Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Long Time, No....See??
Here are three quick-pastel drawings that I did yesterday.
I like the green tree the best.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Beautiful Depletion
Seth Black
April 19, 2007
Romanticism Essay
Beautiful Depletion
Beautiful, quiet and calm. The segregated corner of the empty development seemed to have everything going for it at first glance. Birds made their nests in the high branches of the trees, geese swam joyfully, and the water flowed freely through the cracks of rocks. It was hard to feel anything but bliss and happiness.
Just visiting the small area of forestry made me mad. I recollected to when there used to be woods throughout the constructed grounds. And now, there is only one corner due to the need for another development. The development, might I add, remains empty. Perhaps they cut down the forestry just to create a path from housing area to housing area. All that I know is that there is only one area of nature left in this place, where I stood to get away.
However, construction wasn’t the only catastrophe that swept the forest. Litter appeared everywhere. As more and more people moved to the area, the more garbage appeared in the painter’s landscape. The litter stands to this day, and grows with each new house that goes up. Wood planks, beach balls, and bent poles clutter the land, while empty chlorine bottles and metal sheets float atop the water of the pond. Why are people doing this to the one small area of nature that is left?
It is this exact problem that makes me contemplate about the need for parks. If we were able to complete the simple task of respecting nature, we wouldn’t need parks in the first place. Litter wouldn’t be an issue. However, people have to support everything that they preach against. Instead of putting their trash in the trash can, they leave it out in the open, where animals and plants have to survive with the new landmarks everyday. People strive to have the cleanest house in the world, why not strive to keep it so for the animals and plants.
However, even through the midst of the litter and construction, a dark inner beauty shows through in the area. The pulsing water, congregating birds, and bright greenery distract from the depletion. It reminds you that even though you are in a littered playground, you are still in the midst of one of the last estuaries and forests in the surrounding area.
Unfortunately, the pollution grows by the day and doesn’t seem to cease. Soon enough, the depletion will outgrow the beauty and there will still be no empathy for it. Yes, it is true that the animals will continue to live in the little area that they have left, but wouldn’t it be polite to provide a clean home for them? We have almost nothing left already, why should we ruin what we have left?
April 19, 2007
Romanticism Essay
Beautiful Depletion
Beautiful, quiet and calm. The segregated corner of the empty development seemed to have everything going for it at first glance. Birds made their nests in the high branches of the trees, geese swam joyfully, and the water flowed freely through the cracks of rocks. It was hard to feel anything but bliss and happiness.
Just visiting the small area of forestry made me mad. I recollected to when there used to be woods throughout the constructed grounds. And now, there is only one corner due to the need for another development. The development, might I add, remains empty. Perhaps they cut down the forestry just to create a path from housing area to housing area. All that I know is that there is only one area of nature left in this place, where I stood to get away.
However, construction wasn’t the only catastrophe that swept the forest. Litter appeared everywhere. As more and more people moved to the area, the more garbage appeared in the painter’s landscape. The litter stands to this day, and grows with each new house that goes up. Wood planks, beach balls, and bent poles clutter the land, while empty chlorine bottles and metal sheets float atop the water of the pond. Why are people doing this to the one small area of nature that is left?
It is this exact problem that makes me contemplate about the need for parks. If we were able to complete the simple task of respecting nature, we wouldn’t need parks in the first place. Litter wouldn’t be an issue. However, people have to support everything that they preach against. Instead of putting their trash in the trash can, they leave it out in the open, where animals and plants have to survive with the new landmarks everyday. People strive to have the cleanest house in the world, why not strive to keep it so for the animals and plants.
However, even through the midst of the litter and construction, a dark inner beauty shows through in the area. The pulsing water, congregating birds, and bright greenery distract from the depletion. It reminds you that even though you are in a littered playground, you are still in the midst of one of the last estuaries and forests in the surrounding area.
Unfortunately, the pollution grows by the day and doesn’t seem to cease. Soon enough, the depletion will outgrow the beauty and there will still be no empathy for it. Yes, it is true that the animals will continue to live in the little area that they have left, but wouldn’t it be polite to provide a clean home for them? We have almost nothing left already, why should we ruin what we have left?
