Torn Roses, High School

Ha ha. Remember when I said I would finish Graceful Fall over the summer?

Right.

Nope. I started a new novel instead, because Grace was full of crazy loopholes, and I just couldn't wrap my head around their world. Torn Roses is what the new one is called, and it's going great. The storyline has been written out, and a family tree has been made (Yay!). It's about the same people, but at a different time (like, 300 years or so earlier) and in a different place (remote part of the Alps).

I'm already six chapters in, and I've been writing it for about three weeks. It took me nearly four months to write that much of Grace. It's much easier to write when you know (almost) exactly what's going to happen.

Anyway, high school is coming up! My schedule goes all over the building (south, up, down, north, south, up, right, left DX). I have to drag around five notebooks and a binder, and whatever else they give me...

Now, I know this is really short, but I felt like I was neglecting this. Just to let you know, I probably won't update for a few months at a time during the school year.

That's all,

~Cassie

End of the Year

Hey everybody!

It's the end of the year here at LMS. Everything is wrapping up - 8th grade graduation, 8th grade dance, 8th grade project, even 8th grade year - it's all ending.

High school starts in three months. I have no idea what to expect.

We're flying to California at the end of June and we'll be in Carmel Valley-Santa Rosa-Pleasant Hill area for a week. We're going to visit all of our relatives - grandparents, step-grandparents, cousins, an aunt and uncle... All of my mom's people live down there.

My grandpa got run over by a tractor, so we're definitely going to visit him. And we're going to Big Sir. :)

In my block class (my 'family'), we're working on making a short film. I have the first scene and teasor trailor done... I'll post it here later. I'm the director and writer... I'm following in my cousin's footprints! (Only my movie isn't rated R)

Hmm... Eighth Grade Project is finished. I got an A. :) I'm going to finish my novel (Graceful Fall) over the summer, and I'm going to start my grandmother's memoir. She wants me to help her write it.

That's all for now...

~Cassie

P.S.

I'm going to Disneyland for the first time in October!

Westward Expansion Project Reflection

Did you stand up straight but stay relaxed?

I think that I stood up straight in this video. It was hard to tell because of the hood on my jacket, but I know that when I was doing my presentation I made an effort to stand up straight. As for the 'relaxed' part, I felt like I knew what I was doing and took comfort and confidence from that. I think that should count as relaxed.

Did you pause for a moment before you began your speech?

When Mr. Berguist said, "Whenever you're ready," I paused for about five seconds before I began on the actual day of the presentation. This video was cut a little bit after he said that, so it seems like a little bit of a shorter amount of time.

Did you look at your audience?

I looked at the whole class. Occasionally, though, I looked back at my slides because my eyes weren't good enough to see the words on the computer screen from where I was standing.

Did you let your facial expressions naturally reflect what you were saying?

I can't really see my facial expressions in this video. The camera was a little too far away, but I believe I used facial expressions that 'naturally reflected' what I was saying.

Did you use your hands?

I used my hands a lot. I even mimicked the jaws on a foot-hold trap snapping shut....

Did you speak loudly enough so that everyone could hear you?

Judging by the volume that came out on the video, I would think that everyone could here me. The camera was way at the back of the room for my presentation and it picked it up. I also know that I project my voice when I'm doing some kind of presentation.

Did you change your tone to show how you felt (upset, excited) about an idea or to emphasize a point?

Well, at one point when I was talking about the beavers getting trapped, I sounded sad. I also think I sounded... bewildered (not sure if that's the right word) when I was talking about surgeries and amputations without painkillers.

Was your speed of delivery too fast, too slow or just right?

I think that I sounded just right most of the time. However, there were times when I had to say 'um.' I also paused for a little too long in some places, and the silence sounded like I was trying to drag something out of my memory.

Did you practice your speech at home before giving it?

I practiced my speech once at home before giving it. My mom wanted to hear it at about 10:00 PM the night before. She reminded me of some things, like confirming the 'I think's into facts. I also ran everything through my head before class started a couple of times.

