Newman English Department Highlights Students’ Best Work

4/5/2011

R. Hibbert

[FULL STORY]

Newman is proud of the academic excellence displayed by our students, whether it be in science, mathematics, history, the arts, or languages. We are constantly pursuing new ways to communicate our students’ accomplishments to the broader Newman community. Towards that end, the English department has begun reviewing upper school students’ work and recognizing the best writing through “Prize Papers.” English Department Chair Nat Gee has compiled examples of the inaugural round of “Prize Papers,” and he has included an introduction to them and why these were chosen as praiseworthy. Please join us in celebrating these fantastic works.

Prize Papers

The best English Department meetings evolve into discussions of books and writing, and in particular, how we can best help students to develop their skills. Most of all, we want to help students enjoy insightful texts, and we want them to relish the complex, mysterious task of translating their own thoughts and interpretations into words. In these conversations, English faculty share tips and strategies, but we also brag about favorite papers. So, we decided that we would like to recognize students for their insightful, joyful writing and share their work with the broader community.

In the March 28 Upper School Assembly, we recognized six students whose papers we thought were particularly prize-worthy. We read excerpts from their texts and awarded them simple prizes for their work. More importantly, they received resounding cheers from their classmates and friends, and we hope this online publication of their work will also make them proud. We will award similar prizes for the Middle and Lower School, and we will regularly recognize and post student “Prize Papers.” Enjoy these readings with the understanding that while these papers are written by young, developing writers, and therefore are not always perfect, they show that our students care deeply about communicating passionate, heartfelt beliefs.

Enjoy!

Nathaniel Gee

English Department Chair

The first two papers recognized here are short because they were written in a pressure-filled, timed setting. These two juniors, Dreda Romig and Taiwon Kim, composed their analytical and eloquent essays in a short forty minutes. They were asked to read Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem, “Ozymandias,” but they did not know what the essay prompt would be until the class began. Both students used explication as an analytical technique; that is to say, they analyzed the word choice and word meanings of the poem, breaking it down line by line, even word by word. Even more impressive, Dreda and Taiwon not only analyzed the language, but connected their analyses to a philosophical message that even powerful kings must bow to mortality. These papers are prize-worthy not just because they are technically astute, but because they comment upon the human condition.

Dreda Romig

In Class Essay

The poem “Ozymandias” tells of a story the narrator once heard from a traveler from an antique land. The traveler informs the narrator of a place in a desert where two stone pillars stand. Near the pillars lies a broken visage that is half exposed. The tale of King Ozymandias and his merciless reign is etched upon the pedestal.

The tone of the poem suggests that the years of King Ozymandias’ reign were filled with destruction and desolation. One can infer that the sculpture harbored strong feelings of resentment towards the King because of the negative words used to describe the visage, such as frown, wrinkled, and the phrase “sneer of cold command”. I believe that the sculptor had been assigned with the duty of constructing a shrine for the King, but in doing so his feelings of hatred were incorporated and can still be seen and felt in present day. Instead of honoring the King’s work, the sculpture mocks and blames Ozymandias for the state of despair of the land and people. Across the bare landscape of the desert, the despair and sorrow of the people are still sensed strongly sensed.

The author of the poem, Percy Bysshe Shelley, does a wonderful job conveying a negative tone through his use of cacophonous adjectives and phrases. The description of the desert as a “colossal wreck” and “boundless and bare” makes it clear for the reader that King Ozymandias was a destructive ruler. Overall the poem is extremely sad and forces the reader into grieving for the people that suffered during King Ozymandias’ reign.

Taiwon Kim

In Class Essay

At the height of their youth and prowess, men have a tendency to believe that they are invincible and unstoppable. They consider themselves masters of the world, but have a hard time envisioning themselves fifty years ahead in time, weakened and fragile. In the poem “Ozymandias,” Shelley conveys the message that even the greatest men cannot avoid the enfeebling passage of time. He emphasizes this message by incorporating into the poem a tone of irony, which becomes evident through contrasting details.

The contrast between the present day condition of Ozymandias’ statue and the sense of eminence and grandeur it must have provoked in its original is present throughout the entire poem. In certain parts of the poem, Shelley paints the picture of a domineering, powerful statue using vivid imagery and details. He describes the statue as having a “wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command.” He also provides details on the words on the pedestal which read, “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” Such imagery gives the audience the feeling that Ozymandias must have once been a man of great influence and authority. In this depiction, Ozymandias and his statue sound like intimidating figures that commoners couldn’t dare to approach.

