Essay on Gesture, Race and Culture Book Review - 2195 Words

Gesture, Race and Culture Book Review Gestures are unique forms of non-verbal communication, which have been studied, both out of context and within culture and race. In 1942, Dr. David Efron wrote the book, Gesture and Environment, which was a summary of Efron’s research of the claims of the Nazi scientists that â€Å"differences in gestures were due solely to racial inheritance† (Ekman, 7). He compared groups of immigrant Southern Italians and Eastern Jews, living in New York City, by using direct observation and recording the outward gestures of this collection of people. These observations were then evaluated and studied to determine whether there were group differences between them. Efron went even further to research whether there†¦show more content†¦Gunther did not believe environment had anything to do with the way a group of people gestured. Another theory, published by L. F. Clauss, claimed that the â€Å"human body is a ‘stage’ on which the psycho-racial traits of the ind ividual manifest themselves in the form of facial movement, gesture, voice, etc.† (Efron, 25). Clauss theorized that there were six different types of race, and each had its own characteristic gesticulations. Of these forms, he categorized into the following: restrained, playful, explosive, etc. Expressive movement theory was studied by Albert Gehring, who asserted that different races had different mentalities. He examined the Graeco-Latins and found them to be lively and quick tempered, whereas the Teutons were more deliberate in their motions. Again, this theorist did not take into account the environment in which a person lived. Wilhelm Bohle claimed that human behavior was not affected very much by environment, but it is â€Å"the inner† character of an individual that patterns his experiences (Efron, 32). His claim was that each person fit into one of the following categories: affective type (quiet), motor type (slow or energetic), or perceptive type (sensory). L ike the rest of the logicians, Mr. Bohle did not have any concrete evidence to support his theory. Theorist Karl Skraup claimed that there were five different factors of bodily motion: intellect, occupation, temperament,Show MoreRelated Claude McKays If We Must Die Essay1254 Words   |  6 PagesJamaican born Claude McKay, who was a political activist, a novelist, an essayist and a poet. Claude McKay was aware of how to keep his name consistently in mainstream culture by writing for that audience. Although in McKay’s arsenal he possessed powerful poems. The book that included such revolutionary poetry is Harlem Shadows. His 1922 book of poems, Harlem Shadows, Barros acknowledged that this poem was said by many to have inaugurated the Harlem Renaissance. Throughout McKay’s writing career he usedRead MoreAn Analysis of Body Language in Communication Between China and America3518 Words   |  15 PagesChapter 2 Literature review 2.1 The definition of body language 2.2 The importance of body language 2.2.1 Body language is widely used in daily life 2.2.2 Benefits body language bring to us during communication Chapter 3 Characteristics of body language from the view of Sino-America cultural communication   3.1 Same body language conveys different meaning due to different culture 3.2 Same body language represents same meaning in different cultures 3.3 Only fewRead MoreThe Importance Of The Communication Process Of Health Care Workforce1507 Words   |  7 Pagesaddition to the quality of services and systems available in the country. Even though multiple definitions can be seen in literature review, the definition given by for Cultural and linguistic diversity (CALD) people is as English and non-English speaking communities from different cultures (Optus yes, 2015).These groups and individuals differ in their religion, race, language and ethnicity (Culturally and Linguistically diverse people, 2009).The effectiveness of the communication process of healthRead MoreUnderstanding Non Verbal Communication At The Workplace4020 Words   |  17 Pagesrich base of literature about nonverbal communication across culture in the workplace, it does not yet encompass a solid level on how to understand and recognize the differences as they relate to cultural differences in nonverbal communication in the workplace. Based on the literature above, the following research question is formed: RQ: How are cultural differences in nonverbal communication perceived between Arab and Americans? cultures in the workplace. Keywords: Cultural differences, nonverbalRead MoreThe Most Important Thing Of Communication Is Hearing What Isn?4000 Words   |  16 Pagesrich base of literature about nonverbal communication across culture in the workplace, it does not yet encompass a solid level on how to understand and recognize the differences as they relate to cultural differences in nonverbal communication in the workplace. Based on the literature above, the following research question is formed: RQ: How are cultural differences in nonverbal communication