Made by Hand

“I would ask that you all tuck your digital devices away,” a phrase that rings clear in my head after weeks of being in English 111- Writing and Inquiry. Most teenagers refuse this statement in general, as if their digital device is something of a need at all times. The technology our generation has been given has influenced the way we think, communicate, and act according to Jean Twinge from The Atlantic. It is said there are good things that have come by this new technology that has been put in our possession: “fewer teens are having sex” and going out and partying, and for parents concern that is not a bad thing. However, those factors are more social statistics. Why would my English 111 professor care for digital devices to be tucked away in class? Surely she is not expecting me to go out to a party this weekend. I believe there is a greater purpose for avoiding these digital devices in a literary classroom.   

Indeed, we all have our preferences as to whether writing with pen and paper or typing on a computer is better. Either way there will always be benefits to both. It really comes down to personal preferences and how your mind works. There are people who prefer to take the extra step of checking out a textbook even though a digital copy is provided online. There are the people who find it much faster to have it on their digital device. This simple preference tells us a lot about why tucking our digital devices away could be good or bad. But me, I am the person who does carry the ten-pound textbook around only to avoid the digital copy. I find it a good thing to veer away from technology in a literature classroom.

 

Looking back now, after I had turned my research paper in and gotten my grade back, a long two months is what it took to write it. I can not quite fathom what the issue was. I am in Advanced Placement english as a junior in high school, and I should have been easily able to finish this research paper. I struggled with the organization and structure, could not get my claim to make sense with my support, and would sit for hours in front of my computer trying to figure out how to make this a good paper. The ideas never came to me, and I could not quite understand what I was really trying to type. Half the problem was not being able to stare at a bright computer screen any longer because my eyes got tired of trying to read the small print. Our class was instructed to start this paper by making note cards on the computer and surf the web to find support.

During this process I kept losing sight of what I was actually supposed to be looking for on the internet. I almost got lost in the fifty-million websites that came up as my search results. I had finally finished this paper, and I did make a good grade, but the process was so hard because my findings, research, documentation, and drafts were not physically at hand. I would open a folder to get to a folder to get into another folder, confuse my rough draft with my final draft, and open each little notecard on the program “Noodle Tools” to view what the note cards actually said.  It all came down to the expense of my screen tired mind. My mind wanted a break from the screen and drifted when it could, so my ideas were unclear and tried.

 

Not a computer open, not even a mouse… To put it in less lyrical terms, in English 111 no use of digital devices were permitted during this part of the writing process in which we formulated our ideas. I took my black pen out, ready to conquer a rough draft. My paper in front of me, my ideas ready to bleed onto the college ruled paper, and a hard copy of “The Falling Man”, by Tom Junod, also in front of me, I had everything I needed to scribble down the rough draft of my textual analysis. So I began to write my textual analysis on paper. Words just began to flow as if I was speaking right onto the paper. At this point, I was able to create a picture in my mind of how I wanted to organize my writing. I simply drew an arrow if the structure and organization did not seem right. My classmate asked me “why are you writing so much ?”, I  answered, “It just happens.” When I was finished writing, I still had a clear picture of how I was going to organize the analysis. I knew exactly what I needed to change before I went to the computer to start writing the final digital draft. The writing process came easy to me because I was able to express my thoughts directly on paper, and I had a printed copy of my support right beside me.

 

There is something to say about having everything at hand rather than digitally. The differences I find between writing my drafts on paper with pen and typing my drafts may be small tedious things, but those tedious things definitely affect my writing process. I find that the big picture of my ideas are obscured when I start rough drafting on the computer. Typing on the computer seems to go word by word. For example, if  I spell a word wrong it automatically shows a red line. My first instinct is to go back and correct that misspelled word, and by then I have lost my train of thought. However, when I write I know my paper is not a perfect finished product, and I know I will come back to it at some point to fix and revise it.

The technology is less helpful for part of the writing process where you are only to be forming ideas. There are no red lines that show up automatically on your handwritten rough draft for a reason. Well of course you might have some if your getting your graded rough draft back from your professor. I think that the writing process away from the screen in English 111 has shown me my true writing abilities and a writing process that is easier for me.

 

Work Cited

Twenge, Jean M. “Have Smartphones Destroyed a Generation?” The Atlantic, Sept. 2017, http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/09/has-the-smartphone-destroyed-a-generation/534198/.

Junod, Tom. “The Falling Man.” Esquire, Sept. 2003,www.esquire.com/news-politics/a48031/the-falling-
man-tom-junod, Accessed 10 Sept. 2018.

