Highlights of the 2016-2017 Schoolyear

Academic

Straight A+s 

Learned a lot

Read good books

Went on educational trips 

Bonus points!

Last year of middle school 

Algebra isn't completely horrible 

Art class

Leaves of Learning News 

Social

Lots of new friends

Reconnected or grew closer to old friends

Ballet 

No more braces 

Went to amazing places with amazing people 

Eduardo 

Performing with friends in The Nutcracker

Performing en pointe

Talking about musicals with Gillian and Shalu 

Crutchie 

Talking with Annalyse each week in art 

Angela's Ashes: Book vs. Movie

Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt, is a memoir about the life of a poor Irish family, and the various challenges they face.
The adaption released in 2000 is pretty accurate to the novel, compared to many other examples. The dialogue often uses direct quotes from the book, which is extremely satisfying after reading the same scene.
For the most part, the cast are okay, but it's not too accurate. I, personally, didn't imagine young Frank's face to be so filled out. The children are described as skin and bones, and the first actor doesn't match that description. Also, his hair is described as always being very messy-- which I found untrue in the movie.
Another thing about the story that's changed, age wise, is the overly rapid progression of Frank's age. At the point where he is supposed to be about thirteen, the actor chosen for the role must be, at the youngest, sixteen.

The Glass Castle Movie Trailer vs. Book

Upon first hearing the news that The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeanette Walls, was being adapted into a movie, I highly doubted that it would be accurate to the movie.

And, after watching it, the suspicion I had just solidified even further. The way they portrayed the dad, Rex Walls, as a very inspiring person, is extremely inaccurate. Rex loved his kids, sure, but he was an alcoholic who wound spend all of their money on prostitutes and, obviously, alcohol. In the trailer, they only showed one part where Jeannette got angry at her dad, but that mostly made him seem like the victim. 

The story also appears to go back and forth between Jeannette's current life, and her memories of childhood- which I think won't be as beneficial as the novel. After her introduction, Jeannette dives right into the story, and keeps you enraptured until the very last breath.

But in the style that they've apparently chosen to use, flashbacks back and forth, breaks the enchanting spell that her story casts. 

"Him" Poem Review

"Him," a haiku by Taylor Woodruff, is a short yet powerful poem.

The way the author speaks about himself is rather frighting, yet, at the same time, relatable. 

When he looks in the mirror, he thinks his own image staring back at him is the devil-- until he realizes it's actually him. 

The reason I view this image to be so powerful is that the author didn't even realize that he'd changed- who he'd become- until he viewed himself. People can often be like this. They become someone they're not, and don't stop to look back on themselves until it's too late-- and when they finally do, they see something almost unrecognizable staring back at them. 

When I make conversation, decisions, or even when I'm just going about my life, I often worry if I'm turning into something or someone I'm not, but then I do what I think is the key to staying true to yourself.

I view myself from an outside perspective. 

Mi manos

My hands are small, fragile. 

They type lightly, fingertips barely grazing across the keyboard.

They stop for a moment, waiting for another idea to come to mind.

They tap, tap, tap, trying to think of the best way to convey my message.

They aren't the most graceful, no- they can't float gently, as my dance teachers would like.

They aren't the most pretty- they have cuts and scars, from childhood accidents.

They aren't the most pleasing to the eye, but my hands create worlds. 

They hold my pencil as I doodle in my sketchbook.

They express my emotions as I debate my opinions passionately. 

They type furiously on a keyboard, writing on a blog. 

(All Thanks To You.)

Roses are sweet

When they bloom

They bedazzle all

(Much like you.)

Beautiful and bright

Colorful and lovely

They always steal

The spotlight

(And so do you.)

But hidden under

The vivid petals

That guard them

So well

(Oh, so well.)

There are thorns

That long

To do harm

To leave scars

(As you do.)

But these thorns

Are hidden so well

It’s not until

It’s too late

That we see

the truth

(As I now know

All thanks

To you.)