What did you notice that you did well in your speech?

I noticed that I used my hands well and that I used them a lot. I thought about how much I'd been using them during the actual presentation, and thought that I might be using them a little too much. In the video, though, the hand motions were pretty precise and well-placed.

Describe one aspect of public speaking you will work to improve?

One aspect of public speaking I would like to improve is the 'um's and pauses. I can't stand it when I can here the gears in my head working in those long moments of silence.

Poetry Slam - April 30

Hey everybody,

There was a poetry slam on April 30. Here's my poem (the words I used are underlined):

*

Temporary Beat

*

Ever-blooming lilies light up the garden

Where one sister sleeps

Beneath a willow tree,

Whose fronds drift in the lake

*

One sister's heart may not beat,

But her enchanted sleep unlocks her mind

Among the flowers,

Unconscious Levana softly speaks.

*

Her mind and heart kept at bay,

Silent still she keeps

Her body neither aging nor decaying

As her twin for her weeps

*

Once, as the flowers began to fade

Levana's sister came in a dream

To finally wake her from her sleep

And she played her piano again

*

Her heart beat once more

Faltering sometimes but hardly slowing

When her fingers hit a sour note, though,

Her heart discovered that it had only a temporary beat.

*

*

This poem is about the pair of twins from Graceful Fall, my novel. Levana is known as the 'silver' or 'moon' twin, while her sister is the 'golden' or 'sun' twin. Levana's heart is weakened in an accident, and the doctors told her that the next time she fell into a coma, she wouldn't wake up. However, Levana and Arella are immortal, so even if Levana's heart stopped beating, her body would never decay.

*

That's all for now,

*

~Cassie

*

P.S.

*

The asterisks are because I'm having problems with the paragraph breaks on here.

Class Poetry Slam #2

Here's the poem that I wrote at our second class poetry slam...

*
Morning Peace
*
Dew drops form on blades of grass
Turning them shining silver
And as the night grows colder,
The water freezes into frost
*
Waves sing to the shore
Sparkling crests as the sun comes up
Burning fire in the sky
Orange, red, and pink - irreplaceable light
*
Dawn comes slowly
Breathing life into chilled plants
Warming the ripping spiderwebs
Gloomy morning clouds drift in again
*
White lines of the horizon
Trees sigh in the breeze
A lone person walks on the beach
Solitude bringing them peace
*

We were given twelve words again... The ones I used are in italics. The next official poetry slam (Island-wide) is being held at Langley Library on Thursday, April 30 at either 7 or 7:30 PM.

That's all for now.

Bye!

~Cassie

Class Poetry Slam #1

My block class teacher recently started doing poetry slams with his class. The first one we had was on last Monday... Here's my poem:

*

Just A Dream
*
Ivy cascading down hillsides
Birds chirp in the trees
Talking of the blazing fire
That legend says will come from the sea
*
Waves whisper words to one another
As the sun beats down
Shining light on the sparkling water
While the trees on the shore sway in the breeze
*
Bees and bugs buzz
Their abstract colors hard to see
As the night falls on the ocean
Cool waves of water
Turn to raging flames of heat
*
But as the fire wreaks havoc here
There along the beach
The flames sputter out
And a crying bird says,
"That fright was just a dream."
*

We had twelve words... The ones in italics are the ones that I used in my poem.

The next post is going to be the poem from our second class poetry slam...

Bye!

~Cassie

Brave New Words

Brave New Words was on Saturday (April 18, 2009)! I met people like Matt Gano and Jourdan Keith (who are awesome, by the way). I even got five minutes of stage time... Talk about nerve-wracking! I read five poems: Riddle Poem: Red, Red Rose, Riddle Poem: Slipping Silk, Everlasting Night, Rediscovered Memories, and Nightmares On Fire. The last three were Slam poems.

In the morning, Matt taught a workshop kind of like the one he did the day before (on Friday, both Jourdan and Matt did workshops). He gave us a prompt ("What do you want most in the universe? Nothing material, though, guys") and set us to free write. Yesterday's prompt was "What do you hear when you put your ear to the world?" I ended up writing a fiction thing for that one, and a poem at Brave New Words, though I didn't read it.

