Evernote in the Classroom

What did you like most about using Evernote to take notes in class?

Evernote is put in an easy-to-use format and navigating around the app was easy. Figuring it out at the start only took a few minutes, making it more efficient than other complicated apps. Additionally, I liked how Evernote automatically saved to the account and was accessible on any device. Because of this, I could take notes in class on the iPad, and then to access them outside of class I could go on my computer or iPhone. Along with its easy-to-use format, all of the features that were available helped with projects and creative assignments. Being able to insert things like pictures and voice recordings and having them be automatically saved to the note eliminated the stress of emailing/losing them when transferring to other devices. Additionally, keeping everything organized was easy and helpful. Overall, the simplicity of the app made classroom learning more efficient.

What problems or limitations did you encounter while using Evernote?

Sometimes, the simple format served as a disadvantage. On the iPads, it was often hard to create things other than a 10 pt. black arial font document. Not having different fonts, different font sizes, and different font colors from the iPad app was a limitation when it came to creative projects. Also, Evernote was great on the go, but often had technical difficulties on computers. On the school computers, where it was not allowed to be downloaded, the website usually would crash or take a long time to load. This restricted my use of the program by a significant amount. If the program was more accessible at school, it would have benefitted me more. Evernote was a very beneficial app this year for me, but I don't know if I will use it in the future because of this inaccessibility. 

Do you have any other feedback or suggestion on making Evernote better?

I think the main thing to be done with Evernote in the school district is to spread the word about it. If more students know about the app and its possibilities, it could be more accessible at school and could make things more efficient. For me, the main limitation was that in school, I really only had access to it when the iPads were available. Because of this, Evernote only contained my American Lit notes, making things confusing when all of my other class notes were on paper. If it was more widely available, I think it could be more efficient. If Evernote was downloaded on the school computers and if we were able to use our phones in class to access the app, it would make things more organized and attract a larger audience. Additionally, I think I didn't know enough about the possibilities when I started using Evernote. It seems like there are many more opportunities than just taking notes, so learning more prior to its usage could have been helpful. In general, if it was more available during school and more was known about it, I think it would have the potential to eliminate lots of notes on paper and make the learning experience more effective. 

iPads in the Classroom

What were the benefits of having a class set of iPads in the classroom?

The iPads provided an easy-to-use and convenient way to take notes and participate in class. Not only did you have the Internet right at your fingertips, but many other useful apps that pertained to American Lit. When it came to a traditional class where we discussed books/short stories/etc., the notes apps provided were straightforward and easy to navigate around. With the automatic syncing to all devices with your account (provided by these apps), it was easy to access these notes from my phone, laptop, and the school computers. This automatic syncing also proved helpful with Dropbox, which easily allowed files to be shared with the entire class. The iPads eliminated in many cases having to bring a notebook or textbook home, and easily being able to access everything I worked on in class at home was a bonus. When it came to projects, the iPads made the class a more hands-on experience. Getting to do projects using the iPads in non-traditional ways was a much better experience than just writing an essay or research paper; it made me more interested in the topics we were studying. Overall, the iPads were a beneficial tool that made class learning more efficient. 

What were the limitations or problems with having a class set of iPads?

The iPads were very beneficial, but only to a certain extent. Having them for American Lit was very beneficial, but it was the only class I had the opportunity to use it. Therefore, all of my English work was easily saved online and hands-on, but the majority of all my other classes were still stuck in the traditional format. With this, it made things sometimes disorganized and confusing when certain assignments were on the computer but then others were restricted to looseleaf and textbook work. Additionally, certain websites and apps were not iPad-based (such as Prezi and Weebly), so therefore restricted me to having to work outside of class on certain projects/assignments. Not being able to bring the iPad home was another issue; because of this, exchanging files between devices and having to log out of the iPads everyday made it cumbersome. This inaccessibility made things frustrating in certain cases. Additionally, because of it being a class set and being restricted in the classroom, you were not allowed to get new apps or personalize the iPad for your own benefit. Because of these restrictions, the "classroom set" atmosphere could be changed for the better.

Do you think the school district should have more iPad carts for students to use or move to a 1:1 environment where all students would have access to an iPad they would be able to take home and use during the school year?

I think that option should be available only to those who would use it and benefit from it. Not everyone likes the iPad format for learning, so the school shouldn't have to waste money on iPads that wouldn't be used. Additionally, if that option were available, I do not think the whole school district would need them. It would be  beneficial to middle and high school students; for elementary school kids not as much. When it comes to younger grades, they do not exactly need an iPad for "taking notes" or "writing an essay" because they have not reached that stage of learning yet. Additionally, for younger children (and maybe middle and high school students too) it would serve more as a distraction and toy that could be broken easily. Spending that much money on every student in the district for iPads is very generous, but not exactly needed. Personally, I would not want the district spending money on something not everyone would use to the fullest extent.

