Leadership/Drum Major Paper Essay

I figure I would make an extraordinary drum major since I accept individuals accept me as a pioneer and regard and tune in to what need to I say. In spite of the fact that I as a rule am the pioneer I likewise am a decent audience. At the point when individuals have issues or have thoughts to improve the demonstrate I will tune in to whatever must be said. To me being a drum major would be an extraordinary achievement and an amazing opportunity to assist our walking band. I have found from being in the walking band that every part needs regard. I plan to give regard first and in doing that I trust I will get it from my docks permitting this entire experience to be an ideal one. I comprehend that with this activity comes extraordinary duty, and I am certainly prepared for it! Being an individual from the Woodland High School walking band for a long time, I presently have a thought of how to make band progressively alluring to everybody. Making the time spent in band class and at after school rehearses best is a significant right of mine. I might want to make it our main objective to get each musician to learn, and remember their music. This will permit the demonstrate to be prepared as right on time as could reasonably be expected so it gives abundant chance to consummate developments, add character to the show, and make it our own. By doing this I realize our scores will be fundamentally higher than a years ago. In particular every part will comprehend that difficult work does pays off. I love music. I never falter to pursue any extracurricular band I can get into. I love being included, I love developing as a performer. I additionally love walking band-it’s so testing thus depleting, yet it’s such a stunning encounter. I have a fanatical eagerness for music and walking band that impels me forward, and can apply this to my job as drum major. Vigorous pioneers are obviously superior to irresolute ones. * My way of thinking on initiative is basic: show others how its done, consistently help, and never quit. At the point when I was a first year recruit, I admired the walking band veterans since they were at that point great at something that I was battling to ace. Having good examples is motivating; it gives individuals something positive to copy. Furthermore, I generally offer to help-whether that implies * Moving and emptying hardware, or coming in right on time to work with a marcher who needs some additional help. Moreover, stopping is not feasible for me. Utilizing pardons as opposed to putting forth a valiant effort, abandoning something (or somebody), or forsaking your obligations are things I totally don't have confidence in. Advancing greatness in others begins with advancing it in you. * I am interesting among different candidates looking for this position on account of the characteristics I have recorded previously. My melodic experience, my assurance, my constancy, and my enthusiasm for music make me solitary among the many.

The Birthing Crisis free essay sample

Exposition brief: The exercises we take from disappointment can be major to later achievement. Relate an occurrence or time when you encountered disappointment. How could it influence you, and what did you gain from the experience? The delicate, cajoling fingers held onto some sparkling scissors, surging its sharp edges deftly through a cloak of muscle and skin, discharging a path of shimmering red afterward. Shouts, orders, and groans merged in an orchestra of tumult, peaking, at that point blurring into obscurity. I arose to an assortment of concerned appearances floating over me: â€Å"Are you okay?† I was not alright. The sentiment of sickness could not hope to compare to my enthusiastic pain. In one second, everything I could ever hope for were broken. This was the snapshot of triumph I had stood by so long for. I had imagined the jealousy of my friends, the congrats of my folks, and my gloating rights forever. I had at long last seen a live birth. We will compose a custom article test on The Birthing Crisis or on the other hand any comparative theme explicitly for you Don't WasteYour Time Recruit WRITER Just 13.90/page However, rather than relating to the OB/GYN specialist in the room, I was progressively similar to the howling infant †uncovered, crude, and totally befuddled about my place on the planet. My way to turning into an infant specialist was gotten under way before I was conceived. In a town of 25,000 at the foot of Appalachia, my granddad was the bottom OB/GYN authority, conveying 21,000 infants in his 30-year profession. Various neighborhood youngsters were named after him. Families who had moved the nation over returned to have their children conveyed by him. Family members visiting town were absolved for speeding tickets after referencing his name. For my granddad, conveying babies was more an enthusiasm than an occupation; every conveyance was a festival of life itself. Henceforth, I grew up accepting that conveying babies was the most cheerful calling on the planet. I was the family would like to proceed with the calling. I had demonstrated a characteristic inclination toward being an infant specialist: I was a well known sitter in my town, was known to be attentive and understanding, had exceeded expectations in science and math, and when one of my pet bunnies saved a wreck of placenta and baby at the foot of her confine, I revived the virus bodies and breast fed seven cuddly animals to life. I excitedly held back to be mature enough to chip in the obstetrics office at the nearby emergency clinic. For longer than a year, I hurried examples to the lab, figured out patient records, addressed calls, and moved blending pink and blue packages among moms and the nursery each Tuesday night. The second I was hanging tight for, the opportunity to partake in a live birth, at last showed up. What was intended to be my prize for perseverance, unwavering quality, and commitment rather turned into a gathering with the chilly conveyance room floor. After this unfortunate occurrence, I supported myself with my other most loved exercises †classes, music, and a couple of gallons of dessert. However, a void had been left by the takeoff of my since a long time ago held goal. Another entryway opened four months after the fact. I was offered an exploration opportunity by a software engineering educator at the nearby college where I take school classes. This interdisciplinary venture flanking between software engineering and life science immediately caught my creative mind. I am presently making programming that will help find examples of monotonous DNA, to uncover humans’ associations with other living things and recognize supporters of diseases past our ebb and flow capacity to fix, for example, Alzheimer’s, Huntington’s, and muscle dystrophy. The following spring, I would like to convey an introduction at a worldwide gathering about this â€Å"baby† device I’ve brought into the world. Furthermore, I trust that I will have the option to do my grandfather’s heritage †not as an OB/GYN, yet as a researcher analyzing medication down to its essentials and finding intends to improve the personal satisfaction, while discovering incredible enthusiasm in bettering the world and serving humanity.

