Thursday, September 10, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Letter from the Editor
For some of us, it all went by way too fast, while for others it didn’t go nearly fast enough. I will not be sharing which I was, but for all of us, senior year has to end. Whether this is a good or bad thing, we will all at least miss something about our high school days. For me, that thing would have to be yearbook class. It is so much fun and I recommend it to anyone who is a future graphic designer or photographer, like me, or anyone who just likes to be creative ad artistic. We all work together as a team and have the best yearbook advisor ever, Mrs. Greggs.
Even though she gets stressed out and misplaces things sometimes, we all love her anyway. If you had an entire yearbook to put together, newspapers to get out, English classes to teach, and essays to grade, you would be a little stressed too. But somehow, she manages to do all of this without going completely insane. So, thank you Mrs. Greggs for doing what you do best and helping all of us to Remember ’09. You have been a major influence in my life and career path. I will most definitely miss you. Who knows, maybe someday I will end up being a yearbook/newspaper advisor.
I would also like to thank the entire yearbook class for working so hard on making this yearbook. We got so many pages turned in ahead of schedule this year, I was very impressed. Out of the three years that I have been a part of the yearbook staff, this has been our most creative yearbook yet! Thank you to our Yearbook Advertising Crew, the commercials were hilarious and original. To Andrew and Thad, my co-editors, we made a great team and created a pretty awesome yearbook cover!
Class of 2009, I wish all of you the best of luck in everything you do. I am going to miss all of you. You all have bright futures ahead of you, so don’t give up on your dreams. And to everyone who possesses this yearbook, I hope you enjoy it and can reminisce about all the good times you had here at Sullivan High School. We made this for you, to store and preserve your memories and to help you not forget to Remember ’09.
CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 2009!!!
Even though she gets stressed out and misplaces things sometimes, we all love her anyway. If you had an entire yearbook to put together, newspapers to get out, English classes to teach, and essays to grade, you would be a little stressed too. But somehow, she manages to do all of this without going completely insane. So, thank you Mrs. Greggs for doing what you do best and helping all of us to Remember ’09. You have been a major influence in my life and career path. I will most definitely miss you. Who knows, maybe someday I will end up being a yearbook/newspaper advisor.
I would also like to thank the entire yearbook class for working so hard on making this yearbook. We got so many pages turned in ahead of schedule this year, I was very impressed. Out of the three years that I have been a part of the yearbook staff, this has been our most creative yearbook yet! Thank you to our Yearbook Advertising Crew, the commercials were hilarious and original. To Andrew and Thad, my co-editors, we made a great team and created a pretty awesome yearbook cover!
Class of 2009, I wish all of you the best of luck in everything you do. I am going to miss all of you. You all have bright futures ahead of you, so don’t give up on your dreams. And to everyone who possesses this yearbook, I hope you enjoy it and can reminisce about all the good times you had here at Sullivan High School. We made this for you, to store and preserve your memories and to help you not forget to Remember ’09.
CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 2009!!!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Symbolism in Fahrenheit 451
Could you imagine a world where no one was allowed to read books and everyone always watched television? What about one where no one takes the time to think, talk, or take a walk outside? What would you do if you were always being told what to do or think and you couldn’t do anything about it? This kind of world doesn’t sound all that crazy does it? The truth is, though, that years ago this would have sounded insane. That is exactly what Ray Bradbury was trying to warn us about in his novel, Fahrenheit 451. Throughout the novel, Bradbury uses plenty of symbolism and imagery to convey his thoughts of what the future of our society will be like.
