January Calendar

Reflecting on Monsters Assignment

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Reflecting on Monsters

As we read Frankenstein, a closer look at the novel suggests deeper questions to careful readers: What is it to be human? What is the meaning of life? What is consciousness? Why do we believe? How do we fear? Why is beauty in the eye of the beholder? What is ugliness? Why? Why not?

These kinds of questions that ask people to look beneath the surface of everyday thinking. This kind of deeper thinking is called reflecting or introspection. The purpose of the following activity is to get you to reflect on the topic of monsters and their makers.

But instead of just asking you to begin reflecting, search the internet to find something to spark your thoughts. You’ll use the Web to get your mind tuned to the topic.

Follow the natural twists and turns of your thinking as the most important approach to the topic. Look at the rubric to understand the requirements of the writing.

An Opening Occasion
The world around us often sends a “wake up call.” Sometimes this is in the form of a new idea or powerful emotion. Sometimes it is in the form of a news story that breaks your heart or sharpens your perceptions.

What do you fear?

We all have had irrational, imaginary fears. But we also have very rational fears that inspire our daydreams and influence the way we live our waking lives. Fears might include: Cancer, global warming, cloning, mad cow disease, terrorism, famine, nuclear power, endangered species . . .

Use the chart below to list five fears you have. What quickens your heart or chills your blood—in real life?

Fear Reason










Choose one of the above fears. Search the web to explore your fear. When you find it, write a solid paragraph that describes the event, example, information, or image related to that fear that was most powerful to you. Use the following websites to begin your search:
CNN.com
msnbc.msn.com
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Second Reflection
Looking more deeply at the description you just wrote, find the abstract idea that is at the heart of your exploration. In other words, what underlying concept or cause are you really writing about? What is at the root of your fear? War, hunger, environment, technology, ignorance, poverty, death or simply fear itself?

Write a short paragraph that explains and highlights an abstraction you’ve drawn out of your opening occasion paragraph.
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A Closer Look
Not everything is as we first think. The important ideas, themes, and emotions that play through what we call the Human Condition are complex and subtle. Monsters are recurring symbols throughout history and across cultures. They just take different shapes. Myths abounded with monsters.
• For the Ancient Greeks, it was Scylla or Charybdis, embodying the forces of nature.
• In the Bible, written in agrarian (farming) communities in the ancient Near East, it was the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death who were the omens of the end of the world.
• For Dark Age British warriors in Beowulf, it was Grendel, a warrior monster.
• For Mary Shelley during the Age of Reason, it was Frankenstein’s monster, science gone too far.
• For the Japanese who experienced the horror of nuclear bombs in World War II, it was Godzilla, a radiated prehistoric monster.
DRAW AND WRITE
What is your monster? What symbol, character, or image would you select to embody your fear? Draw a picture of your monster, then write a paragraph describing your monster and its meaning. What are its strengths? What are its weaknesses?

















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An Exploration of Modern Monsters
An exploration of the symbolism of monsters, beginning with the introductory section about children and fear. Watch for technological monsters such as Frankenstein’s monster; human monsters including vampires, freaks and zombies; ecological monsters—Godzilla, King Kong, werewolves; and others.
Go to:
http://www.umich.edu/~umfandsf/symbolismproject/symbolism.html/Monstrosity/intropage/homepage.html
Which type of monster is most frightening to you? Why?
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Finding a Universal Truth
We began by describing a rational fear and went on to pull out one abstract idea to focus on. Further reflection asked you to synthesize your thoughts into a symbol. Now, look at the big picture and explore what you believe is the universal truth, or the one that’s most always true.
• If we have created monsters, from our earliest folk tales to today’s entertainment, do they play an essential role in the way we make sense of the world?

Do we need monsters?
Keep the deep thinking going and avoid the temptation to come up with a quick and easy answer. These are hardly ever accurate and do not reflect you. Write out your ideas in a short paragraph.
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Reflecting on Monsters Link

http://www.umich.edu/~umfandsf/symbolismproject/symbolism.html/Monstrosity/intropage/homepage.html

Cut and paste this address to link to the website.