Literary Journals For E-Readers

Literary Journals For E-Readers Im still relatively new to the e-reader world. Like Peter wrote in his post not too long ago, the propensity to switch over to reading in a digital platform can take you by surprise, sneaking up on you like a stealth ninja. Every so often, though, I find new ways that e-readers can make my reading life fuller, more enjoyable, and more practical. Which is why I want to talk about literary journals. As a writer of short stories and personal essays, Ive long been told to subscribe to literary journals, to read through them as research what are people doing, what are journals interested in, what is a particular journals aesthetic (at least for that issue)? If you dont read the magazine, the wisdom goes, then why would they publish you? But heres my dirty secret:  I dont read as many literary journals as I should. I have good intentions. Ill buy a subscription, happily retrieve journals from my mailbox, put them on my coffee table with my  Bon Appetit  and  Real Simple, and then forget about them. Part of my problem is convenience. When I pack up my purse to leave the house, I reach for a book or, more often these days, my Kindle. Its compact, it fits inside my purse, and Ive usually got a book loaded up and ready to go in there. The solution would seem to be online journals, ones where the content is available digitally on their website. But unless its on an app, again, Im not heading to a website. Im heading to a book. So what if the journal was where my books are? More specifically, what if the journal was in my Kindle? Now were talking. And there are some journals that make their content available digitally to subscribers through Kindle or Nook (and also Apple) formats. So Ive found three that do so, three journals that Im particularly psyched to load up into my Kindle pronto. Ploughshares Subscriptions to  Ploughshares  include the three regular issues (which come out in April, August, and December) and the Ploughshares Omnibus, a collection of  Ploughshares Solos, which are stories and essays that are available only in digital format; the  Omnibus is released in October, and is also available in both print and digital formats.  You can also purchase single issues from the archives. Ploughshares  is available for both Nook and Kindle. One Story One Story is exactly what it sounds like a literary journal featuring one story every three or four weeks. Subscribers receive the new story directly to their Kindle device. (One Story is also available through the Apple Newsstand.) The journal comes with a free 30-day trial, after which the monthly subscription starts for $1.49 a month. Narrative   Narratives  monthly issues  includes stories, poetry, cartoons, nonfiction, and more, which will all download directly to your Kindle. This journal also provides a 30-day free trial, after which the subscription starts for $3.49 a month.  Narrative  is also available on Apple and Android devices.

Analysis “Godfather Death - 1260 Words

Engl 1302 Mr. Reho Requirements for Paper 1 one of the following stories, analyzing a literary strategy or technique the author uses to make the story more effective. Tie the use of the strategy or technique to one of the literary elements mentioned in our book. â€Å"A P.† Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing. Ed. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. 10th ed. New York: Pearson Longman, 2007. 16-20. Grimm, Jakob and Wilhelm. â€Å"Godfather Death.† Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing. Ed. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. 10th ed. New York: Pearson Longman, 2007. 12-13. Hawthorne, Nathaniel. Young Goodman Brown. Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing. Ed.†¦show more content†¦Almost all stories have plots, and authors employ plots in many different ways. If you can show the particular way in which an author makes use of plot to further his or her story, you have said something substantial. We are interested in learning about the particular way that Hawthorne uses colors and names as character symbols in â€Å"Young Goodman Brown,† or the specific way that Updike in â€Å"A P † shows the world of the grocery store society as a way to enable Sammy s character to hopefully mature. Try to develop your discussion by focusing on a particular strategy the author uses and what effect that strategy has on the reader. Why did the author choose this particular strategy over other options that might have presented themselves? Does the strategy enable the author to do anything? Are there any constraints in usin g the strategy? 5 summary is a brief retelling of the events of the story in your own wordsexegesis is an explanation of the way the story works or what it means’t just summarize a story. Discuss it! 6 â€Å"meaning† that the author wants to illustrate: it doesn’t have to be as preachy as a moral or a lesson. It can just be the point of the story or the dominant impression we take away from our reading. 7 8 When you refer to the narrative of the story, use the present tense, as in the following: â€Å"Sammy decides that he can no longer continue to work at the store.† Don’t write: â€Å"Sammy decided that he could no longerShow MoreRelatedEssay on Critical Analysis on Godfather Death1015 Words   |  5 PagesCRITICAL ANALYSIS ON GODFATHER DEATH, A FAIRY TALE WRITTEN BY JACOB LUDWIG GRIMM AND WILHELM CARL GRIMM This story is a German fairy tale translated by Jacob Ludwig Grimm (1785-1863) and Wilhelm Carl Grimm (1786-1859), brothers born in Germany. The story centers on a 13th son born to a poor old man who can not afford to feed his new offspring. In order to provide for him the poor old man must choose a godfather for his son. He first meets God and dismisses him as a godfather because accordingRead MoreCritical Analysis On Godfather Death Essay examples996 Words   |  4 PagesCRITICAL ANALYSIS ON GODFATHER DEATH, A FAIRY TALE WRITTEN BY JACOB LUDWIG GRIMM AND WILHELM CARL GRIMM This story is a German fairy tale translated by Jacob Ludwig Grimm (1785-1863) and Wilhelm Carl Grimm (1786-1859), brothers born in Germany. The story centers on a 13th son born to a poor old man who can not afford to feed his new offspring. In order to provide for him the poor old man must choose a godfather for his son. He first meets God and dismisses him as a godfather because accordingRead MoreCharacter Analysis on the Conflicts and Themes of Godfather Death2303 Words   |  10 Pagesthat sets forth strange and wonderful events in more or less bare summary, without detailed character drawing. Two variations of tales are fairy tales (â€Å"Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs†) or tall tales (â€Å"Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox†). Ex: â€Å"Godfather Death† (8-10) Short Story: A prose narrative too brief to be published in a separate volume--as novellas and novels frequently are. The short story is usually a focused narrative that presents one or two main characters involved in a single compellingRead MoreSynopsis Of The Godfather Death 984 Words   |  4 Pagesclear. Godfather Death Summary The Godfather Death is a German fairytale collected by the Grimm’s brothers and it’s about a man of scarce resources who has twelve children, but then has a thirteenth child. A child he can’t support. Thus being the reason why we tries to find the most suitable godfather for his kid. He passes by God and the Devil, but when he comes across with Death, he decides he is the best option, since death is equal and does not discriminate. Death agrees to be the godfather andRead MoreSymbolism of God Father Death1195 Words   |  5 PagesAn Analysis of the Symbolism in Brothers Grimm â€Å"Godfather Death† In literature, symbolism is used to suggest an underlying meaning in a story. In the story of â€Å"Godfather Death,† a quite ironic title, the Grimm brothers used a multitude of symbols to convey the story’s moral value. The Grimm brothers used seven symbols in this story. All of them play a part in conveying the message that death cannot be defied, death is constant, and death is fair. The father in this story searches for a godfatherRead MoreThe Godfather and the Meaning of Family1055 Words   |  5 PagesThe Godfather A family is a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children, and is considered a group, whether they reside together or not; the traditional family, which usually consists of family values and beliefs. 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Omerta is the oath of honour and loyalty to the clan or family, the sworn member cannot not betray his clan or family, even if his life is at stake. The breach of omerta is the penalty of death. In the beginning of 20th century the Cosa Nostra was a very influential organized group, which ruled a broad range of illegal activities and it seemed that its existence is safe. But this situation did not last long. When Benito Mussolini came toRead MoreThe Sopranos1696 Words   |  7 PagesPage 1 Now revised and expanded, including a very revealing radio interview with David Chase in April of 2008! *Dozens of new visuals on all 4 pages and new content (â€Å"Death and David Chase†) added to Part II. **Check out an incredible Sopranos tribute video at the end of page 4. *Note from author (December 6, 2010): Its been over three years since the finale of the Sopranos, yet the ending continues to be discussed and debated to this day. 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China Saper Threat - 777 Words

Weak USA Cyber Policy vs China’s Security Threat to the USA? Abstract A cyber spy network based mainly in China hacked into classified documents from government and private organizations. One of the biggest questions still remains unanswered. Should the U.S. Congress conduct an in depth assessment of Chinese cyber spying and consider imposing tougher penalties on companies that benefit from industrial espionage. In this paper I will review china’s cyber threat and possible USA solutions to protect against the threat. Could Weak USA Cyber Policy be the cause of China’s Security Threat? U.S. corporations and cyber security specialists have reported an daily attack of computer network intrusions originating from China. Of†¦show more content†¦cyber policy has embraced this idea. â€Å"The Plan declared that in order for it to succeed, government and the private sector must work together in a partnership. However since the regulation has been in place it has failed to provide the security necessary to protect U.S. critical infrastructure from a cyber attack. Even Congress has been slow to act regarding almost all aspects of cyber policy (Wolf, J. 12 July, 2012).† One of the problems facing a comprehensive cyber security bill is that computers have become so omnipresent in our daily lives that they cross every sector of the economy. It is not surprising that application of the laws of war to cyber attacks has recently been a popular topic in politics. Some have even analyzed whether a cyber attack can constitute an armed attack, it can but, whether a cyber attack with a specified effect constitutes a use of force. An example, if the U.S. could prove that Iran absolute sent a computer virus that infected a Wall Street, would dropping a bomb on Iran be justify? A responsible nation must always consider the possibilities of collateral damage in deciding whether an act of self defense is justified, be it cyber or kinetic. While the United States must undoubtedly increase its cyber defense capabilities, the nation cannot retreat behind a Line of firewalls. As in the fight against terrorism, the United States must be vigilant and aggressive in the face of both cyber attacks and

The Amber Spyglass Chapter 11 The Dragonflies Free Essays

