Kiddie Propaganda

Last class we discussed how American popular media portrays the wealthy and the middle class through mainly the mass medium of television. I never realized until recently how it is common to portray a middle class man as a fat, alcoholic, idiot parent or American man. We also mentioned that most often the middle class on T.V. are portrayed as violent. At first, I overlooked the violence in our video games, and T.V. shows as harmless, that in almost a jokingly matter I would laugh about a show persuading someone to kill someone else. I thought that it was dumb to think that a T.V. show or a video game or even a song could persuade someone to do something.
Then one day I remembered babysitting my nephew who at the time had been about 4 or 5 years old. He constantly was playing a video game that had violence in it or watching a T.V. show that had some form of violence. Never once did I think he would imitate any of it, but he did so with his brother. In fact, it scared me to realize that he was imitating professional wrestlers on T.V. with his older brother. If he imitated that he could imitate almost anything.
Hopefully, he won't always imitate everything he sees on T.V. What upsets me is the fact that some of these shows on T.V. are there to influence little children and if they can get them to think they can wrestle like a pro who knows what else they might idolize. It might be saying its okay to be a fat slob, or an alcoholic father. So what if you can block the channels, there are always video games, songs, and new shows on different channels that are just as bad as the others. Some of these trashy shows have trashy characters that these kids are going to idolize and I just wish there was a way to stop it.

My One and Only 1986 Camaro

It was a cold winter and a typical Christmas in Las Vegas, Nevada on December 25, 2005. There was a fire going in the fire place, and I could hear crackling from the fire. From time to time I would see the flames out of the corner of my eye get large and then small, repeating this pattern so erratically, that in my mind it was entertaining. Eventually, it came time to open the presents, and my focus slowly drifted back to my family. Slowly, that is, until I saw him. He was a handsome, white, 1986 Camaro, with all original parts and furnishings. I believe I received the greatest present of all. All that mattered was that he was mine. I could tell this was going to be a long lasting, satisfying relationship. I had fallen in love. Indeed, he certainly was perfect for me.

Before Christmas arrived, my father and I had talked about him and other cars that were similar to him. We even went and looked around at a used car dealership. For example, there was a bright red Chevelle that we had observed, but she was much too elegant for me. She looked more high maintenance than a supermodel. I certainly wasn’t going to compete with her, so she was crossed off of my list of dream cars without hesitation or regret. Most of the cars were in such horrible condition, that the car salesman had a better chance selling them with LEMON written all over them in big, bold, black lettering. In addition to the Chevelle, there was also a pitiful El Camino, a hazardous Firebird, and a Corvette rustier than the tin man. Basically, the salesman was concerned about selling any car to me, especially a lemon. I knew he wasn’t looking out for my best interest, so I made sure not to let my guard down. After looking at many cars, I became hopeless. Luckily, my father found him for me.

I wasn’t expecting much, but something decent. He had exceeded my expectations. Much trust had been put into him by my father. My father and I had no oppositions against him, if anything we were very pleased. Father seemed to be especially pleased with him. Obviously, my father trusted him and if my father trusted him, then I too trusted him.

For many days and nights, I pondered the places he would take me. Instinctively, I knew he would come as my father had promised me. I imagined us taking a cruise to California down by the beach, or maybe even a drive to a lake. I pictured myself sitting in the driver’s seat feeling a light breeze of air sift softly through my hair from the open windows of the car. Maybe, I would drive him on a cool summer evening, while trying to listen to music at a medium volume. Sometimes I thought of his engine as powerful and loud. I worried his engine would roar so loud that I would be officially deaf before I was a senior citizen. Worst of all, I worried that the engine would be so loud that I wouldn’t possibly be able to listen to music while driving him. Undoubtedly, I knew that he would take me anywhere that he was capable of reaching. If, perhaps, he were capable, he would take me to the moon and back. I would be naive to think such a thing. After all, he wasn’t the Apollo 13, but he could take me to places that I’ve never been before and that’s better than nothing at all.