 

Analysis of Tom Junod’s “Falling Man”

“In the clutches of pure physics,” the man is falling “at a rate of thirty-two feet per second,” American journalist, Tom Junod describes (par. 1). Junod is speaking about a photograph that captures the history September 9th, 2001. “The Falling Man” is a picture of a man who jumped from the Twin Towers shortly after the attack occurred. The picture captures not only a falling man, but history through a camera. In effort to show his readers the importance of photographers and their relationship with history, Tom Junod effectively structures his text and describes “The Falling Man” with vivid detail and figurative language.

 

Junod developes alluring imagery for his readers through his use of detail and figurative language to reveal a deeper meaning of the photograph and its historical context. He explains how the falling man is positioned to where he “appears relaxed, hurtling through the air.” On a higher level, Junod describes the falling man as being “oblivious to the geometric balance he has achieved” and is “the essential elements in creation of a new flag, a banner composed entirely of steel bars shining in the sun.” These details that Junod incorporated help to show the setting and what the man looks like falling to his death. Not only does Junod describe what the man looks like, but also how the man projects a manner. Junod explains “there is something rebellious in his posture,” and the man looks “as though” he was “once faced with the inevitability of death” before (par. 1). By describing the setting and how the falling man projects a certain mood with figurative language and vivid detail, Junod developes imagery for his readers that reveals a deeper meaning of 9/11 and the picture taken.

 

Tom Junod presents invigorating details, but some of the details that he uses to describe the falling man seem inappropriate in the context of 9/11 writing. In the text Junod describes how he thought the falling man felt about his own fate. He explained that the man was faced with death and “he decided to get on with it.” Even though Junod’s addition of this detail may seem informal for the context of 9/11, it effectively describes the whole purpose of “The Falling Man” photograph: a man who is falling unusually calm for his circumstances. The position of the man is indeed inappropriate. If Junod is trying to describe a man who appears “comfortable in the grip of unimaginable motion”, then  “getting on with it” would be an accurate and an effective description (par. 1).

In addition to his smart use of detail, Junod sets up his text in a unique structure that keeps his readers interested. It is not until the second paragraph that Junod states his thesis: “the photographer is no stranger to history” (par. 2). Junod added this thesis after the first paragraph, where he gave the detailed description of “The Falling Man” photograph. The detail in the first paragraph served to keep his reader interested. The thesis in the second paragraph answers why the detail in the first paragraph is important, and it allows the reader to understand how the photographer plays into history. Along with his thesis in the second paragraph, he includes another encounter a photographer had with the assassination of John F. Kennedy. He does this to justify his claim. His unique use of structure is definitely more effective than simply stating a claim at the begging of the text and then providing evidence.

He could have indeed used plain methods of structuring his text to get his point across, but Tom Junod uses more alternative and effective strategies to show his readers the relationship between history and photographers. He keeps the reader interested by twisting the structure–putting the evidence first and the thesis second. Structure however is not the only thing that makes Junod’s text effective. His incorporation of vivid detail and figurative language to create imagery keeps the reader interested and aware of the historical context. He uses informal language to his advantage when describing the falling man. Overall, Tom Junod created a clear picture of his purpose and revealed he “is no stranger” to strategy (par. 2).

Source:

Junod, Tom. “The Falling Man.” Esquire, Sept. 2003,www.esquire.com/news-politics/a48031/the-falling-
man-tom-junod, Accessed 10 Sept. 2018.

Just a Silly Poem

Elementary school was a time of life when academically, your achievements were noticed by encouragement rather than grades, or at least that’s what I think as a girl in high school. When I was in elementary school our teachers would assign us creative writing, short stories, and art projects. I would thrive on these creative writing assignments, because that’s just how I was as a seven-year-old girl. I was creative and I knew it. I loved these assignments. I set out to be the best writer in my third grade class, and for all I knew, I was. I wanted to receive the teacher’s encouragement. Did I ever receive this “award” of encouragement  from my teacher? Most times no, I did not. However, writing as a kid, if I did not receive this encouragement or praise, I would still be happy with my own writing. I was a superhero in my mind. Nothing was impossible and the writing itself excited me.

As I grew older and became a fifth grader — the oldest in the school — thinking I had conquered the world without realizing there was a whole world ahead of me. I continued to write and love it. I wrote with confidence, and no fear failure entered my mind. I was invincible. Putting pencil to paper was my weapon. A few months into my fifth-grade year my teacher, Mrs. Harrington, made the whole class enter into a writing contest. “Alright class I have something very special for you all to do.”  I sat on the edge of my seat eager to hear what she had to say.

Mrs. Harrington continued after reaching for a paper to read off of. “Today you will be given an assignment that will be unique from anything we have done before. You are assigned to write a story or a poem of your choice that will be entered into this years ‘“Young Authors”’ writing contest. This will not be for a grade, but I hope you guys will participate.” My face lit up, and I let out a quiet “yes!” This was my chance to show how good I really thought I was.