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Disruption
I cannot explain how much I am messed up right now. What would you do if you had something for 3 years, and then the fourth year someone comes up to you and says, "Here, have this new thing that is slightly different than what you had originally!" They may have had good intentions, but the connection would still be there for the original thing. You will want nothing to do with the new thing, even if it is slightly better. You would rather keep the old because it has value to you.
Sorry, I'm complaining.
Sorry, I'm complaining.
Friday, March 23, 2007
One of Several Analyzations for a Somewhat Contraversial Poem
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
A PSALM OF LIFE
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Many writers write poems for interpretation. This is done with the intention for there to be multiple ways of analyzing a poem. A Psalm of Life is one of those poems that could become controversial about the meaning. A Psalm of Life must be analyzed by referring back to the title after every stanza, putting yourself in the time period that this was written and listening to the subtle details. Even though many might disagree, A Psalm of Life could be analyzed as a pessimistic poem in the viewpoint of the writer.
One cannot analyze this poem simply by dissecting it, stanza by stanza. One must finish a single passage, and then refer back to the title and think about the connections between the two. It is quite easy to tell from the first stanza that the author is arguing with the psalmist. “Tell me not, in mournful numbers…” This tone could be found through each passage of the poem. Therefore, the restlessness of the author is quite apparent. He is tired of listening to the bible and the people of mainstream. He sees no reason in relying on fate, which is the obvious thought process of the time. The passage, “And our hearts, though stout and brave, still, like muffled drums, are beating funeral marches to the grave.”, could certainly be taken as the author as saying that people are dying without making an impression on the world. They think that it is simply okay to die off because fate knows what is in store for them. All of these passages and subtle details lead to the conclusion that the author, indeed, could have been feeling pessimistic.
However, before jumping to conclusions about this article, one must first take in the meaning of the word pessimistic. This word, like many others, is up to the mainstream idea to form. For instance, is it true that a person committing suicide, over a feeling of helplessness, is pessimistic? Of course, the answer would be yes. This whole idea of pessimism is up for society to form, and to say what is pessimistic or not. To the people of Longfellow’s time, the writer of the poem would be pessimistic to the viewpoint of the bible. He no longer wants to accept it, and therefore is taking his own path in life. Is that not what the person committing suicide was doing? The writer was denying the idea of the bible, just as the victim of suicide was denying the idea that everyone has a reason to be on earth. Just as we are taking the idea of suicide as a mainstream viewpoint, we must do the same with this poem.
When analyzing a poem, you must be open to all ideas. It is up for each individual to decide what the poem means to them. It would be incredibly rude, to the author, to deny that poem the chance of having several meanings. So all that this article is asking, is that it be accepted. Just as it accepts ideas that the poems could portray optimism.
A PSALM OF LIFE
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Many writers write poems for interpretation. This is done with the intention for there to be multiple ways of analyzing a poem. A Psalm of Life is one of those poems that could become controversial about the meaning. A Psalm of Life must be analyzed by referring back to the title after every stanza, putting yourself in the time period that this was written and listening to the subtle details. Even though many might disagree, A Psalm of Life could be analyzed as a pessimistic poem in the viewpoint of the writer.
One cannot analyze this poem simply by dissecting it, stanza by stanza. One must finish a single passage, and then refer back to the title and think about the connections between the two. It is quite easy to tell from the first stanza that the author is arguing with the psalmist. “Tell me not, in mournful numbers…” This tone could be found through each passage of the poem. Therefore, the restlessness of the author is quite apparent. He is tired of listening to the bible and the people of mainstream. He sees no reason in relying on fate, which is the obvious thought process of the time. The passage, “And our hearts, though stout and brave, still, like muffled drums, are beating funeral marches to the grave.”, could certainly be taken as the author as saying that people are dying without making an impression on the world. They think that it is simply okay to die off because fate knows what is in store for them. All of these passages and subtle details lead to the conclusion that the author, indeed, could have been feeling pessimistic.