Jourdan's workshop on Friday was about Haibun, a form of Haiku. It's like a journal entry with a Haiku in it somewhere. It's usually at the end, though. She told us to look in six directions before we went outside: left, right, forward, behind, up, and in. Then we were to write about what we saw in each of those directions - not much, just a line or two. After we went inside again, she told us to incorporate a line or two into a memory, told in the present tense. It was different than anything I'd ever done before, but I made some connections with what I saw... It was kinda one of those things where you have to be there to understand.

The poems I read are all around somewhere... Red, Red Rose is on this blog, and so Everlasting Night is on my Eighth Grade Project Blog. Slipping Silk was in the April 14th issue of the Everett Herald, in Sarri Gilman's column (I hope I didn't spell her name wrong...). Rediscovered Memories was in the February 4th issue of the South Whidbey Record. I read Nightmares On Fire at a Poetry Slam... Unfortuneately, I forgot which one. The next one is April 30, by the way. It's at Langley Library at 7 P.M.

Yep... So my weekend was very... Active. After Brave New Words (10 A.M. to 5 P.M.), my mom and I left to go to my grandma's eightieth birthday party (6 P.M. to 9 P.M.). I was so tired by the time we finished... Plus, I ate too much at Grandma's party. On Sunday I planted corn, cucumber, zucchini, pea, bean, and sunflower seeds in pots for our garden. I'm not complaining or anything - I actually had a lot of fun. Maybe too much - I'm feeling sleep deprived.

I am so going to bed now.

Bye!

~Cassie

Metaphor Face - Keith Harkin

Metaphor - Face

Applying Metaphor to Facial Features

***

Keith Harkin, singer in Celtic Thunder

***

Eyes - His eyes are the turbulent ocean, crashing on the shore.

-

Hair - His hair is silken strands of spun gold.

-

Ears - His ears are shrouded beneath the veil of golden hair, timid animals peeking out from time to time.

-

Mouth - His mouth is a beach: white pearls of teeth and the rolling voice of the waves.

-

Nose - His nose is straight - a surfboard.

-

Forehead - His forehead is a land veiled by a mist of hair.

-

Cheeks - His cheeks are rough, forested hills.

-

Teeth - His teeth are pearls at the bottom of the ocean.

-

Lips - His lips are night-blooming flowers, carrying his voice through the air.

Frontier House Application

Frontier House
OFFICIAL APPLICATION
Family Name: Thomson Family

Occupations/Schools: Student/Langley Middle School


Open answer questions (attach additional pages. All questions must be answered.):
What attracted you to this project?
I love the outdoors life. I've been on "survival" trips before in my school's Adventure Education class. The weather of Washington is unpredictable, just like Montana's weather, and I like weather like that. I'd also like an opportunity to see what it was really like back then.

What hobbies and interests do you have?
I like to draw, sing, write, hike, and climb. Hiking and climbing kind of go together, especially on rough trails and in the woods. Writing is a strong point, and so is singing. Drawing is fun when I have enough time to be focused.

What image do you have of pioneer living?
My image of pioneer life is that living in the wilderness was very hard to do. There was always something that needed to be done. If you were a pioneer, you always had a job to do: take care of livestock, plow a field, build a shelter of some kind. You had to build your cabin from the ground.

What's the most challenging thing you and your family (or group) have experienced?
I think that the most challenging thing my family and I have experienced was my father's issues with his family. We aren't very close to any of his family (except my grandmother and aunt) anymore. I miss them, but I never knew them very well in the first place.

If you were chosen what do you think you would most miss about modern life?
I think something that I would miss most about modern life is having my own space. I know that if we are chosen, we'll have to build our own cabin and that it will probably have only one or two rooms. That's okay though, because I'm used to not having my own space. My brother and I slept in a room the size of a medium-sized walk-in closet for seven years.