string(45) " wings off bats while they were still alive\." Ama climbed the path to the cave, bread and milk in the bag on her back, a heavy puzzlement in her heart. How in the world could she ever manage to reach the sleeping girl? She came to the rock where the woman had told her to leave the food. She put it down, but she didn’t go straight home; she climbed a little farther, up past the cave and through the thick rhododendrons, and farther up still to where the trees thinned out and the rainbows began. We will write a custom essay sample on The Amber Spyglass Chapter 11 The Dragonflies or any similar topic only for you Order Now There she and her daemon played a game: they climbed up over the rock shelves and around the little green-white cataracts, past the whirlpools and through the spectrum tinted spray, until her hair and her eyelids and his squirrel fur were beaded all over with a million tiny pearls of moisture. The game was to get to the top without wiping your eyes, despite the temptation, and soon the sunlight sparkled and fractured into red, yellow, green, blue, and all the colors in between, but she mustn’t brush her hand across to see better until she got right to the top, or the game would be lost. Kulang, her daemon, sprang to a rock near the top of the little waterfall, and she knew he’d turn at once to make sure she didn’t brush the moisture off her eyelashes – except that he didn’t. Instead, he clung there, gazing forward. Ama wiped her eyes, because the game was canceled by the surprise her daemon was feeling. As she pulled herself up to look over the edge, she gasped and fell still, because looking down at her was the face of a creature she had never seen before: a bear, but immense, terrifying, four times the size of the brown bears in the forest, and ivory white, with a black nose and black eyes and claws the length of daggers. He was only an arm’s length away. She could see every separate hair on his head. â€Å"Who’s that?† said the voice of a boy, and while Ama couldn’t understand the words, she caught the sense easily enough. After a moment the boy appeared next to the bear: fierce-looking, with frowning eyes and a jutting jaw. And was that a daemon beside him, bird-shaped? But such a strange bird: unlike any she’d seen before. It flew to Kulang and spoke briefly: Friends. We shan’t hurt you. The great white bear hadn’t moved at all. â€Å"Come up,† said the boy, and again her daemon made sense of it for her. Watching the bear with superstitious awe, Ama scrambled up beside the little waterfall and stood shyly on the rocks. Kulang became a butterfly and settled for a moment on her cheek, but left it to flutter around the other daemon, who sat still on the boy’s hand. â€Å"Will,† said the boy, pointing to himself. She responded, â€Å"Ama.† Now that she could see him properly, she was frightened of the boy almost more than the bear: he had a horrible wound: two of his fingers were missing. She felt dizzy when she saw it. The bear turned away along the milky stream and lay down in the water, as if to cool himself. The boy’s daemon took to the air and fluttered with Kulang among the rainbows, and slowly they began to understand each other. And what should they turn out to be looking for but a cave, with a girl asleep? The words tumbled out of her in response: â€Å"I know where it is! And she’s being kept asleep by a woman who says she is her mother, but no mother would be so cruel, would she? She makes her drink something to keep her asleep, but I have some herbs to make her wake up, if only I could get to her!† Will could only shake his head and wait for Balthamos to translate. It took more than a minute. â€Å"Iorek,† he called, and the bear lumbered along the bed of the stream, licking his chops, for he had just swallowed a fish, â€Å"Iorek,† Will said, â€Å"this girl is saying she knows where Lyra is. I’ll go with her to look, while you stay here and watch.† Iorek Byrnison, foursquare in the stream, nodded silently. Will hid his rucksack and buckled on the knife before clambering down through the rainbows with Ama. The mist that filled the air was icy. He had to brush his eyes and peer through the dazzle to see where it was safe to put his feet. When they reached the foot of the falls, Ama indicated that they should go carefully and make no noise, and Will walked behind her down the slope, between mossy rocks and great gnarled pine trunks where the dappled light danced intensely green and a billion tiny insects scraped and sang. Down they went, and farther down, and still the sunlight followed them, deep into the valley, while overhead the branches tossed unceasingly in the bright sky. Then Ama halted. Will drew himself behind the massive bole of a cedar, and looked where she was pointing. Through a tangle of leaves and branches, he saw the side of a cliff, rising up to the right, and partway up – â€Å"Mrs. Coulter,† he whispered, and his heart was beating fast. The woman appeared from behind the rock and shook out a thick-leaved branch before dropping it and brushing her hands together. Had she been sweeping the floor? Her sleeves were rolled, and her hair was bound up with a scarf. Will could never have imagined her looking so domestic. But then there was a flash of gold, and that vicious monkey appeared, leaping up to her shoulder. As if they suspected something, they looked all around, and suddenly Mrs. Coulter didn’t look domestic at all. Ama was whispering urgently: she was afraid of the golden monkey daemon; he liked to tear the wings off bats while they were still alive. You read "The Amber Spyglass Chapter 11 The Dragonflies" in category "Essay examples" â€Å"Is there anyone else with her?† Will said. â€Å"No soldiers, or anyone like that?† Ama didn’t know. She had never seen soldiers, but people did talk about strange and frightening men, or they might be ghosts, seen on the mountainsides at night†¦ But there had always been ghosts in the mountains, everyone knew that. So they might not have anything to do with the woman. Well, thought Will, if Lyra’s in the cave and Mrs. Coulter doesn’t leave it, I’ll have to go and pay a call. He said, â€Å"What is this drug you have? What do you have to do with it to wake her up?† Ama explained. â€Å"And where is it now?† In her home, she said. Hidden away. â€Å"All right. Wait here and don’t come near. When you see her, you mustn’t say that you know me. You’ve never seen me, or the bear. When do you next bring her food?† Half an hour before sunset, Ama’s daemon said. â€Å"Bring the medicine with you then,† said Will. â€Å"I’ll meet you here.