DR. JOHNSON

I had a really hard time controlling these photos in terms of size and position. I got them where i wanted them in the post, but in order to see the full painting you have to click on it. It is linked to open a window to show the full painting where you can zoom, etc.

The Lost Story of Lilith

The Christian and Hebrew creation story is well known. God created Adam from the dust of the ground, and saw that he needed a companion. He put Adam into a deep sleep and from his rib formed Eve. The two lived in Eden’s paradise, until the original sin was committed. This tale’s validity is rarely questioned by believers, but the Bible and other historical text may suggest that there is more to the story.

The Hebrew term liyliyth, which translates to Lilith, the “name of a female goddess known as a night demon who haunts the desolate places of Edom (Hebrew Lexicon),” was only found once in the Hebrew bible, but replaced in the King James Version with screech owl. "The wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow; the screech owl also shall rest there, and find for herself a place of rest" (The Holy Bible King James Version) Although mention of Lilith in the bible is extremely minimal, she does reappear in the Dead Sea Scrolls, which contained the oldest Old Testament text and many unpublished biblical passages.

And I, the Instructor, proclaim His glorious splendour so as to frighten and to te[rrify] all the spirits of the destroying angels, spirits of the bastards, demons, Lilith, howlers, and [desert dwellers…] and those which fall upon men without warning to lead them astray from a spirit of understanding and to make their heart and their […] desolate during the present dominion of wickedness and predetermined time of humiliations for the sons of lig[ht], by the guilt of the ages of [those] smitten by iniquity – not for eternal destruction, [bu]t for an era of humiliation for transgression.

As in the Dead Sea Scroll passage above, Lilith is demonized in Jewish folklore. She comes into homes within the first days of a child’s existence (a time period of eight days for boys, or up until circumcision, and twenty days for girls) and causes sickness and even death. To protect their children from this demoness, three angels’ names are inscribed on an amulet and placed around their neck. Lilith is also said to be a tempting seductress, taking advantage of men, often in their sleep (the said cause of wet dreams), producing demon spawn called Lilin. Semen for Lilith’s demon spawn is said to even be collectable in the marriage bed, which is why certain modesty and rituals must be followed. Lilith’s first ‘victim,’ claimed to be non-consensual was Adam.

Jacob had entered this gateway to faith.
Adhering to that faith, he had to be tested
in the same place his fathers had been tested,
entering in peace and emerging in peace.
Adam entered but was not careful.
Seduced by her, he sinned with that whore of a woman, the primordial serpent. (Penn Tech)


Lilith by John Collier


The primordial serpent referred to in the text is said to be Lilith, who through pure seducing powers (and sometimes wine) led God-seeking men such as Adam and Jacob, as stated above, but also Abram, Noah, and Isaac. Lilith has also been depicted as a serpent in other ways as well; specifically, the one who tempted Eve, causing the first sin of man. In many paintings depicting the original sin, the snake is only just at the bottom half, wrapping up the tree, but woman at the top half, handing Eve the apple.

And the Serpent, the Woman of Harlotry, incited and seduced Eve through the husks of Light which in itself is holiness. And the Serpent seduced Holy Eve, and enough said for him who understands. And all this ruination came about because Adam the first man coupled with Eve while she was in her menstrual impurity – this is the filth and the impure seed of the Serpent who mounted Eve before Adam mounted her. Behold, here it is before you: because of the sins of Adam the first man all the things mentioned came into being. For Evil Lilith, when she saw the greatness of his corruption, became strong in her husks, and came to Adam against his will, and became hot from him and bore him many demons and spirits and Lilin. (Torah)



The Fall of Man by Cornelis van Haarlem



The Fall of Man Lucas Cranach



The Temptation of Adam and Eve by Michelangelo

The myths of Lilith as a killer of babies, a seductress, the serpent who tricked Eve do not stem from, but come together in The Alphabet of Ben Sira. The story told was an answer to a plea (or rather threat) of the king, who’s son had fallen ill. The king said that if his son was not better, Ben Sira must pay the consequence of death. The following story was told in response:

"The angels who are in charge of medicine: Snvi, Snsvi, and Smnglof. After God created Adam, who was alone, He said, 'It is not good for man to be alone' He then created a woman for Adam, from the earth, as He had created Adam himself, and called her Lilith. Adam and Lilith immediately began to fight. She said, 'I will not lie below,' and he said, 'I will not lie beneath you, but only on top. For you are fit only to be in the bottom position, while I am to be the superior one.' Lilith responded, 'We are equal to each other inasmuch as we were both created from the earth.' But they would not listen to one another. When Lilith saw this, she pronounced the Ineffable Name and flew away into the air. Adam stood in prayer before his Creator: 'Sovereign of the universe!' he said, 'the woman you gave me has run away.' At once, the Holy One, blessed be He, sent these three angels to bring her back.

"Said the Holy One to Adam, 'If she agrees to come back, fine. If not, she must permit one hundred of her children to die every day.' The angels left God and pursued Lilith, whom they overtook in the midst of the sea, in the mighty waters wherein the Egyptians were destined to drown. They told her God's word, but she did not wish to return. The angels said, 'We shall drown you in the sea.'
"'Leave me!' she said.’I was created only to cause sickness to infants. If the infant is male, I have dominion over him for eight days after his birth, and if female, for twenty days.'

"When the angels heard Lilith's words, they insisted she go back. But she swore to them by the name of the living and eternal God: 'Whenever I see you or your names or your forms in an amulet, I will have no power over that infant.' She also agreed to have one hundred of her children die every day. Accordingly, every day one hundred demons perish, and for the same reason, we write the angels names on the amulets of young children. When Lilith sees their names, she remembers her oath, and the child recovers."

After following the advice in the story, the king’s son was said to recover. While this is just said to be folklore, the previous mentioning of Lilith in both the published Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls at least confirm her presence. Further, some believe that “The idea that Adam had a wife prior to Eve may have developed from an interpretation of the Book of Genesis and its dual creation accounts; while Genesis 2:22 describes God's creation of Eve from Adam's rib, an earlier passage, 1:27, already indicates that a woman had been made: "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them." The text places Lilith's creation after God's words in Genesis 2:18 that "it is not good for man to be alone"(Wikipedia). When Lilith left Adam, God then created Eve, who was formed from Adam’s rib so that she was a part of man, not equivalent like the identically made Lilith.

The legend of Lilith is controversial for many reasons. First, it disassembles the creation that has been preached in Christianity for thousands of years. Secondly, Adam having a wife before Eve raises questions about Christianity’s treatment of divorce. Where some newer sects of religion allow room for divorce under certain circumstances, some, like Evangelicals for instance, believe that even if dire circumstances lead to divorce, no other partner should be taken.