However, scattered among such grandiose depictions are details of what the statue looks like today. These details are the exact opposite of grandiose or awe-inspiring. Shelley writes that the statue is, “half sunk, a shattered visage … nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare…” Words like shattered, decay, wreck, and bare were obviously deliberately chosen by the author to give the audience the sense that this statue doesn’t mean anything anymore. The audience feels an overwhelming sense of irony after learning that the statue of the great statesman has now devolved into merely a shattered piece of stone buried in the vast dessert. This sense of irony, then, underscores the author’s main message: nobody is so powerful and important that they can endure the passage of time. Time reduces everyone to ashes and sand in the end.

While it may have been written in 1818, the central idea of Shelley’s poem is a timeless one that remains relevant to today’s people. People of contemporary society resent the fact that they age on a daily basis. They sigh at their receding hairlines and growing wrinkles. But Shelley says, no matter how much Botox we get and how much advice on “How to Live Young” we receive, we all must age and perish when our time comes.

The third essay we present is a take-home analytical essay by sophomore Peter Miller. Peter wrote about the symbiotic, meaningful relationship of a pioneer man and his faithful dog struggling to survive in Jack London’s “To Build a Fire.” Peter’s essay shows that he carefully researched his examples, outlined his ideas, and then revised his drafts repeatedly. His paper delivers a specific, interesting thesis immediately, then systematically supports that main point with a well-organized, clearly-articulated analysis of specific moments from the story. In his essay, Peter shows us that the morality of man does not translate well in nature, when beasts are only concerned for survival. His conclusions are startling and make us think, pointing out that “for all of our vast intelligence and knowledge of sentiments and feelings, [humans] are no more equipped to survive than any other organism.”

Peter Miller

Instinct

“To Build a Fire” is a short story written by Jack London about an outdoorsman and his dog’s trek from an outpost to a camp in the remote territory of the Yukon River. The man’s original motivation is to find logs to get out in the spring, but soon it becomes a struggle to survive. This story only gains meaning through the man’s stereotypical human characteristics, physical and mental, that reflect on humankind as a whole and bring light to our flaws. London compares the man and his dog in order to shed an interesting light on intelligence versus instinct. Without the physical, moral, and mental traits of the man and dog, the story would be only an interesting tale.

The man in “To Build a Fire” is described as a rugged sportsman and newcomer to Alaska. Other than that the only description of him was the beard of tobacco spit that froze to the hair on his chin. The dog is described to be a native husky. Jack London describes them so as to distinguish that one was bred and is natural to the Alaskan elements and the other, man, is new to the territory and is out of his element. London described man as a “creature of temperature, and upon man’s frailty in general, only able to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold,” so as to show his belief that the man is not meant to be in the Alaskan cold. Both are compared as organisms, the dog designed to withstand extreme cold with its thick coat of fur, and the man, a creature only designed to live in mild temperatures. These elaborations fit the ultimate result of the story, which is the death of the man, and the survival of the dog.

In addition to physical characteristics, Jack London uses morals to show distinctions between the man and the Dog. The man is unsympathetic toward the dog, and at one point even forces it in front of him to test for thin ice, which results in the dog getting its feet wet. Later in the story the desperate man thinks to himself, “He would kill the dog and bury his hands in the warm body until the numbness went out of them. Then he could build another fire.” He clearly has no qualms about the life of the dog, as shown by these instances which leads the reader to feel the man has few morals, especially towards animals. The dog has no moral issues in the story, which is one of the things that many believe separate human beings from animals. It does what is necessary for it to survive based on instinct. When the dog waits with the frozen body of the man, it is not doing so to mourn the death of him, but is merely unaware that the man is dead, and will not be making a fire to keep the dog warm. Once the dog realizes this he trots on towards the camp to find a new master to make a fire for him without a trace of sentiment for the man. Morals play no role in survival in this story which may be intentional, so as to show the reader that humans, for all of our vast intelligence and knowledge of sentiments and feelings, are no more equipped to survive than any other organism.