What qualities do you and your family have that make you suited to this experience?
I think that my family and I are very realistic thinkers. We face each challenge as it comes, and solve the problem logically. I think that my family is also good at working together and fixing things. My father is a carpenter, so he's good at working with wood and metals. My mother is good with numbers, so she would do the shopping (she can build things too), and my brother and I would be able to help them both.

What skills do you have that may help you?
I think a skill that I have that will help me is the skill I have with animals. My family lives on a farm, so there's always a lot to do. Most of the work I do has to do with the house and the animals. I knock challenges out of the way one at a time, and if I can, multiple problems at a time.

What would you hope to get out of the experience?
I hope that my family and I can come out of this experience getting along better. If we can develop some kind of system out there and incorporate it into everyday life in the 21st century, all the better. I also hope that we can come to some kind of understanding on the subject of chores.

What do you think will be the most difficult challenge of pioneer life?
I think that one of the most difficult challenges we would face in pioneer life is building our cabin. Every one of us would have to work together. Cutting hay in the summer would also be a challenge, since that requires some strength and endurance, but I think we would definitely be able to do it.

What skills would you like to learn from the experience?
I would like to learn some skills like carpentry and cooking. I would especially like to learn more cooking and cleaning skills, sine they would be nice to have in the 21st century.

We'd like you to tell us:
What interests you about this project?
I'm interested in this project because I'd like to know what it was like for people back then. Coming to the west had to be hard, but setting up a life here must have been extremely challenging.

Do you have any concerns about your participation?
One of my concerns about participating is illnesses that one could get while on the frontier. They could be very dangerous.

How much do you know about your family history -- do you have pioneer roots?
As far as I know, my father's family doesn't have pioneer roots. However, they had to get to the West Coast somehow. It's the same with my mother's family: we don't know how they got here, just that they did.

How did you hear about Frontier House?
My class watched Frontier House.

Rabbit Show

Lone Birch's Miranda

My rabbit got Best of Breed on Saturday (March 7, 09)! She got Best of Breed Netherland Dwarf in the Open show, which means I beat all the adult breeders. She should get a "leg" from winning.

And before you say I'm crazy, she does have four legs. I mean "leg" as in "leg of Grand Champion." Once we get her registered, she can get a Grand Champion certificate if she gets another "leg" as a senior. She has three "legs" right now, but she needs to win one as a senior in order to be granded.

She also got second in breed in the Youth show, losing to one of our friend's rabbits. They traded places between Open and Youth (he got second in Open). Her rabbits are really nice. In the words of Cindy, that one is "a nationally competitive rabbit."

Yep, so this show was in Yelm. My mom and I almost froze to death. It traded between snow, rain, hail, and the cold sun almost all day. Some of the hail even came through the roof of the arena. All of SanDee's rabbits got wet. And there was absolutely no parking by the time we got there (an hour early).

These rabbit shows might sound miserable, but that depends on the weather. One of the shows in June apparently has an indoor pool, so it's not all bad. No, actually, they're really fun. I've made friends in the rabbit business, particularly the Netherland Dwarf breeders. It's all just friendly competition.

Just wanted to announce that to the world.

That's all for now!

Bye!

~Cassie

Intimate Conversation Poem: Dear Father

I wrote this poem a while ago, when my dad got mad at me for saying something to my brother.

Clarification on the comparisons: "his silver tongue" means he's tricky with words. "Made it crystal clear" as in made it clear as a crystal. "Falsehood will drip from your lips" means what he says is a lie. Those are the metaphors I used. They aren't quite metaphors, but I think they work.



