Look! Wurds u can lern if u reed furthur!

Gall

1.	impudence; effrontery.

2.	bile, esp. that of an animal.

3.	something bitter or severe.

4.	bitterness of spirit; rancor.

Emigrant
Em"i*grant\, n. One who emigrates, or quits one country or region to settle in another. Syn: Emigrant, Immigrant. Emigrant and emigration have reference to the country from which the migration is made; the correlative words immigrant and immigration have reference to the country into which the migration is made, the former marking the going out from a country, the latter the coming into it.

Our Own Ghosts

Reading and reflecting upon “No Name Woman” prompted me to think about my own family's ghosts, one of which is my paternal grandmother, who haunts me in particular. She is rarely spoken of, and if she is, she's usually remembered graciously as the warm, lamb-like woman that raised my two uncles and my aunt. When she was thirty she gave birth to my father, and from that day forth became a psychosis-ridden shadow of her former self, becoming sicker and sicker until she was institutionalized until the time of her death at around age 55. At one point in time, when my father was an infant, she was kept tethered to the bed so that she would not wander off and harm herself or anyone else. I was able to glean snippets of information here and there, but no one in my family will talk at length about my Grandmother Ruth, or of the true nature of her illnesses. I am often told that I bear a striking resemblance to her though, and that some of my mannerisms are much like hers.

I really do not have cultural differences to reconcile as does the author of the story. Her heritage and familial traditions make her own story difficult and hard to truly understand as a Western thinker. The message that her mother imparts is fairly straightforward, though the details are horrifying and difficult to digest. As children, we all have been told cautionary stories by our caretakers at one point or another, sometimes about our own family members or family friends in order to warn us of the dire consequences of our careless actions. One does have to consider, what if my grandmother had fallen ill at an earlier time when my family still lived in Ireland? Would my family's view of my Grandmother and her illness have changed? In comparison, my family's heritage and the author's are too different. My own family's near silence is not as much of a distant cultural issue. There are gender issues, my grandmother being the matriarch that could no longer be a mother or a wife, but they are subdued in the face of those present in Kingston's story. However, I've still been cautioned by family members to be careful under huge amounts of pressure, as if something was lurking under the surface and could rupture and send me to the hospital in a state much like my Grandmother's.

No Name Woman

Vocabulary Assessment
1. bund- an embackment or an embacked quay, and comes from the Urdu word band, meaning and embankment, levee or dam. "Bund" is pronounced to rhyme with "fund." The term was brought to India by either the Mughals or possibly by the Baghdadi Jews in the early 16th century.

2. loom- a machine or device for weaving thread or yarn into textiles. Looms can range from very small hand-held frames, to large free-standing hand looms, to huge automatic mechanical devices. A loom can also refer to an electrical cable assembly or harness such as a wiring loom.

3. crooked- 1.not straight; bending; curved: a crooked path. -askew; awry: The picture onthe wall seems to be crooked. -deformed: a man with a crooked back. -not straightforward; dishonest. -bent and often raised or moved to one side, as a finger or neck. (of a coin)polygonal: a crooked sixpence.

4. subtle- so slight as to be difficult to detect or describe; elusive. -Characterized by skill or ingenuity; clever.

5. depilatory- a cosmetic preparation used to remove the hair from the skin on the human body.

6. inexorable- capable of being moved by entreaty; pitiful; tender.

No Name Edjucation is more like it...

Here are some that may have boggled your noggins:


1: "The";

1.	(used, esp. before a noun, with a specifying or particularizing effect, as opposed to the indefinite or generalizing force of the indefinite article a or an): the book you gave me; Come into the house.

2.	(used to mark a proper noun, natural phenomenon, ship, building, time, point of the compass, branch of endeavor, or field of study as something well-known or unique): the sun; the Alps; the Queen Elizabeth; the past; the West.

3.	(used with or as part of a title): the Duke of Wellington; the Reverend John Smith.

2: "Prodigal";

1.	wastefully or recklessly extravagant: prodigal expenditure.

2.	giving or yielding profusely; lavish (usually fol. by of or with): prodigal of smiles; prodigal with money.

3.	lavishly abundant; profuse: nature's prodigal resources.

3: "Mien";

1. Bearing or manner, especially as it reveals an inner state of mind: "He was a Vietnam veteran with a haunted mien" (James Traub).
2. An appearance or aspect.