After school, I was eager for my parents to get home from work. I could not wait to tell them about the exciting assignment, or at least what I thought was exciting. I heard the front door slam, and I knew instantly that my mom was home. She came down the hallway and walked into the kitchen where I was sitting. Before she could speak I energetically blurted out “guess what mom?”. She answered me matching my energetic tone. “What honey?” “I get to write something for a writing contest for school!” After she realized how excited I was over it, she acted if she were excited too. I got started right away.

I chose to write a poem because I felt very inspired by the fresh fall weather that had cast a shadow on the foothills North Carolina. So indeed, I wrote my poem about the seasons of the year. I named it “The Four Seasons.” Now I look back and think it is sort of cliche, but back then I thought I was brilliant. I wrote about each season and the feelings the seasons created within me. I even included a word that I had thought I made up: “scentsy.” Now that I look back on “scentsy” ,  I realized that it is a word. I just had not been exposed to it, therefore I thought I was a genius for my invented a word. I was the author and I could write anything I wanted. There was no rule of what kind of words I had to use. No requirements to meet. No worry of getting a bad grade.

A week later the teachers had chosen the students who had won from the school. I started to scan the list of fellow classmates who had made it. Some doubt driften into my mind. Am I good enough? Am I just a bad writer? Then I saw my name “Caroline Erkman.” The sight of my name had never given me so much relief before. Joy suddenly hit me as I realized that I had indeed made it. Yet again, I got home even more eager than last time. My parents were surprised and happy for my achievement.

As Christmas started to draw near, my poem had gone as far as the state level, and had been published in a kids book. I felt on top of the world. My family and I had to travel to Raleigh, North Carolina, which is two hours away from my home, to receive my award and the book my poem had been published in. At the award ceremony, they called me to the front stage, and I doubt I have stood so tall in my life. I was definitely one proud fifth-grader.

Now, I wish frequently that I could get that excited about a writing assignment. I do not have that same energetic spirit that motivated me to write some silly poem that had taken me a long way. I do not have that confidence I use to have. As school got harder, so did my head about being decent at writing. Now I realize what made that fifth grader so good at writing was her love for it. It excited her, and that made her achieve things. She had no fear of failure because she did not even consider those possibilities. None of those possibilities were possible at that time. The teachers only expected us to write what we wanted. If I did not do what the teacher asked, I would simply just make my story more creative next time.

I may have never been a good writer, but I use to love writing a lot more. I know I had more confidence towards writing when I was younger. Not because it was easier, anything is as easy as you make it, but because I truly enjoyed it. I struggle to find that love for writing sometimes because formal academic writing has become more of a chore. You analyze prompts, read archives, research on a specific topic, but none of that offers me the ability to show my creativity or my spirit. Almost all of the formal writing assignments do not allow me to provide something to the world that I truly want to show and enjoy showing. However, I still try my hardest to show light through what is required of me. I still try to have confidence, but the word count limits my ability at times. Sometimes when I am sunken in frustration because of academic writing, I reflect on the story of my poem and its moral. It shows me that sometimes you are your own limits, and you can only be as good as you make yourself. If you make academic writing your chore then it will be. But if you find a way to incorporate your own style instead, academic writing will be a leisure.

My Running Addiction

One of my many 3 mile runs.

These are my trusty running shoes.

This might seem like a strange addiction, but I’ve learned I am addicted to running. I consider it one of my hobbies. Since I was young, my dad has always been an avid runner. He trained for and finished four marathons and lots of other races.  My mother, my two brothers and I would go to races and watch him cross the finish line. As soon as I could walk my dad had me jogging alongside him. I always wondered why my dad was addicted to running and ran so much. Over the past few years, I have figured out the answer to my question.

My dad may be good at running, but it is definitely not my talent. In fact, I am not fast at all. I could not break any records if I tried. However, I do not run for the medals or personal records or anything of that sort. People ask me why I run? My friends question my sanity. The truth of it is running does something for me more than any of my other hobbies. Running clears my mind, so I run for mental and not medals.

The mental benefit running provides is amazing. Running relieves my stress from the day to day problems I might face. In fact, it draws me closer to God sometimes. When I run I step back from all the commotion of life, and all my worries disappear for three or four miles. The background noise of life fades away, and then it is just me and the path ahead of me. Even after I complete my run, it seems like my worries have vanished into thin air. My good mood is heightened, and my stress is gone. I may not be fast, but running allows me to leave my stress in the dust. Running is my addiction and that is why.

“I may not be fast, but running allows me to leave my stress in the dust.”

-Caroline Erkman