The differences between human intellect and animals are many, but one of the defining differences is instinct. Birds learn to fly because of it, fish learn to swim. Jack London writes, “Instinct told it a truer tale than was told to the man by the man’s judgment.” This shows that London believes that man, with all of its attributes of intelligence, is not as keen as an animal’s survival instinct. When the man forced the dog onto the thin ice and the dog fell through, it immediately started to lick the forming ice from his furs and between his toes. This was instinct that told it to do so. When the man fell through thin ice and wet his feet his first reaction was shock, and his second was to begin thinking of solutions. Man has no natural solution or adaptation that allows it to avoid freezing, and therefore must make use of technology and other means. Unlike the warm tongue of the dog, these are not constant because they rely on some human involvement. For example, lighting a match relies on a human being able to hold it and strike it, whereas a dog is always capable of licking its fur. Technology and information allow humans to better understand their environment, but instinct allows for an organism to survive it.

The comparisons Jack London makes between the dog and the man, and instinct and intelligence show that he meant them to reflect on survival. The man dies because he is not adapted to survive the cold like the dog. Jack London also demonstrates on the hubris of human beings. That someone as naïve and new to Alaska could assume a rule made by an old timer from the region was unnecessary is foolish, and is a testament to the vanity and folly that brings men and women alike to their deaths. Without the traits of the man and dog the story is has little meaning, and has no more importance than to intimidate those wishing to trek through Alaskan territory.

In our final category of this edition of “Prize Papers,” we awarded three prizes to Freshman Rachel Kaye, Junior Gabe Winsberg, and Junior Laney Langenstein. The personal essay format is tricky: a hybrid of creative writing techniques with analytical methods. A personal essay is colorful, descriptive, and entertaining, but also thoughtful, analytical, and argumentative. Laney’s essay is being used for college application, so we will not publish it yet. However, Rachel and Gabe’s essays show how masterfully young writers can balance the demands of analysis and narrative; their essays prove a point, but also make us laugh, cringe, and reflect on similar moments in our own lives.

The first essay, by Rachel Kaye, was written in response to an essay read in Writing Workshop entitled, “The Right to Fail” by William Zinsser. Rachel describes her own experience with success and failure on her high school softball team. Rachel points out that her early failures on the field--and her coach’s sometimes severe correction--actually helped her become a better player. In a climactic description of the final game of the season, Rachel writes: “My well deserved public humiliation inspired an increase in concentration, resulting in a line drive hit to right field that won the game and propelled us into the championship.”

Rachel Kaye

Sweet Softball Success

I see success as a triumph. Last year, in eighth grade, I joined the Newman varsity softball team which, unfortunately, lost almost every game. I had very little experience in softball. It is not that I caused the softball team to lose, but I did not successfully contribute. After school let out for summer, I decided to set a goal to improve my softball skills by joining the summer Carrollton League. My summer softball experience showed me a lesson about success. In spite of early failure, success can be earned through accomplishing a goal through hard work, while gaining a feeling of pleasure.

Completely inexperienced in the game of softball, I joined the Newman varsity softball team as an eighth grader wanting to experience something new. The coaches generously let me join the varsity team because they were short of players. Naively, I had high hopes for a winning season. During practice and games, I found myself in the outfield unable to catch fly balls that came my way. Not only could I not catch, I could not throw or hit. My arms felt as if they were Jell-O, and I lacked endurance. These faults brought me to the conclusion that I was a failure. Slowly, my optimism disappeared. For instance, William Zinsser, a writer for The New York Herald Tribune and an expert on American culture, writes, “Countless people have had a bout with it (failure) and come out stronger as a result” (p. 353). I am included in these countless people, because after failing I came out sturdier. Not giving up on softball, I joined the summer Carrollton softball league to try again for success. Reaching for my goals ambitiously after failing during the school year helped me have more passion for the game, and I trusted that I would succeed.

Throughout the hot, rainy months of June and July, I played and practiced with my Carrollton softball team, the White Sox. The team consisted of numerous all-star girls. I was encouraged by Newman’s softball coach, Ms. Ezzell, to join the league and luckily she drafted me on her team. During each grueling practice, I felt as if I were the worst member. Throwing, fielding, and hitting were all difficult. The all-star girls were experienced and played with ease and confidence as I struggled. Every neuron in my mind told me that I was terrible and a failure. I even wanted to quit. After the terrible practices, we played in multiple games. To my surprise, my team lost a large number of them. Even though this occurred until the playoffs, Coach Ezzell still had the assurance that our team would win the championship.

By the end of July, the Carrollton softball league was coming to an end and the playoffs were beginning. I had improved, and my performance had certainly developed since the first time I had stepped on a field. Coach Ezzell believed that the team had not won many games, due to the fact that the all-star girls were not trying with their best efforts. The girls stepped up their performance during the first playoff game and won. Faced with an elimination game before the championship, I found myself at bat with the game on the line. It was both exhilarating and horrifying all in one. It was the final inning of a close game. The first pitch I fouled off, which lead Coach Ezzell to loudly communicate that I should not have swung. My well deserved public humiliation inspired an increase in concentration, resulting in a line drive hit to right field that won the game and propelled us into the championship.