† She watched with great unease as he set off along the path. Surely he didn’t believe what she had just told him about the monkey daemon, or he wouldn’t walk so recklessly up to the cave. Actually, Will felt very nervous. All his senses seemed to be clarified, so that he was aware of the tiniest insects drifting in the sun shafts and the rustle of every leaf and the movement of the clouds above, even though his eyes never left the cave mouth. â€Å"Balthamos,† he whispered, and the angel daemon flew to his shoulder as a bright-eyed small bird with red wings. â€Å"Keep close to me, and watch that monkey.† â€Å"Then look to your right,† said Balthamos tersely. And Will saw a patch of golden light at the cave mouth that had a face and eyes and was watching them. They were no more than twenty paces away. He stood still, and the golden monkey turned his head to look in the cave, said something, and turned back. Will felt for the knife handle and walked on. When he reached the cave, the woman was waiting for him. She was sitting at her ease in the little canvas chair, with a book on her lap, watching him calmly. She was wearing traveler’s clothes of khaki, but so well were they cut and so graceful was her figure that they looked like the highest of high fashion, and the little spray of red blossom she’d pinned to her shirtfront looked like the most elegant of jewels. Her hair shone and her dark eyes glittered, and her bare legs gleamed golden in the sunlight. She smiled. Will very nearly smiled in response, because he was so unused to the sweetness and gentleness a woman could put into a smile, and it unsettled him. â€Å"You’re Will,† she said in that low, intoxicating voice. â€Å"How do you know my name?† he said harshly. â€Å"Lyra says it in her sleep.† â€Å"Where is she?† â€Å"Safe.† â€Å"I want to see her.† â€Å"Come on, then,† she said, and got to her feet, dropping the book on the chair. For the first time since coming into her presence, Will looked at the monkey daemon. His fur was long and lustrous, each hair seeming to be made of pure gold, much finer than a human’s, and his little face and hands were black. Will had last seen that face, contorted with hate, on the evening when he and Lyra stole the alethiometer back from Sir Charles Latrom in the house in Oxford. The monkey had tried to tear at him with his teeth until Will had slashed left-right with the knife, forcing the daemon backward, so he could close the window and shut them away in a different world. Will thought that nothing on earth would make him turn his back on that monkey now. But the bird-shaped Balthamos was watching closely, and Will stepped carefully over the floor of the cave and followed Mrs. Coulter to the little figure lying still in the shadows. And there she was, his dearest friend, asleep. So small she looked! He was amazed at how all the force and fire that was Lyra awake could look so gentle and mild when she was sleeping. At her neck Pantalaimon lay in his polecat shape, his fur glistening, and Lyra’s hair lay damp across her forehead. He knelt down beside her and lifted the hair away. Her face was hot. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the golden monkey crouching to spring, and set his hand on the knife; but Mrs. Coulter shook her head very slightly, and the monkey relaxed. Without seeming to, Will was memorizing the exact layout of the cave: the shape and size of every rock, the slope of the floor, the exact height of the ceiling above the sleeping girl. He would need to find his way through it in the dark, and this was the only chance he’d have to see it first. â€Å"So you see, she’s quite safe,† said Mrs. Coulter. â€Å"Why are you keeping her here? And why don’t you let her wake up?† â€Å"Let’s sit down.† She didn’t take the chair, but sat with him on the moss-covered rocks at the entrance to the cave. She sounded so kindly, and there was such sad wisdom in her eyes, that Will’s mistrust deepened. He felt that every word she said was a lie, every action concealed a threat, and every smile was a mask of deceit. Well, he would have to deceive her in turn: he’d have to make her think he was harmless. He had successfully deceived every teacher and every police officer and every social worker and every neighbor who had ever taken an interest in him and his home; he’d been preparing for this all his life. Right, he thought. I can deal with you. â€Å"Would you like something to drink?† said Mrs. Coulter. â€Å"I’ll have some, too†¦ It’s quite safe. Look.† She cut open some wrinkled brownish fruit and pressed the cloudy juice into two small beakers. She sipped one and offered the other to Will, who sipped, too, and found it fresh and sweet. â€Å"How did you find your way here?† she said. â€Å"It wasn’t hard to follow you.† â€Å"Evidently. Have you got Lyra’s alethiometer?† â€Å"Yes,† he said, and let her work out for herself whether or not he could read it. â€Å"And you’ve got a knife, I understand.† â€Å"Sir Charles told you that, did he?† â€Å"Sir Charles? Oh – Carlo, of course. Yes, he did. It sounds fascinating. May I see it?† â€Å"No, of course not,† he said. â€Å"Why are you keeping Lyra here?† â€Å"Because I love her,† she said. â€Å"I’m her mother. She’s in appalling danger and I won’t let anything happen to her.† â€Å"Danger from what?