Fire is a major symbol all through Fahrenheit 451. It has a dual image by representing two completely opposite emotions. It has a negative energy which frightens people by destroying the houses and the people in them. It erases every cultural work of art, and eliminates knowledge and the ability to think clearly because no one can read the books. However, Montag sees fire as a symbol of good and his solution to all problems. When he couldn’t think of any better solution for escape from Captain Beatty and the Mechanical Hound, he just set them both on fire (Bradbury 119). Also, Montag saw a “strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of a candle” in Clarisse’s eyes. This reminded him of a night from his childhood when there was a power failure and their only source of light was from their last candle (Bradbury 7). For the intellectuals, fire has a positive feel as well. They used it to provide them with warmth, a meeting point, and just a place to sit around and enjoy nature. In the end, though, fire destroys the entire city, but at the same time it gives them hope for the future. This hope will give them the confidence and power they need to rebuild and change society.
Two very important symbols at the beginning of the book are the hearth and the salamander. Both of these introduce the major symbol of fire. The hearth is a fireplace, which can heat a home. This gives fire a warm and comforting feeling. It stands for the good side of fire, while the salamander represents the destructive nature of fire. It was once believed that the salamander could live in fire. This is why salamanders are also the names given to fire trucks and are the official symbol of the firefighters.
The sieve and the sand are taken from Montag’s childhood memory of trying to fill up a sieve with sand on the beach to get a dime from his spiteful cousin (Bradbury 78). He compares this memory to his effort to read the whole Bible as quickly as possible on the subway. He hoped that, if he read it quick enough, bits and pieces would stay in his memory. The sand is a representation of the truth Montag is trying to find, and the sieve is like the human mind in search of a truth that remains unknown and impossible to grasp in any permanent way.
“There was a silly bird called a phoenix back before Christ, every few hundred years he built a pyre and burnt himself up” (Bradbury 163). After the bombing of the city, Granger compares mankind to a phoenix that burns itself up and then gets up out of its ashes over and over again. Man’s benefit is his ability to know when he has made a mistake, so that in the end he will learn not to make that mistake anymore. Granger and the rest of the intellectuals are trying to remember the mistakes of the past so that it won’t repeat itself. The symbol of the phoenix’s rebirth refers not only to the rebirth of humankind but also to Montag. He now sees the world in a new and strange way. He can think more clearly and make a difference in society.
The water is a symbol for a helpful power which saves Montag and is a contrast to the fire by dividing two completely different worlds. Montag crosses the river to flee out of the city and get into the forest. The river rescues Montag and takes him away from the city to lose the mechanical hound (cite). Also, Faber portrays himself as water and Montag as fire, claiming that the combination of the two will create wine. The wine could indicate a sense of knowledge and sophistication.
Overall, Bradbury’s use of symbolism is easy to understand because the symbols are easily connected with what they represent. In reality, fire warms us but we fear getting to close to it. Water refreshes us, wakes us up, and keeps us alive. The hearth, or home, is a cozy, comfortable place, while a salamander may seem creepy or make people feel uneasy. These are common things that everyone is familiar with, so they help us to better see the themes and warnings that Bradbury wished to get across.
Fire is a major symbol all through Fahrenheit 451. It has a dual image by representing two completely opposite emotions. It has a negative energy which frightens people by destroying the houses and the people in them. It erases every cultural work of art, and eliminates knowledge and the ability to think clearly because no one can read the books. However, Montag sees fire as a symbol of good and his solution to all problems. When he couldn’t think of any better solution for escape from Captain Beatty and the Mechanical Hound, he just set them both on fire (Bradbury 119). Also, Montag saw a “strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of a candle” in Clarisse’s eyes. This reminded him of a night from his childhood when there was a power failure and their only source of light was from their last candle (Bradbury 7). For the intellectuals, fire has a positive feel as well. They used it to provide them with warmth, a meeting point, and just a place to sit around and enjoy nature. In the end, though, fire destroys the entire city, but at the same time it gives them hope for the future. This hope will give them the confidence and power they need to rebuild and change society.
Two very important symbols at the beginning of the book are the hearth and the salamander. Both of these introduce the major symbol of fire. The hearth is a fireplace, which can heat a home. This gives fire a warm and comforting feeling. It stands for the good side of fire, while the salamander represents the destructive nature of fire. It was once believed that the salamander could live in fire. This is why salamanders are also the names given to fire trucks and are the official symbol of the firefighters.