Dear Father,

I meant it when I said it
See, I'd never tell a lie
A dislike strong or intense
You're just too hard-hearted - pitiless
Maybe that's why you don't get it when I cry

There's just something about that boy
The way he teases me
It's like a physical blow
I hate it, but I can't stop smiling

It's just something I do
I don't really mean to
Just another involuntary action
But he uses my sinking smile like it's
His cue

There's nothing I wouldn't do
To get away from him these days
So stay away from me
Until you can see through that dark haze

I'm not afraid of him, no
Only his silver tongue I fear
He can turn anyone against me
Without a single care
It's unbelievable

It's hard enough as it is
Every day is painful
For me, this house isn't worth living in as long as he's here
I hope I've made it crystal clear

You might think I'm better than this
I know I am
And if you ever apologize (I know you won't; you never do)
Don't assume I'll accept
'Cause falsehood will drip from your lips

You'll do it again
Yell, shout, throw a hissy fit
I have more tears to cry
And yet you still won't get it

Writing Contest

I am lost for words. I don't think that's ever happened before.

I won the Whidbey Island Writer's Association's Students Celebrate Writing Contest. It was an all-ages contest (grades 6 - 12), and I was the youngest to win something.

I'm just glad I knew and I didn't have like... a heart attack in class. That would have been bad. Real bad.

Mr. B. asked me to post the story here, so this is it. (It's in italics.)

Never Seen

Darkness fell across a wild land. Brambles reared; tree limbs reached, gnarled, for the indigo sky. In only a few places, green sprouted, though seldom did it share its emerald wealth with the other twisted, blackened weeds surrounding it.

Ruins of old stone buildings and houses protruded from the ground, grey mists lingering around their broken walls, shrouding the ghosts of a once cheery little village. White pillars rose northeast of this small skeleton of a town, rising from the wreckage that circled them. The crawling, withered plants and briars hadn’t flourished near those four marble columns.

A desolate manor house, covered with peeling, white paint, sprawled within the boundaries of the colorless pillars, its windows thrown open. Fog rolled in and out of the windows on the lower floors of the house, where nothing but mold and mildew from the Great Flood lived. Ghostly white curtains hung out of every window on the upper floors of the building, fluttering in a non-existent breeze.

Inside, a young woman sat in a window seat, alone in the house; a miniature harp in her hands. Bright cushions and blankets covered every surface, but the atmosphere was far gloomier than the warm furnishings.

For all the oranges, reds and golds of the fall colors, the woman wore a deep, dull blue; a blue of sadness and pain. Her dress was long and full; folds of it draped themselves over the edge of her seat. For a while, she stared out the window. Losing everything had left no desire to play her harp, even after years of waiting. Her brothers and sisters had been washed out of the house with everything on the bottom floors when the Flood had hit. Her parents had gone missing as well. She was numb.

Years passed, and nothing remarkable happened. She watched as ivy crept up the marble pillars, and then up the walls of her house. She never slept; never ate. How could she, when they might all appear when she was asleep? Hope kept her hanging on; grief fed her hunger, quenched her thirst, and kept her eyes open.

She felt every day like a stab of a knife cutting at her threads of hope. Every day, another string was hacked in half. She wouldn’t give up though. Never would she lose faith in her family.

Her fingers became weak after half a decade of holding the harp in the same place. It dropped to the tiled floor, falling as if in slow motion. When it hit, the sound of the mixed up chords broke the spell of silence. Carefully picking up her harp, she put it back on the window seat, and avoided looking at it for as long as she could stand.

She went about her business: eating and sleeping again, dusting her room and cleaning it. She wondered where her family was, but never longed for them. Her six brothers and sisters; her mother and father were distant memories. She never stepped outside her room, though, for fear the she should be reminded that they had walked down those hallways in the morning to wake her up with their music.

She plucked at the harp strings for the first time in ages; the first music in the house was the haunting melodies of her harp, expertly played. As she played the last song she could think of, a loud boom! was heard from below.

The noise had come from the first story, where she never went.

She knew she had to find out what was going on. The thought of the hallway terrified her, but what would the ground floor bring?

Slowly, she tiptoed across the cold floor tile, aware of every shadow and flaw as her feet stepped on them. Her harp was clutched in one hand. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, placed her hand on the iron door handle, and pulled it open.