† said Will. â€Å"Well†¦Ã¢â‚¬  she said, and set her beaker down on the ground, leaning forward so that her hair swung down on either side of her face. When she sat up again, she tucked it back behind her ears with both hands, and Will smelled the fragrance of some scent she was wearing combined with the fresh smell of her body, and he felt disturbed. If Mrs. Coulter saw his reaction, she didn’t show it. She went on: â€Å"Look, Will, I don’t know how you came to meet my daughter, and I don’t know what you know already, and I certainly don’t know if I can trust you; but equally, I’m tired of having to lie. So here it is: the truth. â€Å"I found out that my daughter is in danger from the very people I used to belong to – from the Church. Frankly, I think they want to kill her. So I found myself in a dilemma, you see: obey the Church, or save my daughter. And I was a faithful servant of the Church, too. There was no one more zealous; I gave my life to it; I served it with a passion. â€Å"But I had this daughter†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I know I didn’t look after her well when she was young. She was taken away from me and brought up by strangers. Perhaps that made it hard for her to trust me. But when she was growing up, I saw the danger that she was in, and three times now I’ve tried to save her from it. I’ve had to become a renegade and hide in this remote place, and I thought we were safe; but now to learn that you found us so easily – well, you can understand, that worries me. The Church won’t be far behind. And they want to kill her, Will. They will not let her live.† â€Å"Why? Why do they hate her so much?† â€Å"Because of what they think she’s going to do. I don’t know what that is; I wish I did, because then I could keep her even more safe. But all I know is that they hate her, and they have no mercy, none.† She leaned forward, talking urgently and quietly and closely. â€Å"Why am I telling you this?† she went on. â€Å"Can I trust you? I think I have to. I can’t escape anymore, there’s nowhere else to go. And if you’re a friend of Lyra’s, you might be my friend, too. And I do need friends, I do need help. Everything’s against me now. The Church will destroy me, too, as well as Lyra, if they find us. I’m alone, Will, just me in a cave with my daughter, and all the forces of all the worlds are trying to track us down. And here you are, to show how easy it is to find us, apparently. What are you going to do, Will? What do you want?† â€Å"Why are you keeping her asleep?† he said, stubbornly avoiding her questions. â€Å"Because what would happen if I let her wake? She’d run away at once. And she wouldn’t last five days.† â€Å"But why don’t you explain it to her and give her the choice?† â€Å"Do you think she’d listen? Do you think even if she listened she’d believe me? She doesn’t trust me. She hates me, Will. You must know that. She despises me. I, well†¦ I don’t know how to say it†¦ I love her so much I’ve given up everything I had – a great career, great happiness, position and wealth – everything, to come to this cave in the mountains and live on dry bread and sour fruit, just so I can keep my daughter alive. And if to do that I have to keep her asleep, then so be it. But I must keep her alive. Wouldn’t your mother do as much for you?† Will felt a jolt of shock and rage that Mrs. Coulter had dared to bring his own mother in to support her argument. Then the first shock was complicated by the thought that his mother, after all, had not protected him; he had had to protect her. Did Mrs. Coulter love Lyra more than Elaine Parry loved him? But that was unfair: his mother wasn’t well. Either Mrs. Coulter did not know the boil of feelings that her simple words had lanced, or she was monstrously clever. Her beautiful eyes watched mildly as Will reddened and shifted uncomfortably; and for a moment Mrs. Coulter looked uncannily like her daughter. â€Å"But what are you going to do?† she said. â€Å"Well, I’ve seen Lyra now,† Will said, â€Å"and she’s alive, that’s clear, and she’s safe, I suppose. That’s all I was going to do. So now I’ve done it, I can go and help Lord Asriel like I was supposed to.† That did surprise her a little, but she mastered it. â€Å"You don’t mean – I thought you might help us,† she said quite calmly, not pleading but questioning. â€Å"With the knife. I saw what you did at Sir Charles’s house. You could make it safe for us, couldn’t you? You could help us get away?† â€Å"I’m going to go now,† Will said, standing up. She held out her hand. A rueful smile, a shrug, and a nod as if to a skillful opponent who’d made a good move at the chessboard: that was what her body said. He found himself liking her, because she was brave, and because she seemed like a more complicated and richer and deeper Lyra. He couldn’t help but like her. So he shook her hand, finding it firm and cool and soft. She turned to the golden monkey, who had been sitting behind her all the time, and a look passed between them that Will couldn’t interpret. Then she turned back with a smile. â€Å"Good-bye,† he said. And she said quietly, â€Å"Good-bye, Will.† He left the cave, knowing her eyes were following, and he didn’t look back once. Ama was nowhere in sight. He walked back the way he’d come, keeping to the path until he heard the sound of the waterfall ahead. â€Å"She’s lying,† he said to Iorek Byrnison thirty minutes later. â€Å"Of course she’s lying. She’d lie even if it made things worse for herself, because she just loves lying too much to stop.† â€Å"What is your plan, then?† said the bear, who was basking in the sunlight, his belly flat down in a patch of snow among the rocks. Will walked up and down, wondering whether he could use the trick that had worked in Oxford: use the knife to move into another world and then go to a spot right next to where Lyra lay, cut back through into this world, pull her through into safety, and then close up again. That was the obvious thing to do: why did he hesitate? Balthamos knew. In his own angel shape, shimmering like a heat haze in the sunlight, he said, â€Å"You were foolish to go to her. All you want to do now is see the woman again.