The sieve and the sand are taken from Montag’s childhood memory of trying to fill up a sieve with sand on the beach to get a dime from his spiteful cousin (Bradbury 78). He compares this memory to his effort to read the whole Bible as quickly as possible on the subway. He hoped that, if he read it quick enough, bits and pieces would stay in his memory. The sand is a representation of the truth Montag is trying to find, and the sieve is like the human mind in search of a truth that remains unknown and impossible to grasp in any permanent way.
“There was a silly bird called a phoenix back before Christ, every few hundred years he built a pyre and burnt himself up” (Bradbury 163). After the bombing of the city, Granger compares mankind to a phoenix that burns itself up and then gets up out of its ashes over and over again. Man’s benefit is his ability to know when he has made a mistake, so that in the end he will learn not to make that mistake anymore. Granger and the rest of the intellectuals are trying to remember the mistakes of the past so that it won’t repeat itself. The symbol of the phoenix’s rebirth refers not only to the rebirth of humankind but also to Montag. He now sees the world in a new and strange way. He can think more clearly and make a difference in society.
The water is a symbol for a helpful power which saves Montag and is a contrast to the fire by dividing two completely different worlds. Montag crosses the river to flee out of the city and get into the forest. The river rescues Montag and takes him away from the city to lose the mechanical hound (cite). Also, Faber portrays himself as water and Montag as fire, claiming that the combination of the two will create wine. The wine could indicate a sense of knowledge and sophistication.
Overall, Bradbury’s use of symbolism is easy to understand because the symbols are easily connected with what they represent. In reality, fire warms us but we fear getting to close to it. Water refreshes us, wakes us up, and keeps us alive. The hearth, or home, is a cozy, comfortable place, while a salamander may seem creepy or make people feel uneasy. These are common things that everyone is familiar with, so they help us to better see the themes and warnings that Bradbury wished to get across.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Night People
Sara's bedroom was on the second story of the house. Tonight it was her father who took her to bed, and she scrambled up the stairs in front of him, wearing a SpongeBob nightshirt and a pair of white fuzzy slippers.
Once inside her door, she climbed into her bed and sat on top of the quilt with her legs folded under her. Her father dimmed the lamp on top of the bookshelf, then knelt to look through the books.
"Your mother finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, didn't she?" he asked. "So what'll it be this time? Shall we start Frederick's Fables?" He turned his head to smile at Sara, but she could tell that he was tired already.
Still Sara frowned. "You're not going to tell me one of yours?"
"I'm sorry... I did an awful lot of work around the house today. Papa needs to go to bed early tonight." Sara's father stood up, moved to the bed and sat down on it, leaving a noticeable depression in the small mattress with his weight. He scooted closer to put his arm around Sara's shoulders and asked, "Can you tell me a story instead?"
"Well..." Sara put her fist under her chin in thought. "I don't think I'm very good at it yet. But there is something." Suddenly she was sitting with her back straight, rocking back and forth eagerly. Her face was very serious and her eyes glimmered. "There's this place..."
Sara's father smiled and nodded attentively.
"... And you can only get there at night. The grass is dark, and it feels like damp velvet when you walk on it. There are flowers that grow in bunches and glow yellow, and little lizards with fins who come out to play in puddles after the rain. And there are things like shadows everywhere, but they're solid, and they move all on their own, gliding through the air. They change shape as they move, and they can become just about any animal you could think of. Sometimes there are big flocks of them all together."
Sara stopped rocking and gave her father a solemn nod. "The people who live there are called the Night People. They sleep during the day and wake up after the sun sets. They can see like cats, but they have different eyes, big dark ones, and pointed teeth. And they have colored patterns on their skin, like tattoos, which they put there to keep bad spirits away. They live in houses like ours, but they have things like lawnmowers made of something silvery that make no noise when they move.