“But I say that a man who divorces his wife, unless she has been unfaithful, causes her to commit adultery. And anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery" (The Holy Bible).

Perhaps the most contentious matter, however, is that Lilith refused to submit to Adam, claiming equality. While some feminists claim that this story justifies equality for women, religious authorities and evangelicals dismiss this as exaggerated feminine nonsense. They believe that accepting the story as Lilith as Adam’s disobedient, independent first wife, women can wrongfully use the story and use Lilith as a symbol in there feminist agenda.

However, denying Lilith’s story may also serve a higher purpose for the church. The Old Testament, Holy Scripture in both Judaism and Christianity, makes multiple statements about women which place them at a subservient level. In Genesis 3:17 God says to Eve “I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee” (The Holy Bible) This passage in Genesis was taken literally, decreasing women’s rights, making them property of their fathers or their husbands. "...God, by creating Adam first and also by creating woman for man), has set the gender-based role and responsibility of males in the most basic unit of society (the family) to be that of leader, provider and self-sacrificial protector and likewise has set the gender-based role and responsibility of females to be that of help and nurture and life-giving under male leadership and protection” (Religious Tolerance).

Further more, Eve’s deception painted a negative depiction of women. Religious figures such as Saint Augustine, Martain Luther, and Saint Tertullian have all spoke ill of women because of their connection to Eve. Saint Tertullian said "Do you not know that you are each an Eve? The sentence of God on this sex of yours lives in this age: the guilt must of necessity live too. You are the Devil's gateway: You are the unsealer of the forbidden tree: You are the first deserter of the divine law: You are she who persuaded him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God's image, man. On account of your desert even the Son of God had to die." and Saint Augustine stated “What is the difference whether it is in a wife or a mother, it is still Eve the temptress that we must beware of in any woman......I fail to see what use woman can be to man, if one excludes the function of bearing children.”

It is possible that in order to keep social settings how the church believed it should be, with the man as the head of the household and the woman as his helper in the home, the church had to adapt the story as Eve as the first wife instead of Lilith. Lilith showing her independence would be detrimental to social order. With the ‘first wife’ story covered up, the demon Lilith can still appear without consequence. Additionally, the fall of man can be blamed on Eve, and serves a purpose in explaining various things such as man’s exile from Eden and pain in childbirth.

While Lilith’s story is mostly speculation, there is no questioning her existence in the Bible; her story holds just as much merit as any story in the other found there. People will believe what they want, or what they are taught. If Lilith was Adams first wife, it may lead to new ways to look at Genesis, and furthermore, new ways to look at history and relations between men and women.





Works Cited
Lilith - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia." Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. 16 Dec. 2008 .
"Lilith." Teaching with Technology at Penn. 16 Dec. 2008 .

N/A. The Holy Bible: King James Version, Black, Pew. Peabody Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publishers, 2008.
"Online Bible - Search Bible Study Tools - Gateway to Resources." Online Bible - Search Bible Study Tools - Gateway to Resources. 16 Dec. 2008 .

"The status of women in throughout the history of Christianity." ReligiousTolerance.org by the Ontario Consultants on Religious Tolerance. 16 Dec. 2008 .
The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English (Penguin Classics). London: Penguin Classics, 2004.
The Torah. New York: Henry Holt And Co., 1997.

Paper 3: A Proposition

The topic for my paper is not completely developed. I wanted to explore some relationship between women and religion. I was kind of thinking about researching the sacred feminine in different cultures, but i'm not sure how i would refine that. On a little bit of a different note, i am also interested about women in polygamy (thanks to the discovery channel) and i think maybe a paper about that would be interesting and a bit easier to tailor. What do you think?

Offerings of Hope and Strength

“If you want to understand any woman you must first ask about her mother and then listen carefully.” How little I know. I have taken a sacred relationship between generations of women, and made it selfish. My mother and grandmother know everything about me; they could probably tell my stories. I could not, before now, tell theirs. But the story of Dinah touched me; she taught me the importance of remembering and retelling. She spoke of her mothers’ stories with the utmost admiration: “Their stories were like offerings of hope and strength poured out before the Queen of Heaven, only these gifts were not for any god or goddess - but for me.”

Her memories of her mothers stem from her time in the Red Tent, where menstruation was a blessing that was the passing of last month’s death, a welcoming of the next month’s life, and time to be spent together, passing on their memories and knowledge. Through the mouths of their daughters was the only way these women would carry on after death. The memories of the others would deteriorate with their body, and then be lost forever, little more than dust. “It is terrible how much has been forgotten, which is why, I suppose, remembering seems a holy thing.” I want to remember the stories of my mothers. I want to know of their struggles with the changing times, their personal lives, their careers, their pasts, and what they hope for the future. There are no red tents here, but they have shared their stories with me, and I hope by retelling them, I am able to do justice to their lives, repaying them for all they have given me.

My Grandmother’s Story

From the time she was a child, my incredible grandmother, Janine, was taking care of more than she should have been, a habit she never really broke. She was told that a woman’s job in a marriage was to have the house clean, the laundry done, the children taken care of, and the meal on the table. This advice was given almost hypocritically; her mother did none of this, she did. She took care of the house, went to school, and then later, at age fourteen, got a job working as a maid in a hotel. I cannot imagine the pressure of being the traditional ‘woman of the house’ and being a child. Added to that pressure were problems within her family. Her father was abusive and an alcoholic. She recalls asking her mother, “Mom, why do you stay?” Usually her questions were dismissed by her mother’s answer, “A bad Daddy is better than no Daddy at all.” She later told me that it was her own observations that made her decide this was not the truth. She decided that regardless of what her mother told her, divorce was an option, especially if the problems within a marriage affect the children.

She grew up in the projects, and it was her dream to escape that life. Instead she wanted a home with a husband that would love her forever, filled with their babies. Her dream would come true, starting with her marriage to my grandfather. From the day she put on her wedding ring, sealed with a kiss that was her family’s tradition, she did not take it off until the gold bands broke apart from wear.

I can still see the overwhelming love in my Grandparent’s relationship. Just during the time we were at dinner, her honey called to make sure she would be home soon; he was worried it was getting too dark for her to be out alone. They have their routines and their date nights. They still hold hands. My grandpa jokingly complains about how my grandmother glues herself to him in her sleep.

My grandmother got exactly what she wanted. She had her forever. Soon she was pregnant with my father. I remember this story well.

“I looked at this baby, and I thought to myself ‘I can never love anything as much as I love him.’ I didn’t even want another one because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to love him as much. I was such a fool! Of course I could, I realized that later. Love doesn’t have limits. I could love your dad, your grandpa, and another baby, all as much, all at the same time. Your grandpa said no, though… It wasn’t my fault my birth control pills got flushed down the toilet.”