Original Gothic Lit Story

Dana Kornmeier

Mr. Provenzano

Honors American Lit – 1^st Hour

25 March 2011

The Child’s Last Song

Ever since the elite suburban town of Highland Ridge had been carefully planned out in the early 1900s, large mansions sprang up, landscape was carefully crafted, and safety had never been issue. Grasses were always richly green, the sky almost always seemed to be a bright blue, and everyone happily went along with their lives. 

The death of Mrs. Gertrude Mabley never surprised the town. One of the few widows of the time, she often kept to herself and stayed in her house the entire day. Her once luxurious mansion always full with guests was slowly deteriorating; the grass fading to a dry yellow hue, the windows accumulating a large number of cobwebs, and the paint slowly cracking off. Many of the friendly people of the town offered to help her, yet every time they visited she seemed to be more and more hostile and ungrateful. Rumors spread, saying she was going mentally insane and needed to be taken away. After a few weeks, she was found dead in her bedroom. 

Since Mabley was the last living member of her family and no will seemed present, the house went up as an estate sale with all of its possessions. A family of four new to the town, unaware of Mabley's story, offered the highest price and vowed to bring the mansion back to its prime condition. Within a month, the family was moved in.

Almost all of the possessions of the house were cleared out within the first few months of the family's arrival. Slowly but surely, the old, antique furniture and decor was being replaced with new, modern furnishings. The landscaping improved, the foundation and exterior of the house was fixed, and the family seemed to settle in at a rapid rate. The only part of the house that seemed unchanged was the dark basement.

That night, Tommy, the oldest child at age 10, woke up in the middle of the night. He had no recollection as to why he did, but he lay back down and went to sleep. This happened another three times, and he finally understood what kept waking him up. He could hear a faint sound of music playing, yet he had no idea what it was or where it was coming from.

Probably just Casey's music to put her to sleep or something. I'm used to that, she is my sister. Whatever, thought Tommy. 

Tommy, although somewhat confused, went back to sleep. He heard it the next few nights once again, but disregarded it and went back to sleep each time. 

One day, the moving company came to pick up the last of Mrs. Mabley's items. They went through the house, and when nothing else was to be found, they went on their way. After the moving people left, the family moved in some more of their furniture, bringing the rest of their unorganized items down to the basement. The basement was damp and midnight black; it took the family time to find the light switch. Once they found the light and the basement dimly lit up, they discovered a small piano in the far corner.

"Woah, what's that?" exclaimed Tommy.

"It seems like it’s the woman who lived here before's," said the mother.

"What should we do with it?" replied Tommy. "Those moving people already left."

"Well, since it technically is ours from the sale, and since we've been wishing for a piano for our house for a while, why don't we keep it?" suggested the father.

"Hmm...I'm not sure. We'll have to think about it. But, for now, let's bring it upstairs." replied the mother.

The family cleaned all of the dust, dirt, and accumulated spider webs off of the piano and moved it up to their living room. Tommy, who had been taking piano lessons since he was five, wanted to play one of his newly learned songs. He started playing the tune, but to his and his family's amazement, the piano was much different than expected.

Every time he started pressing the keys, the piano would play the same group of notes. If he started playing one song, the piano would play different notes, resulting in the projection of a depressing love song every time. No matter what he or anyone else in the family pressed, the tune always ended up being the same somber song. 

That night, Tommy woke up to the same depressing tune. More loud and clear than ever before, he realized the music that woke him up almost every night was the same song being played. He rushed into his parent's bedroom.

"Mom! Mom! Dad! Dad! Do you hear that? It's the same song from the piano!"

"Wha--what, Tommy?" replied the dad, rubbing his eyes and gradually sitting up.

"Do you NOT hear that noise? That SAME song that was playing on the piano today is playing, right now!"

"Tommy..." replied a half asleep mother. “There's nothing playing. You probably just had a bad dream. Go back to bed."

But Tommy knew, without a doubt, that the piano was playing. He softly tiptoed down the stairs and made his way into the living room. There, in front of his eyes, was the piano, playing itself. No one was around to play the tune. The keys were sharply being pressed down, in the same pattern, over and over again. 

Tommy, frightened at the sight of the piano, sprinted upstairs and buried himself under his bed covers. He squeezed his eyes shut as much as he could, curled himself into a ball, and forced himself to fall asleep. 

The next morning, Tommy was convinced he needed to show his parents what was happening with the piano. He had to, in some way, show what was keeping him up countless nights on end. Around 7 AM, he tiptoed down the stairs, made his way into the living room, and carefully examined the piano. Observing every inch, Tommy carefully looked at the old wood finish, the alternating black and white keys, and the faint brown and beige hues engrained within its exterior. With no support for his story besides hearing the song, he felt as if his case was hopeless.