However, before jumping to conclusions about this article, one must first take in the meaning of the word pessimistic. This word, like many others, is up to the mainstream idea to form. For instance, is it true that a person committing suicide, over a feeling of helplessness, is pessimistic? Of course, the answer would be yes. This whole idea of pessimism is up for society to form, and to say what is pessimistic or not. To the people of Longfellow’s time, the writer of the poem would be pessimistic to the viewpoint of the bible. He no longer wants to accept it, and therefore is taking his own path in life. Is that not what the person committing suicide was doing? The writer was denying the idea of the bible, just as the victim of suicide was denying the idea that everyone has a reason to be on earth. Just as we are taking the idea of suicide as a mainstream viewpoint, we must do the same with this poem.
When analyzing a poem, you must be open to all ideas. It is up for each individual to decide what the poem means to them. It would be incredibly rude, to the author, to deny that poem the chance of having several meanings. So all that this article is asking, is that it be accepted. Just as it accepts ideas that the poems could portray optimism.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Illustration Friday: Total
A leaf and its stem are always considered to be separate parts of the whole. But in fall, they are in TOTAL bliss.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Drive: A Slightly Philosophical Look On Life
While crunching and cramming for an exam that is bound to be hard, oneoften curses that it is these obstacles in life that drive people out of the sane world.
But could it possibly be something much simpler that we are ever so often fighting against? Something that we face in everyday life, but never actually give it a second look.
After days of pondering this simple thought, I came to the conclusion that TIME is the object that so commonly brings us down. Every single thing that we do is based on time. The quiz friday, the school bell, getting dinner ready, driving to the movies, getting home before dark, waiting for it to stop snowing, writing a story, etc, etc,etc....
Time is what, it seems, that we need a lot more of. We never have enough. So when you are up until five in the morning cursing at your stupid teacher that gave you project that was due the next day, shift your cursing and yell at time. We never have enough and we always need more. If only life could be objective based....
HAPPY DAY BEFORE LOSING AN HOUR OF SLEEP DAY!!!
But could it possibly be something much simpler that we are ever so often fighting against? Something that we face in everyday life, but never actually give it a second look.
After days of pondering this simple thought, I came to the conclusion that TIME is the object that so commonly brings us down. Every single thing that we do is based on time. The quiz friday, the school bell, getting dinner ready, driving to the movies, getting home before dark, waiting for it to stop snowing, writing a story, etc, etc,etc....
Time is what, it seems, that we need a lot more of. We never have enough. So when you are up until five in the morning cursing at your stupid teacher that gave you project that was due the next day, shift your cursing and yell at time. We never have enough and we always need more. If only life could be objective based....
HAPPY DAY BEFORE LOSING AN HOUR OF SLEEP DAY!!!
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Hero Project: Help With Editing Please!!!
Half of the story is done. I am asking is people would help me to edit this half. Keep in mind that this is a childeren's book, so revise it as such. I'm not sure if the vocabulary matches (and I am appalled at my grammar). The other half will go up soon. Thank You! When you are done, you can e-mail it to me: pippenfree2003@yahoo.com
It was early morning one day at school. All of the kids were hustling around, so the teacher gathered them together and seated them on the floor.
After everyone was settled, the teacher asked, “Does anybody know what a hero is?”
Bobby Smith immediately raised his hand and said, “A hero is a firefighter.”
“Not quite. Nice try,” the teacher replied. “Anyone else?” The teacher glanced around the room.
“Policemen!”
“Doctors!”
“Superman!”
“Ambulance people!”
Many of the kids guessed, but to their amazement, Miss Bryan had a different idea than they did.
“All good guesses! However, a hero is someone who goes on a journey and comes back as a new person!”
Cindy interrupted, “Miss Bryan, how can I be someone else when I am myself? How can I be Bobby when I go on a journey?”
Miss Bryan stated, “Not quite of a change like that. A journey takes internal strength and there has to be a revelation at the end.”
The students looked up, slightly confused.
“Don’t worry. You’ll understand in time,” Miss Bryan said.
Miss Bryan reached back into her teaching bag and pulled out a pile of books. The kids were dazed at the enormity of the pile, but waited contently for the resolution to the question that the teacher posed.
However, Cindy was tired of waiting and wanted to draw her own conclusions. She immediately raised her hand and started talking. “Miss Bryan, we already know what a hero is. Those books can’t teach us anything that we don’t already know.”