It is quite an accomplishment to render me speechless. My grandma had succeeded. I just sat there for a minute, and then busted into a fit of laughter. She just sat there, half smile half smirk. I asked her if Grandpa knew. “I assume so,” she said, “But I never outright told him.” I wonder if my uncle knows he is the product of my grandmother’s deviousness.

She raised her babies and kept her house. At one time, before her second child was born she thought she might want to work. She worked for three days before she could no longer stand being away from her baby so long. From that day until her youngest was in fourth grade, and she was thirty-two, she didn’t step foot in a job, not that being a full time mother wasn’t job enough. Her not working made financial situations a little tighter. To make things easier, she made all of their meals from scratch, even the ones she sent with her children to school. The first time my father ever saw processed food was at the age of eight. He came home asking my grandma why he never got those strange cookies in the foil bags: Oreos. She was told that the wants and needs of her children came first. She never really deviated from that advice. Even now, she worries and their needs, putting them before her own.

My grandmother was only employed as a mother until the age of thirty two, when her youngest son was in fourth grade. Now, she has worked her way up to a management position. My grandmother has risen from the hardest of situations, and brought to my life complete adoration. As a child I was part of her, a shadow that followed her around, probably most often against convenience. But of course, she preferred things this way, as did I. I remember her doting on me as a child; I was a daughter that she never had. Now, she and grandpa like to go out and enjoy their time together, still incredibly in love. She still has her babies and grandbabies too. “I don’t feel like I ever missed out on anything,” she said. “I got everything I ever wanted.”



My Mother’s Story

My mom grew up with old-fashioned parents. My mom recalls seeing my grandma waiting on my grandpa hand and foot. He would sit in his recliner as she delivered him his meals. She did all of the cleaning and taking care of the children taking care of her daughters all while working. Neither she nor her mother held any animosity towards the way things were, though. “He was always very appreciative,” my mom said, “and never complained about what she had fixed but there was still little relief for her.” “Daughters eased their mothers' burdens” though, and my mother was cooking meals for her family—just the way her dad liked them—by the time she was thirteen.

She continued to grow up faster than was normal. By only fifteen, she was to be a mother. She was obviously thrown into adulthood all too fast, missing the years of high school that she considers a time to grow and really get to know oneself.

She embraced the pregnancy and incorporated it into her dreams, and as a pregnant teenager, she wanted what my grandma wanted. She wanted a home, her baby, love, and to be happy: to live the perfect life, to be the perfect mother and wife. “As a teenager,” she recalls, “I gave birth to my first beautiful daughter who was born on Thanksgiving Day, which also happened to be my Sweet Sixteen. I can remember that day so clearly. I thought I knew it all that. I thought I had the most beautiful baby in the world and it would be a piece of cake. I never changed my mind on ‘the most beautiful baby in the world’ part, but oh, how I was wrong about everything else. Having a baby when you are a teenager has to be one of the most difficult things I have done in my life; one of the most rewarding now…but one of the most difficult then.”

My mother’s life was not without personal or financial struggles. There were dark days in her life that neither of us revisits. But my mother is a fascinating person who is able to look back on those days with lessons learned. “I want people to know that even through my darkest days. I truly never stopped loving and feeling compassion,” She tells me, “I might have given up on myself but I never gave up on the dream of being a perfect wife, perfect mom and a true friend to everyone I met. I believe that I get this from my dad; he would have given his last dollar to help a complete stranger. I also want them to know that I have come to peace with my struggles. I have not lived anywhere near a perfect life. I am not the perfect mother, the perfect wife, or a perfect friend but one thing I can say is I am truly a caring individual that loves very deeply. I want people to know that even with my past my kids are number one and I would give my life for any of them.” My mom carries this philosophy with her every day. I have seen her befriend people at the worst times of their lives, and help them get back on track. Our couch is open to her friends who need a little extra help, but so is her heart, much more importantly. I know that the lesson of forgiveness and compassion is the most important lesson my mother has taught me. I will go through life knowing when forgiveness is needed, and when you have to stand up for yourself.

Regardless of her struggles, she says she now has more than she could have ever imagined. She is proud of what her life has become. “I have obtained so much more than I ever initially wanted. I have four beautiful children, a wonderful husband, and I am a successful business woman, “she says, but adds “I still am not done accomplishing things in my life. I will continue to look for more each and every day.”

Despite the choices her mother made to take care of her husband in such a way, my mother was never outright told what her job as a mother or wife was. She said she was never told her purpose because her parents had wanted her to come to her own beliefs and conclusions; her purpose however was always implied. My mother now feels that a woman has many jobs in marriage and motherhood. She knows that it is imperative to her family that she works, but still feels pressure to uphold the role of a traditional wife: take care of the kids, make sure dinner is ready, ensure the house is clean, and work a forty hour plus week.

While she feels all of these things are important, my mother says “I believe a woman has multiple jobs in a relationship. The first, and I believe one of the most important, is compassion. I also believe part of the woman’s job in a relationship is to know when to give, but also when to take for herself. I do at certain times feel obligated to uphold the traditional view; however, it is also extremely important to me that my family see that there is more to their wife or mother than the ‘traditional wife and mother.’ I try hard to break a little of that mold but still let them know what the importance is of a home cooked meal, or taking time out to do something extra for your husband and kids.”
It came as no surprise when my mother told me she knows, not believes, that the most important thing in life is family. It is a value that has been instilled in her since she was young. “My mom and dad where very young when they got married, I believe my mom was only seventeen. A few months after they married my mom’s mom passed away. My mom was not the oldest of the family but her and my dad took in four of her brothers and sisters. They raised them as they were their own children. At one time we lived in a one and a half bedroom house in Kansas City, KS. At night we would make pallets on the floor to sleep. My parents always made them feel that they were just as much a part of the family as their biological kids were. My dad never complained about having to work two jobs to take care of all of us. My mom never complained about having to cook and clean for all of us. We all knew we were going to stick together.”

“When she was a child, my mom was poor, and her mom was not in very good health. She still tells me how much she loves her mom and that her mom always made things work. On cold winter evenings when money was tight and there was nothing for dinner her mom would fix hot chocolate and toast. They would all sit on floor together like it was a party. As a child on cold winter evenings my mom did the same with us kids; except this time we had the money for dinner we just chose to make a party out of it.” She smiles remembering this story.
“My dad as a child lived in Wyoming in a box car camp. These were actual box cars made into a house in an old coal mine town. They had no running water or heat. My dad says he didn’t really mind it. They all snuggled next to each other telling stories of what they were going to do when they grew up; that is just families doing what they do.”

My mom has passed on that tradition of always putting your family first, but while doing so, she has always taught us that family is not limited to those of blood relation. Family consists of those who you draw your strength and compassion from when you have none left, no matter who those people are. “Family is where you can laugh and be a goof when the entire world seems to be too serious. Family is where it doesn’t matter what you do they are there to support you.”

