.
the ticking was gone to hold, as if the machines had slept

She was cured with ten medics and small swords
But then she heard knock knock, as if some waited for reward
But it was the guardsmen came, and heard the ticking sound out of touch
The guardsmen took her, like a trophy as such

The girl now waits weary and is wedged as the weary scale weighs on such truths
For one final knock, for what couldn’t be and what could,
They keep her hidden from the eyes out of the wall
Only show to those, the girl never knew at all

Soon people catch her story, fought on what to do
Some couldn’t react, with their ears being blown on why this is true
Other, tried to tell the story about the girl that people were in worry, and were hearing in a dashing hurry.
Headlines screamed; Border agents detain 10-year-old after emergency surgery

Like a hawk, the story flew to it’s pellicle
People were seeing it as despicable
Others argued it’s for the greater good
Law was order, and the way it be it should
They sneered if a snake slithers away, venom would turn true
They believe crows will come as building are splattered with nauseous red dew

In a world today, people hold onto their beliefs,
To the point where they think they cannot be deceived
If that is true, then why don’t you listen to others
If that is true, then why try to take someone away just because it makes you feel safe.

Now, I may ask you, who am I
Am I a hero or villain, for which for you to be upset.
Am I the something to get rid of, so that we go further.
Or am I something, for no things to win




Citations
Merchant, N. “US border agents detained a 10-year-old girl with cerebral palsy..” Oct 26, 2017

Business Insider. businessinsider.com . Web. Dec 3, 2017

"Immigrants, we get the job done."

Hello everyone, my name is J.N. and I take a humanities class called Stories at GCE Lab School. In this term, we learned about history, story structures, and how to portray different myths and morals in a certain way.

For this unit, we put an emphasis on the hero’s journey. The “hero's journey” is a plot structure that shows what the hero faces, and how he/she returns from it. It’s shown to be a cycle, and many times a person would go through a hero’s journey whenever facing a sort of conflict. This plot structure is shown both in fiction and in real life, which allows us to determine if a certain person could be considered a hero.

For this AP, I decided to look over a real hero and a fictional hero. My real hero is my mother, Dolly Z. She immigrated to America, went from poverty to a higher economic class, and now supports others. Meanwhile, my fictional hero is a boy named Carlitos. He is from the movie Under the Same Moon. He travels from Mexico to America to find his mother. Throughout the film, he is confronted by multiple challenges while gaining multiple allies.

In both stories, I found multiple comparisons in these heroes. But what I found the most intriguing is that they are round characters. They live their lives through the challenges they face and survive without fully winning or losing. Yet they change through those challenges. They gain experience which allows the potential for them to help others. Thus, you see them save the people they love at the end.

Either way, this is the story of two different yet similar heroes. There's a audio recording and a transcript on said recording. Still, I hope you all enjoy the powerpoint, listen to to audio, and read the transcript.

 

Cometa

Over in our Humanities class, we learned about stories and myths. We have gone to multiple FEs, one of them being at the Field Museum, where we learned the myths of central America and Egypt. So, for a project, or more better phrase, and Action Project.

First, I was want to stay is this story is in first person. The main reason being is so that the main character, being the brother of the creator, can be able to see her as all powerful, and reflect his feelings on to the audience. Second, I also want to say that this is the third version of the myth. The first and second version was too long, trying to establish character. Because of this, this project was extremely hard with not coming up with ideas, but rather simplifying it.

Third, I want to say that the creation of the two characters as well as the people stems from the idea of Genesis Adam and Eve, with them being created from a power in the sky, as well as the dirt from the ground. Even though it does have some major changes. Still, I hope you all enjoy.

I have never been the one to tell stories, nor the one to remember, but I suppose it’s for the best. My light will go out anyway, so you all might as well learn. But I can’t be able to tell you one part, one section, one place. I have to tell you the whole thing. I have to go back, back before I was even born.

My guess is we were a comet, and crashed on a planet, thus it’s name Cometa. Though, that’s only through speculation. For a long time, I could not feel anything. Then, as the days went by, I started to gain my sense, and I finally woke up in cool surfaced dirt. As I woke up, I saw a girl, crying in the middle of the ground. Even though I haven’t met her, I knew she and I were from the same place. I tried running towards her, but felt something when on the heated ground. It was like the flames of a sun was fiercely grabbing my hand and holding me tight. I quickly retreated back in the cool dirt, and watched her cry in agony. We looked at each other, both in pain.