“Settle down Cindy.” By this time Miss Bryan was fed up with the rudeness that Cindy was projecting, but she simply ignored the feeling and continued her explanation.
“A couple thousand years ago, heroes were portrayed very differently in society. They were often praised and rejoiced for their remarkable actions. Such is so in this book.” Miss Bryan held up an older book with crinkled edges and a fat coffee stain on the cover.
“This book is called ‘The Odyssey’. Within these pages, a war-hero, Odysseus, goes on a journey to find his way home. However, on the way he faced many unbearable tasks. Odysseus had to do such things as sailing through a whirlpool, escaping an island and going into the underworld. Luckily, throughout his journey, Odysseus kept his family and loved ones close to him, deep within the depths of his mind. That is what allowed him to complete all of his tasks and make it back to his home.”
The kids looked up to the teacher and wondered if firemen and doctors had to go on these journeys and complete such grueling tasks.
Bobby Smith politely raised his hand and asked that question, “Do firemen have to go on journeys?”
Miss Bryan didn’t look surprised that he asked that question. “Actually Bobby, you are quite a few steps ahead of me. Save that question and see if it gets answered shortly.”
Cindy sighed and shook her head.
Miss Bryan put down the old book and picked up a newer looking one. This one had fewer ripped pages and didn’t have a mark on the cover.
Miss Bryan continued her explanation of heroes, “In this book, which was written only a few years ago, a person by the name of Edward Bloom went on the same type of journey as Odysseus. He left his home and went through many trials to find his true self. On the way, he found his true love at a circus. Edward searched for many months and completed tasks just to find her again. This journey to find his love was a very mentally grueling task, but he made it through.”
Miss Bryan paused and glanced at the many hands that were raised during her last story. She decided to be polite and called on Cindy, who was actually waiting patiently to be called upon.
“Miss Bryan, Edward didn’t go on the same type of journey that Odysseus did, like you said. The journeys don’t sound anything alike, actually.”
“Very good observation Cindy,” Miss Bryan praised. She was mildly surprised that Cindy had something useful to say, rather than criticism. She continued explaining, “See, over time the hero’s journey changes, as society itself changes. It will be more apparent a little bit later.”
Miss Bryan reached to her left and pulled the final book off the pile. “Now, this hero is one of my favorites! He is what one would call the prime modern-day hero.” Miss Bryan paused in the moment, trying to gather her words. After the moment of reflection, she continued, “Now this may seem like forever ago, but it really wasn’t! In the early 1900’s, there were many conflicts over in Europe and Asia. Many people literally fought over resolutions, however this person took a more peaceful approach. Mahatma Gandhi chose silent protests and civil disobedience to get his point across. He always seemed to do it without making the smallest amount of violence. His heroic actions inspired many, even people today!”
Cindy wondered for a bit, and then raised her hand. “Miss Bryan, Gandhi didn’t go on a journey. He just stayed and practiced civil dis-en-something.”
Miss Bryan replied, “But Cindy, would you agree that he changed on the inside and influenced the lives of others?” Cindy nodded her head shyly. “That is exactly how the hero changed over time. Odysseus, who was older, had more of a physical approach to becoming a hero. He actually engaged in a journey and fought off people. Odysseus had many helpers too, as many heroes did.”
“While Edward Bloom was a fictional character and Gandhi was a real hero, both had a mental journey in which they endeavored. Bloom’s was a mental and physical journey while Gandhi fought off his demons and became at one with himself. ”
The children looked pleased. All loose ends seemed to be tied.
“Now, over the weekend, go home and start a journey. Try to overcome some type of obstacle, and it’s ok if you need help.” The bell rang.
On the bus ride home, Cindy and Bobby Smith had many ideas that raced through their heads.
And over the weekend, they went on a journey.
Then they arrived at school on Monday.
Immediately upon arrival, Bobby Smith and Cindy raced up to Miss Bryan and told her the stories of their heroic weekend.
“Miss Bryan, I went to my grandma’s house and helped her to clean out her garage! I am a hero!” Cindy said sounding accomplished.
“I was allowed to walk around my development! I saw that the park was littered, so my mom and I went into the area and picked up trash. I realized that it is bad to litter, because I saw a raccoon living in a shoebox. I am a hero!” Bryan sounded pleased.
