<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653</id><updated>2012-02-06T06:15:51.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>lindsay m's blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-1330827391572275124</id><published>2009-06-02T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T19:45:25.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM final post</title><content type='html'>Perspective of Boo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Radley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Halloween, and I knew that the school was having a performance tonight.I knew that everyone would be going to it. &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Allegedly,&lt;/span&gt; some of the costumes would be sort of weird, because a lot of them were animals or food. I saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; and Scout walk by, and it was very dark out. I thought that they shouldn't be out that late, but they went on. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; was holding this big brown lump that looked sort of like a ham. It looked like an &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;inconvenience&lt;/span&gt; to him because it was too big for him to hold, but Scout wouldn't be able to hold it unless she was wearing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time went by, and I was thinking about the kids performance. I thought it went pretty good until i heard someone scream. I listened, and heard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; and Scout talking wordily, and they sounded like they were in trouble. I &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;assessed&lt;/span&gt; that they needed help. I went in the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I ran out onto the field by the big oak tree. I knew I was under a tree because it was colder. I heard screaming, and I saw Scouts costume shine in the faint light. I ran after them, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; yelled "Run scout, run run run!" I chased after them, and they both tripped and fell, and i stopped running. I just listened, I heard a big "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;umff&lt;/span&gt;" coming from a big man, and I heard a snapping sound like a broken bone. Some one screamed, then it went quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it was Mr. Ewell, because he smelled like whiskey, and he drinks when he is angry, and normally beats &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Mayella&lt;/span&gt;. I heard another scream, so I took my knife, and found Mr. Ewell's chest and stabbed him right between the ribs. He ran up against the tree, and started coughing, and wheezing. It went quiet. I searched on the floor for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;, and found his body. I picked him up, and started walking toward his house. I didn't even think about Scout, because I knew that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; was badly hurt and unconscious. I heard Scout finally get up and follow behind me, not knowing who I was, but I just went on. I took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; inside his house, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; met me at the door. He was shocked, seeing his son unconscious in my arms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; Had never seen me before, not a lot of people have. Scout followed in the door shortly after me. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;consented&lt;/span&gt; me to bring &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; in to his room. Alexandra got on the phone and called the sheriff, and the doctor to come over immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Reynolds got here first, and examined &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;. He had a badly broken arm; snapped backwards at the elbow. He was unconscious, but alive, because when the Doctor was looking at his arm, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; kicked him, so he had to put him to sleep for longer to be able to look. Heck came over, and we all discussed what we thought happened. Scout told us the story, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; thought that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; stabbed Bob. Heck thought that he fell on the knife. Scout didn't really know what happened. I knew that I killed Bob Ewell, but didn't speak up about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Scout found out that I was "Boo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Radley&lt;/span&gt;," she seamed amazed. She didn't try to over react about the person she had been scarred of her whole life until a few months ago was in her house, and had saved her brother, but she did. I saw her jaw drop, but i just ignored it. Scout and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; had been like my children; I have watched them grow up, left them things in the tree, put a blanket on them, saw them roll into our yard, fixed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Jems&lt;/span&gt; pants, and saved them tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel really guilty about killing Bob. I know that he is not nice, because he lied through out the whole court cases, and beats his daughter, but I really do think that he needed that. He was drunk, and has a pretty bad life. I would much rather protect "my children."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We discusses what happened over and over. I really enjoyed that Scout sat next to me, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;becasue&lt;/span&gt; I know that she used to be scarred of me, but now that shes met me, shes okay. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; really listen to the whole conversation about what happened. I was thinking of all the crazy things that have happened to me in my life and what really made me want to stay in the house. After about 40 minutes, Heck Tate leaves, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; goes inside. Scout and I follow him. I say i should get going, but Scout said i should say by to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;. I go in there, and she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;grabs&lt;/span&gt; my hand and pulled me over to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;. She said "Just go ahead, you can pet his head. Hes just asleep." I pet his head and Scout is still holding my hand. I don't pull away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She walks me out side, and I asked her if she could walk me home. She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;said&lt;/span&gt; "I walked you around my house, and showed you through my living room, but I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what the neighbor ladies would think....Okay bend down, and link our arms together, so it looks like your escorting me across the street." I think it is a great plan, and I do. She and I walked in my gate, and I went in my house, and closed the door. Scout stood inside our gate for a few minutes. I think she was thinking about the only other time she was in here, when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; pushed her in in the tire. I watched her standing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;there&lt;/span&gt; from my window, and after a few minutes, she slowly walked back to her house with her head down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never came out of my house &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;. I know that Scout had mixed feelings about seeing me, and I know that I would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; have to come out of my house sometime soon after someone figures out that I killed Bob Ewell. I might find a new place to hide things for Scout and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;, but i am quite content in this house, and I feel like I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; need to leave anymore. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; feel right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-1330827391572275124?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1330827391572275124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=1330827391572275124' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/1330827391572275124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/1330827391572275124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/tkam-final-post.html' title='TKAM final post'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-4312524207661312325</id><published>2009-05-27T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T20:33:02.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post 7</title><content type='html'>Perspective of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dill started crying. I told Scout to take him outside, after all I am the oldest and i should get to hear this case, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I am the only one who probably understands it. I thought it was kind of &lt;strong&gt;irrelevant&lt;/strong&gt; that Dill started crying, but I didn't really care, I just wanted to watch the case. while Scout and Dill were leaving, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; and Mr.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Gilmer&lt;/span&gt; were making there closing arguments. In &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Atticus's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;speech&lt;/span&gt;, he says that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Mayella&lt;/span&gt; is guilty of two things; lying, and tempting a "nigger." He said he thinks Tom Robinson may be innocent and not guilty, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Mayella&lt;/span&gt; is guilty of those two things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scout and Dill came back, and were talking and asking what they missed, but I just told them to "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Sshhh&lt;/span&gt;." It was hot in this court room, and we had been there almost all day. When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; was making his final &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;speech&lt;/span&gt;, me and Scout saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; do something he has never done before. He took off his coat and loosened his tie. The only other time we had seen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; doing this was before bed when he puts on his pajamas. This was like looking at him naked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;in front&lt;/span&gt; of this giant room full of people. I call this a troublesome &lt;strong&gt;predicament&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; and Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Glimmer&lt;/span&gt; finished their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;speeches&lt;/span&gt;, the jury went to deliberate. I looked down off the balcony, and I saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; walking straight up the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;aisle&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;. I knew that me and Scout were in big trouble. I saw Cal and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; talking, and Judge Taylor pointed up at us. We tried to duck but they saw us. We ran down stairs, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; caught up with us. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; said that since we have already heard it all, we may as well hear the rest. He told us to go home and eat dinner really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;slowly&lt;/span&gt;. Cal marched Dill, Scout, and I home and reminds us once again to eat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;slowly&lt;/span&gt;. Of course we didn't! we scarfed down our food &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; wasn't looking (we tried to be &lt;strong&gt;subtlety.&lt;/strong&gt;) After we ate, we ran back to the court house, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; the jury still wasn't there. Aunt Alexandra was not happy about letting us go back to court, but we just ran before she could even get a word into us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited almost 2 1/2 more hours for the jury to come back. I know, as a son of a lawyer that when the jury returns, they never look at the person who is decided guilty. When they are coming back in, none of them are looking at Tom Robinson. Judge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Taylor&lt;/span&gt; reads out the votes from the jury "Guilty......... guilty........ guilty....... guilty......" How could he loose?! I am out of my mind, this is &lt;strong&gt;improbable&lt;/strong&gt;. The court room started to empty out, and all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Negros&lt;/span&gt; on the balcony rise in honor and respect of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;. I rise too. We slowly empty out of the court room. I cried that night. I cannot believe the injustice of that jury. they must be out of their minds. I ask &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; why they could have let Tom loose, and he said "They've done it before, they did it tonight, and they'll do it again." I told him, I just didn't under stand why he could lost, and i went to bed, crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day when I wake up, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; is back to normal, and not really sad, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt; he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; showing it. There was a ton of food on the table, and I asked Cal where it all came from. She said that all the negro community gave it to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; and left it on the back porch, because they were happy that he tried to defend Tom &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Robinson&lt;/span&gt;. it was &lt;strong&gt;inevitable.&lt;/strong&gt; All this food out of no where. We had buns this morning, and so many of my favorite things later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, Miss Maudie invited me, Scout, and Dill in for cake. It was wonderful. Miss Stephanie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Crawford&lt;/span&gt; was talking to Miss Maudie, and Mr. Avery about the court case, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; tried to talk to us about it. She told us that this morning, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; was on his way to town to go to work, and Mr. Ewell walked by him, spit in his face and said "I can't believe you tried to make me and my family loose. You will have your revenge some day." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;being&lt;/span&gt; the grown man walked away, and wished that Mr. Ewell didn't chew &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;tobacco&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Everyone&lt;/span&gt; is worrying about the threats that Bob gave to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;, except &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;. He just doesn't believe that Bob can make that happen. Tom &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Robinson&lt;/span&gt; gets sent to another jail, 70 miles away. Scout asked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; what will happen to Tom, he says that since rape is a capitol offence, Tom will probably get the electric chair. That night, I show Scout that I am growing chest hair, and I tell her that I am going to try out for football in the fall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-4312524207661312325?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4312524207661312325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=4312524207661312325' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/4312524207661312325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/4312524207661312325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-7.html' title='TKAM post 7'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-1254350412276750328</id><published>2009-05-25T16:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T17:36:48.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post 6</title><content type='html'>Perspective of Tom Robinson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my court case. I was a little nervous, because I was pretty sure I would loose just because I am black. When I got to the court house, there were a lot of people there. I had seen a lot of these people before, but I defiantly wasn't expecting such a big crowd. I was not thinking that I would cause so many people to come into the court case. There were so many people standing up and outside because of the limited number of seats. The court room was pretty big. The balcony was for the rest of the black people to sit, but there were some white people up there too. I was &lt;strong&gt;oblivious&lt;/strong&gt; to the fact that all these people were here to watch me, the &lt;strong&gt;defendant&lt;/strong&gt; in a court case about rape. I thought they were all here to just hear about the "rape," but they were here to see me loose (even though i haven't lost yet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first person up in the witness stand is sheriff Heck Tate. "He said that he heard Bob Ewell running and calling his name. When he found Bob, he asked him what was wrong, and he said that Tom Robinson was in his house raping his daughter, Mayella Ewell. " That is not the correct thing that happened. He's making up lies. Heck is excused from the witness stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob Ewell is called up. His side of the story says "I was coming home, and I saw Tom Robinson in my house all over my Mayella. I heard her scream so I went inside, and when I got in, he ran out the front door, I tried running after him, but couldn't catch him. Mayella had bruises mostly on her right side, a black eye on her right, and choke marks around her neck. So I ran to find Mr. Heck Tate, and I ran and found him, and showed him Mayella." After he told his story, Atticus asked him many questions. He asked him if he knew how to write, and he said sure he did. Atticus had Bob write his full name clearly on a piece of paper. Bob Ewell is left handed. A person who gets beat up mostly on their right side has probably gotten beat up by a lefty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atticus continues questioning Bob Ewell, and gets a few more hints slowly that I am not guilty. Mr. Ewell gets accused of not calling a doctor right after he found out that his daughter was raped. Mr. Ewell is &lt;strong&gt;dispelled&lt;/strong&gt; from the witness stand, and Mayella is called up next. She says "I was outside watering my geraniums, and Tom Robinson walked by as he does everyday. I ask him to chop up a dresser that I have, because he does some chores for me for no charge. I say that I would give him a nickle for doing some things for me. I was going upstairs to get the money, and he followed me in and when i turned around, he was on top of me on the floor. He raped me, chocked me, and beat me. I was yelling, and my dad came home, and saw Tom on top of me. Tom ran away, and my dad asked me what happened. I told him everything, and he went to go get the sheriff." Before she told her story, she was crying. She didn't want Atticus to interrogate her like he did to her dad. After she told her story, she was fine. Atticus also asked her many questions. He asked her where her siblings were, and she said she gave them each a nickle to &lt;strong&gt;indulge&lt;/strong&gt; themselves with ice cream from town. It had taken her a long time to save up that money, but she did it, and gave it to her siblings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mayella was excused from the stand, and I was called up. I told them the true story "I was walking to work, and I passed by the Ewell house as I do everyday. Mayella called me over and told me she had something to do for me. She said it was inside, and so i followed her in. she said she needed me to get something for her from up high on a dresser that she couldn't reach. I stood on the chair, and got it down for her. when I was coming down, she started hugging and kissing me. I didn't do anything to her I swear, and didn't hurt her. I tried to pull her away from me, but I didn't hurt her. She was kissing me and said that she has never had a kiss from a boy, and the stuff her dad does to her doesn't count. I saw her dad through the window, and i pulled free from her, and ran away." Mr. Gilmer asked me why I ran, and I said "If you were black like me, you would run too. I didn't do anything bad but go in the house. I just ran." I got many more questions. My boss, Link Deas stands up and yells out that I have never done anything bad, and I shouldn't be here testifying this. Link got sent out of the court room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I obviously couldn't have beat her up because I don't have a working left hand. It got it caught in a Cotton shredder once a few years back. I got half my arm cut off so if i did beat her up, she would be injured on her left side, not her right. I knew that Bob Ewell was &lt;strong&gt;begrudging&lt;/strong&gt; that I am saying this, the truth. But I want to be innocent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-1254350412276750328?