My mom is a firm believer that where you are today is thanks to what decisions you made yesterday. That is why she takes nothing back. She might not have the four children that she loves so much. She may not be a successful businesswoman, or learned as much about life. Sure she has made mistakes, but how could she completely take them back when she has learned so much? She is now where she wants to be. “If I did not weather the storm, I would be a completely different person,” she says.



Both of these women have been an incredible part of my life. They have given me all of the advice and guidance I could ask for. My grandma tells me the importance of my education, and to avoid getting in a hurry. “Take your time and find what is right for you, as well as who is right for you.” She reminds me, perhaps every time that I talk to her, that there is always space for me in her home and life. However sporadically, I enjoy our lunches and the occasional pedicure that we share together.

My mom constantly tells me of the endless possibilities for me. I do not know if she realizes she started a new tradition in our family. On my graduation day, she read to me Oh The Places You Will Go in front of a crowd. However silly the poem was, it held a significant meaning, and I laughed along with her – and might have rolled my eyes a time or two—as we both cried. I know my sister and I are blessed to have the constant stream of her advice. She writes to us now:

“To my beautiful daughters: As you grow up my hopes are that you have self respect. I hope that you have strength everyday of your life, and when you think you are out, you draw it from your family. I hope you remember compassion for people even when you think they don’t deserve it, because you never know what their situation is. I want you to always be true to who you are; Do not change for anybody but yourself. I want you to remember that everybody makes mistakes and deserves a second chance, and that includes yourself. When you do make a mistake remember to pick yourself up, hold your head up high and move forward. Live your life looking forward not back. If you are forever looking back, you may run into a wall. Only look back to remember the lesson, then continue to the future.”

Just as her mother’s stories are a part of her, my mother’s stories are now a part of me, along with my grandma’s. Their stories will not end with me, like Dinah’s mother’s did: “The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed to the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing.” But I will carry them, along with the lessons they taught, and tell them to my daughter. Their stories were a gift to me as well, advice that will help me, and pasts that I can learn from. From these women and their stories, I wish to take many things. From my grandmother, I wish to take her complete devotion to all things involving her family; I wish to carry on her pure views of love. From my mother I wish to take her compassion from others, and the weight at which she holds her family. From both I wish to take their strength and perseverance. Perhaps my wedding ring will be sealed with a kiss and not taken off until the bands break. Maybe I my family will share hot chocolate and toast in our home on cold winter nights, sharing our stories. Regardless, I know that Dinah was right. If you want to know something about a woman, you must first learn the stories of her mother.


Italicized quotations from The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Diamant, Anita. The Red Tent. New York: Spark Group, 2003.

Paper 2: A Proposition

My paper topic was inspired by one of my favorite books, The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. This is a fictional retelling of the story of Jacob from the viewpoint of his female family members. Their time in the red (or menstral) tent was the only time they had for really relaxing and talking with each other. Durning this time in the tent, the history of the women in the family was passed down from generation to generation. Through the mouths of their daughters was the only way that these women would ever be remembered. The stories of their past, their traditions, and their future was all dependent upon having a daughter to share with.
I thought of my grandma. She was the mother of two boys, with no daughter to pass these things on to. While things are much different now than in the biblical setting of The Red Tent, it is also not too different. Would my fathers remember my grandma’s childhood the way she wanted it remembered? I felt like they would focus on different aspects than a female would. Just like in the story, a woman’s story is best passed down by a daughter, who tells it the way that woman would have wanted.
Now, I do not wish just to tell my grandma’s story, but to tell and compare her life, her challenges and her aspirations to those of my mother, and my own. I think this paper will end up being a combination of family history, a commentary on the change of women in a social perspective, and a change in women’s wants and aspirations. I want to leave my direction slightly open ended, so I can just go the way the answers to my interview questions, the stories, and my emotions take me.

My favorite quote so far:
“Well, I wanted another baby. And your grandpa said no. But really Jess, it’s not my fault my birth control pills got flushed down the toilet!”
I wonder if my uncle knows he is a result of the deception of my grandmother. I asked her if my grandpa knew. She never outright told him.

Authenticity: Redux (with a touch of reminiscence)

Authenticity, by definition, means worthy of acceptance or belief as conforming to or based on fact. Authenticity refers to something that is true. It is very questionable however, if humans can ever really know the truth about or true state of anything. Take for example in the Loss of the Creature where Walker Percy talks about sightseeing, where people see things like the Grand Canyon not by discovery, but through the view and opinion of the tour guide. They are handed the Grand Canyon, and see the parts that are chosen for them to see instead of exploring it themselves. The difference is when one is given a cookie-cutter tour, it is less personal. They got the same experience as a million people before them. Then their trip to the Canyon is more memorable by what happened on the way, not the emotion or connection they experienced to the true Grand Canyon.

It can also be said that the only person who has ever seen the Grand Canyon at its truest form is he who saw it first, alone, and uninterrupted. Seeing the Grand Canyon first lets you see it at its authentic form because it has been untouched by human hands. There are no guard rails, or hideous glass pathways that lead from the surface over the canyon. When one sees it alone, his emotional reaction and opinion is only his, he are not feeding off of what his companion is feeling, and his view is not tainted by a few hundred scattered tourists and busses. He who sees it uninterrupted has as much time as he needs. He is not hurried by those who are getting bored. He is has the time to see exactly how much he wants to see, feel how much he wants to feel.

This idea of authentic discovery is not so different from authentic thinking, knowledge and experience should be come by honestly. Not shoved down one’s throat by any other person, company, or government program. When I think of this, I think of the first (and only time) I experienced the ocean. My uncle, who lives near the ocean, and had been there probably countless times, took me. I got out of the car, and though he had been there much more than I had, he let me lead. He let me have space so I could see the ocean for myself, the way the tide rolls up and down the beach, where the water meets the sky, and the way the animals react with the land. I got to hear the waves hit the rocks. I got smell the salt, and feel the freezing cold water on my feet. He did not point to avert my attention to other things that he thought I should be looking at or hearing. He let me discover the ocean the way I wanted to, and act upon my emotions and curiosity. What surprised me was that my uncle did not look at the ocean. He stood back and watched me. I think I understand his actions better now, after reading Percy's essay, I understand that he was seeing a more authentic ocean, because not only did he have his own experiences, but he now also had mine. He was seeing the ocean from many different views, which when compiled, makes a more authentic and genuine perception.

Barbara Walter's Dream

I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.