Then, like mercy from the sky, the mist of her tears began to cry for her. It healed her wounds quickly, and swiftly cooled the ground, becoming clouds. As it end, she stood up slowly and walked towards me.

After that day, we decided to explore the terrain. But there was nothing but rocks and mountains as grey as her hair. One day, when we were walking by, we saw a comet blazing quick through the sky. Quickly, without hesitation, my sister ran towards our crater and came back some cool dirt. She then dropped it in a near by puddle, and waited for something to happen. Within seconds, a unknown material rose from the puddle, and scrapped the heavens. Using the material as a lasso, she grabbed a hold of the comet. The comet struggled and screamed, but with one mighty tug, he fell down to the ground. Before we ran to the crash site, I saw the used material, broken and torn. I knew it wouldn’t live, so I dug a ditch deeper than the seas and buried the material. 

When I caught up with my sister, the comet that fell was dead. While I saw the comet crack into two pieces, I realized my origin, and I felt like there should be more. I vigorously cut the remains into tiny pieces, and let it sink into the ground.

As time passed, we both saw that the material grew. I saw that it growing in different directs, colors, and uses. Soon, a whole diversity of wonderful plants came to be. The forest was born. As for the people, my sister and I both saw them create things. They would always build, break, or fight and were quite entertaining.

We weren’t the only ones though . Stars and comets began to spy along the heavens. Overtime, I began to know the stars better. They said their lives were boring, doing nothing but float. When they heard about “mortals” on Cometa, they immediately came. For a short time, everything was good.

The only problem was my sister. She didn’t care for the stars, only the mortals. Whenever, she went to see them, they would worship her immensely. She thought the more mortals there were, the better. She would capture a star, kill them, and cut them all to pieces for mortals to grow.

J.N, "Cometa" Own work  Oct 1, 2017 

When all celestial bodies heard, they immediately went back up in the sky. All except one star, whom I knew. He pleaded me to help him stay hidden from my sister. After seconds of thought, I decide the best way to hide would be beneath the planet. We worked on weeks on helping creating tunnels and caverns until they were finally done. As we traveled through the tunnels, I saw that everywhere he went, pieces of him would be left behind.The were a bit small. I ignored it. One day, I couldn’t find him. I searched all around the tunnels and saw his broken essence turn to gem. When I finally found him, he was dying .Too much of him was left behind. Like a flame blown out, his light was gone. His body, glimmering through the dark caves. His body turned to diamond.

I grieved for my friend, became weak. If went back to my sister, she would just be angry at me for keeping a star hidden. She tried look for me, but gave up along time ago. In some ways, I wished that she and I were still alone. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so sad.

Chocolate, and the story, you never knew.

On my spring term in GCE Lab school, I started at studying the history of how food travels throughout the world, and how much manpower it takes for a 99 cent burger to get to your home. We have gone though multiple projects and assignments, as well as multiple field experience. For this class , my class and I had to create a presentation that needed to talk about the history of a specific substance or food. Our course, I had decided to go a bit further, and animate my project in order to relate to myself more.

I had multiple challenges with this project, mainly with the time. When trying to do animation, it would take a large amount of time in order to do so. Sadly, I didn't gain high animation quality. I did however tried to animate the project, and that is what is my succession. While most of my classmates tried to do their project on a slideshow or prezi, I decide to go a step beyond, which I am proud of.

I just a talk about my family, and how they relate to this project. In order to create this project, I had to interview my family in order to gan a better understanding of the food. My family was a bit more related to my food, chocolate, do to their hispanic origins of Colombia, as well as my father being digesting more natural substance of chocolate, the cocoa bean. I just want to say that I am happy about my family's origins, since they had such an interesting history, and is great to explore.

AP Food for Thought 2 from JN on Vimeo. 

 Pucciarelli, Deanna "The History of Chocolate"  ed.ted.com , TED,  March .16. 2017. Web., April 26, 2017

http://ed.ted.com/lessons/the-history-of-chocolate-deanna-pucciarelli

Klein, Christopher "The Sweet History of Chocolate."