There Are Only Beasts

There Are Only Beasts

Poem by Kasey Senatore, based on The Lord of the Flies by William Golding

It is late, and as it is late,

It is dark,

And as it is dark, it is cold.

The sand whispers raspy nothing as the wind glides past-

Maybe through you,

Cause it doesn’t seem to

Hit you,

Or if it does, you don’t feel it.

Twilight claws at the corners of your vision,

But even so, you see things clearer than ever

As though the world were wearing a mask,

And it is gone now, plucked gracefully away.

Many things come into focus all at once.

First: deep crimson blood

Splattered in thick, messy cuts

Being licked away by the waves.

Second: a body lying at the edge of the water,

Bleeding like ink on a page.

And thirdly: nearby, standing stock still,

A group of wild-looking boys holding spears.

They are backlit by a fire in the forest,

And their faces are dark and obscure.

You look back at the body.

The waves are cradling his form now,

Less like a maternal embrace

And more like a mob boss dragging a victim

Away, away, out of sight, out of mind.

Green lights pulse in the water,

Illuminating the body like lightening strikes

Behind soft clouds

And in the unnatural light you realize

-- no, that might be --

Is that you?

Before you can decide,

The water has sucked it away,

Leaving only the blood in its wake.

You look back at the boys,

And something peculiar happens.

A cold breeze passes through you

Like a curtain being drawn.

Your vision clears

And there are no boys.

There are only beasts.

Phone Calls by Amanda Sangalli

The phone is warm against my face, and your static laughter is crackling through the phone. Our lives have merged again through wire signals like tendons through the heart. I smile and tell you that I have taken hold of a new hand, and I am happy. But my heart is still jumping skittish over the space you left inside of me...
Fo r a moment nothing has changed and we're lying next to each other and hope is soft and i'm falling into us again like my old comforter. Time rolls up the conversation like an antique rug and we must say goodbye again. And the chasm cracks farther open, filling my lungs with an ache that means, "Come back please. Let's start from the beginning."
"I miss you"
"I miss you too"
An almost phrase constricts my throat and suddenly i'm choking on my own laughter. I almost heard you say it. I sigh into the dead receiver.
"I love you... I still love you."

Disney World

By Nuriel Rozenberg

A couple days ago, I came back home from a childhood dream of mine. I went to Disney World. The initial shock of being there hit me hard since I've been begging my parents to take me since I could remember. This time, I was lucky enough to be apart of the Orchestra's trip this year.
We performed at Disney Springs and had this amazing workshop. We were fortunate enough to play disney songs including, Beauty and the Beast which was originally sung by Mrs. Potts, and listen our recording in the actual movie. Our orchestra learned valuable skills that I hope will stay with us in the future and make us better musicians. Sure, we got back to the hotel that night at around 12:15am, but it was an experience I would never forget.
Each park we went to felt like a different place. I felt like I was being transported into this magical world where everything from my childhood was there. This one ride that I was on, Mission Space, it had actual G Force to stimulate going into space. As cool as that sounds, I felt my lungs being pushed to the back of my chest leading me to feel like I was in the COPD commercial where the elephant is sitting on people's chests. Epcot was probably the most interesting place I've ever been. We got to meet people from the actual country that they are from who worked in the country that we were "visiting". I got to use some of my French skills too, even though they weren't that great.
My favorite memory from the trip had to be the character dinning. We got to meet characters from Winnie the Pooh in Magic Kingdom. As I was admiring Cinderella's castle from the restaurant, Piglet came over and practically startled me because I wasn't ready. Piglet was a childhood favorite of mine so I ended up tearing up a little from the initial shock that I was meeting my favorite Winnie the Pooh character. Piglet and I hugged for a solid 5 minutes because of me crying.
Overall, this trip was something I will remember for a lifetime. I was given the opportunity to go to a childhood dream of mine with my best friends. Everything made me happy there, even the workers. Although our flight got delayed about 3 hours and I didn't get home until 5am, it was still fun. We all sat at the airport and laughed at practically everything. I'll never forget the amazing memories I had on my first trip to Disney World.

   

Savagery by Thomas Mortillaro

Unknowingly, common men destroy not only themselves, but other men

Should I stand here and let this savagery happen to those without sin?

We cannot see a savage from appearance, but from actions they bestow upon others.

Yes they can be hidden, but who's to say he is a savage among others?

What is my place to say this and thus to him or them?