"And one night a girl found her way in through her window, and she met a Night Person who was also a girl her age. And the Night Person was scared because she thought the girl was a bad spirit, and the girl was scared because she thought the Night Person would eat her, but when they found out that they were both scared they just started to laugh. And then..."
Sara had begun to speak faster, and her father became slightly alarmed. He patted her shoulder and said, "Maybe we should stop, just for tonight? We both need to settle down and get some sleep. You can tell me the rest later. Is that all right?"
Sara thought. She didn't know how much of her story had gotten through to her father, and a little part of her was wondering how much she should have told him. She had always liked knowing things, and she loved to share them just as much. But she had to keep some secrets. "Did you like the story?" she asked carefully.
Her father got to his feet and leaned forward to hug her. "Yes, I did. Very much."
Sara could be satisfied with that. She moved back and tunneled under the covers, lying back to watch as her father switched off the lamp, paused in the brightness spilling from the doorway to blow her a kiss, then closed the door behind him, leaving Sara in the dark with the sound of her father's footsteps fading away into the hall.
She was alone now. She sat up swiftly and looked out her window. Minutes stretched into years as she watched the sky outside over the rooftops on the other side of the street. The deep orange of sunset faded to purple, then to blue. Little white pinpricks of stars appeared.
And then the change happened. Sara wouldn't know how to describe it very well; it felt a bit like being on a merry-go-round, a feeling that made your head spin and your stomach turn over. The silhouettes of the houses and trees shifted, blurring for a moment before becoming solid again in new shapes.
As soon as the change had stopped, Sara leaped out of bed, then ran to the window and lifted it. Outside the air was cool and moist. Sara put her head through the window and breathed deeply. There it was - the strange, sharp scent of the patches of flowers that shone with a warm yellow light on the lawn below. Little clouds of insects buzzed around them, catching the light of the flowers in their wings and turning it into a glittering haze.
Sara ducked back inside and went to the bookshelf to fetch something from it, then slipped out the window completely and landed on the roof of the garage. She was glad that she had remembered to wear her slippers to bed; they had firm rubber soles, and gave her an excellent foothold as she crept across the garage and down the flower trellis that hung off the back of the house she had come out on.
The sidewalk was empty as Sara walked down it with her book held to her chest. A cloud of the shadow things were floating past, and Sara was surprised when one of the shadows swooped low and hovered over her. She imagined it must be curious, and put out one arm. It reached out, like a tendril of smoke, wrapped around her wrist, snaked down and tickled her skin briefly before rising to join the rest again.
At last Sara reached the house she was looking for, a one-story. She walked around to a window on the side and rapped on it. A sleepy-looking head loomed into view, then smiled, flashing pointed white teeth from an equally white face.
The window lifted and the girl inside put her arm out to pull Sara into her room. The markings on her skin were pink, orange and deep green, and in little curlicues. "Mum and Dad won't be up for at least an hour," she whispered. "Can you tell me more of the one about the mermaid?"
Sara smiled. Of the ones her father told, that was one of her favorites. "I've got another idea tonight." She held up the book - Frederick's Fables. "What if I read you this?"
Once inside her door, she climbed into her bed and sat on top of the quilt with her legs folded under her. Her father dimmed the lamp on top of the bookshelf, then knelt to look through the books.
"Your mother finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, didn't she?" he asked. "So what'll it be this time? Shall we start Frederick's Fables?" He turned his head to smile at Sara, but she could tell that he was tired already.
Still Sara frowned. "You're not going to tell me one of yours?"
"I'm sorry... I did an awful lot of work around the house today. Papa needs to go to bed early tonight." Sara's father stood up, moved to the bed and sat down on it, leaving a noticeable depression in the small mattress with his weight. He scooted closer to put his arm around Sara's shoulders and asked, "Can you tell me a story instead?"
"Well..." Sara put her fist under her chin in thought. "I don't think I'm very good at it yet. But there is something." Suddenly she was sitting with her back straight, rocking back and forth eagerly. Her face was very serious and her eyes glimmered. "There's this place..."