"Top of the Food Chain" by T. Coraghessan Boyle

TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN
T.C. Boyle, in Without a Hero and Other Stories
THE thing was, we had a little problem with the insect vector there, and believe me, your tamer stuff, your Malathion and pyrethrum and the rest of the so-called environmentally safe products didn't begin to make a dent in it, not a dent, I mean it was utterly useless-we might as well have been spraying with Chanel Number 5 for all the good it did. And you've got to realize these people were literally covered with insects day and night-and the fact that they hardly wore any clothes just compounded the problem. Picture if you can, gentlemen, a naked little two-year-old boy so black with flies and mosquitoes it looks like he's wearing long johns, or the young mother so racked with the malarial shakes she can't even lift a diet Coke to her lips-it was pathetic, just pathetic, like something out of the Dark Ages.... Well, anyway, the decision was made to go with DDT in the short term, just to get the situation under control, you understand.
Yes, that's right, Senator, DDT. Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane.
Yes, I'm well aware of that fact, sir. But just because we banned it domestically, under pressure from the bird watching contingent and the hopheads down at the EPA, it doesn't necessarily follow that the rest of the world-especially the developing world-is about to jump on the bandwagon. And that's the key word here, Senator: developing. You've got to realize this is Borneo we're talking about here, not Port Townsend. These people don't know from square one about sanitation, disease control, pest eradication -or even personal hygiene, if you want to come right down to it.
It rains a hundred and twenty inches a year, minimum. They dig up roots in the jungle. They've still got headhunters along the Rajang River, for god's sake.
And please don't forget they asked us to come in there, practically begged us-and not only the World Health Organization, but the Sultan of Brunei and the government in Sarawak too. We did what we could to accommodate them and reach our objective in the shortest period of time and by the most direct and effective means. We went to the air. Obviously. And no one could have foreseen the consequences, no one, not even if we'd gone out and generated a hundred environmental-impact statements-it was just one of those things, a freak occurrence, and there's no defense against that. Not that I know of, anyway....
Caterpillars? Yes, Senator, that's correct. That was the first sign: caterpillars.
But let me backtrack a minute here. You see, out in the bush they have these roofs made of thatched palm leaves-you'll see them in the towns too, even in Bintulu or Brunei-and they're really pretty effective, you'd be surprised. A hundred and twenty inches of rain, they've got to figure a way to keep it out of the hut, and for centuries, this was it. Palm leaves. Well, it was about a month after we sprayed for the final time and I'm sitting at my desk in the trailer thinking about the drainage project at Kuching, enjoying the fact that for the first time in maybe a year I'm not smearing mosquitoes all over the back of my neck, when there's a knock at the door. It's this elderly gentleman, tattooed from head to toe, dressed only in a pair of running shorts-they love those shorts, by the way, the shiny material and the tight machine-stitching, the whole country, men and women and children, they can't get enough of them.... Any- way, he's the headman of the local village and he's very excited, something about the roofs-atap, they call them. That's all he can say, atap, atap, over and over again.
It's raining, of course. It's always raining. So I shrug into my rain slicker, start up the 4X4 and go have a look. Sure enough, all the atap roofs are collapsing, not only in his village, but throughout the target area. The people are all huddled there in their running shorts, looking pretty miserable, and one after another the roofs keep falling in, it's bewildering, and gradually I realize the headman's diatribe has begun to feature a new term I was unfamiliar with at the time-the word for caterpillar, as it turns out, in the Than dialect. But who was to make the connection between three passes with the crop duster and all these staved-in roofs?
Our people finally sorted it out a couple weeks later. The chemical, which, by the way, cut down the number of mosquitoes exponentially, had the unfortunate side effect of killing off this little wasp-I've got the scientific name for it somewhere in my report here, if you're interested-that preyed on a type of caterpillar that in turn ate palm leaves. Well, with the wasps gone, the caterpillars hatched out with nothing to keep them in check and chewed the roofs to pieces, and that was unfortunate, we admit it, and we had a real cost overrun on replacing those roofs with tin . . . but the people were happier, I think, in the long run, because let's face it, no matter how tightly you weave those palm leaves, they're just not going to keep the water out like tin. Of course, nothing's perfect, and we had a lot of complaints about the rain drumming on the panels, people unable to sleep and what-have-you....
Yes, sir, that's correct-the flies were next. Well, you've got to understand the magnitude of the fly problem in Borneo, there's nothing like it here to compare it with, except maybe a garbage strike in New York. Every minute of every day you've got flies everywhere, up your nose, in your mouth, your ears, your eyes, flies in your rice, your Coke, your Singapore sling and your gin rickey. It's enough to drive you to distraction, not to mention the diseases these things carry, from dysentery to typhoid to cholera and back round the loop again. And once the mosquito population was down, the flies seemed to breed up to fill in the gap-Borneo wouldn't be Borneo without some damned insect blackening the air.