If time neither time nor money were objects, and I could interview anyone in the world, past or present, I would love to interview Queen Elizabeth I. I would hope that she would be willing to let me ask difficult or inappropriate questions without suffering the consequences of overstepping her royal boundaries, however. I think she must have been a fascinating woman. To have ruled a country as a woman during those times, when it was a man’s job, and women’s rightful place was as an agreeable, submissive, seen but not heard being, is an enormous accomplishment, and at the same time an enormous amount of burden and pressure. I would ask the following Questions, and then state my reasoning behind those questions:

1.What was the most challenging thing about being a woman, and being the primary leader of a country?
•Maybe it was commanding an army while wearing a dress that covered her ankles. That seems hard to me. There had to be so many tribulations day to day not only being a woman doing the job of a man, but being the only woman to have ever done this job.

2.What was your biggest accomplishment, and your biggest mistake
•Often times, the outsiders see mistakes and accomplishments differently than the ones who actually make them. I would be curious to see her take on her successes and failures.

3.What is the biggest misconception about your life both personally and as a ruler?
•Much of what we know about rulers such as Queen Elizabeth is factual, but surely there is something that was taken the wrong way, exaggerated, or analyzed incorrectly. I would want her to have the chance to set the record straight.

4.Knowing what you do now, would you trade your throne for a more personal life? Perhaps with someone you loved?
•Wouldn’t to marry mean being forced to give up her throne to her husband the king? So, if that seemed unfavorable to her, she sacrificed much in being the primary ruler. She was called the virgin queen, never married, in love (That we know of. See Question 5). Would she trade one for the other?

5.Were you ever in love?
•Purely out of girlish curiosity.

I actually think I could ask Queen Elizabeth enough questions to fill up a week. I would want to give her a chance to be in an interview where she could tell all of this and anything else she felt necessary. I would be intimidated though, in the presence of such a woman.

Driving Questions

The research question driving Looking For Zora is “What can be found as evidence in the place where Zora grew up for who she was as a person rather than who she was as an author?” The purpose was to get to know her on a more personal level, and maybe more solidly, by finding her home town and the people she knew, rather than just going off of what was read in her books. In No Name Woman, the question driving the research, even though the story is primarily about her aunt, “who am I in relation to my American present and Chinese past?” The two different cultures make a strange kind of pull on her existence, and I think at this point, as she is fearful of her aunt, she is fearful of her Chinese past, because it makes her have less American “normalcy.”

Questions

BLOG QUESTIONS FOR DR. JOHNSON

1. In most of my writing, unless I’m forced to write formally,I tend to take a conversational approach. Is this appropriate in this situation?

2. I think I am comma happy! Do I use too many?
3. What do I need the most help with?


4. How is my sentence structure / grammar?

5. What is your favorite color?

Writer's Workshop

Questions for Peer Editors:
1. Would this fit one on Zinsser’s forms?
2. Is this cheesy, or weird to read about?
3. Is my punctuation, spelling, and grammar correct?
4. Does it flow okay, and come full circle?
5. Is their good voice?

I hate letting people read my work. I should have added that to the entry where I was describing myself as a writer. SELF CONSCIOUS. I am not sure why it scares me to let other people read my writing. I was especially wary about this one because it was so personal. This workshop, even though uncomfortable for me, was very helpful. All of my questions were answered. As a group we decided that even though all of our papers did fit Zinsser’s forms, even if they didn't it would be alright with us, because just because Zinsser didn't mention it doesn't mean it is not a worthy form. Apparently i shouldn't have worried about this being awkward, because if a teenage boy tells you it made him happy to read about YOUR boyfriend, you must have done at least decently to reach your audience. My group told me I did not cross any invisible boundaries of awkwardness or makes them uncomfortable. They helped me in picking out a few grammar and punctuation errors, which you are very prone to at 3 a.m. I was also told that the voice and flow went nicely, and overall they thought I had a really good paper.

I was sure that they would help me, but I was surprised how much I liked reading their papers also. We did this in High School all the time, but I had known those people forever. I think this helped us get to know some people that we might not have thought we would have anything in common with.

:Personal Essay:

Everyone who knew me, or was even acquainted with me, knew that I was not like most of the girls in my age group. I was not giggling over boys in the hallway; I was beating boys at sports in gym class. I was not passing notes to boys in class, I was leading the discussions. I was not praying some boy would ask me out on a date, on the contrary I turned a few down purely to make a statement. I was focused, determined, ambitious; I left no room for distraction. I surely did not think of love. I thought the girls my age that claimed to have found it were full of hormone based stupidity. I’m sure those people who knew me then would be surprised to learn that I now wear a ring on my left hand. I was not looking for love, but it found me.

I was completely minding my own business. I hung out at that movie theatre, with those same people, every Friday night, because honestly, there is not much else allowed of 14 year old girls. Now, I am not trying to tell you that I fell in some kind of deep, passionate love at this very moment. However, I am suggesting that I scraped the surface that very first day. He came up to talk to me. I remember what I was wearing (jeans and a hoodie, not looking to impress), I remember what movie we saw that night (50 first dates), I remember who I was with (2 of my best friends), but for some reason I cannot remember what he said. I do remember how I felt, the way he looked at me, and that gorgeous smile. My entire “I don’t need some ridiculous boy ruining my life and taking away my focus and perspective” philosophy crumbled at my feet. I had heard a few things about this boy that I wasn’t so fond of, and while I listened to this advice, I just didn’t take it.

Our first date was an “accident” that I’m more than certain was orchestrated by our friends. There were supposed to be ten of us, and it’s hard to believe that 8 people forgetting to show up, leaving just him and me was purely coincidental. I had never been more nervous in my life. My palms were sweating, I was breathing quickly, and my knees were shaking. Looking back now it seems completely immature, but the simply physical affect this boy had on me was incredible. This date turned into many, and the next thing you know we had been dating for three months. Around this time, he told me he loved me. Previously, this word was nonexistent in my vocabulary, other than family of course. However, I was not afraid to use this word now. Not with him.

Thirty minutes distance (which is now how far away we were), does not seem like much now. But to a fifteen year old, it really is. Keeping up a relationship was hard, and when we had two different lives consumed with sports and school it seemed almost impossible. I did love him, although the love that I felt for him then is insignificant for what I feel now, but I started to think. How silly was it to think that you are in love at fifteen? I had nothing to compare this feeling to. This must just be what it is like to be dating. The feeling was normal. I was just experiencing attraction. This was not a connection that would carry on into the future. Why waste each other’s time, when we could be going about our lives easier, and separately. I broke it off, it became too much.

Now interested in dating, I took full advantage of single freedom. I dated around, tried both casual and more serious relationships, all with bad results. I found emptiness everywhere I turned. Nothing compared to what I had felt before. I tried so hard to recreate the feelings that I had once taken for granted, but failed. I was especially surprised at my reaction, the physical aspect. Kissing, which my first experiences with were wonderful and personal, seemed uncomfortable and sometimes, with the less experienced few, repulsive. At this point I started to second guess myself. Maybe I was wrong in thinking that my original feelings were either fabrications or otherwise common.