If only there was something, just something, to show what this piano has been doing, thought Tommy.

He resorted to the interior of the piano. To his amazement, he found mounds of crumpled up paper everywhere. There must have been at least one hundred of them. All stuffed into the main interior compartment of the piano.

“I will haunt you until you come with me.”

“I lost mine, so he’s mine now.”

“He was just about your age when he died.”

“You’re just the replacement.”

Every single note had the same type of phrases. Ones speaking of death, family, someone’s son, and threats to take somebody away for good. Immediately, the piano starts playing itself, in an especially loud and harsh manner. Tommy knew that something was extremely wrong with this situation, and that his parents needed to believe him. He raced back upstairs and shook his parents awake.

“MOM, DAD! CAN YOU NOT HEAR THE PIANO? IT’S PLAYING ITSELF, SO LOUD, RIGHT NOW!” Tommy screamed.

“Tommy, this is enough. The only sound that is being made right now is you screaming at the top of your lungs. What’s wrong?” his father replied.

“Honey, you need to stop this. There is nothing going on with that piano,” said his mother.

“I don’t even know what to say right now. The piano plays by itself every night, I hear it, it wakes me up and is unbearable. See, look at this! Look at what I found INSIDE the piano!” said Tommy, throwing a pile of the crumpled notes in front of them.

His parents scan each one of the notes carefully; unwrapping each one, looking on both sides, and then folding them up.

“Tommy, now I am really confused. There is nothing written on any of these slips of paper. Look, they are all blank.”

And to his amazement, each one of the crumpled pieces of paper that before held each threat was blank. Solid white. It was as if someone replaced the paper, or someone erased all of the messages somehow. Tommy knew in his mind despite the recent events, no one was going to believe him.

Later that week in school, Tommy’s parents forced him to go talk to the school psychologist. They had high expectations that some sort of counseling would help calm the present issue. Tommy, nervous but determined to put this psychologist on his side, walked into the office.

“Hello?” whispered Tommy.

A young woman turned around in her swivel chair to face Tommy and greeted him with a smile.

“Hello, Tommy. I’ve been expecting you. My name’s Mrs. Bourke,” replied the woman. “Your parents told me what has been going on at home. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Yeah, sure. Nobody around here believes me. This piano that belonged to the woman who lived in our house before us plays by itself every single night. I hear it, I know for a fact I’m not dreaming. And inside the piano, well, that’s a whole other story. I found hundreds of crumpled up pieces of paper, all with threats to take me away and talking about some boy who died.”

“Oh, Tommy, wow. That is quite the situation. And you know for sure this is a real occurrence?”

“Yes, I’m positive. I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life.”

“I’m here for you no matter what your parents say. I’ll give them a call. It seems like this is some type of supernatural situation, that can’t be handled by me.”

Mrs. Bourke called Tommy’s parents later that afternoon, explaining in full detail what Tommy told them. She then further said how there is not much explanation to this type of situation. As a last resort, she advised to call the paranormal hotline. Established around fifty years ago, the service has dealt with some of the people that believe that spirits haunt their mansions.

“We don’t believe in that type of stuff. Tommy’s just going through some type of strange phase. Little kids believe whatever they want these days,” said the mother to the father.

“Yes, I understand. Don’t you think we should give him a chance at what he’s trying to explain though?” replied the father.

“He’s explained everything there is. The piano plays itself. The messages found inside it. There’s nothing else to it,” said the mother.

The next months passed slowly but surely. Tommy slept with his parents every night, feeling isolated, feeling that no one was on his side. Each night he awoke cringing, hearing the piano playing extremely loud. He would cover his ears and start screaming in the pitch black bedroom. Every time his parents would calm him, reassure them that nothing was happening, and force him back to sleep. Tommy was going insane with nobody believing him.

Later on, the piano went several nights in a row without making a noise. You could hear a pin drop the house was so quiet at nighttime. Tommy eventually made his way back into his bedroom, sleeping yet sleeping uncomfortably. Nightmares of the playing piano always found a way into his sleeping routine.

One night, the weather was particularly grotesque. Clouds formed a heavy blanket over the town, blocking the moon from shining in the twilight. The wind whistled particularly loud, sweeping in and out through the dark suburban streets. Most notably, the town fell silent at an early hour of the night, almost all of the prim and proper mansions completely dark.

Tommy fell asleep at an early hour, along with everyone else in the family. He fell asleep easier than he ever had in the past months, comfortably dozing off as the wind whistled through the trees. He felt safe, secure, and most notably at home for the first time.

Almost like clockwork, the piano began playing itself. This time, it started at an extremely soft tone, then gradually and gradually made itself louder. The tune increased in sound so much one could have felt like the whole town heard it. Tommy, startled, shot up out of his bed and gripped onto his covers as tight as he could.