4: "Cuckold";

				a man whose wife committed adultery
verb
1.				be sexually unfaithful to one's partner in marriage; "She cheats on her husband"; "Might her husband be wandering?" [syn: cheat on]

5: "Inexorable";

1. unyielding; unalterable: inexorable truth; inexorable justice.

2.	not to be persuaded, moved, or affected by prayers or entreaties: an inexorable creditor.

6: "Agoraphobia";
1. an abnormal fear of being in crowds, public places, or open areas, sometimes accompanied by anxiety attacks.

Analytical Response to "No Name Woman"

"You must not tell anyone," my mother said, "what I am about to tell you. In China your father had a sister who killed herself. She jumped into the family well. We say that your father has all brothers because it is as if she had never been born."
The story starts out screaming silence and restriction. Kingston's family did not find that the "aunt's" death was enough punishment for her, so they erased her memory permanently. According to Chinese tradition, it is worse to be forgotten than to simply be dead. This story is full of themes, motifs and symbols.
One major theme of this work is the role of Chinese women in their society. Ironically, the male influence is conspicuously absent throughout the story, except as the imagined rapist responsible for the unnamed aunt's shame and subsequent death.
A motif that I found particularly interesting was the ghost motif. According to Kingston, ghosts are contradictory - good and bad, family and foe. Ghosts, although a motif, are ever-changing throughout the story. Warriors, on the other hand, stood for struggle. The irony in the first sentence of this story is that Kingston was told that she must never tell anyone, yet in writing it, she has told everyone. Kingston fought back against the silence that was restricting her, just as the de-feminizing of the women after marriage by cutting their hair restricted them, just as binding the feet of young female children restricted them.

Talking Back (you better not!)

In this short excerpt Of Bell Hooks "talking Back" She painted a clear picture of what NOT to do as a child in the presents of their elders. Hooks expressed the fact that she would sit in a setting where the adults were talking and how it burned her up on the inside to have to just sit and listen " to be seen and not heard". She would often find herself in pain because she just couldn't keep her mouth shut or thoughts to herself, I applaud her for that because she didn't let punishment stop her from being determined to speak her mind. Despite Hooks being in what she felt like was an unfair position she discovered the beauty of adult conversation and being able to voice ones opinion on any subject at any time and that made her feel "empowered". Hooks explained that" if it weren't for the defiants she had toward her parents and other adults she would not have emerged the independent thinker and writer" she is to date.
Knowing the history of my parents and granddparents Hooks reafirmed everything they ever told me and why I was not only told but have respect for the term, "children are only to be seen and not heard". "Talking Back leads to pain and punishments one will never forget".

Talking About "Talking Back"

In “Talking Back”, Bell Hooks expresses a deep envy of her superiors and their freedom to say what they wish by describing her childhood as one where she was raised “to be seen and not heard”; that is, to not speak until spoken to, never voice her opinion and never question what she had been told by her mother. Listening to her describe the world as restricting and stifling her opinion, or “back talk”, as she puts it, gives you a very real feel of oppression. Her image of the world is one of restraint, where she’s not allowed to say anything that others may view as controversial or weird, for fear of being labeled insane, as she tells of how she told her mother that she hoped that she (Hooks) would die first, because she couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. Her mother instantly shoots this down, judging such thoughts as madness.

These restraints only act as an encouragement for Hooks to speak out more. The less she’s allowed to speak, the more she wants to, which she’s finally able to achieve in adulthood through her writing. Sadly, however, she never truly views herself as a writer. Her childhood experiences engrained her with a sense of fear of being stifled and punished for saying something inappropriate, to the point that she reacts to her success as though it never happened at all.

Analytical Response to "Talking Back"

In this excerpt from “Talking Back”, hooks examines oppression of women both in terms of speech and thought stemming from a very young age. She explores this on a personal level, recounting events beginning in childhood and on through adult years. The psychological effects of being stifled were so strong that they even affected her deeply after becoming an established writer.

The title of the piece “Talking Back” works well as she speaks of what she overcame both internally and externally as a young black woman to make herself heard. The phrase “talking back” she explains, “meant speaking as an equal to an authority figure.” The connotations are also to reply belligerently or insolently. Hooks uses this term and transforms it into a term that breaks the accepted norm. It is being heard when one is expected to have no voice, or to conform. She also uses the term “right speech”, which is what is expected of you as a “good woman”. “Right speech” is dictated by the constraints of society and can also be a tool of oppression or suppression, which hooks also explores in this excerpt.