 Easily cast aside like a blink or a whim

Demolition and chaos lurk at the very surface of our psyche

Whether we recognize this problem at all isn’t so likely

The effects of classroom discussions for teachers and students By: Cameron Riley

Classroom discussions happen often in schools, especially in middle school and high school. Our English class had six recent classroom discussions about different topics that related to the book that we are reading called “The Lord of the Flies”. Topics that were discussed in class ranged from brutal murder, human nature and child psychopaths. The discussions were very impactful personally.

The discussions had me look at the novel from different angles and changed my viewpoint relating to some parts of the book. Other students’ perspectives also taught me parts of the book that I hadn’t considered until these classroom discussions.

Studies show that these discussions have very positive effects for many students who needed help understanding certain topics in their classes. A study taken by The Institute of Education Sciences presented evidence saying that classes that held classroom discussions often contained students that increased their influence into these discussions and increased their understanding of certain texts and text comprehension. Studies were taken on younger children and these results proved very effective to their learning abilities and improved their grades in their classes where the discussions took place.

Classroom discussions are very effective for teachers as well as students. An article written by Maryellen Weimer who is an advocate for positive and more effective teaching methods talked about a few positives that teachers gain from student led discussions in the classroom. The teacher doesn’t just have to feed lessons into the students and can instead give the students freedom to talk to each other and help each other understand certain topics and even debate their feelings and ideas. This can help the teacher know how to teach the students and what to teach them in the future. And these student led discussions can help improve interest in the class which every teacher strives for from their students. Overall, classroom discussions like the ones that were held over the past two weeks in our English class are very positive for students and teachers.

A Poem by Lomaani Ranasinghe

I'm not a huge fan of writing poetry, but when it was my turn to write a blog post I decided to stray away from my comfort zone and write a poem. This morning, the band and orchestra left for the yearly Disney trip. While they were gone, it made me reflect on music and how large a role it plays in my daily life. So, while 99.9% of my friends are in Disney marching on main street, enjoy this poem I wrote about my love for music.

He holds no face, yet is most beautiful

He holds no heart, yet causes ours to pound

Amidst black keys, never more colorful

Through times of bliss, sorrow, or ire- he’s sound

The strum of a guitar on a dull day

Leaves youth dancing forever through the night

Banging of keys, keeping troubles away

Like tradition, enjoyed by candlelight

His cries fill the otherwise lifeless space

When I am crushed, he is what completes me

In times of need, he is my hiding place

Without him I’m lost, can you hear my plea?

For he’s not existing, but lives at heart

And through our lifetime we could never part

Reading a Good Book | by Samantha Patino

Flipping through the pages

They are sharp-edged and crisp

Every word pressed into the paper with black ink

The smell wafting up fills you with calmness

As you are thrown into the magnificent story  

The world around you blurs

And all of a sudden you are

Fighting monsters, solving mysteries, and throwing magic spells

You are seated alongside the characters

Floating through their world

Page after page

Visiting magical lands

While laying sprawled across your room

Hearing the character’s voices

Watching them dance through your mind

And sometimes watching them fall to the ground

Feeling the pain that they experience

Expressing your happiness as they do

Being surprised at the change of events

Having tears roll down your face

As you grieve for the characters who have died

Closing the cover page

Resting the book on the shelf

Whispering “Goodbye” to your new found friends

And that

Is how you know

You are reading a good book

Weeknights with Jimmy - Mr. Johnson

An excerpt from a piece that will be published in the 2016-17 Trillium Magazine coming out this Fall:

Family

Money in my family didn’t make its first appearance in the wake of Dad’s Hollywood success; wealth and affluence went back for several generations of the Johnson clan. While my mom’s side made out well enough financially, my dad’s side was made up of home grown patriarchal elites who used their tremendous wealth acquired through entrepreneurship, finance and business to live comfortable, exorbitant lifestyles and bring up children who would never want for anything. And where the men were entitled to their undeserved cut the women married into the families of other members of the American elite, the vicious entitled fortunate sons met at Ivy League schools, not dissimilar from their own brothers. The unions forged between the Johnsons and other upper class families through the bonds of matrimony served to keep the money flowing and the production of the next generation of needy, damaged children moving along. I always believed the bloodline had connections to some iteration of European royalty, the kind consisting only as a figurehead to mask the truly important people. We were old money that only my dad was able to translate into new money via the Jimmy the Mick movies.