The piano kept increasing. It eventually got to the point of ear-bleeding, screeching, unbearable sound. The wind furiously whooshed through the town, almost complimenting the piano tune. Tommy screamed in horror right as his bedroom door swung open with a great amount of air. You are finally mine, came a sound. The air swept him off his feet, and by now, he was kicking and screaming and yelling for his parents.

“MOM, DAD, SAVE ME!!”

But it was too late. The rush of air swept him downstairs, towards the living room and out of sight. By the time his parents got downstairs, he was nowhere to be found. They called the police, a search team, and even the paranormal specialists.

The police and search team were unable to find any trace of Tommy whatsoever. They examined every inch of the house; he was completely gone. The paranormal specialists set up all of their equipment and used all of their techniques. No surprise, they found a high level of activity around the piano and in the basement.

The family, as soon as they could, moved out of the house and to the neighboring city. They had the piano taken away and donated. And, to their sadness and confusion, went along with their lives without Tommy. They read about the woman who lived in the house before them; learning her son was kidnapped and killed at age 10.

To this day, the situation that arose at Gertrude Mabley’s mansion is an unsolvable mystery. Everyone has their views and opinions, and no investigative team can come to a conclusion. Most importantly, the piano ended up in a dump extending miles and miles in every direction. Each night, it plays itself a tune, yet this time a joyful and reassuring song, with no one to ever hear.

Poe's Obsession with Death

Dana Kornmeier

Mr. Provenzano

Honors American Lit – 1^st Hour

16 March 2012

Poe’s Love for Death

            Edgar Allan Poe, without a doubt, shocked the world with his highly-acclaimed collection of short stories. Throughout the mid-1800s, he stunned readers with his vivid works and took literature to a whole new medium.  Although the stories were released at different times and were of different subjects, he was known for his reoccurring use of dark and frightening themes. Whether based on revenge, murder, burial, or torture, they all seem to revolve around one simple concept—death. Hinting subtly or having the entire story be based upon it, Poe always found a way to incorporate it into his works. Poe was notably criticized for his use of this theme, mainly because it had never been a major concept before. Making the concept a subject of interest, he made people realize the ambiguity of death and whether peaceful or painful, everyone on this planet experiences it. Edgar Allan Poe, as one of the most prominent figures of literature in the 19^th century, made death the center of his works in a way that had people captivated yet perplexed.

            Regarded as one of his earlier stories, “The Fall of the House of Usher” is one of Poe’s most well-known yet frightful works. This work clearly displays itself as a gothic story; the gloomy weather, the deteriorating mansion, the last man of the house/family, Rodrick Usher, going crazy, the death of the family members and the fall of the house at the end. In this case, what takes the story to a whole new level of terror is the obscurity at certain points. Nobody knows who the narrator is, what caused the fall of the house, when death will reign supreme, and other similar details. Additionally, the creeping anticipation of death and madness makes the story one of Poe’s most acclaimed. “. . . then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her violent and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated” (Poe, “The Fall of the House of Usher”). Throughout the story, Rodrick Usher knows that his death is coming; what makes him go crazy is not knowing when or where it is going to happen. Although not all of the events in the story pertain to death, it is always the underlying subject. Actions taken, words spoken; this story revolves itself around the death of both the family and the house. “The Fall of the House of Usher” symbolizes both the fall of the family name and the physical mansion they all lived in. Within the story, Poe exposes the anxiety and madness over the subject of death, and how biologically, one can never avoid it.

            About ten years later, Poe published “The Premature Burial,” another one of his grotesque and madness-filled stories. This short story revolves around the concept of being buried alive, and how eventually, one must suffer death as a result. Different from most of his stories, in this case, the main character/narrator does not experience this brutal event; it is the psychological effects on the person that make him go crazy. “The true wretchedness, indeed – the ultimate woe – is particular, not diffuse. That the ghastly extremes of agony are endured by man the unit, and never by man the mass – for let us thank a merciful God” (Poe, “The Premature Burial”)! Poe sets this story up as the narrator providing examples of those who have been buried alive, having the reader think that these events will eventually consume the narrator. The narrator eventually drives himself to a state of overwrought emotion, believing that one day he himself will experience this; making the reader even more assured that this will happen to him. The reader eventually realizes that by the end, the narrator was never put in this position and he only imagined it. The sense of relief brought by the end shows how certain stories do not have to end in death to be about death. The constant depression the narrator was put into and his fear for death shows how certain people handle certain situations, and how the perception of death varies on several levels.