Gender and racial issues are still very relevant today, so the ideas in this piece are important to consider. Hooks brought these issues into the spotlight on a very personal level, making it easier to relate to and easier to understand.

Yakity Yak, don't talk back

This short look into the life of Bell Hooks let's us see just how life of black women was in the 1950's. They could not be very outspoken, or speak very much at all when in the presence of men or important people. Now a-days, they can pretty much say anything they want, when ever they want. African-American women have so many rights today, that they don't know what to do with them all. This simply shows how much we have progressed, as a country, through out these few short years. Most people take these rights for granted in today's society, but the people that were born in Bell Hooks' time, definitely are not taking them for granted.

Vocabulary Discussion of "Talking Back"

-WASP: White Anglo-Saxon Protestant
Denotative Meaning: sociological and cultural ethnonym that originated in the United States.
Connotative Meaning: the same as the denotative meaning, except more specific. bell hooks means "white Anglo-Saxon Protestant women."
Origins: The term originated in reference to White Americans of Anglo-Saxon descent, who were Protestant in religious affiliation. However, the term does not have a precise definition, and can be used to describe greatly differing groups. It initially applied to people with histories in the upper class Northeastern establishment, who were alleged to form a powerful elite. Working class whites in the U.S. are generally not referred to as "WASPs", even if they are Protestants of Anglo-Saxon descent. The word white is redundant, since Anglo-Saxons — whether in the strict or popular sense of the term — are always white.
Meaning/Association: Currently, the definition of WASP has been expanded to mean anyone who is white and Christian. Personally, I see it as another racial slur that needs to be removed from the English language.

-Soliloquy:
Denotative Meaning: an utterance or discourse by a person who is talking to himself or herself or is disregardful of or oblivious to any hearers present.
Connotative Meaning: speech that was disregarded by men (the powerful).
Origins: 1595–1605; < LL sōliloquium a talking to oneself, soliloquy, equiv. to sōli- SOLI-1 + loqu(ī) to speak + -ium -IUM.
Meaning/Association: In the context that the word was written, soliloquy represents the forced silence of not only children but of women. The mothers that enforced the same sexist silence on their children were only doing what they had been brought up to do, almost as if they were punishing their children for what was done to them.

-Lo:
Denotative Meaning: look! see!
Connotative Meaning: When used in the sentence, I think it means the obvious neccessity to break the author's spirit.
Origins: bef. 900; ME; conflation of lo exclamation of surprise, grief, or joy, O! (OE lā; see LA2) and lo, shortened form of loke (OE lōca), impv. of loken to LOOK.
Meaning/Association: In the context "...neccessity LO of breaking my spirit," it would literally mean "the neccessity, see! of breaking my spirit." It is almost a question, as if the parents were saying "Don't you see how important it is to break your spirit?"

-Paucity:
Denotative Meaning: smallness of quantity; scarcity; scantiness.
Connotative Meaning: the scarce amount of feminist writing by black women.
Origins: 1375–1425; late ME paucite < L paucitās fewness, deriv. of paucus few; see -ITY.
Meaning/Association: In the context, the author is disgusted with how black women have been silenced in the feminist movement.

What would you do for a Klondike Bar?

Is the Hokey Pokey really what it's all about?

But really. Learning to Read and Write was written in the 1800s. Do you think a story like that would be viewed differently were it written more recently?

A question for you.

After teaching Freddy the alphabet, do you think his owners should have just let him learn to read and just kept it a secret from the rest of society?

A Question

I'm sure that we have all heard the phrase, "Ignorance is bliss." Do you feel that there are times when it is better not to know?

My question is. Despite his accomplished learning to read and write, besides/other than being a slave, why did Frederick Douglass express the desire to end his life?

Question for "Learning to Read and Write"

Do you think that people who have to work for their education value it more, or is it a coincidence that Douglass sought so fervently to learn? Do we, as Americans, take education for granted? Do you think Douglass was torn between loving and hating education? How do you think Douglass represented Christianity in this story?
*Sorry guys. I couldn't settle on one question!*

Working with "Workers"

Reading “Workers”, I couldn’t help but feel a certain identification with the writer and myself. He lived a relatively privileged life, with opportunities and decisions regularly available to him; I myself having some of those freedoms, although not to the same extent. He goes into great detail about feeling different from the menial worker, the “day-laborer”, mainly as he cannot identify with them, describing them as “disadvantaged.” I share this characteristic, not ever feeling that working a menial job necessary for day-to-day living.