But where my entire family on my dad’s side loved the decadence and excess of L.A., it was these exact qualities about the city that drove dad away, across the whole country to a quiet New England town. Despite the expansive continent between them, my dad still made it a point to fly us all out once a year around the holidays to visit, or at least this was the case until his dad passed and he cut off all ties with his brothers and sisters over disagreements over his funeral and the handling of his body. I was around Nathan’s age when we made the trip one year. We were greeted at the LAX terminal by Grandpa’s limo driver, Anju. The whole drive over to his 3 story, 80 acre, in ground pool, and movie complex containing mega mansion, I was playing the green Gameboy Color my parents had gotten me that year for Christmas along with “Pokemon Yellow Version.”

My mom was intent on my putting it away the moment we got to grandpa’s house, claiming my little cousins would be there and were it to get lost or broken she wouldn’t be getting me a new one. Looking back though I think the real reason she was so adamant I put it in my travel bag was so that I wouldn’t find an empty room in the house and play it the whole time we were there, only emerging for fresh batteries, a Capri-Sun and a cup full of mini Oreos. At the mention of my cousins a sickness permeated throughout my concave chest and spindly arms and legs. The game became tainted as each step my Pokemon trainer took through the tall grass at risk of getting attacked by wild Pokemon felt the same way each rotation of limo tires did in bringing us both closer to unavoidable trouble, the only difference was that I had no backup while the little character in my game did.

Even though I was technically 3 years older than Grant, the next oldest cousin, they exploited my smallness and outsider status for their wicked games. Each year I arrived at grandpa’s doorstep experiencing a tidal wave of dread and anxiety, mind set on the horrible, unexpectedly expected prank my cousins would pull on me that year. For how big grandpa’s house was it wasn’t big enough to hide from the unprovoked wrath of those children. I couldn’t even stay by my mom’s side as the moment we got there the kids were expelled from the immediate vicinity of the outside patio for the purpose of “letting the adults talk.” The reality behind our excommunication from the patio was so that our parents could construct fictionalized versions of us and all of our accomplishments, each couple trying to outdo the other in order to make themselves seem like the best parents, having been able to create such a wonderful child. In the best interest of these fabrications, it wouldn’t do well to have one of us waddle on by to the bathroom right through the glass doors behind the patio, clutching the bulky seat of a shit filled bathing suit or laughing so hard Coke spilled from our noses.

The whole time while my dad sat out on that patio with his family, doing his best to participate in the fibbing going on between his brothers and sisters, grandpa would just sit there in his cushioned deck chair smoking Parliament lights. By the way he’d take deep drag after deep drag, taking care to watch each exhalation of smoke descend in tendrils up into the California sky, it seemed like he wasn’t even there. The little acknowledgement anybody at that table paid him made it hard for me to discern whether he had gone mute, lost a lot of himself through his old age or if he was just waiting for somebody to look him in the eye and address him, Simon Johnson, the one who had, for the most part, paid for the cars, education, DUI and possession fines and bail outs, marriages and divorce proceedings, studio apartments and houses. Mom chalked it up to loneliness after his wife died. Dad made no mention of it. So there he’d sit for the last 5 years of his life, face expressionless, eyes hiding behind thick lensed Ray Bans smoking cigarettes and wearing ash stained Lakers T-shirts that held in his gut and displayed his enthusiasm (or lack of something better to do) for a franchise he’d been a season ticket holder for for well over a decade, driving down from the hills to the Staples Center alone, a solitary activity practiced amid the backdrop of thousands of roaring fans. Like many people in my family I don’t think I ever loved him.

Sophia Oelkers- Jack's Perspective In the Lord of the Flies

Crouched down in the dense trees of the jungle with a spear clenched in my hand sent shocks of pure adrenaline through my body. It was like a drug pumping into my veins, making me crave the kill. The humidity that consumed the atmosphere made beads of sweat trickle down my forehead and sting my fierce, hungry eyes. When I swiped the sweat away, the crimson red face paint smudged onto my animalistic hands. I couldn't focus on that though. All I could think about was the sow that would soon be dripping blood after plunging my spear through it’s filthy body. The sound of my deadly weapon tearing into her flesh would be music to my ears. I scoped every aspect of the lively jungle and each sound jerked my body, pushing me farther into attack mode. I chuckled under my breath at the mockery of boys behind me on the beach.This would be my moment to prove them wrong. To finally show Ralph that I am the real leader on this island. Fools, I spitted through my clenched jaw. Maintaining my stealth, I glided behind a tree like a sleek panther. “Snort snort snort!!”, the swine was close now. Mouth watering and heart pounding, I plummeted on top of my prey. I instantaneously slit her neck after her blood curdling squeal for help. As her hot blood spilled out onto my hands, an eerie silence filled the island. I was born to murder.

What Does It Mean? By Zoe Merold

What does it mean,

For someone to be depressed?