This took me a while to figure out, around two years to be exact. Even when I did realize this, it was even longer before I could swallow my pride and come to terms with what I was actually thinking and feeling. I like to be in control of everything involving me (it’s a comfort issue) and this includes my emotions. Not being in control scares me. It made me vulnerable, and in my perspective at the time, weak. But as many times as I pushed these feelings aside, and justified my denial as being rational, I could not get him out of my head. I am sorry to say that I drug this boy along all the while I was making my decisions. And questioning my decisions. And re-making my decisions. I know now how much this hurt him, and while I would give anything now to take that pain away, I learned so much in our time apart.

I cannot remember exactly when I reached this epiphany, or how. It is almost like I woke up one morning, and came to terms with what had been there all along. I needed him. I am not one to admit something like that. I have always been stubbornly independent. To admit or to submit was a sign of personal flaw in my eyes at one time, but I suddenly was not afraid to need anymore. It took me a while to get up the nerve to talk to him. A few weeks after regaining contact, my prom was coming up. Although I was asked by someone else, there was only one person I wanted to go with. You can image how much of my pride I had to swallow to ask him. I was so afraid of him saying no. He now tells me it was foolish to stress over that, “Like I could say no” he says.

My favorite memory of our younger years was our first dance as a couple. I may or may not have played a part in having the same song repeated at prom. Tactful, I know. It was purely out of curiosity. I had to see if the feelings that had been absent from my life for so long would resurface, and if they would be as strong. I was surprised to find that they had only grown in strength. Dancing to our song the second time, replaying my favorite memory, his arms around my waste, singing softly in my ear, are among the most wonderful moments of my life.

As wonderful as our prom night was, it took so much to regain his trust. I knew I had made mistakes in my life. I wasn’t sure if I could call them mistakes, however. It was a mistake in the sense that I hurt, quite deeply, the person that I love most in the world. But, in my eyes it was a learning experience. In order to see what I had all along, I had to make these mistakes. I had to explore who I was. I had to be broken hearted to know what it feels to truly be whole. Regaining his trust has been a privilege, and I am honored to say he has given me his love.

Our place in each other’s lives is something Justin has never questioned. I envy his absolute trust in his feelings. He never once doubted our love. He never once doubted me. I feel like I could spend the rest of my life thanking him for his faith and forgiveness.

Since then, the time has both flown by and ached slowly. The little time we have together between both of our school and work related obligations makes it hard on both of us emotionally. It is something we accept however, because we know we have the rest of our lives. It sounds so strange to say that now, that I know I will be with him for the rest of my life. Four years ago I would say that a girl who thought she knew who she would spend the rest of her life with at age eighteen was an ignorant little girl. I surely hope that is not the case with me. In fact, I know it is not. I would say to my then fourteen year old self to give love a chance. Because in opening your heart and your mind to another person, you give yourself the chance to see life in a completely new way. I would tell myself to give love a chance, no matter the age, because love is indifferent to timing.

I feel truly blessed to get to call Justin my boyfriend. I can (and have) write a list of all the things I love about him: his smile, his eyes, his voice, the way he looks with a guitar in his lap, his laughter, his spirit, how silly he is, and how hard he tries to be funny, though often times he is not. Some, if not most of these things seem trivial in the requisite sense, but it is the littlest things that some might not even notice that make me love him the most.

Love often makes me feel vulnerable. I get scared to let someone be so close to me. It really is a frightening ordeal to let someone look into your soul. Love often makes me feel jealous. I resent every moment that any other girl has spent in his arms because of my ignorance. But, love, his love, has taken me amazing places. I love to see the world from this view.

I am not so naïve to think that love is the answer to everything. I am not so naïve to think the one I give my love to is perfect. In fact, sometimes I think there is no one in the world that has the capacity, or knows just the right way, to piss me off. That is a strange thing to realize, that the one you love can infuriate you at times. What is important to realize, however, is the happiness that person brings to your life. What would we know of pleasure if we never experienced any pain? I would rather spend my life arguing with this man, than in constant agreement with any other.

When college was looming around the corner, after the most wonderful summer of my life, I was terrified of what was to come between him and me. I thought about it every day, and often it consumed and directed my feelings. I honestly believed that school and distance would do the same thing that it had before. History would repeat itself. It was very possible, even though I knew I could not make the same mistake twice, it was a mistake that he had not made yet, therefore was vulnerable to. On the first Saturday after school had started, I was stressed, out of my element, and needing a vast amount of comfort from familiar arms. I can see him still sitting across the dinner table that night. My heart had never felt so light. The relief that he gives me is amazing, and I thought that this relief was the best gift he would give me that night. I was wrong.

How surprised I was to see that ring! A wonderful, beautiful, delicate piece of precious metal and gem, that represents something so much more valuable than face worth: A promise of forever. The look in his eyes when he gave it to me was even more reassurance. It is a look I hope my daughter will experience when she meets the one she is meant to be with. I wear his promise on my left hand every day. It is a reminder of his love, of his friendship, and his unwavering commitment to me. It is something I feel both respect and gratitude towards every time I look at it.

My fourteen year old self would probably hang her head in shame if she knew what she was to become, a silly girl in love. How amazed she will be when she feels it for the first time: burning, comforting, engulfing. It is said that the only thing worthy in life is to love and be loved. If that is so I can be confident that thanks to him I will be fortunate enough to experience a life full of value, meaning, and happiness. Something that those who knew me then would be surprised in now think I can find from love. I am surprised however, that I can have both. Not that much about me has changed. I am still that driven and ambitious person, but now I know that while it is important to have ambition and career goals, a life of just that, without love, without him, could hardly be called a life.

Jessica & Justin :: age 14
Jessica and Justin :: age 18

Spirit of Time

I wonder how many people watch international news, see the events going on in other parts of the world, sigh, express how horrible it is, and then turn the channel without a second thought. I know so many people like that. Or people who, in a rant about America giving away all of our money, say “it’s just none of our damn business what goes on in Africa.” I like to think that in, at the very least, my educated life, that I was not have either of these reactions I just expressed. I have been fascinated with the hardships and suffering in other countries, but I never knew what to do about it. Sure, you could “adopt” a child in a third world country who will receive your check once a month, or not receive it, you never really know.