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1254350412276750328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=1254350412276750328' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/1254350412276750328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/1254350412276750328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-6.html' title='TKAM post 6'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-3604080201096979591</id><published>2009-05-19T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T21:04:32.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post #5</title><content type='html'>perspective of Aunt Alexandra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am here in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Moycomb&lt;/span&gt;, Alabama staying here with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; and the kids. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; told the kids that I am here to watch them over the summer since he wont be here most of the days. But I am really here to teach Scout and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; how to become proper ladies and gentlemen. The kids really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; been getting a long very well. They have been pestering, but I just think that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; is growing up, which is exactly why I'm here. I know that they are proper somewhere on the inside, but I just need to &lt;strong&gt;extract&lt;/strong&gt; it from them. I know that Scout &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; really like how I want her to become a lady, but I know that the ladies in town would love to have a tea party with me. I invite some of the ladies form &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Maycomb&lt;/span&gt; over, and we have tea. Scout came in from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;outside&lt;/span&gt; to get some water for her and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;. I tell her to come meet her cousin Lily Brooke. Scout came over, and she is filthy with mud, and I regret having her come meet Miss Lily Brooke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very proud of being a Finch. There are some things that I think are giving the Finch name a bad reputation; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; defending a black person, Scout not being  lady, and just many other little things, that I don't think are perfect that need to be. One day Scout tried to ask &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; what rape was, and why &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; didn't tell her. Scout also asked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; if her and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt; could go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Calpurnia's&lt;/span&gt; house, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; she said they could, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; was about to answer with a yes, and I just couldn't help myself, and yelled out "NO." Why would she think that she could go to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Negros&lt;/span&gt; house. We have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;enough&lt;/span&gt; disgrace with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Finches&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Negros&lt;/span&gt;, we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; need anymore. Anyways, I don't think that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; needs to work here anymore, since I will be staying here for a long time. I want her fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms. Rachel's nephew, Dill ran away from his house, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he thought that his new step dad, and mom don't pay &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;enough&lt;/span&gt; attention to him, so he took 13$ from his mom's purse with her being &lt;strong&gt;oblivious&lt;/strong&gt;. And in the middle of the night, Dill ran away. He walked, rode a train, and rode on the back of a cotton car all the way to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Maycomb&lt;/span&gt;. Dill was &lt;strong&gt;dispelled&lt;/strong&gt; with his parents. So one night, Scout thought she saw something under her bed, and she thought it was a snake, but it was Dill! he was asleep under her bed, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; got in the house when no one was looking, or no one was home. Dill was filthy, and hungry, and not in and &lt;strong&gt;amiably&lt;/strong&gt; way. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; told Scout to go get him some food, and I went to go tell Miss &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Rachel&lt;/span&gt; that Dill is here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week after Dill gets here, A group of men &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;knock&lt;/span&gt; on the door. They were here to tell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; that his &lt;strong&gt;defendant&lt;/strong&gt;, Tom &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Robinson&lt;/span&gt; is getting moved to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Maycomb&lt;/span&gt; County Jail. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; and I had been arguing about the trial, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think that he should be defending Tom Robinson. A few nights later, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; takes the car into town, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; tell me where he was going. But I have been taking charge in this house hold, and have been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;making&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; of rules, and I don't think that the kids really like them. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-3604080201096979591?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3604080201096979591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=3604080201096979591' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3604080201096979591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3604080201096979591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-5.html' title='TKAM post #5'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-3052850240750146878</id><published>2009-05-14T14:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T20:40:37.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post 4</title><content type='html'>Perspective of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scout and I were out shooting with our new air soft guns, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; came out and said "I would rather you two shoot at some tin cans, but I know you are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;goin&lt;/span&gt;' for the birds, but remember; its a sin to kill a mocking bird." A few days later, there was a father football game, and I was sitting there watching all my classmate's dads play foot ball, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; wasn't playing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he says he is too old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Scout go out to play in the front yard, and we see old Tim Johnson out down the street. We notice that he is was walking funny, but that old dog is always up to something. We run inside to tell Cal about the dog, and she says that every time we see something out of the ordinary when our dad isn't home, we cant come telling her to look at it. After we beg her to come out and look, she says that Tim Johnson has turned into a "mad dog," with rabies. She tells us to go inside, because we are in &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;peril.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; runs in, and calls &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;, and says that there is a mad dog coming up our street. She calls everyone in the neighborhood, and warns them too. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Radley's&lt;/span&gt; didn't answer their phone, so she runs out and bangs on their door to tell them that there is a Mad Dog out on the loose but no one answers the door either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; pulls up in Heck Tate, the Sheriff's car, and they both step out. They have to shoot poor Tim Johnson. Heck looks down the road, and sees Tim Johnson slowly walking up the street in a straight line. He says "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;, I can't shoot that good, and for a mad dog, you only get one shot." He throws the gun to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;, and he doesn't want to shoot either, but he does. He aims the gun at Tim Johnson, and looks with his right eye, and fires. It hits the dog right in his head. Heck and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; walk up to the dog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;in front&lt;/span&gt; of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Radley&lt;/span&gt; place, and heck said that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; was a little to the right, but it was a great shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scout and I walk to town, because I had some money to spend, and I wanted to get my steam engine, and scout wanted a baton that I said I might get for her. In order to get to town, we have to pass Ms. Henry Lafayette &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Dubose's&lt;/span&gt; house. Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt; is a sick, grumpy, old woman who sits in her wheelchair on her porch all day. When we pass her house, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; tells us to be polite, and don't say anything that might offend her. When we passed her house I said Hey Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt;. She responded "Don't you say Hey Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt;, you say Good Afternoon Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt;, and you, you should be wearing a dress, not those filthy overalls." I said i was just trying to be nice, and she said "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; you &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Contradict&lt;/span&gt; me." So we walked away, and I was very upset, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; she said some very mean things about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt;, and I did not like it. After I bought my to steam engine, and I got Scout a baton, we walked back home. Scout dropped her baton so many times trying to flip it in the air, it was filthy. When we walked back passed Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Dubose's&lt;/span&gt; house, she wasn't on her porch, so I took Scouts baton, walked up the steps, and broke Scout's baton on my knee. I broke all of her Camellia buds, and left the broken baton there. Scout started yelling, so I kicked her and she fell on her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;face&lt;/span&gt;. Then I felt bad, and helped he up. We walked away, and I acted like nothing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home, I sat in my room and when I heard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; come in the front door, i tried to hide. He yelled my name real loud, and I went to him. He help half the baton in his hand, and asked me if I was responsible for it. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;murmured&lt;/span&gt; "yes sir," so quiet, it was almost &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;inaudible&lt;/span&gt;. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; told me to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; go over, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;apologize&lt;/span&gt; to Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt;. when I was there, she told me that she wants me to read to her out loud for two hours each day for a month. So I started reading to her the next day, but it was only for about 20 minutes. After a week or so, I realized that when her alarm goes off, I have to leave, and it is set a little later each day. After a month of reading, it turned out that we read for more then two hours, and I only knew that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; came in and said he would stop by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; we were not home yet. So I asked Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt; if this was my last day reading to her, and she said she wants me to continue for 2 more weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left, and when we got home, I was talking to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; about it and he said that even if I didn't earn it, he would ask me to go over and read to her, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he is sick. He explained to me that she is very sick and is dying soon, and is addicted to morphine. He said that it is just a distraction to keep the pain away, and that the most time I am just &lt;strong&gt;inconspicuous &lt;/strong&gt;to her. After reading for 2 more weeks, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; got a phone call that said that Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Dubose&lt;/span&gt; had just died. I had mixed feelings about this, but was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;grateful&lt;/span&gt; too, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;becasue&lt;/span&gt; I was tired of reading to her and sick of hearing her say bad things about my father. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; went over to Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Dubose's&lt;/span&gt; house, and came back with a box for me. Inside the box was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Camellia&lt;/span&gt; bud; this was a sign of forgiveness from her and she is saying that it is okay now (that she is dead).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; left to go on a business trip type thing, and we were here with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt;. She was wondering on Sunday if we would go to our church or not, since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Atticus&lt;/span&gt; wasn't here. She decided that she would take us to her church. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; dressed us up real nice, and made scout wear a dress. I had on my dark blue suit with a green tie, and she told me to change, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; they didn't match, so I changed my tie. When we got to church, it was not like the church that me and Scout are used to, and it was not very &lt;strong&gt;ecclesiastical. &lt;/strong&gt;There were no books, and no organ or piano. when everyone donates money, it is not passed around in a basket, everyone has to go up to the front, so the people at the church know who donated money, and who didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone was looking at us funny, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; they knew that we were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;Atticus's&lt;/span&gt; children, and we were white. We got a lot of respect from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;Negros&lt;/span&gt;, because they are all friends of Tom Robinson, and they are very grateful that my dad is defending him in his case. The man who worked at the church, Reverend Sykes, did not let everyone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;leave&lt;/span&gt; until there was 10 dollars total in the can with all the money, and he closed the doors, and asked everyone with out children to donate money. Later i found out that all the money goes to Tom Robinson's family, because since they have some kids, Ms. Robinson wont be able to work when Tom is at court. Reverend Sykes kept calling names, and saying that they have not come up and put in some money yet. Scout and I went up and put in our dimes that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;Calpurnia&lt;/span&gt; gave to each of us. Reverend Sykes was very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;grateful&lt;/span&gt; for that, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he expect the white people to have more money then most of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;Negros&lt;/span&gt;. When 10 dollars was finally added up, we left, and went home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-3052850240750146878?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3052850240750146878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=3052850240750146878' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3052850240750146878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3052850240750146878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-4.html' title='TKAM post 4'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-5266263285341393900</id><published>2009-05-11T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T21:00:20.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post 3</title><content type='html'>Perspective of Atticus&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up this winter morning, and it is freezing. I go to the bathroom to shave, and I hear Scout scream. I run out of the bathroom half way shaved, and she says "The world is coming to an end, Atticus!" I thought she was a very &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Perplexed &lt;/span&gt;girl. I explained to her that it was snow, and that the world is not ending! I get a phone call, and it is Eula May, from the kids school she was &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;entrusted &lt;/span&gt;to call the homes when something happens. she is calling to say that because it hasn't snowed in Maycomb, Alabama since 1885, there will be no school. The kids are so excited, so they put on some jackets, and go out and play in the snow. I said to Jem, that I know just as much about snow as he does, and that is not a lot, but the kids still decide that they will make a snowman, and get &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;aquatinted&lt;/span&gt; with the snow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see the kids playing outside, and they walk over to Miss Maudie's house. They come back a few minutes later with 2 baskets full of slushy, muddy snow. I decide to go outside and see what they are doing. I come out, and they kids are building a fat snowman. I ask them if that is supposed to be a replica of Mr. Avery, and they say no, but I decided that they should take off some of the stomach, and they put a hat and Miss Maudie's yard clippers on it, so it doesn't look like him.  Today, we found out that Mrs. Radley died.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That night, when the kids were asleep, it was a little after 1:00, and I heard a lot of noise outside, and I smelled smoke. I look outside, and Miss. Maudie's house is in flames. I wake up the kids, and make them put on coats, and robes, and warm shoes. They ask what is going on, and I take them outside, and tell them to stay right in front of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;adjacent &lt;/span&gt;Radley place, and make sure that they stay there. I have to go help put out the fire. All the men in the neighborhood start taking out her furniture and putting on the street. Mr. Avery goes in to try to help out Miss Maudie, and when he is trying to get out of the window because the stairs were burning down, he got stuck. His big belly was stuck in the window frame, but he managed to wedge himself out onto the top balcony.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the fire was out, it was almost the morning, so we went inside, and I asked the kids if they wanted some hot chocolate. Then I noticed a blanket on Scout's shoulder that wasn't there when we left them outside. I said "I told you two to stay exactly where I left you, and not to move 1 inch." They had no clue what I was talking about. I said "Scout, where did that blanket come from if you didn't move?" she looked at her shoulders, and saw a blanket on it. She screamed and said "I swear, Atticus, that blanket just appeared on me, we didn't move 1 inch, I promise." This was weird, I don't know if I believed her or not. I said I think that while they were standing there, one of the Radley's came up behind them, and put the blanket on her shoulder. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the kids went back to school, Scout came home and asked me if I was defending a Negro. I told her that Tom Robinson was a very nice man, and it doesn't matter his color, he is my client. My brother, Jack, and his wife and grandson, francis who is a year older then Scout comes to our house, and notices that Scout has been cursing a lot. After dinner, he pulls her aside, and tells her not to swear in his presence, and that it is not okay for young ladies to talk like that. For Christmas, I take jack and the kids to Finch's Landing. I cannot remember a Christmas with the kids where we did not go there. Finch's Landing is an old house in the Country. Scout says that Francis is the most boring person to play with, and she is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;debating &lt;/span&gt;with her Aunt Alexandra that she shouldn't wear a dress, even though her aunt wants her too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before Jack and his family return to Maycomb, the kids were acting kind of wierd, like they were keeping a secret from me. I tell Jack that Tom Robinson is "innocent, but doomed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-5266263285341393900?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5266263285341393900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=5266263285341393900' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/5266263285341393900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/5266263285341393900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-3.html' title='TKAM post 3'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-7447082682592599580</id><published>2009-05-10T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T20:17:20.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Perspective of Atticus&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids school years are coming to the end, and I am surprised that Scout is happy about that. Before the school year started, Scout was so excited about school and after the first couple days, she told me she didn't want to go anymore. On the last day of school, Scout came home, and she was chewing some gum, I thought that was wierd but I didnt say anything to her about it. In the summer, I love watching the kids play. They are so happy because their friend, Dill, is coming today from his dad's house. Dill comes to visit his Aunt Rachel, who is our next door neighbor. Jem and Scout love to play with Dill, the second he gets here they start planning out their whole summer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When they are playing, it is not always &lt;strong&gt;unanimous&lt;/strong&gt; on what they want to do, and poor Scout never gets her way, becasue Dill always says to her, "if you dont wanna' do what we're doing, then go sit by yourself," But Scout is a tough one, and takes it like a man, and does what they do. A few weeks into the summer, Jem and Scout come to me with 2 very shinny pennys that are dated 1900, and 1906. I say that those are very inportant to someone, and that they should leave them where they found them, becasue someone must have cleaned them up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One day, I saw the kdis playing around the Radley's house. I asked them what they were doing, and they said that they wanted to ask Mr. Arthur Radley to come out of his house, so they cam meet them. I told them to stop &lt;strong&gt;tormenting&lt;/strong&gt; the poor man, and leave him alone, and that he &lt;strong&gt;evades &lt;/strong&gt;(evasion is the vocab word) people for a very important reason. A few weeks after I saw the kids by the Radley's house, I saw them playing in the front yard, and they were acting very mysterious, and I saw them with a pair of scissors. I think that they should know that scissors are not for playing with. I asked them what they were doing, and they didn't say anything, and I suspected that they were playing "the Radley's." So I just took the scissors.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few days later, it was Dill's last day. That night, the kids and I were at Ms. Rachel's house, saying our last good byes to Dill.  As me and Ms. Rachel were talking, the kids said they were going to go play, and I didn;t mind, they wanted to have their last play time with dill. So Ms. Rachel and I were just talking about what a great time this summer has been, and just making small talk about and different &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;quibble&lt;/span&gt; (quibbling is the vocab word). After talking for about 30 minutes, we heard a gun shot, so we ran, and everyone was in front of the Radley house.  It was a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tyranny&lt;/span&gt; thing. Everyone said that a black person went onto their property, and Mr. Radley missed him when he was shooting, but he scarred the black out of him, so he became white. The kids came to the house too, and Jem had no pants on. I asked him what the sam hill happened to his pants, and Dill stepped in and said "we were playin' a strip poker game, and Jem lost so he had to take off his pants." I told him he needed to go get his pants back so he went to Dill's house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After Dill left, the kids started school again. On the first day of school, the kids came home with a nice white gold pocket watch that didn't work. The watch had a pocket knife attached to it. I said it could be worth 10$.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-7447082682592599580?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7447082682592599580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=7447082682592599580' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/7447082682592599580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/7447082682592599580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-2.html' title='TKAM post 2'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-4435813311070499407</id><published>2009-05-03T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T14:11:36.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TKAM post 1</title><content type='html'>perspective of Miss. Caroline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am preparing for the firsts day of school. I have always gotten some &lt;strong&gt;eccentric&lt;/strong&gt; children in my class. I wonder what is coming next. The school is starting a new way of teaching, it's the Dewey Decimal System. It really &lt;strong&gt;irks&lt;/strong&gt; me when people come to my first grade class and already know how to read and write, but that rarely happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the first day of school, and I am waiting for all the students to come in to class. They start coming in, and I recognize a few of them, the ones that have been in 1st grade for about 3 years. When all of the kids are in, I make a few &lt;strong&gt;pronouncements&lt;/strong&gt; and tell them what i expect from them, and what they should expect to happen in class. I introduce my self, and start writing the alphabet on the white board. I ask one of the girls, names scout, what it says, and she read the the whole alphabet out loud. I don't think that that is acceptable that she comes to my class and can read. I pull her aside, and tell her that if her daddy keeps teaching her how to read, then we will have to make a &lt;strong&gt;compromise.&lt;/strong&gt; Her Daddy should not teacher her how to read, and if he continues, I will have to &lt;strong&gt;condescend&lt;/strong&gt; and tell him my self that it is NOT OKAY! The day goes on, and I find out that Scout can write in cursive. That also irks me, and i tell her she can't do that until 3rd grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lunchtime comes, and i ask who is going home for lunch, and who will stay here. A boy named Walter Cunningham &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;docent&lt;/span&gt; have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lunch&lt;/span&gt;, and isn't going home. I try to give him a quarter to go buy lunch then pay me back tomorrow, and he won't take it. I start getting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;frustrated&lt;/span&gt; with him.  Some of the kids start talking and i ask what is happening, so once again Scout jumps up to the plate. Shes says "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; you know, hes a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cunningham&lt;/span&gt;. He wont be able to pay you back, I bet his family has never seen 3 quarters together in his life. " I am so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;frustrated&lt;/span&gt; with her, I let everyone out to lunch, and put her in the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when every one comes back from lunch, and boy that i didn't see in the morning was in the class. He was FILTHY, and he had bugs in his hair. I tell him he needs to go home and scrub his hair three times. so he leaves, and never comes back. his name is Burris Ewell, and I find out that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ewell&lt;/span&gt; family comes to school for the first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Day&lt;/span&gt;, and never comes back unless they have a longing for and education.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-4435813311070499407?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4435813311070499407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=4435813311070499407' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/4435813311070499407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/4435813311070499407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tkam-post-1.html' title='TKAM post 1'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-2939491889132728317</id><published>2009-04-22T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T21:08:39.