However, Cindy refuted, “You can’t be a hero! You didn’t help anyone!”
Bryan answered, “I went on a mental process! You didn’t, so you are not a hero!”
Both turned to Miss Bryan and said together, “Miss Bryan, I am a hero…right?”
Miss Bryan chuckled softly and responded.
“Well…did either of you have any mentors that helped you to complete the journey?”
“My grandma!”
“My mom!”
“Did you have to overcome an obstacle?”
“A messy garage!”
“Litter!”
“And your actions helped for the betterment of society?”
“It helped my grandmother.”
“A clean environment is healthy for nature, which furthers society.”
Miss Bryan looked a bit puzzled as Bobby Smith said the last statement. It seemed as if he read it directly from a Nature Lover’s guide. However, she dismissed the idea and continued her conversation.
“And you both claim to have gone on a journey?” Both nodded. “Then I must say you have both fulfilled the requirements of being a hero. Cindy, you took the more physical approach that we have talked about yesterday. Remember Odysseus?” Miss Bryan turned her attention to Bobby Smith. “And Bobby, you went on both a physical and mental journey. You not only realized the importance of nature, but also took a stance and cleaned up the place. Good job!”
“So we are both heroes?” Cindy asked.
“Yes Cindy, you are both heroes,” Miss Bryan confirmed.
Both of the children were pleased.
It was early morning one day at school. All of the kids were hustling around, so the teacher gathered them together and seated them on the floor.
After everyone was settled, the teacher asked, “Does anybody know what a hero is?”
Bobby Smith immediately raised his hand and said, “A hero is a firefighter.”
“Not quite. Nice try,” the teacher replied. “Anyone else?” The teacher glanced around the room.
“Policemen!”
“Doctors!”
“Superman!”
“Ambulance people!”
Many of the kids guessed, but to their amazement, Miss Bryan had a different idea than they did.
“All good guesses! However, a hero is someone who goes on a journey and comes back as a new person!”
Cindy interrupted, “Miss Bryan, how can I be someone else when I am myself? How can I be Bobby when I go on a journey?”
Miss Bryan stated, “Not quite of a change like that. A journey takes internal strength and there has to be a revelation at the end.”
The students looked up, slightly confused.
“Don’t worry. You’ll understand in time,” Miss Bryan said.
Miss Bryan reached back into her teaching bag and pulled out a pile of books. The kids were dazed at the enormity of the pile, but waited contently for the resolution to the question that the teacher posed.
However, Cindy was tired of waiting and wanted to draw her own conclusions. She immediately raised her hand and started talking. “Miss Bryan, we already know what a hero is. Those books can’t teach us anything that we don’t already know.”
“Settle down Cindy.” By this time Miss Bryan was fed up with the rudeness that Cindy was projecting, but she simply ignored the feeling and continued her explanation.
“A couple thousand years ago, heroes were portrayed very differently in society. They were often praised and rejoiced for their remarkable actions. Such is so in this book.” Miss Bryan held up an older book with crinkled edges and a fat coffee stain on the cover.
“This book is called ‘The Odyssey’. Within these pages, a war-hero, Odysseus, goes on a journey to find his way home. However, on the way he faced many unbearable tasks. Odysseus had to do such things as sailing through a whirlpool, escaping an island and going into the underworld. Luckily, throughout his journey, Odysseus kept his family and loved ones close to him, deep within the depths of his mind. That is what allowed him to complete all of his tasks and make it back to his home.”
The kids looked up to the teacher and wondered if firemen and doctors had to go on these journeys and complete such grueling tasks.
Bobby Smith politely raised his hand and asked that question, “Do firemen have to go on journeys?”
Miss Bryan didn’t look surprised that he asked that question. “Actually Bobby, you are quite a few steps ahead of me. Save that question and see if it gets answered shortly.”
Cindy sighed and shook her head.
Miss Bryan put down the old book and picked up a newer looking one. This one had fewer ripped pages and didn’t have a mark on the cover.