Of course, this was before our people had tracked down the problem with the caterpillars and the wasps and all of that, and so we figured we'd had a big success with the mosquitoes, why not a series of ground sweeps, mount a fogger in the back of a Suzuki Brat and sanitize the huts, not to mention the open sewers, which as you know are nothing but a breeding ground for flies, chiggers and biting insects of every sort. At least it was an error of commission rather than omission. At least we were trying.
I watched the flies go down myself. One day they were so thick in the trailer I couldn't even find my paperwork, let alone attempt to get through it, and the next they were collecting on the windows, bumbling around like they were drunk. A day later they were gone. Just like that. From a million flies in the trailer to none....
Well, no one could have foreseen that, Senator. The geckos ate the flies, yes. You're all familiar with geckos, I assume, gentlemen? These are the lizards you've seen during your trips to Hawaii, very colorful, patrolling the houses for roaches and flies, almost like pets, but of course they're wild animals, never lose sight of that, and just about as unsanitary as anything I can think of, except maybe flies.
Yes, well don't forget, sir, we're viewing this with twenty-twenty hindsight, but at the time no one gave a thought to geckos or what they ate-they were just another fact of life in the tropics. Mosquitoes, lizards, scorpions, leeches-you name it, they've got it. When
the flies began piling up on the windowsills like drift, naturally the geckos feasted on them, stuffing themselves till they looked like sausages crawling up the walls. Where before they moved so fast you could never be sure you'd seen them, now they waddled across the floor, laid around in the corners, clung to the air vents like magnets-and even then no one paid much attention to them till they started turning belly-up in the streets. Believe me, we confirmed a lot of things there about the buildup of these products as you move up the food chain and the efficacy-or lack thereof-of certain methods, no doubt about that....
The cats? That's where it got sticky, really sticky. You see, nobody really lost any sleep over a pile of dead lizards-though we did the tests routinely and the tests confirmed what we'd expected, that is, the product had been concentrated in the geckos because of the sheer number of contaminated flies they consumed. But lizards are one thing and cats are another. These people really have an affection for their cats-no house, no hut, no matter how primitive, is without at least a couple of them. Mangy-looking things, long-legged and scrawny, maybe, not at all the sort of animal you'd see here, but there it was: they loved their cats. Because the cats were functional, you understand-without them, the place would have been swimming in rodents inside of a week.
You're right there, Senator, yes-that's exactly what happened. You see, the cats had a field day with these feeble geckos-you can imagine, if any of you have ever owned a cat, the land of joy these animals must have experienced to see their nemesis, this ultra- quick lizard, and it's just barely creeping across the floor like a bug. Well, to make a long story short, the cats ate up every dead and dying geckos in the country, from snout to tail, and then the cats began to die ... which to my mind would have been no great loss if it wasn't for the rats. Suddenly there were rats everywhere-you couldn't drive down the street without running over half-a-dozen of them at a time. They fouled the grain supplies, fell in the wells and died, bit infants as they slept in their cradles. But that wasn't the worst, not by a long shot. No, things really went down the tube after that. Within the month we were getting scattered reports of bubonic plague, and of course we tracked them all down and made sure the people got a round of treatment with antibiotics, but still we lost a few and the rats kept coming....
It was my plan, yes. I was brainstorming one night, rats scuttling all over the trailer like something out of a cheap horror film, the villagers in a panic over the threat of the plague and the stream of nonstop hysterical reports from the interior-people were turning black, swelling up and bursting, that sort of thing-well, as I say, I came up with a plan, a stopgap, not perfect, not cheap; but at this juncture, I'm sure your agree, something had to be implemented. We wound up going as far as Australia for some of the cats, cleaning out the SPCA facilities and what-have-you, though we rounded most of them up in Indonesia and Singapore-approximately fourteen thousand in all. And yes, it cost us-cost us upfront purchase money and aircraft fuel and pilots' overtime and all the rest of it-but we really felt there was no alternative. It was like all nature had turned against us.
And yet still, all things considered, we made a lot of friends for the U.S.A. the day we dropped those cats, and you should have seen them, gentlemen, the little parachutes and harnesses we'd tricked up, fourteen thousand of them, cats in every color of the rainbow, cats with one ear, no ears, half a tail, three-legged cats, cats that could have taken pride of show in Springfield, Massachusetts, and all of them twirling down out of the sky like great big oversized snowflakes....
It was something. It was really something. Of course, you've all seen the reports. There were other factors we hadn't counted on, adverse conditions in the paddies and manioc fields-we don't to this day know what predatory species were inadvertently killed off by the initial sprayings, it's just a mystery-but the weevils and whatnot took a pretty heavy toll on the crops that year, and by the time we dropped the cats, well, the people were pretty hungry, and I suppose it was inevitable that we lost a good proportion of them right then and there. But we've got a CARE program going there now, and something hit the rat population- we still don't know what, a virus, we think-and the geckos, they tell me, are making a comeback.
So what I'm saying is, it could be worse, and to every cloud a silver lining, wouldn't you agree, gentlemen?