† Iorek uttered a deep, quiet growl. At first Will thought he was warning Balthamos, but then with a little shock of embarrassment he realized that the bear was agreeing with the angel. The two of them had taken little notice of each other until now – their modes of being were so different – but they were of one mind about this, clearly. And Will scowled, but it was true. He had been captivated by Mrs. Coulter. All his thoughts referred to her: when he thought of Lyra, it was to wonder how like her mother she’d be when she grew up; if he thought of the Church, it was to wonder how many of the priests and cardinals were under her spell; if he thought of his own dead father, it was to wonder whether he would have detested her or admired her; and if he thought of his own mother†¦ He felt his heart grimace. He walked away from the bear and stood on a rock from which he could see across the whole valley. In the clear, cold air he could hear the distant tok-tok of someone chopping wood, he could hear a dull iron bell around the neck of a sheep, he could hear the rustling of the treetops far below. The tiniest crevices in the mountains at the horizon were clear and sharp to his eyes, as were the vultures wheeling over some near-dead creature many miles away. There was no doubt about it: Balthamos was right. The woman had cast a spell on him. It was pleasant and tempting to think about those beautiful eyes and the sweetness of that voice, and to recall the way her arms rose to push back that shining hair†¦ With an effort he came back to his senses and heard another sound altogether: a far-distant drone. He turned this way and that to locate it, and found it in the north, the very direction he and Iorek had come from. â€Å"Zeppelins,† said the bear’s voice, startling Will, for he hadn’t heard the great creature come near. Iorek stood beside him, looking in the same direction, and then reared up high, fully twice the height of Will, his gaze intent. â€Å"How many?† â€Å"Eight of them,† said Iorek after a minute, and then Will saw them, too: little specks in a line. â€Å"Can you tell how long it will take them to get here?† Will said. â€Å"They will be here not long after nightfall.† â€Å"So we won’t have very much darkness. That’s a pity.† â€Å"What is your plan?† â€Å"To make an opening and take Lyra through into another world, and close it again before her mother follows. The girl has a drug to wake Lyra up, but she couldn’t explain very clearly how to use it, so she’ll have to come into the cave as well. I don’t want to put her in danger, though. Maybe you could distract Mrs. Coulter while we do that.† The bear grunted and closed his eyes. Will looked around for the angel and saw his shape outlined in droplets of mist in the late afternoon light. â€Å"Balthamos,† he said, â€Å"I’m going back into the forest now, to find a safe place to make the first opening. I need you to keep watch for me and tell me the moment she comes near – her or that daemon of hers.† Balthamos nodded and raised his wings to shake off the moisture. Then he soared up into the cold air and glided out over the valley as Will began to search for a world where Lyra would be safe. In the creaking, thrumming double bulkhead of the leading zeppelin, the dragonflies were hatching. The Lady Salmakia bent over the splitting cocoon of the electric blue one, easing the damp, filmy wings clear, taking care to let her face be the first thing that imprinted itself on the many-faceted eyes, soothing the fine-stretched nerves, whispering its name to the brilliant creature, teaching it who it was. In a few minutes the Chevalier Tialys would do the same to his. But for now, he was sending a message on the lodestone resonator, and his attention was fully occupied with the movement of the bow and his fingers. He transmitted: â€Å"To Lord Roke: â€Å"We are three hours from the estimated time of arrival at the valley. The Consistorial Court of Discipline intends to send a squad to the cave as soon as they land. â€Å"It will divide into two units. The first unit will fight its way into the cave and kill the child, removing her head so as to prove her death. If possible, they will also capture the woman, though if that is impossible, they are to kill her. â€Å"The second unit is to capture the boy alive. â€Å"The remainder of the force will engage the gyropters of King Ogunwe. They estimate that the gyropters will arrive shortly after the zeppelins. In accordance with your orders, the Lady Salmakia and I will shortly leave the zeppelin and fly directly to the cave, where we shall try to defend the girl against the first unit and hold them at bay until reinforcements arrive. â€Å"We await your response.† The answer came almost immediately. â€Å"To the Chevalier Tialys: â€Å"In the light of your report, here is a change of plan. â€Å"In order to prevent the enemy from killing the child, which would be the worst possible outcome, you and the Lady Salmakia are to cooperate with the boy. While he has the knife, he has the initiative, so if he opens another world and takes the girl into it, let him do so, and follow them through. Stay by their side at all times.† The Chevalier Tialys replied: â€Å"To Lord Roke: â€Å"Your message is heard and understood. The Lady and I shall leave at once.† The little spy closed the resonator and gathered his equipment together. â€Å"Tialys,† came a whisper from the dark, â€Å"it’s hatching. You should come now.† He leapt up to the strut where his dragonfly had been struggling into the world, and eased it gently free of the broken cocoon. Stroking its great fierce head, he lifted the heavy antennae, still moist and curled, and let the creature taste the flavor of his skin until it was entirely under his command. Salmakia was fitting her dragonfly with the harness she carried everywhere: spider-silk reins, stirrups of titanium, a saddle of hummingbird skin. It was almost weightless. Tialys did the same with his, easing the straps around the insect’s body, tightening, adjusting. It would wear the harness till it died. Then he quickly slung the pack over his shoulder and sliced through the oiled fabric of the zeppelin’s skin. Beside him, the Lady had mounted her dragonfly, and now she urged it through the narrow gap into the hammering gusts. The long, frail wings trembled as she squeezed through, and then the joy of flight took over the creature, and it plunged into the wind. A few seconds later Tialys joined her in the wild air, his mount eager to fight the swift-gathering dusk itself. The two of them whirled upward in the icy currents, took a few moments to get their bearings, and set their course for the valley. How to cite The Amber Spyglass Chapter 11 The Dragonflies, Essay examples

Parenting Stlyes in to Kill a Mockingbird free essay sample