My senior year I was prepared for a good debate season. I had gained a lot of new knowledge by going to state last year, and being a senior and captain gave me an even bigger advantage to having a really successful season. Our topic for the year stated: Resolved that the United States Federal Government should increase it’s public health assistance to Sub Saharan Africa. This was, as said before, something I was fascinated with. I dove into research for my case, and was amazed, appalled, and disgusted by what I found. I found that little girls don’t get to go to school because they walk five miles both ways to fetch disease infested water in a probably stagnant pool home to thousands of malaria carrying mosquitoes. I found that 2.4 million children die every year from diarrhea, something we would not think twice about. Many of the people are enslaved, terrified for their lives, and witness that life is way too short. I found that our funding is allotted to the “prevention” of diseases that are also present in the Western World (HIV), not necessarily those who need the most attention, or are easily prevented and cured. Our legislators pay little to no attention to the culture that we are pouring money into, and instead waste a ridiculous amount of money teaching abstinence and single partner importance to a society who’s system of beliefs and culture allows multiple partners. We create utter dependence on Western Intervention, instead of helping the countries that make up the Sub Saharan African region thriving and self dependent.

I looked away from my research for a while. Under my fingertips were the keys to my brand new laptop. To my right, my three hundred dollar cell phone, and in my ears, music was playing quietly from my then top of the line video iPod. Granted, I had worked for most of these things, but I had the opportunity to, when many, like these people in Sub Saharan Africa did not. I felt disgusted with myself, wondering why I was complaining about my car yesterday
It’s hard to explain exactly how I felt at this point in my year. Even though I was not into designer clothes and shoes like a lot of the girls in my school, I was none the less infatuated with money. I wanted to get into a good school so I could get into a great law school, get a great job, and make amazing money. It was all means to a selfish end.
The things I learned in debate made me feel like I needed to do something to contribute to the current state of the world, like it was not okay to only worry bout yourself. When we had the opportunity to hear a speaker from Sudan, I without question skipped my most difficult class to sit it. The speaker was a woman from the Dinka tribe. She had faced persecution for her race and had to fake a Muslim religion her entire life. Members of her family were killed fighting for freedom in Sub Saharan Africa, Sudan to be specific, and she had narrowly escaped. She was able to make her way to America, where she feels blessed every day by the freedom she receives here. But this is only where her story begins, and because this is not where it ends that she affected me so much.
The speaker was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. There was something so different about her, and her beauty was far superior to our models in our magazine. I suppose in Sudan she would be an average woman, but the tone of her skin, her long elegant arms, and curvy but lean body was exotically beautiful to me. Most of all I was drawn by her spirit. The way she spoke of her homeland, even in it’s current state of turmoil, was as if she worshiped the land she used to know. The purpose of her speech was strictly informal. Our coach had just asked her to speak about her life. I asked her what her in life was now that she was in America. Her answer shocked me. After all the trouble she went through to escape the condition of her life, she wanted to go back. She wanted to go to refugee camps to teach young girls English, and more importantly, she added, how important it was to be your own woman. She wanted to teach these girls of freedom.

I knew this is how I could help. I could help her fulfill her dream and in turn help other girls. We would help her go home. The look on her face when we told her was one that I will never forget: that of pure thanks. We held a public debate over the topic. We were able to inform our public about the tribulations that they might have previously turned the channel on. In turn, we were able to raise half of the money needed for (NAME) to return to Sudan.
I spent the remainder of y year diving deeper into this subject of my study. I did my senior research paper on our current government’s aid to Sub Saharan Africa. Through this year I learned not only about Africa but also about myself. I realized that the most important thing in life was not to be financially successful, but instead to be proud of what you do. I have never been more proud of myself than when I was able to help someone else fulfill her dream. Through this year I learned that I want to teach people about other cultures, other lives, and other problems that are not quite as selfish as the ones we think we face daily.

Inspi(red) Photoshoot

The center most part of something is not always found an equal distance from both sides. In this case it is found quite offset, marked by a foot long piece of white rubber. From the center, I am most at home. The rest of this land revolves around this area. It is the most important part. A chain linked fence surrounds my home, which has the shape of a triangle with one rounded side. All around my center point there is soft dusty dirt, and fifteen feet behind it, the dirt meets beautiful green grass in a lip. Four square, white bags set in the dirt in a diamond formation mark different distances throughout the field, and also represent safety. White chalk lines leave the pentagon shaped rubber at the beginning of the field, and travel two hundred feet to meet the bright yellow poles that mark fair territory. Above me, the blue open sky, around me, scattered at various designated places throughout my home, our home, are my best friends. In front of me are our family and fans, and behind me a few scattered trees and a busy highway. This is not the most fascinating landscape I’ve ever seen in my life. I would name many more before this. But I KNOW this land. I have spent time on the white safety bags. I know the angle that your body can slide into the dirt without getting cut. I have stretched and ran in the grass. I have hit balls to the chain linked fence, and prayed they were in the boundaries of the bright yellow polls. I have watched the feet of my teammates cross the pentagon plate, and I have watched the feet of my opponents cross the plate as well. I have stood outside the field and cheered my team on. Just as I have stood there and got on to them. Mostly, I have stood in my center point, the mound, and felt the pressure, control, power, and obligation that go along with the privilege of standing there. I gave the land my sweat, my blood, my tears, and my laughter. On that land I have had some of my best successes, worst failures, most exciting and most devastating times of my life. I learned how to be a leader, and how to be a teammate. I learned that hard work and sweat never hurt anybody. In fact, it does quite the opposite. I still remember the land, even though my time with it has ended. This year, somebody else will stand on the center point of my softball diamond and enjoy the connection that i have for the past four years.

Oh, Family

I come from a family of what I would consider nice, upstanding hard working Americans. My grandfather is sixty years old and refuses to quit working eleven hour shifts at the rail road, even though his health is far worse than acceptable. His younger brother (by ten years) works at Boeing building airplanes, and chases around his very energetic granddaughter, of which he has full custody, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Hardworking, upstanding, blue collar Americans. Now, they say that every family has it’s black sheep. We are no exception to that rule. Our black sheep is the middle child, a man who I call Uncle Roy.


Now Uncle Roy hasn’t exactly had it easy. Not one of my grandpa’s brothers has, but this man is without a doubt the laziest person I have ever met. I remember the day my great grandma, his mother, died. We were over at their house with the rest of the family. He was of course, upstairs in bed. His wife’s phone rang next to me. I was surprised that the call ID said “Roy.” She answers, not without an eye roll, and asks him what he wants. From next to her where I sat, I could hear his voice perfectly clear. He is fond of speaking loudly. “Donna! Get me a glass of water!” Why couldn’t he get his own water? He had worked twenty hours this week and he was tired.


I remember going to visit him once, for God only knows what reason, and having to plug my ears from the closed up car in the driveway because he was watching a war movie. My little brother was seriously frightened, and so were the neighbors. I think a few of the moms were rounding up their children and taking cover in the basement. As soon as we surpassed shell-shock we walk in to find dear Uncle Roy sprawled out on the couch, with his arm hanging over the edge. Down on the floor in front of the couch was a Fry Daddy, and Uncle Roy was frying taco shells four feet in front of the blaring big screen from the comforts of the couch.