Miss Bryan continued her explanation of heroes, “In this book, which was written only a few years ago, a person by the name of Edward Bloom went on the same type of journey as Odysseus. He left his home and went through many trials to find his true self. On the way, he found his true love at a circus. Edward searched for many months and completed tasks just to find her again. This journey to find his love was a very mentally grueling task, but he made it through.”
Miss Bryan paused and glanced at the many hands that were raised during her last story. She decided to be polite and called on Cindy, who was actually waiting patiently to be called upon.
“Miss Bryan, Edward didn’t go on the same type of journey that Odysseus did, like you said. The journeys don’t sound anything alike, actually.”
“Very good observation Cindy,” Miss Bryan praised. She was mildly surprised that Cindy had something useful to say, rather than criticism. She continued explaining, “See, over time the hero’s journey changes, as society itself changes. It will be more apparent a little bit later.”
Miss Bryan reached to her left and pulled the final book off the pile. “Now, this hero is one of my favorites! He is what one would call the prime modern-day hero.” Miss Bryan paused in the moment, trying to gather her words. After the moment of reflection, she continued, “Now this may seem like forever ago, but it really wasn’t! In the early 1900’s, there were many conflicts over in Europe and Asia. Many people literally fought over resolutions, however this person took a more peaceful approach. Mahatma Gandhi chose silent protests and civil disobedience to get his point across. He always seemed to do it without making the smallest amount of violence. His heroic actions inspired many, even people today!”
Cindy wondered for a bit, and then raised her hand. “Miss Bryan, Gandhi didn’t go on a journey. He just stayed and practiced civil dis-en-something.”
Miss Bryan replied, “But Cindy, would you agree that he changed on the inside and influenced the lives of others?” Cindy nodded her head shyly. “That is exactly how the hero changed over time. Odysseus, who was older, had more of a physical approach to becoming a hero. He actually engaged in a journey and fought off people. Odysseus had many helpers too, as many heroes did.”
“While Edward Bloom was a fictional character and Gandhi was a real hero, both had a mental journey in which they endeavored. Bloom’s was a mental and physical journey while Gandhi fought off his demons and became at one with himself. ”
The children looked pleased. All loose ends seemed to be tied.
“Now, over the weekend, go home and start a journey. Try to overcome some type of obstacle, and it’s ok if you need help.” The bell rang.
On the bus ride home, Cindy and Bobby Smith had many ideas that raced through their heads.
And over the weekend, they went on a journey.
Then they arrived at school on Monday.
Immediately upon arrival, Bobby Smith and Cindy raced up to Miss Bryan and told her the stories of their heroic weekend.
“Miss Bryan, I went to my grandma’s house and helped her to clean out her garage! I am a hero!” Cindy said sounding accomplished.
“I was allowed to walk around my development! I saw that the park was littered, so my mom and I went into the area and picked up trash. I realized that it is bad to litter, because I saw a raccoon living in a shoebox. I am a hero!” Bryan sounded pleased.
However, Cindy refuted, “You can’t be a hero! You didn’t help anyone!”
Bryan answered, “I went on a mental process! You didn’t, so you are not a hero!”
Both turned to Miss Bryan and said together, “Miss Bryan, I am a hero…right?”
Miss Bryan chuckled softly and responded.
“Well…did either of you have any mentors that helped you to complete the journey?”
“My grandma!”
“My mom!”
“Did you have to overcome an obstacle?”
“A messy garage!”
“Litter!”
“And your actions helped for the betterment of society?”
“It helped my grandmother.”
“A clean environment is healthy for nature, which furthers society.”
Miss Bryan looked a bit puzzled as Bobby Smith said the last statement. It seemed as if he read it directly from a Nature Lover’s guide. However, she dismissed the idea and continued her conversation.
“And you both claim to have gone on a journey?” Both nodded. “Then I must say you have both fulfilled the requirements of being a hero. Cindy, you took the more physical approach that we have talked about yesterday. Remember Odysseus?” Miss Bryan turned her attention to Bobby Smith. “And Bobby, you went on both a physical and mental journey. You not only realized the importance of nature, but also took a stance and cleaned up the place. Good job!”
“So we are both heroes?” Cindy asked.
“Yes Cindy, you are both heroes,” Miss Bryan confirmed.
Both of the children were pleased.