perceived between Arab and Americans? cultures in the workplace. Keywords: Cultural differences, nonverbalRead MoreThe Rise Of Social Media And Its Impact On The Feminism Movement Essay1542 Words   |  7 PagesLiterature Review The rise of Social Media and its impact on the Feminism Movement Abstract: The new media Internet, social media platforms, has been an increasingly popular tool for feminists to promote the feminism movement. With the broad reach of the internet and social media, this has led to a wider awareness of the feminist movement. The broad reach of the internet and social media however has also open the female gender to various levels of objectification. This paper reviews theRead MoreNegative Impact of Media Violence on Children1704 Words   |  7 Pagesconsumption has important implications for society. As such, increases in violence depicted in the media have raised convers over the impact of this violence on society. According to a study conducted by the National Violence Study recorded in the book Media Violence and Children edited by Douglas A. Gentile, media violence is defined as: â€Å"Thus as the expansion of mass media has occurred so has its violent contents affected children. Not only has television impacted the lives of young people, recentlyRead MoreAnalysis Of Michael Jackson s The King Of Pop Essay2174 Words   |  9 PagesGlobal iconicity: Jackson’s global iconicity is priceless and timeless. He ascended to the global stage, but not without being recognized at home, first. At home, he was recognized and honored by U. S. Presidents as a symbol of the U.S. harmless culture. According to Sylvia J. Martin: â€Å"Jackson’s pivotal presence and invocation in central domains of American life – the arts, politics, sports, and the military – attest to his charismatic persona. After the phenomenal success of the alums â€Å"Thriller†Read MoreThe Importance of Teaching Culture in the Foreign Language Classroom9379 Words   |  38 PagesThe Importance Of Teaching Culture In The Foreign Language Classroom Radical Pedagogy (2001) ISSN: 1524-6345 The Importance Of Teaching Culture In The Foreign Language Classroom Language And Culture: What IS Culture And Why Should IT BE Taught? In this section, we will briefly examine the relationship between language and culture and see why the teaching of culture should constitute an integral part of the English language curriculum. To begin with, language is a social institution, both shapingRead MoreReview Of This Republic Of Suffering1791 Words   |  8 Pagesï » ¿9764 Mr. Jeter H1301 2 December 2014 Review of This Republic of Suffering: Death and The American Civil War by Drew Gilpin Faust (Alfred A. 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The Black Plague s Entrance Into Western Europe - 1177 Words

Infected ships entered the Genoise ports in 1347, thus starting the Black Plague’s entrance into Western Europe. One hundred and twenty-seven years later, Vincent de Kastav completed his fresco Dance of Death in Beram, Croatia. The Dance of Death represents the Black Plague, but from a new generation’s viewpoint. It is estimated that England’s pre-plague population was 4.2 million, of which 1.4 million people died. In cities such as Florence, half or two-thirds of the population died. When there is mass panic and a high probability of death, people tend to turn to what previously comforted them and provide hope. The Beram Dance of Death represents religion during the Black Death through the medium and location, the symbolization, and the†¦show more content†¦This is a representation of how the political and religious systems in the Late Medieval Ages treated women as the subordinates of men. It is the woman who attempts to bribe the skeletons with a bowl of coins to try to cheat out of death. None of the other male figures attempt to cheat death. This is significantly similar to the Christian biblical story of Adam and Eve and how it was Eve’s fault for eating the apple and causing orignal sin. The Christian idea and stereotype of women trying to cheat the system and sinning has still be translated through this painting. However, it is clear that the attempts to cheat death are futile and that death has no biases or judgements. Next that follows in line is a merchant, a child, and peasant. The child represents that death has no boundaries for whom it will take. This is why parents immediately rush children to the church for baptism and how the church was an integral part of everyday medieval life. It is interesting to note that these three characters appear before the knight. Since the author painted this artwork after the Black Plague, this discrepancy may refer to the increased demand for skilled farm labourers and the lack of supply due to the Black Death. However, it is notable they the artist was willing to make such a strong statement in his artwork. The Beram Dance of Death represents and teaches religion through the placement and method ofShow MoreRelatedThe Black Death Of The Bubonic Plague1304 Words   |  6 PagesThe Black Death The Black Death also known as the Bubonic plague was a deadly disease that swept through Europe in the late 1340s to the early 1350s, wiping out over twenty five to forty million people. It is called the Black Death because when victims got sick, they developed massive bulges on their bodies that turned purple and black. The bubonic plague originated in the arid plains of Central Asia, where it then travelled along the Silk Road, reaching Crimea by 1343. 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The Indigo Spell Chapter Eleven Free Essays