Now, every man has his freedom to frying taco shells in the living room while laying down, and calling your wife three rooms down the hall of the same house because you’re thirsty. That’s your own business. But, where the line should be drawn is abuse of public services. Uncle Roy has a mentally and physically handicapped daughter. He does little of the caretaking himself. That does not stop him, however, from abusing his handicap sticker and parking very close to buildings even when Jamie is not with him. Uncle Roy, being the great actor he is, will then limp into the store. Now, you may be thinking that fake limping while grocery shopping is a trying and energy consuming task, so Uncle Roy is therefore not lazy. His act however, is only in the parking lot. Within the store, he uses his normal, uninjured walk.


Uncle Roy isn’t a bad guy, even though he is extremely lazy. He serves a purpose in our family though: He is great to make fun of, and is the butt of most of our jokes. When have my television or radio too loud my dad may peek in and say “Jeez Uncle Roy, that loud enough?” Or when the only parking spot available at Hy Vee is the “Mother to Be” spot, someone may jokingly suggest supporting their lower back with their hand and faking a pregnancy. However, we love the guy, despite the fact that last year, while at a family get together he told his daughter, “Hey! Call your brother and tell him I said Merry Christmas!”

Masterpieces

I believe that the definition of a masterpiece is dependent on the person that you ask. People have different perspectives of what essentially makes a piece of writing or even a piece of art, for that matter, great. I think we’d find most scholars to say that a masterpiece is timeless and written with elegance and fluidity. All of those things are ideal in a well written piece, but if nobody actually wants to read them, then why does it matter how well it is written? Take for example J.S. Mill’s On Liberty. I want to set my copy ON FIRE. I love reading, I really do, but it is something about this book that makes me angry. Yes, he has an extensive vocabulary. Yes, it is timeless; we can still implement his ideas today. But if you ask every freshman at Jewell if he enjoys reading On Liberty, I would be willing to bet all my material possessions that over ninety five percent of them laugh at you, or at least give you a firm “no.”
My idea of a masterpiece is a work that makes me want to continue reading it page after page. It is not a book that once I set down, I will never again pick up. Many books that I consider my favorites, masterpieces in my eyes, I have read again and again, and still find different things to enjoy about them.
So why then, are there so few masterpieces? Because those who get to decide what masterpieces are for the rest of us are too picky. They want perfection, when really no piece of writing is perfect. Let instead each person decide for themselves which books are timeless to them, what kind of style of writing they enjoy reading, and which books keep them coming back a second time, a third time, or more. If you were on my bookshelf looking for a masterpiece, it would be easy to spot. Look for the books whose pages are worn from reading, it’s there that you find a masterpiece.


My List of Masterpieces
· The Harry Potter Series: My poor copy of The Sorcerer’s Stone has seen much better days.
· The Giver
· The Twighlight Saga
· The Red Tent
· Stargirl

Authentic Thinking

Freire stated that “Education is the practice of freedom” (The Banking Concept of Education, Ways of Reading pg. 251) In order to experience that freedom, according to Freire, the most common sort of education, or banking education, must be abandoned. In what Freire calls banking education, information and ideas are simply deposited into the student’s mind. The problem with this method of teaching is that the students in no way discover the information on their own and are therefore “filed away through the lack of creativity, transformation, and knowledge in this (at best) misguided system” (244).

Authentic thinking is not having ideas imposed on you, or unquestioningly accepting every bit of information you are told. It is only in reality, applied in the real world, that such an idea can be authenticated, which is the basic idea of authentic thinking. Banking education stifles this type of thought, because the students are focused more on memorizing or storing the information and ideas that are fed to them by the teacher than they are actually criticizing and analyzing ideas. In addition, it is Freire’s belief that the banking education has the capability of diminishing the student’s creative power, which advantageous for their oppressors (pg 245).

The resolution to the problems caused by banking education is to instead embrace problem-posing education. This method of learning by curiosity, discovery, consciousness and questioning encourages authentic thinking by requiring the students and teacher to engage in dialogue, where both the students and the teachers will learn by authenticating each other’s ideas.
Freire believes problem-posing education to be a practice of freedom and humanization, if and when it overcomes banking education (249). It allows the teacher and the student to experience both classroom roles and are both allowed to participate in a growing and ever-changing world of knowledge and learning.

Getting Started on Blogger ::Letter of Introduction

My name is Jessica Pennington, and I lived and went to school in the small rural town of De Soto Kansas. Being from a small town, there wasn’t much to do unless you count hanging out at the local sonic. The lack of activity may have been a blessing, however, because it pushed me to get involved in school. During my High School career I was the volleyball captain, the debate captain, the vice president of Student Council, a member of the National Honor Society, and a state qualifying member of the Forensics team.

On a more personal level, I enjoy photography, autumn, reading, coffee, and spending my Sundays (and most other days) in sweat pants. I have been truly blessed in my life with wonderful people. Firstly, there is my mother, who I am lucky enough to have a meaningful friendship with, and who has proven to be a reliable source of support and positivity in my life. Secondly, there is my amazing boyfriend, who was very persistent with me for the past three years, forgiven me for my mistakes, and opened up a completely new world for me by teaching me how to love. I still find myself amazed what can happen when you open your heart to another human being.

Specifically relating to this course, I do really enjoy writing. Being the debate captain, I have written a little under one trillion persuasive and case-type papers in the last four years, and that is what I am most comfortable doing: research, form an opinion, write, persuade, rinse, and repeat. I think my strong point in writing is non-fiction. I am not a fan of story writing, fantasy, poetry or science fiction (even though I thoroughly enjoy reading all of the above) from an authors standpoint. In wiring, I like to voice my opinion and sometimes throw in a hint of sarcasm. Besides persuasive papers I also like writing about people and emotions, etc.
I have three main troubles with writing. Firstly, there is spelling. It is only appropriate that I take this time to thank Bill Gates and Microsoft for creating spell check. It has saved my life. Secondly, there is the area of poetry. I’m not sure what it is about poetry that scares me into tears. I think it’s because, to me at least, it is such a more personal form of writing, and where I don’t mind writing out my feelings, poetry is the most torturous form of writing to ever be invented. Lastly, there is the issue of word limits. It seems to me if a paper is supposed to be only one page long, I have enough to fill three pages and I am completely unable to cut anything out. Sometimes this issue works in reverse, and I can’t make the limit. Boundaries worry me.

Ideally in this class I would like to improve my writing in all areas, even those that I feel most confidently about, because one can always get better. I look forward to advancing my writing during this class, and feel doing just that will be very useful in many aspects of life.