Does there have to be tears streaming down their face,

Tears that are always concealed from view?

In the shower,

In their bed,

In the bathroom stalls of their school?

Does there have to be cries that are never heard,

Cries that beg for it all to stop and can no longer be held back?

Cries of suffering,

Of exhaustion,

Of surrender to the burdens that are always dragging them down?

Do they have to be stooped over,

Their head always drooping and their back always bent?

Trying to hide,

To go unseen,

To be ignored by and ignore everything that passes them by?

Do their eyes have to be vacant,

On the rare occasion that they look up to meet yours?

To be unfocused,

Emotionless,

Void of anything that could mean they are still there with you?

Do they have to be in great pain,

Pain that can never be remedied by anyone?

Excruciating,

Dilapidating,

Relentless pain that is always there within them?

Do they have to have battle scars,

Drawn out on their canvas of what once was smooth skin?

Sickening,

Revolting,

Permanent scars that will always tell the story of their endless war?

What does it mean,

For someone to be depressed?

What does it mean,

To you,

And to those around you?

Scientific Debates By Mrs. Kopp

During the last unit, students were required to choose groups and participate in a debate on a scientific topic.  This was prompted by our reading of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and the question of whether or not scientific advancement is always worth the risk that comes along with it. 

In order to perform well in this debate, students had to work together, conduct a good amount of research, and delve into a topic that they might otherwise be completely unfamiliar with.  Topics included GMOs, genetically modified embryos, animal testing, and the possibility of selling organs.  In addition to using research and collaboration skills, students were also able to flex their public speaking muscles in this verbal battle.  

When students were at the debate podiums, they were allowed to receive help from their teammates, but they could not speak to one another.  Many teams used the Google Doc chat feature to feed facts, direction, and encouragement to their teammates. 

In the end, every single team did a fantastic job!  They were well spoken, well researched, and determined to win! Plus, they looked very professional.  This is one of those assignments that takes so much work, but the benefits are amazing! I'm so proud of these kids! 

Erin Go Bragh

As a very Irish girl, I love celebrating St.Patrick's Day! My blog post happened to fall on the exact day of this wonderful holiday, and so I have decided to make a list of St.Patrick's Day festivities that I enjoy partaking in every March 17th.

1. "Erin Go Bragh"
   This Irish saying translates to "Ireland Forever", and it always puts a smile on my face. I love the the strong meaning behind it and the homage it pays to the Irish background. It is also a cool bonus that my own name, Erin, means Ireland.

2. Cornbeef and Cabbage
    I always look forward to a delicious dinner cooked by my dad, who I get my Irish heritage from. Corn beef and cabbage never disappoints!    

3. Green
 It is nice to see everyone come together and wear green, whether they are showing off their Irish background or just participating for fun. The green represents Ireland (green is in the flag) and leprechauns.

4. Sodabread

  Another delicious Irish recipe I look forward to.  This unique recipe is baked to perfection and melts in your mouth.

5. Shamrock

Shamrock shakes are amazing mint ice cream desserts that you can only enjoy this time of year. A shamrock also represents good luck, something I could always use.

6. Parades

I love seeing everyone celebrating together and enjoying their own culture. It makes me think of where my family came from and how lucky I am to be apart of the Irish community.

Erin Lyden

'Killing the Rising Sun': A Book Review by Pat McGurrin

Background

Bill O'Reilly usually gets a bad rep on television by many, usually for his anger and sometimes critical political views. However, what most people don't know, is that O'Reilly has an expansive historical knowledge. He has written over 10 books regarding American history, one of which I had the pleasure to read.

I'm half Japanese, and I have always been interested in both sides of the WWII conflict. So, I thought it was only appropriate for me to read one of his bestsellers; Killing the Rising Sun: How America Vanquished World War II Japan.

Overview

Killing the Rising Sun takes readers on a journey of what it was like fighting Japan in WWII from both a soldier's perspective and a political perspective. Unlike any opponent before, Imperial Japan followed the samurai code of  'Bushido', which meant that the nation would refuse to surrender; as doing so would be dishonorable to their god/emperor, Hirohito. The Japanese forces were also particularly brutal, since they did not have survival as their top priority-only kill. 

The Japanese, being an unusual opponent, helps explain and drive the book's tension. While history has already happened, O'Reilly makes it seem new and exciting, and you are sure to learn more than ever before. In history class, most of us have only been taught about the Nazi party in WWII, but we rarely talk about the brutality of the Japanese. Not only does the book explain the mindset of Japan during the war, but it also helps shape why society in Japan is the way it is now. 