string(29) " comrade on the battlefield\." MARCUS DISAPPEARED TO WHEREVER it was he was hiding out, and I drove home. What he’d said to me still seemed outlandish. I kept telling myself none of it could be true. We will write a custom essay sample on The Indigo Spell Chapter Eleven or any similar topic only for you Order Now It made things a lot easier to handle. Back at Amberwood, I found the usual buzz of evening student activity. It felt comforting after my shocking outing, far removed from fanatics and cryptic spells. My phone buzzed with a text message the minute I stepped into my dorm room. It was from Jill: Come see us when you’re back. I sighed. No rest for the wicked, it would seem. I left my purse in my room and then trudged down to the second floor, unsure of what I’d find. Jill opened her door, looking immensely relieved to see me. â€Å"Thank God. We have a situation.† â€Å"We always have a situation,† I said. I stepped inside and saw Angeline sitting on the floor, back against the wall and a miserable expression on her face. â€Å"What happened?† She looked up quickly. â€Å"It wasn’t my fault.† The sinking feeling in my stomach increased. â€Å"It never is, is it? I repeat: what happened?† When Angeline refused to say, Jill spoke up. â€Å"She gave Trey a concussion with an algebra book.† Before I could even start to parse that, Angeline leapt to her feet. â€Å"The doctor said it wasn’t a concussion!† â€Å"Wait.† I glanced between them, half hoping they’d burst into laughter at the joke they must be playing on me. â€Å"You did something to Trey that actually required medical attention?† â€Å"I barely touched him,† she insisted. I sat down on Jill’s bed and resisted the urge to crawl under its covers. â€Å"No. You can’t do this. Not again. What did the principal say? Oh, God. Where are we going to send you?† After Angeline’s brawl with a motivational group, it had been made very clear that further fighting would get her expelled. â€Å"Eddie took the blame,† said Jill. A small smile crossed her face as she spoke. â€Å"There weren’t really many witnesses, so Eddie said they were playing around in the library and tossing the book back and forth. He claimed he got careless and threw the book too hard . . . and that it accidentally hit Trey on the head.† Angeline nodded. â€Å"That’s kind of what really happened with us.† â€Å"No, it wasn’t,† protested Jill. â€Å"I saw it. You got mad when Trey told you it shouldn’t be that hard to understand that x always has a different value.† â€Å"He implied that I was stupid!† Variables didn’t seem like too hard a concept to me, but I could tell under Angeline’s bravado that she really was flustered. I always had the impression that back among the Keepers, Angeline had been a queen among her peers. Here she was constantly trying to keep up academically and socially adrift in a world very different from the one she’d grown up in. That would make anyone insecure. And while I questioned if Trey had ever said she was stupid, I could understand how some of his snarky commentary could be perceived that way. â€Å"Did Eddie get in any serious trouble?† I asked. I doubted he’d get expelled for something like this, but it would be just my luck that he’d get the punishment he’d saved Angeline from. â€Å"Detention,† said Jill. â€Å"He accepted it very bravely,† added Angeline. â€Å"I’m sure he did,† I said, wondering if either girl knew they were wearing mirror expressions of adoration. â€Å"Look, Angeline, I know the tutoring process must be frustrating, but you have to watch your temper, okay? Trey’s just trying to help.† She looked skeptical. â€Å"He’s got kind of an attitude sometimes.† â€Å"I know, but people aren’t exactly lining up to fill his position. We need you here. Jill needs you here. Eddie needs you here.† I saw some of her indignation fade at the mention of her friends and duty. â€Å"Please try to work with Trey.† She gave a weak nod, and I stood up to leave. Jill hurried after me into the hallway. â€Å"Hey, Sydney? How was your outing with Marcus?† â€Å"It was fine,† I said, certainly not about to dredge up Marcus’s alarming revelations. â€Å"Informative. And I learned how to play Skee-Ball.† Jill almost looked offended. â€Å"You played Skee-Ball? I thought you were supposed to be learning about the Alchemists’ secret history.