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>immigration reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Literature Circle Books/ Blogs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not very happy with my choice of book. I didn't really like the whole storyline of it. It went back and forth from present day to back when the main character, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Achak&lt;/span&gt;, was a child. To me, that was very confusing and hard to concentrate on. I also didn't like how long the book was, and just kept going on and on about pretty much the same things, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Achak&lt;/span&gt; having the same problems. Of course, the book did have a lot of good parts in it, and some heavy action parts, but most of it just felt long, and difficult to concentrate on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned all about the war that happened in Africa a few years ago. I learned how hard it is for people to immigrate to America, and how long it takes for them to get used to the differences between the 2 countries. I learned a lot about the main character, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Achak&lt;/span&gt;, who came to America from Africa, and got treated very unfairly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could add anything to the LC process, I think I would keep it like how it was 1st semester. Where we met in the group, and had the vocabulary, and talked to each other in person, not just through the blogs. I didn't really mind doing the blog posts, it would have just been easier to meet in person, because I thought the book was really confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it was good to just find 2 quotes from the pages that you read and only write about those, instead of briefly writing about 2 quotes, but also having to explain the characters, and some vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked how the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;other&lt;/span&gt; people got to comment on our blogs, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; if i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; understand something, the other people would explain it to me. Also, I liked it, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; sometimes it would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;help&lt;/span&gt; you think of things a different way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Art &amp;amp; Literature&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; make a new book cover for my book. I chose to do this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I thought that the original book cover was a little plain and boring. The book cover that i made reflected on the book, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; it has the 4 main parts of the book; Africa, USA, and the main character in two different ages, when he was a little boy, and when he was all grown up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do feel like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;there&lt;/span&gt; was a connection made between my book cover, and the book, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I think that my book cover was completely about the book. Like I said, it had the 4 main parts of the book, and it fit with the book perfectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that my final painting came out very good. I messed up on a few places, like the main characters face, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; the brush was too big, and I had a very hard time tracing the picture onto the canvas. Besides those few things, I think that it came out very neat and clean, and I was very proud of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that my book cover was a lot better when it was colored with colored pencils, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I messed up painting quite a bit. If we could turn them in as a colored picture, not a painting, mine would be a lot better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Interview process with participant &amp;amp; gift&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interview process was not very smooth for me. It was very stressful, and i got kind of nervous through out it. I had some technical problems, and I felt like i was behind the whole time. The thing I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; like the most was interviewing on the phone, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; like talking on the phone, and then i had to talk to someone that I had never met before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, I didn't mind interviewing the person. The email interview was the best, and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;easiest&lt;/span&gt;, the in person interview was fine, but I had some problems with the computer when i was trying to have it, and the on the phone interview was very stressful, and not very fun at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;thought&lt;/span&gt; it was cool that I got to interview, and learn about a person that immigrated here from Nicaragua. I thought it was fun to learn about the cultures, and traditions in that country. These interviews did help me reflect on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;curriculum&lt;/span&gt; that we were learning in class at that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made my immigrant a scrapbook that had a lot of different things in it. I had some pages about him and his journey to America. I had some pages about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Nicaragua&lt;/span&gt;, and America similarities and differences. I had some things he did as a child, and many more. I hope he really liked this scrapbook that I made, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I spent a lot of time on it, and I was very proud of the final products.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-2939491889132728317?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2939491889132728317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=2939491889132728317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/2939491889132728317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/2939491889132728317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/immigration-reflection.html' title='immigration reflection'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-3558790366986423682</id><published>2009-03-16T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T16:04:11.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>final post (6)</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote 1:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; pg 470&lt;br /&gt;"I have been staring across the parking lot at a pay phone, and now I see it as an invitation. I decide that I should call my own number, to ring my stolen phone. I have nothing to lose in doing so." said by the narrator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Significance:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt; I think this quote shows that even though Valentino is trying to fit in in America, and not try to stand out as an immigrant, he still has a hard time. He got his phone stolen, and wants it back, but he is trying to think like an American like "What is there to lose?" that shows that even though this whole book is really only a few days of his life (Except for his memories) he still wants to be welcomed in America. (if you know what I mean)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Personal connection:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I connect to Valentino in this quote because, when something that isn't so good happens to me, I think about things I can do to try to make it better, and i think to myself "What can I loose?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 1:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Have you ever had a time when you were not have a great day, and you think something good will happen after, but it doesn't? Explain. If not, then think about what you would want to happen after a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote 2:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Pg. 484 "How can our country recover when we loose the youth?" said by a random adult in Sudan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Significance:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I really like this quote &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt;it showed that all of that walking and suffering in Sudan and Ethiopia payed off, because all of the kids went to school, learned another language, learned to read, learned to write, and learned to cook, and now a lot of them are dying again. \&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Personal connection:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I don't think I can really connect to this quote, because I didn't want for a month at a time, and I am not suffering, and no one around me is dying, but I just really liked this quote. also the person who said this quote didn't even have a name, so I cannot connect to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 2:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; have you ever had a time where you worked so hard to get to something, or make something, and it just ends or break, or you just don't get to finish?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-3558790366986423682?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3558790366986423682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=3558790366986423682' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3558790366986423682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3558790366986423682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/final-post-6.html' title='final post (6)'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-8027745387385519611</id><published>2009-03-05T18:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T20:56:19.748-08:00</updated><title type='text'>post 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Quote 1:&lt;/u&gt; page 336 "We were told to gather everything we could and prepare to leave. By the time I arrived at our shelter, it was already empty" said by the narrator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Significance:&lt;/u&gt; This quote shows how much the traveling boys have to move all over the country. They also do not have a lot of shelter, and space to live, and not many belongings to bring with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Personal connection:&lt;/u&gt; I am not very much like Valentino. I ave a nice house to live at, and I have not been traveling for months all across Africa. I think that Achak deserves a great life in America, and also all of the other traveling boys do too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 1:&lt;/u&gt; How would you feel if you were always having to leave cities, because of wars or rebels, and invasions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote 2:&lt;/u&gt;  page 342 "We walked for an hour, the wind wild and warm, when we heard an animal sound. This was not the sound of an adult-we heard much of that on the way, moaning and retching-this was a baby, wailing in a low voice" said by the narrator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Significance:&lt;/u&gt; This quote stands out to me, because everyone is getting moved out of cities, and everyone is hungry, and baby's are crying, and people are moaning, and dying right then and there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Character judgement:&lt;/u&gt; I feel bad for Achack, and all of the traveling people, and the baby's who are angry, and everyone is dying. I don't think that any of them deserve to live in these conditions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 2:&lt;/u&gt; If you were Achak and you had been walking for months, and having barley and food, would you want to die like most of the other people, or would you want to live, and finally make a life in a new country? Explain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-8027745387385519611?