Lord of the Flies: My Access Info

Write the essay on www.myaccess.com. Your user name is your first name (as it appears on Skyward) with your student ID #, no space in between. Example: JONATHAN1234567. Your password is your last name preceded by 999. Example: 999SMITH.

Your essay submission must be accepted by MyAccess in order to receive a grade. (Hint: If My Access will not accept the submission, you probably have not written enough sentences in each paragraph.) Remember that My Access due dates are firm; absences do not excuse you from submitting the essay by the due date.

Try to get at least a 5 score on each writing trait. If you achieve at least a 5 score on EACH & EVERY writing trait, you do not have to make another submission; that score will be entered on each submission, unless you wish to make more submissions. A 5 on each trait is not a perfect score.

If you do not achieve at least a 5 or above, you must make at least one more submission, and your score MUST improve in order for it to be accepted.
If your second submission does not receive at least a 5 on EACH AND EVERY writing trait, you must make at least one more submission, and your score MUST improve in order for it to be accepted

Sestina

Sestina
By Elizabeth Bishop

September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.

She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,

It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac

on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.

It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.

But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.

Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
--Elizabeth Bishop

The sestina requires that six end words be repeated in a set pattern across six stanzas and that all six words be used—again, in pattern—in a three-line final stanza, called an envoi—literally, a farewell or conclusion. Certainly these are constraints. But what seems at first like a game—an impossible mathematical equation—soon helps you create an intriguing pattern of sound as you knit word repeats up and down a ladder of seven stanzas. Although seeming not to be a rhymed form, the sestina is one in that exact rhymes (the same words) sound and resound, as in Elizabeth Bishop’s sestina.

Sestina by Elizabeth Bishop

September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.

She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,

It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac

on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.

It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.

But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.

Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.





The sestina requires that six end words be repeated in a set pattern across six stanzas and that all six words be used—again, in pattern—in a three-line final stanza, called an envoi—literally, a farewell or conclusion. Certainly these are constraints. But what seems at first like a game—an impossible mathematical equation—soon helps you create an intriguing pattern of sound as you knit word repeats up and down a ladder of seven stanzas. Although seeming not to be a rhymed form, the sestina is one in that exact rhymes (the same words) sound and resound, as in Elizabeth Bishop’s sestina.