† â€Å"We multitasked,† I said, not liking her tone. I left before she could comment further and texted Eddie when I reached my room. I heard what happened. Sorry. And thanks. His response was quick: At least it wasn’t a concussion. I braced myself for snark when I went to meet Adrian the next day. Jill had probably told him about my arcade trip, which would probably elicit a comment like, â€Å"Nice to know you’re so dedicated to crack the Alchemists. Way to keep your eye on the ball.† When I pulled up in front of Adrian’s apartment building, he was already waiting out front for me. As soon as I saw his grim face, my heart stopped. I jumped out of the car, just barely pausing to grab the keys as I went. â€Å"What’s wrong?† I exclaimed, jogging up to him. He rested a hand on my shoulder, but I was too worried to care about the touch. â€Å"Sydney, I don’t want you to freak out. There’s no lasting damage.† I looked him over. â€Å"Are you okay? Were you hurt?† For a moment, his somber expression turned puzzled. Then, he understood. â€Å"Oh, you think it’s me? No, I’m fine. Come on.† He led me around the back of his building, to the private parking lot used by residents. I came to a halt, my jaw dropping as I took in the terrible, ghastly scene. A couple other residents were milling around, and a police officer stood nearby taking notes. Around us, seven parked cars had their tires slashed. Including the Mustang. â€Å"No!† I ran over to its side, kneeling and examining the damage. I felt like I was in the middle of a war, kneeling by a fallen comrade on the battlefield. You read "The Indigo Spell Chapter Eleven" in category "Essay examples" I was practically on the verge of shouting, â€Å"Don’t you die on me!† Adrian crouched beside me. â€Å"The tires can be replaced. I think my insurance will even cover it.† I was still horrified. â€Å"Who did this?† He shrugged. â€Å"Some kids, I guess. They hit a few cars one block over yesterday.† â€Å"And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning to me?† â€Å"Well, I didn’t know they were going to come here too. Besides, I knew you’d flip out and want to set up twenty-four-hour surveillance on this place.† â€Å"That’s not a bad idea.† I glanced up at his building. â€Å"You should talk to the landlord about it.† Adrian didn’t seem nearly as concerned as he should have been. â€Å"I don’t know that he’d go for it. I mean, this isn’t really a dangerous neighborhood.† I pointed at the Mustang. â€Å"Then how come this happened?† Even though we could take Latte to Los Angeles, we still had to wait around to finish up with the police and then get a tow truck. I made sure the tow truck driver knew that he better not get a scratch on the car, and then I watched mournfully as it was hauled away. Once that sunny splash of yellow disappeared around a corner, I turned to Adrian. â€Å"Ready to go?† â€Å"Do we have enough time?† I looked at my cell phone and groaned. We’d burned up a lot of time handling the vandalism aftermath. And yet, I hated to wait until tomorrow, seeing as I’d already lost time yesterday while dealing with Marcus. I called Ms. Terwilliger and asked if she’d cover for me if I came in after curfew. â€Å"Yes, yes, of course,† she said, in a tone that suggested she couldn’t understand why I’d even bothered calling her. â€Å"Just talk to more of those girls.† Ms. Terwilliger had given me six names. We’d already taken care of Wendy Stone. Three of the girls lived relatively close together, and they were our goal tonight. The last two were closer to the coast, and we hoped to reach them tomorrow. Adrian tried making conversation with me throughout the drive, but my mind was still on the Mustang. â€Å"God, I’m an idiot,† I said, once we’d almost reached our destination. â€Å"That’s never a term I’d use to describe you,† he said promptly. â€Å"Articulate. Well dressed. Smart. Organized. Beautiful. I’d use those terms, but never ‘idiot.'† I nearly asked why â€Å"beautiful† had come after â€Å"organized† and then remembered the actual concern. â€Å"I’m obsessing about that car when girls’ lives are on the line. It’s stupid. My priorities are messed up.† My eyes were on the road, but I could tell he was smiling. â€Å"If your priorities were really messed up, you would’ve followed that tow truck. Yet here you are, off to help perfect strangers. That’s a noble thing, Sage.† â€Å"Don’t rule yourself out,† I said. â€Å"You’re pretty noble too, going on all these outings with me.† â€Å"Well, it’s not the same as Skee-Ball, but it’ll have to do. How was that anyway? Did you really learn anything?† â€Å"I learned a lot – some pretty unbelievable stuff, actually. I’m still waiting to get some proof, though.† Luck was with us initially. The first two girls were home, though their reactions were similar to Wendy Stone’s. This time, I’d had the foresight to bring the newspaper article, in the hopes it would make a stronger impression. That ghastly picture at least gave them pause, but I left not knowing if they’d really take me seriously or use the agate charms. Our good fortune ran out when we reached the last name. She too was a college student, meaning we had another campus visit. Her name was Lynne Titus, and she lived in a sorority house. I admit, as I knocked on the door, I was fully prepared to find a group of girls dressed in pink, having a pillow fight in their living room. But when we were shown in, we discovered an orderly home not all that different from Wendy’s building. Some girls were coming and going, while others sat around with textbooks and papers. â€Å"Lynne?