This isn’t to say I haven’t worked, as I would term, “crap jobs.” I worked at a gas station for four years of my life, working my way from third shift cashier to store manager in my first two. I’ve also worked as a “phone person” at a local take-out restaurant, a cashier at an arcade in the mall and a short-lived auto maintenance mechanic. Not once in any of these jobs did I feel that they were permanent careers, as I simply viewed them as a way to pay my expenses as I decided what I wanted to do with my life.

The story itself was very intriguing, as it gives the impression of a man who would be viewed as aristocratic by some. A steady theme throughout the story is that he never felt that he was on the same level as those around him, as he viewed them as disadvantaged or trapped within the confines of their own jobs. He seemed almost envious of them, however, because he found their way of life very simplistic and he felt he would never know that kind of simplicity.

Personal Resonse/Reflection Inspiried By "Workers"

Upon reading “Workers”, I am reminded of the time that I myself did hard labor on a construction site, working in conjunction with the others that were hired on and paid next to nothing, to roof a house under the sweltering Memphis sun in the middle of summer. We worked as a coherent whole, volunteers and also hired immigrant workers, to see this job to completion. I felt a scene of oneness, togetherness with these people that would carry with me in my memory. Of course, this is a different scenario but one of the reasons that I volunteered to take on this hard labor was to show my father that I also knew what real work was like. He is a carpenter and has been for all of his life. At this time I was a young girl in high school, enrapt in my own sense of dandyism. I was obsessed with enriching my own intellect and manner, devouring books, studying languages, and also in my own sense of fashion; a counter culture elegance spurred by my disdain for popular culture and the fashion of that time. In the end of that summer's undertaking, we completed our task and I emerged a little hardened and with a new sense of accomplishment and pride.

Just last year, destitute and desperate for a job, I was hired at dry cleaner's. I was the only Caucasian girl and worked with my boss and his family, all immigrants from Mexico. The were some of the hardest workers that I would ever meet, and always efficient and kind. We made little money, but worked as a unit to ensure daily that all was finished. They always called me “German Girl” because they thought that I had an accent and wouldn't accept the fact that my own family were not immigrants as well. So, I didn't argue and worked with them, now a German (or sometimes Russian) immigrant myself. It was extremely humbling to work with this family. Everyone worked, the mother, the children, sometimes 12 hours a day or more.

While looking up the words “los pobres” that were used by Richard Rodriguez in this selection, I came across the Spanish proverb “La esperanza es el pan de los pobres.” In English this translates to, “Hope is the poor man's bread.” This is such a simple and poignant statement, and it seems as if the author felt this as he labored with the Mexican workers that all arrived and departed together on that truck. Their silence stayed with them as if he could feel that very proverb as he watched them daily. In my own life I have also experienced this under my own circumstances, though a middle class American citizen, having met and labored with immigrant workers and “los pobres”. This allowed me to look upon them with new eyes, and to more fully recognize their plight in a much more conscientious fashion.

I enjoyed this passage by R. Rodriguez. His experiences made him stronger mentally and physically. Just like him I sometimes Don't listen to my parents suggestions and it leads to an unnecessary struggle. In that struggle an "I told you so" enters into the equation; nevertheless a great lesson is the end result. I found that Rodriguez had self-esteem issues. If he hadn't taken on the job at the construction sight he wouldn't have discovered and worked on the problems within. I relate to him, not in the work he did,but in the self-esteem issues he had. If it weren't for my parents teaching me to be proud of who I am, every time someone speaks about how thin I am would devastate me. Rodriguez did a wonderful job of relating to the issues of the youth today and that includes me as well.