            Published the same year as “The Premature Burial,” “The Pit and the Pendulum” is another story where the narrator fortunately escapes death. A victim of the Spanish Inquisition, the narrator clearly explains the setting of his “arranged death” and how he waits in agony for it to happen. “That the result would be death, and a death of more than customary bitterness, I knew too well the character of my judges to doubt. The mode and the hour were all that occupied or distracted me” (Poe, “The Pit and the Pendulum”). Like many of his other stories, Poe represented the different perceptions of death and what certain people make of it. In this case, the narrator waits so long for his death; he mentions he would rather get it over with than deal with the agony of anticipation. “The Pit and the Pendulum” is a short story again that revolves around the concept of death and its anticipation, while by the end no characters have experienced it. Much like Rodrick Usher in “The Fall of the House of Usher,” it is driving him mad having to constantly think of his fate; yet at the same time, he brings a sense of hope to the story and is more characterized. Similar to a human being, Poe’s stories can relate in certain cases, but additionally be completely unique.

            Another one of Poe’s most gruesome short stories is “The Black Cat,” in which many people and things are lost in spite of the narrator. This story evidently shows how events and things can manipulate someone into a completely different person; in this case, extremely for the worse. The narrator ends up brutally killing all of his household pets, and most importantly his wife and most beloved cat. “Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such” (Poe, “The Black Cat”) ? Within the story, the reader finds out the narrator committed these unlawful actions due to alcoholism of some sort, and it took a toll of his entire life. Additionally, it seems to be more personal and related to Poe; taking into account he suffered alcohol problems himself. This story is different from the others in that the narrator is the actual murderer, not the sufferer. The narrator experiences a process of death; committing the crime, feeling the guilt, it making him go mad, having the urges again, and once again being aware of what he has done. Changing the point of view with this work, Poe was able to establish once again a sense of uniqueness to the concept of death, yet showing how it all ties back together when it comes to its dictionary-definition.

            “The Masque of the Red Death” is one of Poe’s most evident works revolving around the concept of death. Dealing with the plague spreading throughout the country, the Prince Prospero, in an attempt to save his acquaintances, has everyone spend time at his castle. Inevitably, the plague reaches the castle, and everyone ends up passing from it. “And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revelers . . . died each in the despairing posture of his fall . . . And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all” (Poe, “The Masque of the Red Death”). This short story can most easily be described as an allegory, yet both literally and symbolically these two levels pertain to death. The irony of this story is that the prince, hoping to save his friends, seals their fate by having them all gather together at once. Poe seems to have shown the power of death throughout this piece, and how death and time can be very much relatable. The clock that chimes every hour within the castle was placed in the story to represent how death inevitably answers to time; how one cannot escape it. This seems to be Poe’s main focal point throughout all his pieces; how death in all honesty is unavoidable, how many people perceive it in many different ways, and how all in all, time wins over death.

            Edgar Allan Poe, considered one of the most daring and creepy figures in literature, brought up the concept of death; something usually not taken in-depth before. Death, one of the most natural and common events to be a part of society, seems like it always has to be overwrought and intense in literature, especially when it comes to the gothic subject matter. Despite the gothic elements, and despite the course of events his stories took, they all connected and bonded with the subject matter of death. Underlying in all of these stories are main points of death; how tragic it may be, it is unavoidable at all costs. Additionally, it does not matter how or why a person dies, everyone ends up the same situation. Poe’s short stories go past the plot lines to show elemental concepts, and they have lasted centuries past to show how impacting a subject can be.

Bibliography

Lombardi, Esther. "Edgar Allan Poe: A Philosophy of Death." About.com Classic Literature. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://classiclit.about.com/od/poeedgarallan/a/aa_eap_philos.htm>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Black Cat." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/blackcat>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Fall of the House of Usher." Poestories.com. Web. 10 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/houseofusher>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Masque of the Red Death." Poestories.com. Web. 10 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/masque>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Pit and the Pendulum." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/pit>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Premature Burial." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/premature>.

"Poe’s Short Stories." SparkNotes. SparkNotes. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/poestories/context.html>.

"Poe's Short Stories Summary and Analysis." GradeSaver. GradeSaver LLC. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.gradesaver.com/poes-short-stories/study-guide/section13/>.

Faust Legend

Desolately located at the end of the hallway on the fourth floor, the bathroom at Harbor Hill High School had been closed for years. No one ever knew why; the door was always locked, the lights were always out, a thin film of cobwebs and dust covered the entire doorway. Many disregarded the bathroom, never knowing it was actually occupied.

            Junior Jason Somerson was considered to be a stereotypical, football-playing jock of the school.  Coming from an elite upper-class family, he was known to brag about his money often and abuse his wealth. Making varsity football early in high school, he considered himself to be the best of the best. The various aspects of his life made him feel overly powerful, and these lead him to become more and more arrogant and selfish. He often bullied those who he thought he took precedent over, believing he was the king of Harbor Hill. Jason believed he was living the best life possible, despite being cruel on several levels.