Ten seconds later, she opened her eyes. Looking up and down the corridor, she reassured herself that nothing was lying in wait for her, and let out her breath. Focusing on placing one foot in front of the other, her shoes sinking into the rich, red plush carpet, she made it to the stairs in minutes.

The stairs seemed to have been shorter since the last time she’d seen them; she’d grown. She hugged the harp against her chest, and closed her eyes. Remembering how many steps there were was easy; she’d counted them as she’d gone down them every day when she was small. Closing her eyes, hand on the rail, she counted down the number of steps until she reached the bottom floor. Her heartbeat sped up every time she took a step, making her breathing uneven. Even so, she pressed on.

At forty-eight steps, she heard her shoes click on the tile, and opened her eyes. A surprisingly bright beam of sunlight shone in her eyes.

The mold and mildew she’d thought would be there was utterly gone. The doors had been opened to the sunlight; fresh air milled about inside the great hall. The land beyond the open doors was fertile and lush, no longer flooded by salt water. Children and adults alike screamed and laughed with joy, their home brought back and houses rebuilt.

To the young woman though, the greatest miracle of all was the eight silhouettes in the doorway, each holding a string instrument. The smallest figure, the one holding a violin, said, “We came back, Adele. We’re all home now.”

And finally, for the first time in six years, Adele allowed herself to cry. Her family crowded around her, and every sorrow she felt was gone, except for one. It was a short-lived grievance, though, because when she looked up, her auburn hair sticking to the tears on her cheeks, the shape of another person appeared in the entry. The sun lit his hair like a halo from behind, a golden ring glimmering on his left ring finger.

Adele just stared at him; there was no way he could possibly be alive. Here he stood though, in the flesh, looking at her like she was the only light left in the world.

Her husband had returned to her, there to stay at last.

That story won me the writing contest.

I almost fell over when my mom told me. At least I didn't faint.

That's all for right now... But I'll post a new poem when I get home.

Bye!

~Cassie

This is Just to Say Poem: Little Star Snowflakes

I'm sorry,
When you told me to put my coat on,
I left it in the house:
It really wasn't that cold to me.

I went outside,
When you told me not to,
But it was too hard to resist:
The snowflakes fell like stars dropping from the sky.

They sparkled in the glaring sunlight,
A thousand different colors.
Dropping into a sea of moonlight,
Those little stars melted away when I touched them.

I'm sorry,
But the little stars called to me.
I danced with them as they floated down,
Serene, surreal, soft, and whispering...

Riddle Poem: Red, Red Rose

I am a red, red rose,
Blossoming on the horizon
Dyeing rippling blue soil
Crimson.
I unfold slowly
But wilt away
Swifter than I came.
Dew drops glimmer
On my blackened petals,
And a single thorn sparkles
Silver.
What am I?

(Highlight below to reveal answer.)
I am a sunset fading away into the night.

If you guessed right, congratulations! *Passes out cookies*

What If? Poem: Teardrops Were Rain

What if
Teardrops were rain?
Angels would cry down on the earth
Every other day.
The cherubs would take all drought
Far, far away.

Eighth Grade Project & Choir

Hi everyone!

A lot's been going on lately. I switched block classes, joined choir, and have begun working on my Eighth Grade Project.

Choir has been going really smoothly. We've sung songs from a lot of different places - from Africa and Mexico to Russia. We have "free" days on Fridays, when we bring in our own lyrics. It's a lot of fun and, believe it or not, challenging. We've all ready learned to trust each other.

For my Eighth Grade Project, I'm writing a novel called Grace. So far, I've written two chapters and the prologue, which is (all together) about 5,000 words out of my 50,000 word goal. I've had this idea rolling around in my head for a long time, and I'm finally getting to it.

Grace is about a girl named Arella, who woke up from an "accident" with no memory. She does, however, remember all of her family excepting her brother and father. She has a twin sister, but Levana completely ignores her at school, trading Arella for friends. When Arella's quiet, ignored existence becomes a chaotic mix of tragedy and tears, there's one person to comfort her, but she doesn't even know his real name. All she knows is the meaning: melody.