When Jem and Scout have problems of their own, he is always there for them with open arms; he loves Jem and Scout with everything he has, and only wants the best for them. When Atticus gives them their air rifles, he says to Jem, â€Å"I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit [them], but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird† (Lee 90). This shows that Atticus does not want his children to harm their future by doing something reckless. Also, Atticus does not believe in hitting his children; he never does anything that will put his children in harm. Atticus makes Scout and Jem solve their problems by talking them out with whomever it may concern. While Scout is looking at the Radley’s, Atticus warns, â€Å"I’m too old to go chasing you off the Radley’s property. We will write a custom essay sample on Parenting Stlyes in to Kill a Mockingbird or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Besides it’s too dangerous. You might get shot. You know Mr. Nathan shoots at every shadows he sees, even shadow that leave size-four bare foot prints. You were lucky not to be killed† (Lee 242-243). Instead of punishing Scout and Jem for their previous actions, Atticus makes them reflect on their mistakes. Lastly, Atticus treats his children maturely and talks to them in a very respectable, logical way. In order for his children to learn, Atticus does not lecture them, instead, Atticus does what he thinks is right by setting an example of taking the role of Tom Robinson’s lawyer. It is thanks to his guidance that Jem and Scout are good-nature people; he never underestimates them and lets them find the truth. For instance, when Scout asks, â€Å"Do all lawyers defend n-Negroes, Atticus? (Lee 75) Atticus does not hesitate to give her an answer and gives her his honest opinion. He could have chosen to not answer Scout because it is not an appropriate word for a child; however, Atticus thinks it will not harm her to know the truth. Atticus may be an old man in the eyes of Scout and Jem, but he uses his experience to his advantage through teaching significant morals and life lesson in order for them to understand of how things work. Bob Ewell, on the other hand is the complete opposite of Atticus; he does not show interest in his children’s affairs. First of all, he, who does not have a job, should be spending his welfare money for his children’s necessities and education. However, Bob spends the welfare money buying whiskey for his own pleasure; in fact, Bob does not even encourage his children to go to school. On the first day of school, Burris Ewell, grasps the attention of Miss Caroline, and declares, â€Å"[I] been comin’ to the first o’ the first grade fer three years now† (Lee 27). This proves that Bob Ewell is an irresponsible parent and misleads his children to do wrong things because he does not offer any support. Unlike Atticus, Bob Ewell does not treat his children with respect and beats them. He uses his own daughter to accuse Tom Robinson of rape. Bob does not put himself into Mayella’s position; he does not realize that what he is doing may affect her. In court when Atticus questions Mayella with, â€Å"who beat you up? Tom Robinson or your father? † (Lee 187) she does not give an answer. This statement is giving its audience a clear point of Mayella is frighten if she says the truth; meaning that there is a possibility of Bob Ewell abusing her. Bob Ewell also does not treat his children maturely. Since Mayella is the oldest, she takes cares of her younger siblings and their only parent, Bob, is never there to give guidance. Although Mayella is the oldest, she only went to school for two to three years; she does not have much life experience. During the trial, Mayella took offence to Atticus’ respectful way of addressing people, and says, â€Å"[I] won’t answer a word you say long as you keep on mockin’ me† (Lee 181). It is only natural to respect others, but in Mayella’s case her father, Bob Ewell, is not a good parent figure and did not teach her the significance of respect. Bob Ewell is a horrible father who is unable to raise his children to be good, mature people. Although Uncle Jack is a bachelor, he cares about Jem and Scout’s upbringing like Atticus; he only wants the best for Scout and Jem. After witnessing Scout cussing, Uncle Jack states, â€Å"I don’t want to hear any words like [ ] [damn and hell] [ ] [during my stay]† (Lee 79). Uncle Jack clearly worries about Scout’s attitude because he wants her to be more like a mature, young lady and not to be looked down on by others. Uncle Jack may be a parent figure, but like every other parent, he has his own parenting style; he believes in hitting his children for them to reflect on their actions. Uncle Jack took Francis’ side before listening to Scout which shows he makes biased decisions. After Uncle Jack learns that Scout punched Francis, â€Å"[he immediately] pinned [her] arms to [her] sides and said, ‘Stand still! ’ [ ] [She] turned to flee but Uncle Jack was quicker. [She] found [herself] suddenly looking at a tiny ant struggling with a bread crumb in the grass† (Lee 84). This demonstrates that Uncle Jack jumps to conclusions before hearing both sides of the story. Finally, Uncle Jack treats Scout and Jem maturely. Even though he is a young and single man, he understands the responsibilities of being a guardian. Uncle Jack is close to his family members, especially Scout and Jem, and would state â€Å"[ ] exactly what he was going to do, give [ ] an estimation [ ] and explain [ ]† (Lee 78). This confirms that Uncle Jack cares for them as an uncle and wants them to be educated. He wishes Jem and Scout to give their utmost effort to anything by using their attained knowledge in the right way. Atticus, Bob Ewell, and Uncle Jack, in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, do what they think is best for their children in their own ways through their separate experiences. Throughout a child’s life, their parent is most likely the one to shape their identity because they are the most influential people in their life. Work cited Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. New York: Warner Books, December, 1982.