Sara's father smiled and nodded attentively.
"... And you can only get there at night. The grass is dark, and it feels like damp velvet when you walk on it. There are flowers that grow in bunches and glow yellow, and little lizards with fins who come out to play in puddles after the rain. And there are things like shadows everywhere, but they're solid, and they move all on their own, gliding through the air. They change shape as they move, and they can become just about any animal you could think of. Sometimes there are big flocks of them all together."
Sara stopped rocking and gave her father a solemn nod. "The people who live there are called the Night People. They sleep during the day and wake up after the sun sets. They can see like cats, but they have different eyes, big dark ones, and pointed teeth. And they have colored patterns on their skin, like tattoos, which they put there to keep bad spirits away. They live in houses like ours, but they have things like lawnmowers made of something silvery that make no noise when they move.
"And one night a girl found her way in through her window, and she met a Night Person who was also a girl her age. And the Night Person was scared because she thought the girl was a bad spirit, and the girl was scared because she thought the Night Person would eat her, but when they found out that they were both scared they just started to laugh. And then..."
Sara had begun to speak faster, and her father became slightly alarmed. He patted her shoulder and said, "Maybe we should stop, just for tonight? We both need to settle down and get some sleep. You can tell me the rest later. Is that all right?"
Sara thought. She didn't know how much of her story had gotten through to her father, and a little part of her was wondering how much she should have told him. She had always liked knowing things, and she loved to share them just as much. But she had to keep some secrets. "Did you like the story?" she asked carefully.
Her father got to his feet and leaned forward to hug her. "Yes, I did. Very much."
Sara could be satisfied with that. She moved back and tunneled under the covers, lying back to watch as her father switched off the lamp, paused in the brightness spilling from the doorway to blow her a kiss, then closed the door behind him, leaving Sara in the dark with the sound of her father's footsteps fading away into the hall.
She was alone now. She sat up swiftly and looked out her window. Minutes stretched into years as she watched the sky outside over the rooftops on the other side of the street. The deep orange of sunset faded to purple, then to blue. Little white pinpricks of stars appeared.
And then the change happened. Sara wouldn't know how to describe it very well; it felt a bit like being on a merry-go-round, a feeling that made your head spin and your stomach turn over. The silhouettes of the houses and trees shifted, blurring for a moment before becoming solid again in new shapes.
As soon as the change had stopped, Sara leaped out of bed, then ran to the window and lifted it. Outside the air was cool and moist. Sara put her head through the window and breathed deeply. There it was - the strange, sharp scent of the patches of flowers that shone with a warm yellow light on the lawn below. Little clouds of insects buzzed around them, catching the light of the flowers in their wings and turning it into a glittering haze.
Sara ducked back inside and went to the bookshelf to fetch something from it, then slipped out the window completely and landed on the roof of the garage. She was glad that she had remembered to wear her slippers to bed; they had firm rubber soles, and gave her an excellent foothold as she crept across the garage and down the flower trellis that hung off the back of the house she had come out on.
The sidewalk was empty as Sara walked down it with her book held to her chest. A cloud of the shadow things were floating past, and Sara was surprised when one of the shadows swooped low and hovered over her. She imagined it must be curious, and put out one arm. It reached out, like a tendril of smoke, wrapped around her wrist, snaked down and tickled her skin briefly before rising to join the rest again.
At last Sara reached the house she was looking for, a one-story. She walked around to a window on the side and rapped on it. A sleepy-looking head loomed into view, then smiled, flashing pointed white teeth from an equally white face.
The window lifted and the girl inside put her arm out to pull Sara into her room. The markings on her skin were pink, orange and deep green, and in little curlicues. "Mum and Dad won't be up for at least an hour," she whispered. "Can you tell me more of the one about the mermaid?"
Sara smiled. Of the ones her father told, that was one of her favorites. "I've got another idea tonight." She held up the book - Frederick's Fables. "What if I read you this?"
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