Read It!

This is one of the best books that I have ever read, and I'd recommend it to anyone interested in history and politics. If you're not necessarily interested in this title, O'Reilly has written many other books discussing American history and political figures. 

The History of Pencils by Dylan Mazzella

The History Of Pencils

     The first writing utensil that remotely resembled the pencil was the stylus, a utensil made of graphite, used in ancient Rome. Writers, or scribes as they were referred to, would use styluses to imprint readable words on papyrus, an early form of paper, without ripping the papyrus. Graphite came into abundant use following the discovery of a graphite deposit in England in 1564. It became very clear that graphite was too brittle to be used alone, and the idea was presented that graphite should be inserted in hollow wood, which lead to our modern day pencil. 

     The first time pencils were mass produced was in Nuremberg, Germany, in 1662. Sticks of graphite were glued into hollow wood cases assembled from two pieces of wood. Graphite was only available in England, but by the late 1700s, pencils were produced with cores made by mixing graphite, sulfur and other mixing agents. These pencils were produced in Germany, but were seen as inferior to the English pencils being produced. Soon after, a true pencil hero came along by the name of Nicolas Jacques Conté. 

     In 1795, pencil production changed enormously. French chemist Nicolas Jacques Conté received patent for the modern pencil production process. He set out to produce a new working lead, to replace the very expensive and hard to purify, at the time, graphite. To produce these modern pencils, he would mix powdered graphite and clay, and form sticks with them. Afterwards, he would harden these sticks in a furnace. Conté was the first to use powdered graphite for pencil production, and is one of the main names associated with modern day pencils. 

   You must be wondering, "how were pencils being sharpened at this time?" To answer that question, pencils at the time were sharpened with small knives and maybe even sand paper. In the year 1828, a French mathematician by the name of Bernard Lassimonne patented the first modern pencil sharpener. The sharpener quickly proved inefficient, so it did not gain a whole lot of popularity. Soon after, Thierry des Estivaux patented the "prism sharpener," which is the design seen in most hand held sharpeners that we use today. Others improved upon his sharpener, making it easier to use, and electric sharpeners came into use in the 1940s. Since then, there have not been many changes in pencil sharpeners. 

    

March Madness

Its March! The time of year where millions of people rush to fill out their tournament brackets for a shot at the mere impossible chance of making the perfect selections. Its a time where college teams from across the country dig deep as they prepare for potential tournament runs. With Selection Sunday behind us the field has already been set. For the teams that didn't make the cut its farewell but for those in, the party's just getting started. The 64 teams that solidified their spot with hard work and success in the regular season now hope to bring the Wooden NCAA National Championship trophy back to their respected school, to be called national champs until next March. However anything can happen and the tournament shows no mercy to those unprepared. Upsets rain in like monsoons and the pressure sets in on teams expected to excel. Sports fans like to say, "anything can happen in March" and over the past few years that has held true. In last years tournament, Syracuse was predicted by many not to make it in, but a surprising decision by the tournament committee had them dancing with the other schools. Even after defying odds, people still doubted their chances of a tournament run and for those who dont know how it plays out, Syracuse went on to win four straight and be the first ten seed ever to make the final four. Along the way they made fourth quarter comeback wins against top ranked Gonzaga and number one seeded Virgina before being beat by North Carolina in the semifinals. They represent what college basketball is all about and their Cinderella story is one of many to come in the future. Aside from the upsets, the tournament also entitles close games and some of the greatest moments in sports history. Endless amounts of late game pushes and buzzer beaters have heartbroken thousands of fans and brought nothing but jubilation to others. Its something about the setting that elevates the level of play and the star players always rise up to the occasion. Looking at it deeper, march madness is more than just a tournament, It represents a hope to move on and it displays how hard-work really does pay off. Players love March because its a time to show what their made of and fans, like myself, love it just as much.

Cortland Charming | By Kristine Le

I'll be honest and say that poetry isn't really my thing but I was thinking why not give it a try. So, I sat down and wrote this up. Enjoy :)

Your hazel eyes are all so welcoming

However, your smile pulls at my heart

The laughter from you is so inviting

Why must we be forever apart

Those wide open arms are my safe haven

All I wish is for them to consume me

If only you lived here in this nation

Not in the pages of my memory

Hopes, dreams, and wishes wonder in my head

Thoughts of us talking, smiling, laughing

My dreams stay dreams because your blood had shed

And now I am stuck forever crying

Stuck in my mind are the pictures of death

It was too soon for your final breath