            The next day at school was a particularly normal one for Jason. He woke up, worked out, and went to school— the usual. During lunch, he and his teammates decided to play a prank on some of the “nerds” of the school. They planned to set their trap off on the third floor, in the main hallway, so that a majority of the students could see.

            The trap was set; in two minutes a bucket of slimy syrup would descend on the innocent students’ heads. Waiting and waiting, the three kids slowly made their way down the hallway, and SPLAT: the syrup poured everywhere.

            “Dude, best prank ever!” yelled one of Jason’s friends.

            “HAHAHA what losers!” exclaimed another.

            Within a minute, the entire hallway was silent. Some of Jason’s friends were smirking and let out a few laughs; everyone else had an intense glare shot in Jason’s direction. Nobody found the prank funny, only rude and harsh.

            “Somerson!” cried a distant voice. Everyone knew that rasp voice, it was no one but the principal’s.

            Jason and his friends needed an escape before Principal Tate emerged through the crowd. They spotted the staircase to the fourth floor and sprinted up as fast as possible.

            The fourth floor was an entirely foreign place to the boys; the classrooms up there hadn’t been used since the 1970s. The hallway contained only a few dim, flickering lights, and the entire length of it was covered in dust and cobwebs. All doors were sealed shut with the shades down, covered in the thin dusty film.

            “Dude, this is kinda creepy,” said one of the guys.

            “I know man, let’s get out of here,” replied the other, voice echoing deep down the dark corridor.

            As the boys rushed away, Jason tripped on a fairly large stack of books before reaching the stairs. He picked the stack up, assuming it belonged at least in front of one of the classrooms. Staring at the top book, its cover read “Look behind you.” Jumping to face the other way, he suddenly saw words slowly being engraved into the wall, yet no one was present to write them. As the sentence finished, the message read: Jason, do you like the life you’re living?

            “Wh—wha—who’s there?!” yelled Jason.    

            The words began to engrave themselves again. This time the message read: It doesn’t matter for now. Now answer the question, do you like the life you’re living?

            “A—uh—ah—yes?”           

            The words yet again engraved themselves into the dusty cold marble. Good. Come up here, tonight at midnight. Don’t bring anyone, I promise you it will be worth it. Your life depends on it.

            And out of nowhere fell a key to the school onto Jason’s palm. He was definitely puzzled by the messages, but he disregarded them. He figured it was one of the nerds’ plans to scare him back. He confidently walked down the stairs to the third floor, and went on with his day.

            Throughout the rest of the school day, Jason was receiving more and more of these strange messages. Words began to appear on chalkboards, in textbooks, in workbooks, on bulletin boards, on computers, and in all of his notebooks. Many of them read the same threat: You better show up tonight. I’m watching you. As Jason kept disregarding the messages, they began to get creepier and creepier. They exposed some of his deepest secrets, saying they’d be released if he didn’t come. The threats continued the entire day, and finally, Jason had had it. He made his decision—he would show up, beat whoever was doing this to him, and go on with his arrogant lifestyle.

            Midnight. Pitch black surroundings, the only light was coming from the distant crescent moon in the sky. Jason stealthily crept up to the school entrance, and as he expected, it was locked. He whipped out the bronze key and entered in a breeze. The school was so dark it sent chills down his spine. A surge of cold air hit him, and suddenly, the fluorescent light he was standing under flickered on. Startled, Jason sprinted ahead, and as he crossed under each light, they flickered on, and then off. He rushed up to the second floor, then the third, and there stood the fourth floor entrance. Taking a deep breath, Jason slowly but confidently paced up the steps.

Reaching the stair landing, the same rush of cold air and flickering of lights hit him. Looking around, he noticed a similar message being written out on the wall. This time it was a large red arrow, pointing towards the end of the hall. Suddenly, the end of the hallway lights shot on, and the door under these lights slowly creaked open. A wind so brisk and strong came up behind him, thrusting him all the way down to the lit area. Jason confidently strove into the room, cracking his knuckles, preparing to beat the person up. The lights behind him quickly flickered off.

            As he emerged through the doorway, he realized it was a desolate men’s bathroom. It was pitch black, yet once again, the dim lights flickered on. The mirrors above the sink were cracked and dusty, the urinals were covered with thick spider webs, and the stalls were sealed shut. Out of all the dustiness occupying the entire space, the only word Jason could make out on the stall doorways was HELL, written on each door in a bold red. Quickly, the end of the bathroom, previously dark, lit up in the same flickering fashion. Hanging from the ceiling by thick beige rope were hundreds of doll heads at several different levels. Some were touching the ceiling, others were five inches from the floor, others descending halfway between. What amazed Jason was the amount of doll heads on the floor, piles and piles scattered all over. To his surprise, a cloud of smoke blasted from one of the shattered mirrors. He ran over to see.