† asked the girl who’d let us inside. â€Å"You just missed her.† I knew this shouldn’t be a surprise. These girls had lives. They wouldn’t all be waiting around for me to come by and talk to them. I glanced uneasily at a window, taking note of the purpling sky. â€Å"Any idea when she’ll be back?† The girl shook her head. â€Å"No, sorry. I don’t know where she went.† Adrian and I exchanged looks. â€Å"You’re free from your curfew,† he reminded me. â€Å"I know. But that doesn’t mean I want to spend all night waiting for Lynne.† I did some mental calculations. â€Å"I suppose we could wait a couple of hours. Three at most.† Adrian seemed supremely delighted by this, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was more excited at hanging out on a college campus . . . or at spending time with me. â€Å"What’s fun to do around here?† he asked our hostess. He glanced around at the quiet academic environment. â€Å"No raging parties here, huh?† The girl put on a disapproving expression. â€Å"We’re a very serious sorority. If you’re looking for parties, I guarantee there’s one going on just down the street. Those girls have one every night.† Adrian shot me a hopeful look. â€Å"Oh, come on,† I said. â€Å"Can’t we find some nice museum?† â€Å"We want to stay close, in case Lynne comes back,† Adrian said. Something told me if the party had been all the way across campus, he still would’ve pushed for it. â€Å"Besides, if you want to go to college so badly, you should see the full scope of what it has to offer. And aren’t you a fan of Greek stuff?† That was hardly what I had in mind, and he knew it. I reluctantly agreed but warned him he couldn’t drink. I was sporting the brown wig and presumed he was using spirit to mask us further. Alcohol would diminish his ability to pull it all off. Plus, I just didn’t want to see him drunk. It was easy to find the party house because we could hear the music blasting from it. A guy and a girl openly drinking beer from plastic cups challenged us at the door. â€Å"This is Greek only,† the girl said. She looked as though she might fall off her stool. â€Å"Who are you with?† I pointed vaguely toward Lynne’s sorority. â€Å"Um, them.† â€Å"Alpha Yam Ergo,† said Adrian, without hesitation. I expected the door squad to point out that most of those weren’t even Greek letters. Maybe it was because Adrian spoke so confidently – or because they’d had too much beer – but the guy waved us inside. It was almost like being back at the arcade, an overwhelming flood of stimuli. The house was crowded and loud, with smoke hanging in the air and alcohol flowing freely. Several people offered us drinks, and some girl invited us – three times – to play beer pong, forgetting that she’d already spoken to us. I regarded it all in amazement, trying to keep the disgust off my face. â€Å"What a waste of tuition. This is ruining all my collegiate dreams,† I shouted to Adrian. â€Å"Isn’t there anything to do that’s not drinking or being stupid?† He scanned around, able to see more of the room from his greater height. He brightened. â€Å"That looks promising.† He caught hold of my hand. â€Å"Come on.† In a surprisingly nice and spacious kitchen, we found several girls sitting on the floor painting blank T-shirts. Judging from the sloppy job and paint spills, they too had been indulging in alcohol. One girl had a cup of beer next to an identical cup of paint, and I hoped she wouldn’t mix them up. â€Å"What are you doing?† I asked. One of the girls glanced up and grinned. â€Å"Making shirts for the winter carnival. You want to help?† Before I could say no, Adrian was already on the ground with them. â€Å"Do I ever.† He helped himself to a white T-shirt and a brush with blue paint on it. â€Å"What are we putting on these?† The girls’ shoddy work made that a valid question. â€Å"Our names,† said one girl. â€Å"Winter stuff,† said another. That was good enough for Adrian. He set to work painting snowflakes on the shirt. Unable to help myself, I knelt down to get a better look. Whatever his faults, Adrian was a decent artist. He mixed in a few other colors, making the snowflakes intricate and stylized. At one point, he paused to light a clove cigarette, sharing one of the girls’ ashtrays. It was a habit I didn’t really like, but at least the rest of the smoke in this place masked his. As he was finishing up the shirt and writing out the sorority’s name, I noticed that all the other girls had stopped to stare. â€Å"That’s amazing,† said one, her eyes wide. â€Å"Can I have it?† â€Å"I want it,† insisted another. â€Å"I’ll make each of you one,† he assured them. The way they looked at him was an unwelcome reminder of the breadth of his experience with other women. I shifted a little closer to him, just so they wouldn’t get any ideas. He handed the white shirt to the first girl and then set to work on a blue shirt. Once he fulfilled his promise to each girl, he sifted through the T-shirt stack until he found a men’s-size black one. â€Å"Gotta pay tribute to my fraternity.