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8027745387385519611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=8027745387385519611' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/8027745387385519611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/8027745387385519611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/post-5.html' title='post 5'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-3988107541063493801</id><published>2009-03-01T18:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T19:05:29.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>post 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote 1:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Achak&lt;/span&gt;! Are you okay?" It takes me a moment to compose myself. "What the hell is this?" he asks. "I was attacked," I finally say. "We were robbed." this was said by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt;, the narrator, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Achak&lt;/span&gt; (Valentino) on page 231 (first page of chapter 15)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Significance:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; This quote shows how hard it is for immigrants to live in America. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Achak&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; got robbed, because a lady saw him, and he was African, and she tricked him, and robbed and beat him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Personal connection:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; should be probably really mad and sad at the same time because he just found out that he got robbed, and his best &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;frien&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;d&lt;/span&gt;/room mate got beat up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 1:&lt;/u&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;If you were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; and you just walked into your house, and everything is thrown everywhere, and most of your things were stolen, what would you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote 2:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; "I can pay you in cash for whatever you do," I say. "We don't take cash," Julian says. "But don't worry. We'll treat you whether you have insurance or not. Like i said-not sweat" said by the doctor, Julian, and Valentino on page 240&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Significance:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I like this quote because it shows how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; and Valentino are kind of confused, and don't really know a lot about the real world in America, and how they don't have experiences at places like the hospital in America&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Character Judgement:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I think that Valentino didn't deserve to be robbed, because he is just trying to learn how America works. I think that Valentino is just another man, and it doesn't matter id him and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Achor&lt;/span&gt; are African, but they are just trying to be American.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 2:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; If you were Valentino, what would you be thinking about that whole time you were getting robbed and beat up?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-3988107541063493801?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3988107541063493801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=3988107541063493801' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3988107541063493801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/3988107541063493801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/post-4.html' title='post 4'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-4920105666139754319</id><published>2009-02-24T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T20:39:37.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>post 3</title><content type='html'>Quote 1: page 187 said by Valentino&lt;br /&gt;"In front of me, I saw nothing but boys, some of them bathing in the water. Behind me, there was nothing but darkness and a path."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Significance: This has to do with the questions because when you are traveling, you never know what you are going to run into. Good things, or Bad things. This one ended up being a river to bathe in, and this one ended up being his long lost friend, William K.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Character Judgement: I think that after Valentino found his friend, he would be so happy because he had made that 6 week journey with people that he didn't know, and he thought that he lost William K, but then he found him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question 1: If you just found one of your best friends after about six weeks thinking that they were dead, how would you react? what would you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote 2: page 208 said by Valentino:&lt;br /&gt;"The food I had eaten gave me strength, as had the secret of the round-bellied man, and yet i was relatively certain that I was dying."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Significance&lt;/span&gt;: I think that it is so sad that even though he ate, Valentino, and all the other boys are so weak from running, walking, and hiding all day everyday for the past month and a half &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal connection: I think that I would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;defiantly&lt;/span&gt; not make it after all those days with so little food, and sometimes no food for up to a week. I feel bad for Valentino, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; if I were him, I think I would feel like I was dying too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question 2: How would you feel if you were in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Valentino's&lt;/span&gt; position after eating, and feeling like you are dying?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-4920105666139754319?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4920105666139754319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=4920105666139754319' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/4920105666139754319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/4920105666139754319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/post-3.html' title='post 3'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-6717074012759743634</id><published>2009-02-20T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T20:14:43.279-08:00</updated><title type='text'>post 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Quote 1:&lt;/u&gt; page 91 said by Valentino's mom&lt;br /&gt;"Okay. Stay here. I have to see what's happening to her. I won't go far. Okay? If i can't see anything I'll come right back. You stay. Be completely silent, okay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Signifigance:&lt;/u&gt; This quote has to do with the questions &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; it shows how hard Valentino and his mom, and every other Sudanese person from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; village had. The army came, and burned the houses, chopped people's heads off and shot them. This quote is showing when Valentino and his mom were escaping from the army, and hid at his aunts house, and something happened to the aunt and the mom was going to see what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Character judgement:&lt;/u&gt; I think that Valentino's mom is a verry caring mother, and cares about the saftey of her child, and family members more then she cares about herself. I think she is a very great mother, and a great person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 1:&lt;/u&gt;  If you were in Valentino's position, would you have waited for your mom to get back, or would you have left like he did?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Qoute 2:&lt;/u&gt; page 107 said by Valentino&lt;br /&gt;I woke in the morning and shook the rocks from my head and got up and walked and ran and when I heard a sound or saw a figure in the distance, I crawled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Signifigance:&lt;/u&gt; This quote has to do with the questions on Ms. Abbassi's blog becasue it is showing more hard times, and just day to day things that Valentino has to deal with. He has almost no food and water, and has to hide every time he sees someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Character Judgement:&lt;/u&gt; I think that Valentino is a nice person that has had one of the hardest lifes in the world. From escaping from armies, to makeing a new life in america and getting robbed. After all that Valentino has lived through, I think he should be happy that he is still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Questin 2:&lt;/u&gt; If you were in Valentino's position, would you have stayed with the big group of people or gone alone? why?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-6717074012759743634?