“Hello, Jason,” said a deep, dark voice.

The mirror burst into flames, and right in front of him a larger-than-life demon appeared. The creature was at least ten feet tall, beady eyes midnight black, deep brown horns protruding from his head, dark hooves protruding from his feet. A dark maroon tint covered his entire muscular body. Flames surrounded the demon; sparked and cackled as his dominant figure stood over Jason.

“Uh, you are…?” said Jason.

“Are you that stupid?” roared the devil.

“Who do you think I am?” replied Jason. “I’m Jason Somerson, of course I’m not stupid.”

“ENOUGH!” shouted the devil. “As you can see, I am mighty and have the greatest powers of all. Now, as I asked you before, do you like the life you are living?”

“Uh, yeah…” replied Jason.

“Good. Now would you like to keep living the way you are, or have everything change for you for the worse?”

“Obviously keep the life I am living.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, let’s make a deal. I’ll leave your life be and make it even better under one provision: stop with the pranks and rudeness. Get over it, you’re not seven. You do as said, you keep your life. If not, you get to come and help me. Deal?”

Jason’s eyes were wandering around the bathroom, barely glancing at the devil.

“Yeah. Of course, my life depends on my perfection. Deal,” proclaimed Jason.

They shook hands, and once again, the lights dimmed and the devil disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Jason confidently walked out of the bathroom, down the stairs, outdoors, and back home.

Jason continued to live his life in the same “perfect,” selfish fashion. He had received a few detentions for the syrup incident, so he decided to not think of anything else for a while. His life progressed, and thankfully, the demon that appeared in the fourth floor bathroom had not contacted him in any way, shape, or form.

High school was almost over for Jason, and what he and the football team had been anticipating was quickly approaching: the day to set off the Senior prank. The plan had been devised since sophomore year; he and the guys had always hoped the prank would go down as the best in Harbor Hill history. The team met late at night the next day to set the entire prank up.

Eggs, feathers, water balloons, syrup—you name it; it was probably part of the plan. While setting up, Jason looked constantly worried and regretful.

“What’s wrong with you, man? You’re like the mastermind of this prank and you don’t look excited at all,” said one of the teammates.

That demon said something about pranking. What was it…? If I pranked again I’d have to come with him or something? Do him a favor? Whatever. Get over it Jason, he hasn’t done anything to you in a year, thought Jason.

“What? Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine. You know what? I’m awesome. I feel great. This prank is about to be the best this school’s ever seen. Who CARES what trouble we get into? It’s our senior year, I’m already accepted to Dartmouth, I’m the most perfect guy; my life is good. Now let’s cause some trouble!” exclaimed Jason.

Right then and there, the PA system went off.

“Could Jason Somerson please come to the fourth floor?” said a high-pitched voice, something that sounded like a man impersonating a girl’s voice.

The guys all laughed, thinking it was one of the guys joking over the PA system. Jason walked up to the fourth floor, knowing most of the props for the prank were going to be stored there. As he reached the stairs’ landing, the same gust of wind sent Jason flying forward.

When Jason was nowhere to be found by his teammates, they called the police. The rest of the night was vague for many; the only thing the boys seemed to report to the police was the simultaneous flush of all of the toilets in the school around the time of Jason’s disappearance. Through months of investigating the fourth floor, the bathroom was finally unlocked after several tries. The police reported the scene as confusing. The only things mentioned were a wide open stall, and on the door, written above the word “hell” were the words “gone to.” Additionally, while investigating, the doll head arrangement was especially perplexing. Their presence is still under investigation, but the police know it had to do with someone’s plan. At their first arrival on the scene, as they opened the door, they heard a loud snapping sound; a doll head, only an inch from the floor, with the initials J.S. written on the back suddenly fell to the floor. 

Reaction to the Verdict

Being on the prosecuting side of the trial against Mark Twain was a new, interesting, but tough experience. After listening and participating in the case from start to finish, I have definitely learned to a new extent the linkage between law and Mark Twain's views. In addition to this, I learned more about law than I ever have in one week, and it is definitely something I am now interested in. As the trial progressed, I was more and more surprised of what my classmates are capable of; whether it be acting, public speaking, knowledge of law, or any of the other components present in a mock trial. I was especially surprised of the knowledge everyone gained, especially the lawyers and witnesses. The depth some of the arguments got into was stunning; the fact that this type of project made many realize so much towards a piece of literature shows how beneficial it was. As a whole, I would have to say the opening and closing statements from both sides were the most influential, due to the level of intensity and analysis they went into. As an overall opinion, this trial was a unique learning experience that pushed many participants to strive to do their best and dig deeper and deeper to prove their case.