† â€Å"Right,† I scoffed. â€Å"Alpha Yam Ergo.† Adrian nodded solemnly. â€Å"A very old and prestigious society† â€Å"I’ve never heard of them,† said the girl who’d claimed the first shirt. â€Å"They don’t let many people in,† he said. In white paint, he wrote his fake fraternity’s initials: AYE. â€Å"Isn’t that what pirates say?† asked one of the other girls. â€Å"Well, the Alpha Yams have nautical origins,† he explained. To my horror he began painting a pirate skeleton riding a motorcycle. â€Å"Oh, no,† I groaned. â€Å"Not the tattoo.† â€Å"It’s our logo,† he said. Adrian and I had once had to investigate a tattoo parlor, and to distract the owner, he’d gone in and pretended to be interested in a tattoo that sounded very much like what he was drawing now. At least, I assumed he’d been pretending. â€Å"Isn’t it badass?† â€Å"Badass† wasn’t quite the word I would’ve used, but despite it being such a ridiculous image, he actually did a good job. I made myself comfortable, drawing my knees up to me and leaning against the wall. He soon stopped with his banter and grew completely absorbed in his work, meticulously painting the skeleton’s bones as well as that of a skeleton parrot sitting on the pirate’s shoulder. I studied his features as he worked, fascinated by the joy in his eyes. Art was one of the few things that seemed to anchor him and drive that darkness in him away. He seemed to glow with an inner light, one that enhanced his already handsome features. It was another rare and beautiful glimpse of the intense, passionate nature lying beneath the jokes. It came through in his art. It had come through when he kissed me. Adrian suddenly glanced up at me. Our gazes locked, and I felt like he could read my mind. How often did he think about that kiss? And if he really was crazy about me, did he imagine more than just kissing? Did he fantasize about me? What kinds of things did he think about? His lips on my neck? His hand on my leg? And was that leg bare . . . ? I was afraid of what my eyes might betray and quickly looked away. Desperately, I groped for some witty and nonsentimental comment. â€Å"Don’t forget the ninja throwing stars.† â€Å"Right.† I could feel Adrian’s gaze on me a few moments longer. There was something tangible to it, a warmth that enveloped me. I didn’t look back until I was certain his attention was again on the shirt. He added the stars and then sat back triumphantly. â€Å"Pretty cool, huh?† â€Å"It’s not bad,† I said. In truth, it was kind of amazing. â€Å"You want one too?† The smile he gave me stirred up those warm feelings again. I couldn’t help but smile back. â€Å"We don’t have the time,† I managed to say. â€Å"We’ve got to check on Lynne.† â€Å"I’ll make you a fast one.† â€Å"Not the pirate,† I warned. He found a small purple shirt and began painting on it in silver. â€Å"Purple?† â€Å"It’s your color,† he insisted. A thrill ran through me at his words. Adrian could see auras, the light that surrounded all people and was tied into their personalities. He’d told me that mine was yellow, a color most intellectuals had. But he’d also said I had flares of purple, which indicated a passionate and spiritual nature. Those weren’t qualities I usually thought I possessed . . . but sometimes, I wished I did. I watched, enthralled, as he painted a large silver heart with flames edging one side. The whole design was Celtic in style. It was beautiful. â€Å"Where did you get that from?† I asked in awe. I’d seen a lot of his work but never anything like this. His eyes were on his heart, completely caught up in his work. â€Å"Just something kicking around in my head. Reminds me of you. Fiery and sweet, all at the same time. A flame in the dark, lighting my way.† His voice . . . his words . . . I recognized one of his spirit-driven moments. It should’ve unnerved me, but there was something sensual about the way he spoke, something that made my breath catch. A flame in the dark. He swapped out the silver paintbrush for a black one. Before I could stop him, he wrote over the heart: AYE. Underneath it, in smaller letters, he added: HONORARY MEMBER. â€Å"What are you doing?† I cried. The spell had shattered. â€Å"You ruined it!† Adrian regarded me with a mischievous look. â€Å"I figured you’d be flattered at being accepted as an honorary member.† â€Å"How can I get in?† asked one of the girls. In spite of my outrage, I took the shirt when he offered it to me. I held it up gingerly, careful not to mess up the paint job. Even through the ridiculous words, the fiery heart was still stunning. It shone through, and I couldn’t stop admiring it. How could someone so irreverent create something so beautiful? When I finally looked up again, I found Adrian watching me. That earlier thrall seized me, and I found myself unable to move. â€Å"You haven’t painted anything,† he said softly. â€Å"That’s because I have zero creativity,† I told him. â€Å"Everyone’s got some creativity,† he insisted. He handed me the silver brush and slid over to join me against the wall. Our legs and arms touched. He laid out his own AYE shirt across his lap. â€Å"Go ahead. Add something, anything.