Critical Spinoff of "Workers"

I already know that my response to this story is going to generate friction. Fortunately, we are all mature adults that are able to agree to disagree! In my opinion, Richard Rodriguez is approving of illegal immigration to the United States. Many Mexican immigrants came to America illegally, so they don't have the right to ask for the same wages that tax paying Americans receive. Unfortunately, many illegal immigrants continue to work for the low wages; consequently, American employers tend to employ illegal immigrants. Employers have realized that they can hire three illegal immigrants for the price of one legal American citizen. When 4.6% of legal American citizens are unemployed, there is only one way to really solve the problem. The government should be tougher on employers who choose to employ illegal immigrants, and tougher on people who come to America illegally. Even if an illegal immigrant has a child in the United States, they should not be allowed to stay in the United States. The child should be given the choice at the age of eighteen whether or not to become a citizen of the United States, but until then should have to stay with his parents - wherever they are legal citizens!

Her favored mount is... a hog?

I have always liked pigs. “Smarter than dogs,” they say. If allowed to roam and wallow, as sweet as pie. They also have teeth like a pulverizing mortar and pestle, as I would learn while on my way to procuring one of the highest and most honorable titles a kid could receive at Ashton Farms Summer Day Camp, "Pig Riding Champion". It would end up being an experience that I would never forget, or as far as my family was concerned, live down.

It was “summer games” day at Aston Farms, and of course as a rowdy tomboy, I was right in the middle of everything. I had grown very fond of all of the different animals there, and when they announced the pig riding competition I was in the very front row, watching with glee. The boys were all trying to mount the pigs as if they were horses, and then attempting to ride them for as long as they could before slipping to the ground covered in mud in most cases. It was entirely too much fun to just watch. I hopped the fence, ready to go down in hog equestrian history. I quickly jumped on the nearest pig as it was eating and locked my legs around it. It shot off like a bullet, squealing in agitation. I held on as it dashed around in circles, ran headlong into a fence, and then attempted to rub me off against a tree. I held fast, determined to stay on, but was tossed over the pig's head as it came to a sudden stop directly in front of the food bowls. I took a nose-dive into the mud pit, my leg landing directly into the pigs' dish. One of them clamped down onto my leg and I screamed in pain. The camp councilors scrambled over the fence, grabbing me under the arms to help me stand, and were surprised to see me laughing hysterically. "Winner!” one of them yelled as he lifted my arm in the air. I can't remember what I actually won other than bragging rights and a brutal ring-shaped bruise from the pig's teeth. Apparently I was the first girl to win in the 4 years that it had held! Intoxicated by victory, I tried the chicken catching contest, but promptly gave up when I saw the size of the rooster, or more specifically the size of the rooster's burrs. I would settle instead for a nice, scalding, well-deserved shower.

At some time during the following year, the VHS that someone had taken of the entire event would miraculously disappear, but only after I noticed that my father wanted to show it to absolutely anyone that would sit still for long enough. Even without the VHS, my father would retell the story for many years to come, especially as an icebreaker to any male friend that showed even the slightest interest in me. As I have gotten older, I have begun telling the story myself, and now I really wish that I had that VHS that vanished into the void so many years ago.

My First Real Memory

All my life, I’ve had what I normally describe as a brain tumor. It’s a short way to explain what I really have, which is an arachnoid cyst. See the difference? Brain tumor. Simple. Widely known. Arachnoid cyst. What? What is that? Please, tell us more. Well, that’s what this story is about, so here you go.

One of my earliest memories is of riding in my Dad’s burgundy Honda Civic, trying not to scream and focus on something else. I was two years old. My father, who is probably panicking, is driving as fast as he can without placing us both in danger. We ride though every stop sign on the way to the hospital, speeding around anyone not going at least 10 miles over the speed limit. I can’t remember if we ran through stop lights, but I doubt we did because that’s just asking for a car collision. I’m surprised we never got pulled by a police officer, as many driving laws we broke that day.

We finally arrive at the hospital, my father terrified that we’re out of time, my headache getting worse by the minute, to discover that we still have to wait for the neurosurgeon to prepare for surgery. I’m taken to a room and given a shot to knock me out. At this point the pain is so unbearable I can’t stop fighting. It takes three nurses and a doctor to restrain me so the shot can be given properly. I’m told to watch Sesame Street and count to 100, as the drug given to me is so strong I’m already sedated enough to not feel anything. I get as far as 16 before I lose consciousness.

16 hours worth of surgery later, I wake up completely normal; plus a few stitches and a vein I wasn’t born with connected to the inside of my skull. I spend the next few weeks in and out of consciousness, mostly from the physical exhaustion of having my brain push against the inside of my skull for two hours. Or it could be from the constant Sesame Street being shown on the hospital network. I may never know for certain.