Personally, I felt that my lawyers and I had a much harder job than the defense, yet we pushed through it and worked great as a team. I also believe that we presented our case in a much more relevant and organized way. When it came to the defensive side, they inevitably had the easier case, due to the fact we discussed Twain's intent toward the book earlier in the unit. If they didn't have the examples we used in class (hint hint wink wink satire and diction), they would have been put in a completely different position. If both sides came into the case with no previous knowledge, it would have been interesting to see how the defense handled the situation. While I do believe it was to some extent not fair the defense had this knowledge, they did a very good job throughout the case. In my opinion, what makes me so proud of my team is that even though we had a tougher case to prove, it seemed that we went into more analysis and pushed further to prove our point. In the long run, this is all that matters to me, because it means I benefited from the experience.

Of course, I am disappointed with the verdict. Before the case even started, I just knew it would rule that way. Before doing all my research for the trial, I sincerely believed Mark Twain had no racist thoughts within him. But as more and more research was found and as the trial progressed, I started to believe in my own case, and that is what drove me to push further and further. It seemed like the defense had most of their research and examples handed to them and had to do barely any work, yet we worked so hard and researched so much. It made me upset that it was a breeze for them to win the case, but I guess that's how law works sometimes. If the jury had less preconceived notions, I truly believe we could have won the case. Listening to their deliberation, it seemed like many of them were basing their vote off of what we learned in class and the book itself; it seemed like the trial didn't even play a part in their decision. Unfortunately, it looked to me like they came into the case with a biased view, knowing they would vote not guilty and thinking they wouldn't have to pay attention to what we had to say. Regardless of the verdict itself, I am proud to say that my team of lawyers and I convinced at least four people of our argument. And regardless of the concept of Mark Twain being a racist, the fact that the prosecuting side and I learned so much from the experience and worked hard for our case makes me a very satisfied "lawyer."

Huck Finn Post 3

In the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Huck comes across a very unique family during his journey. The Grangerford family, uneasy to accept Huck at first, finally lets him into their home once realizing he is not a "Shepherdson." He somewhat ignores this comment; eager to spend time in such a different lifestyle. Huck finds the home magnificent, " I hadn't seen no house out in the country before that was so nice and had so much style" (Twain 102). A palace compared to what Huck has seen, the Grangerford's large estate with over one hundred slaves pleases him in undoubted ways. Although it is portrayed as a grand, lavish lifestyle, the Grangerfords are one of the most confusing, contradicting, and comical group of people in the novel. Their spontaneous actions towards others and unintentionally comical elements within their home combine to make an underlying theme of humor at this point. Within their home, since never seeing a house such as this before, Huck finds the decorations and works displayed very genuine and grand. Although he portrays it as this way, these elements of the home are unintentionally comical and somewhat tacky. When it comes to the works of art by their late daughter, Emmeline, her frequent themes of dead people represent Twain's mocking of the Victorian Age and his trying to make it humorous. The family's spontaneous actions towards others combine to show humor with a hint of sadness.

Within the Grangerfords' lifestyle, Twain hints at elements of sadness. Included in this part of life is the explanation of Emmeline's works of art and her death. Although many of her works are unintentionally tacky, they are nevertheless sympathetic and a tribute to those who have died. Huck is moved by her works of poetry and art and represents a caring side to him. "Poor Emmeline made poetry about all the dead people when she was alive, and it didn't seem right that there warn't nobody to make some about her now she was gone; so I tried to sweat out a verse or two myself , but I couldn't seem to make it go somehow" (106). Later on Buck, one of the Grangerfords, explains the ongoing feud between their family and the previously mentioned Shepherdsons. Nobody knows how the feud started, but it has been an ongoing event with several killings. When Buck is killed in a gunfight later on, this event brings out the most sadness of this section. Unlike  the works of art, where the over exaggeration of sadness leads to humor, this point in the book is completely serious and shows the confusion in the Grangerfords' world.

Included in the Grangerfords' world of confusion is the references to "Romeo and Juliet." Their undeniable more fortunate lifestyle connects with the rich families in the play, already a foreshadow to the competitiveness. One of the main allusions is the family feud with the Shepherdsons and how it plays out. "'Him? He never done nothing to me.' 'Well, then, what did you want to kill him for?' 'Why, nothing--only it's on account of the feud'" (109). The unknowingness as to why members of each family are killing each other directly relates to the feud in "Romeo and Juliet." The second main allusion is concept of star-crossed lovers and how Sophia Grangerford and Harney Shepherdson are in love. They end up running off; resulting in the gunfight that kills Buck and another Shepherdson. These allusions show Twain's almost mocking of earlier European literature. All of the elements of the Grangerfords' life represent a contradicting, unique experience for Huck during his eventful journey down the Mississippi.