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6717074012759743634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=6717074012759743634' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/6717074012759743634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/6717074012759743634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/post-2.html' title='post 2'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-604342428146200609</id><published>2009-02-17T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T08:57:28.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>field trip reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jewish Museum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The purpose of this museum is to learn about the Jewish culture. some things i learned are that 9,000 Jews fought for the Union in the Civil War, and 3,000 fought for the confederacy. in the 1880s, millions of Yiddish speaking Jews came from Russia, Romania, and Australia. They were fleeing religious freedom.  in the 1930s, there was a crisis for the Jews with Adolf Hitler and his Nazi Party. I learned  that Judaism has taken a big part in America today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Children Immigrant Museum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Picture: Family from Cambodia (Chicago 2001)&lt;br /&gt;Description: Mom and dad holding  twin baby girls in white fluffy dresses, with a sad little girl wearing a gingham dress.  This strikes me  because every one looks sad except for the dad is just happy that he is in a new safe place, but the rest of the family misses thier country, I chose this becasue it made me think about what its like to come to a new country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote: " America has everything we need: thechnology, goods. At least on eperson from every nation lives here. People immigrate to America because they know its a land of freedom and a better life, I see America as a land of oppertunities."&lt;br /&gt;            -Tamara Frank, Poland from Between Cultures&lt;br /&gt;I chose this quote becasue it made me think about how great America is, and that we do have everything that any one would ever need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal Essay: Paul Tram - The Preuss School UCSD&lt;br /&gt;This essay is about a man telling the story of his mothers life.  this essay shows me how hard it is to be an immigrant in a new country, and especially if your family is struggling with money or any thing else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-604342428146200609?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/604342428146200609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=604342428146200609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/604342428146200609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/604342428146200609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/field-trip-reflection.html' title='field trip reflection'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-9014138150187649658</id><published>2009-02-14T15:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T17:24:01.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What is the What post 1</title><content type='html'>Quote 1: Valentino says this (but it is not in quotations), page 29 (i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what page for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Alex&lt;/span&gt;) paragraph 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote:&lt;/u&gt; When I first came to this country, I would tell silent stories. I would tell them to people who had wronged me. If someone cut in front of me in line, ignored me, bumped me or pushed me, I would glare at them, staring, silently hissing a story to them. &lt;em&gt;You do not understand, &lt;/em&gt;I would tell them. &lt;em&gt;You would not add to my suffering if you knew what I have seen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Significance&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/u&gt; This relates to number 5 (on Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Abbassis&lt;/span&gt; blog) number 5 says "What hardships do the characters endure as they make a new life?" No one respects Valentino &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he is black. He is from Sudan, and all of the white people are not nice to him, and this is what he thinks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; someone is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;mean&lt;/span&gt; to him. Slowly through out the book, he is telling bits and pieces of him traveling to America, and getting out of Sudan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Personal Connection:&lt;/u&gt; My personal connection to Valentino is that I think it is sad for him. even though he is in a new country, and he has a new home with his friend, he is still sad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he misses his family, and his home town, where he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; get made fun of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he is black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question:&lt;/u&gt; Do you think that Valentino will move away &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; people will probably keep robbing him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he is black (not African-American)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote 2:&lt;/u&gt; Valentino (he is like the only one who has talked in this book) page 31 paragraph 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote:&lt;/u&gt; The lion was a simple black &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;silhouette&lt;/span&gt;, broad shoulders, its think legs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;outstretched&lt;/span&gt;, its mouth open. It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;jumped&lt;/span&gt; from the grass, knocked a boy from its feet. I could not see this part, my vision obscured by the line of boys &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;in front&lt;/span&gt; of me. I heard a brief wail. Then I saw the lion clearly again as it trotted to the other side of the path, the boy neatly in its jaws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Significance&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/u&gt; This quote relates to number 2 (on Ms. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Abbassis&lt;/span&gt; blog) number 2 says "What was the journey like coming to America?" This shows how hard it was to walk through the desert at night for all the boys who were coming to America. It was dangerous but they still had to keep walking, and they couldn't wait for anyone if they stopped. There were a lot of wild animals at night and during the day, and less then half of the boys died from the animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Character Judgement:&lt;/u&gt; I think Valentino is a great man with a lot of stories to tell from his past. from walking so many miles through the desert, to getting robbed and beat up in his own house. I think that Valentino is a well brought up man, that will do great in America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Question 2:&lt;/u&gt; Do you think that Valentino will ever forget the horrible times of traveling to America?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-9014138150187649658?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/9014138150187649658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=9014138150187649658' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/9014138150187649658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/9014138150187649658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-is-what-post-1.html' title='What is the What post 1'/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5772481137862424653.post-6043010171291755435</id><published>2009-02-08T17:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T18:07:50.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Lindsay Miedema&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My Oppinion on Immigrants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My definition of an immigrant is a person that comes to a country from another country to make a better life for themselves and their family. I think being an immigrant doesn’t mean anything about being illegal in the United States, I think that immigrants should be able to make money here in America, so they and their families can be happy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My connection to immigrants is not very big. I don’t think that I know any immigrants, but my mom’s grandparents came from Italy to the United states when my grandpa was just a boy. But I never met them so I don’t really count that as a connection to immigrants.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I think that a lot of immigrants come to the United States to make a living for themselves, and make a lot of money to send to their parents or brothers or sisters so they can come to America and make a living for themselves too. Also I just think that great things happen in the United States, and it is a great place to be. I think that immigrants come to the United States so they can get out of their own countries and live a better, happier life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;If there were not immigrants in San Diego or America, then there would probably be half the population then there already is. If you look on the streets, you see people of all different ethnicities, and from all different countries. You never see only American or white people, there all different people in the world that come to America. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5772481137862424653-6043010171291755435?l=lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6043010171291755435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5772481137862424653&amp;postID=6043010171291755435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/6043010171291755435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5772481137862424653/posts/default/6043010171291755435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindsaymsblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/lindsay-miedema-my-oppinion-on.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsay m</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06332409848550634752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