† I shook my head in protest and tried to hand him the brush. â€Å"I can’t draw or paint. I’ll ruin it.† â€Å"Sydney.† He pushed the brush back into my hand. â€Å"It’s a pirate skeleton, not the Mona Lisa. You’re not going to decrease its value.† Maybe not, but I had a hard time imagining what I could possibly add to this. I could do a lot of things, but this was out of my league – especially compared to his skill. Something in his expression drove me, however, and after a lot of thought, I gave my best shot at drawing a tie around the skeleton’s neck. Adrian frowned. â€Å"Is that a noose?† â€Å"It’s a tie!† I cried, trying not to feel offended. He laughed, clearly delighted at this. â€Å"My mistake.† â€Å"He can go to a boardroom meeting,† I added, feeling a need to defend my work. â€Å"He’s very proper now.† Adrian seemed to like that even more. â€Å"Of course he is. Proper and dangerous.† A little of his mirth faded, and he grew pensive as he studied me, holding me in his gaze. â€Å"Just like you.† I’d been so worried about the artistic challenge that I wasn’t aware of just how close he’d moved to me until now. So many details came into focus. The shape of his lips, the line of his neck. â€Å"I’m not dangerous,† I breathed. He brought his face toward mine. â€Å"You are to me.† And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing. I closed my eyes, and the world around me faded. The noise, the smoke . . . it was gone. All that mattered was the taste of his mouth, a mix of cloves and mints. There was a fierceness in his kiss, a desperation . . . and I answered, just as hungry for him. I didn’t stop him when he pulled me closer, so that I almost sat on his lap. I’d never been wrapped around someone’s body like that, and I was shocked at how eagerly mine responded. His arm went around my waist, pulling me onto him further, and his other hand slid up the back of my neck, getting entangled in my hair. Amazingly, the wig stayed on. He took his lips away from my mouth, gently trailing kisses down to my neck. I tipped my head back, gasping when the intensity returned to his mouth. There was an animalistic quality that sent shock waves through the rest of my body. Some Alchemist voice warned me that this was exactly how a vampire would feed, but I h ad no fear. Adrian wouldn’t hurt me, and I needed to know just how hard he could kiss me and – â€Å"Oh my God!† Adrian and I jerked apart as though someone had thrown cold water on us, though our legs stayed entangled. I glanced around in a panic, half expecting to see an outraged Stanton standing over us. Instead, I looked up into the terrified face of a girl I didn’t know. She wasn’t even looking at us. â€Å"You guys won’t believe what happened!† she exclaimed, directing her words to our fellow artists. She pointed vaguely behind her. â€Å"Over across the street at Kappa, they found one of their girls unconscious, and they can’t wake her up. I don’t know what happened, but it sounds like she was attacked. There’s police out front and everything.† Adrian and I stared at each other for one shocked moment. Then, wordlessly, we both stood up. He held my hand to steady me until my trembling legs strengthened. I’m weak because of this news, I told myself. Not because I was just making out with a vampire. But those dangerous and intoxicating kisses faded almost instantly when we returned to Lynne’s sorority. It was busy with frightened people, and campus security moved in and out, allowing us to step right inside the open door. â€Å"What happened?† I asked a brunette standing nearby. â€Å"It’s Lynne,† she said, biting her lips. â€Å"They just found her in an empty auditorium.† Something in the way she spoke made me uneasy. â€Å"Is she . . . alive?† The girl nodded. â€Å"I don’t know . . . I think so, but they said there’s something really wrong. She’s unconscious and looks . . . well . . . old.† I met Adrian’s eyes and vaguely noticed he had silver paint in his hair. I’d still been holding the brush when I’d wrapped my arms around him. â€Å"Damn,† he murmured. â€Å"Too late.† I wanted to scream in frustration. We’d been so close to warning her. She’d allegedly left just before we’d arrived. What if we’d come sooner? What if we’d visited her before the other two girls? I’d chosen the order randomly. Worse, what if we’d been able to find her instead of having art time with the drunken sorority girls? What if I hadn’t been all over Adrian? Or maybe he’d been all over me. Whatever you wanted to call it, I hadn’t exactly resisted. The more we learned, however, the more unlikely it seemed we would’ve been able to do anything if we’d stuck around Lynne’s house and investigated. Nobody knew where she’d gone. Only one person had seen her leave, a girl with curly blond hair who frustrated the campus police with her vague answers. â€Å"I’m sorry,† she kept saying. â€Å"I just . . . I can’t remember the girl she left with.