However, he had limitations. Nothing is completely flawless. He wasn’t in the best shape, and he wasn’t as good looking as George Clooney, but he was physically attractive. Not surprisingly, he had a very rugged look comparable to a lumberjack or a construction worker. The rear view mirror was missing, the air conditioning didn’t work, and the interior was more worn than a twenty year old baseball mitt, but I didn’t seem to mind. Somehow, I think these faults made him attractive and unique. Surely he wasn’t perfect, but you could tell from the looks of him that he could clean up nicely. When I first touched his body, I felt a surge of energy pulse throughout me. The feeling was quite exhilarating and it seemed as though butterflies were fluttering around in my stomach at the speed of light. We had a connection and it was a strong one.

Overall, he had been beautifully crafted by some of the finest automotive technicians. A true classic he was and remains. He no longer belongs to me, but I hope that whoever possesses him has the opportunity to experience him as greatly as I had once before, in all the beauty that he represents.

Segregation Is a Problem We Live With

The setting in The Problem We All Live With is in the early 1960's when public schools had finally become desegregated. It commemorates the beginning of desegregation. I think the painting's title is very truthful. Unfortunately, even though according to the law segregation and discrimination are no longer allowed people seem to fall back on segregation because it is something that was taught to be okay. Therefore, over time it wasn't a matter of what was right or wrong, all that mattered was that previous generations were too stubborn to accept change. According to Norman Rockwell's painting and title the problem we are all living with is inequality whether it be racially, economically, or ethnically. This is one of the many problems that we all seem to be living with. There are still forms of segregation that exist today, the only difference is that this segregation is visibly through actions that are more indirect rather than directly.

Learning Isn't a Crime

In Stand and Deliver the students were predominantly Hispanic and lived in a low income neighborhood in California. Although, they weren't rich, they had just as much intelligence as other students. Eighteen students took an AP Calculus exam and all eighteen passed, but because of their race, their economic status, and the poor conditions of the school they attended, the testing agency thought that a cheating conspiracy occurred. Sadly, that wasn't the case and the students tested a second time and all of them passed once again.

Recounting these details from this movie inspires me. Against all odds these students accomplished something even the smartest students in the richest schools can't achieve. However, I was quite dissappointed in how the testing agency treated the students. They acted as if these students were common criminals. Overall, the movie was very realistic. Clearly, the testing agency claimed that "they were just doing their job," but in my perspective they crossed the line. The sadest part is that this movie isn't that recent, yet you see the same things happening today, in similar schools. Obviously, there are some serious faults with the public education system and hopefully over time this will change.

This Was War: Huesch vs. Hardin

Mr. Huesch was my Algebra teacher in the ninth grade. At first glance, he looked very intelligent, but looks can be decieving. He was quite tall with dark, brown hair, big, goofy ears, and a deviously, wicked grin that one could call a smile. Little did I know that he was going to be the worst public high school teacher that I would ever encounter during my entire high school career. Rarely, could I ever understand what he was teaching because the way he explained things seemed more complicated than curing cancer. No one in class ever paid any attention because they knew they would never understand what he was teaching. At one point, I wanted to write a letter to the president of the United States of America telling him what a bad teacher he was. Of course, I didn't do this since the president had much more important problems to deal with like Global warming, just ask the guy and he'll tell you. Overall, I can honestly say "he was a horrible teacher." Each time I solved a problem it was as if I were trying to conquer a small battle in a war before the bell rang for school to let out. Sometimes I literally felt as if I were a P.O.W. during World War II trying to escape camp without dieing. Luckily, my best friend was wonderful at Algebra, and she took the liberty of tutoring me in her free time so I would be more than up to date in the class. Her generosity had paid off, I had somehow managed to conquer the almighty Mr. Huesch by maintaining an 'A' as my overall grade in his class. The war was finally over. As you can see the moral of the story is, if you don't know what your learning make sure you get a damn good tutor.