Yup, so that's pretty much the summary of this novel I'm writing. I can never figure out how to summarize this kind of stuff. :P That summary seems okay, though. Anyway, I'm really, really excited about this. I came to the conclusion that it was inspired by a song called Lauren & I (Celtic Thunder, written and sung solo by Keith Harkin) that I heard this summer. Other stuff eventually compiled into this whole idea I have now, like a house we pass everyday that has a huge wrought iron gate (I absolutely love that kind of metal work). The house behind it is enormous, and I've heard tell that the "house" is really just the garage. *Jaw drops*

That is some kind of crazy. I doubt that it really is the garage, but it's still a beautiful house.

There was one line in that song, Lauren & I, that made me blink. It's a sweet song, but sad as well. It went like this (it was actually more than one line, now that I think about it):

"And the seasons pass away,
And I still sit here lonely each and every day,
Wondering what's gone wrong,
'cause I don't remember
Seasons lasting oh so long
Oh so long..."
-Celtic Thunder, Keith Harkin, Lauren & I

It immediately got me thinking. It still does, in fact. I love this song. It's one of the few you can learn in minutes without it getting boring after a few days. Evanescence and Paramore are also good bands. Like You, Taking Over Me (Evanescence), and Stop This Song (Paramore) are my favorites. :)

I think that I've gone on about this long enough... I'm done.

~Cassie

Boston Massacre Trial

In my English/Social Studies class, we watched the trial scene of the HBO version of the Boston Massacre. In this scene, John Adams was the British soldiers' lawyer.

John Adams was Sam Adams's cousin. Sam didn't approve of what John was doing (standing fo the British), but at the end of the scene, he smiled and bowed to him. I think that by doing this, Sam showed that he still respected the law, and John's decision to protect the innocent.

In the courthouse, there were two lawyers (John and someone else) that asked questions of the witnesses. The witnesses said a number of things, and some of what they said made the other witness' word false. For example, one witness said that the mob of people that were attacking people were only throwing ice. but they did have clubs in their hands. Another witness said that they were throwing their clubs. Captain Preston said that the order to fire came from behind his men, and not from him. This very much contradicted what a previous witness had said, and worked with what a respectable witness had said.

If that makes sense, it was the reason that the British troops were decided to be not guilty.

A Mockingbird Just Sings

(Scout and Atticus Finch)

I watched To Kill a Mockingbird in my English class the other day. We were then asked to write a response to the movie, to make connections between the movie and its title, small town life, or any connections we saw between the movie and today.

Here's my response:

To Kill a Mockingbird was, first of all, an interesting movie. Most of what I remember about the movie has to do with Tom Robinson's trial and Scout and Jem's skirmish with Mr. Ewell. Tom Robinson was an African-American on trial for raping a girl. He was found guilty because the jury was most likely a little bit racist. Nowadays, however, it would be much different: Tom would have been given fair trial, and he would have had a jury of his peers.

Tom was later shot and killed when he tried to run from where they were keeping him. I think that this sent a shock through my classmates in me; we all believed that he was innocent and that the police officers would never dare to do something like that.

When Mr. Ewell tried to kill Jem and Scout, Boo saved them. Mr. Ewell was found "with a kitchen knife under his ribs." I'm pretty sure that Mr. Ewell was the plaintiff in Tom's trial. When he and his daughter took the stand against Tom, I was sure that Mr. Ewell was beating his daughter, and that that was the reason for her black eye and other bruises.

At the beginning of the movie, Atticus Finch (Jem and Scout's father) said that you should never kill a mockingbird because they just sing, and they don't harm the other birds. He told Jem and Scout that blue jays kicked the other birds' fledglings out of the nest, doing harm. In this case, when Boo saved them (and most likely shoved the kitchen knife under Mr. Ewell's ribs) he became the mockingbird. When Mr. Ewell beat his daughter and tried to kill Jem and Scout, he became the blue jay. I think that this is how the story relates to the title.

That's really all I have...

Bye!

~Cassie