† â€Å"Nothing?† asked one of the officers. â€Å"Height? Age? Hair color?† The girl frowned, looking as though she was using every ounce of mental effort. At last, she sagged in defeat and shook her head. â€Å"I’m sorry.† â€Å"Did she have black hair?† I suggested. The girl brightened a little. â€Å"Maybe. Er, wait. It might have been brown. No. Red, maybe?† Adrian and I stepped away, knowing we could do no more. â€Å"That girl seems awfully confused,† I said as we walked back to my car. â€Å"She certainly does,† he agreed. â€Å"Sound familiar?† â€Å"Very,† I muttered, recognizing the signs of magic. No one could deny it. Veronica had been here. And we’d been too late to stop her. How to cite The Indigo Spell Chapter Eleven, Essay examples

Personal Classroom Observation Essay Example For Students

Personal: Classroom Observation Essay Personal Essay: Classroom Observation Essay Josh Van Coppenolle EDU 301 Social Studies Methods Mary Iandoli Classroom Observation Date: 9-30-96 Kindergarten teacher: Mrs. Debolt First grade teacher: Mrs. Casteluzo Location: Penn Yan Elementary Carrie and I were going to observe a kindergarten classroom social studies class that combined their lesson with a first grade class. We were scheduled to arrive at 2 PM. When I arrived at 1:50 PM, Carrie was waiting outside the school and informed me that she had already gone in and was told that there was going to be a fire drill in just a few minutes. We waited for the fire drill to finish and then went into the class. The time was about 2:10 at this point, so the teachers were running a little behind. When we entered the room it was empty, we had obviously beat the students back from the fire drill. This gave us time to look around. The kindergarten room was brightly decorated with lots of posters and students art work. The kids were working on colors because there was a strip on top of the blackboard that had the colors and things we might see in that color. The students desks were arranged in two rows, pushed together and facing each other. There were about twelve seats in each group, so there were about 24 students in the class. Apparently, the class had just been returning from a trip to the school library when the fire drill went off, so when they came in they were still carrying their library books. The students were asked to take their seats and they did so quietly. Everyones eyes were on Carrie and me. Mrs. Debolt asked us to introduce ourselves, which we did. She told the class that we were learning to be teachers and that we wanted to sit in on their social studies class. Each student sat at a little desk with their name laminated on the top. The students had laminated cards with their names on them tied around their neck with a long piece of yarn. I think that these were their library cards. Mrs. Debolt asked me to collect these, which I did. The students were pretty quiet while this was going on and followed directions well. Mrs. Debolt told the class that we were going to have a joint lesson with Mrs. Castiluzos 1st grade class. She asked everyone to come up to the front of the room and sit quietly on their bottoms, hands in their laps. The two classrooms are connected by a door and soon Mrs. Castiluzo, her aide, and the 1st graders came in. It was a tight squeeze but everyone got a little spot on the floor. You could tell the kids who like their personal space because they were uncomfortable in the tight space and tried to wiggle and scoot. Mrs. Debolt introduced Carrie and me and then started her lesson. She started with a story about a green bear who lived in the forest. He would change the color of his house as the seasons changed. Before she read she assess for prior knowledge. After she finished the book she led the group by questioning them about houses and families and health. Then we talked about healthy bodies and how we make healthy bodies by eating correctly. The teacher would ask a question and then call on someone who raised their hand. When there was a fun task to do, the teacher would call on a student that was doing something right, like sitting up straight. I noticed that the same students were always raising their hands. The teacher should have tried to involve all of the students. After the discussion of green and healthy, Mrs. Castiluza read a poem, but the children had already been sitting for 15-20 minutes and were not interested in the long poem at all. Then, Mrs. Comparison contrast Essay Castiluza brought out a bag of fresh vegetables that she grew in her garden. This got the kids interested again and we discussed how the greens of the vegetables were different. Then Carrie and I got 2 helpers and cut up lettuce, peppers, and cucumbers to make a salad. We all ate salad and talked about the different textures and crunchiness of the vegetables. The lesson was evaluated as the students ate their salad, the teachers informally walked around the room and spoke with the children, but not all of them. The kids finished, threw their paper plates away and .