After I had the memorable game winning hit, my reward was a hug from Coach Ezzell and a game ball. The following night we won a hard fought championship game. I felt that I was part of the team as we came together in a huddle of excitement. The coach handed each of us a special red shirt that said, “CHAMPION” on the back and a trophy. That game ball I received in the playoff game will always be a simple symbol of my success. It is a pleasure to gaze upon the bright yellow softball with the words “June 29th 2010, Carrollton Game Winning Hit, Playoffs, White Sox.” Other people may see success in other objects such as a fancy car or a mansion. For me, the essence of success is working hard and reaching deep inside to produce my best effort. This is my best definition of success. My future successes may be far removed from a softball field on the Mississippi River or even Newman school, but they will require the same important qualities: determination, drive, and desire.

The second personal essay presented details Gabe Winsberg’s self-consciousness about being short. Gabe’s writing is packed with comic, intensely descriptive word choice. His wit and love of language are also reinforced by clever allusions to The Hobbit and metaphors of wildflowers in Audubon Park dwarfed by live oaks. Gabe details the agony of feeling different, even inferior in gut-wrenching descriptions that will make us all cringe with memories of awkward adolescence. However, Gabe’s essay ends with a sweet, hopeful tribute to his friends in the Class of 2012 who helped him overcome his fears and gain acceptance.

Gabe Winsberg

SHORTcomings

I don’t even like Randy Newman. You would be hard put to find a day where I spent my time jamming out to the Toy Story soundtrack or rocking my hips to another of his Disney tunes. But nonetheless, there I was, craning my neck left and right and bobbing up and down on my tippy toes to catch a fleeting glimpse of his famous curly head. Some of my friends found themselves in the same predicament, but a few of the more vertically adept individuals pointed, elbowed each other in the ribs, and giggled at what I imagined to be particularly interesting moments on the stage. The key word there is “imagined” because the only interesting thing I could see was the abnormal amount of back hair on the obese man blocking my view. In a nut shell, I’m short. There’s no way around, and there sure as hell isn’t any way over it. On a good day I’m 5’3”; if I am asked, I’m 5’4”, and if there’s a girl I am trying to impress, then I might even give myself 5’5”. I could live in the Shire, and the hobbits would embrace me as their own; I could play football on my brother’s peewee team, and no opposing coach would think to ask for my birth certificate; I could sleep on a twin bed, and I would have room to spare, but believe it or not, there was a time when I marked average on the doctor’s dreaded growth chart.

I was what polite people call an early bloomer, but all that honestly meant was that I had signs of armpit hair in the third grade. My growth spurt came early, and in a matter of weeks I transformed from one of the class runts to a fifth grader of respectable stature. I should have known then that such a dramatic and short lived vertical climb did not bode well in my overall race towards lofty supremacy, but I was young; I was excited, and I was excelling in all sorts of activities where I had previous fallen short. For the first time that summer I did something I thought impossible; I enjoyed myself at an amusement park. As I sprinted from the Mega Zeph to the Batman, I laughed at the fact that only a year ago I had stuffed my shoes full of toilet paper to give me the extra inch I needed to ride in a bumper car. I made a direct connection between this elation, this newfound sense of freedom, and my sudden increase in height. I had found the key to success, and it lay in feet and inches.

As quickly as they came, my days of premature hormonal dominance were soon replaced by an increasingly incessant need to keep the angle between my chin and my neck greater than ninety degrees. If the class of 2012 was a garden full of sunlight, nutrients, and healthy rainfall, then I could best be described as one of the few flowers stuck in the shadow of a sprawling New Orleans oak. I stared on with contempt as one by one my classmates’ received their chance in the sun and shot upwards with varying ferocity, but my opportunity never came. Once again I found myself as the low man on the totem pole, a mouse among men and even women for that matter. My self confidence hit rock bottom. Though I managed to maintain a façade of coolness, I found myself pondering the nightmare that was to be my future. How long would it be before my friends would decide that hanging out with a midget was cramping their style? How could I ever expect to find a girl that was into a guy she had to lean down to kiss? How could I ever be respected by my future colleagues if they would literally always be looking down on me?

So with these questions and many others weighing heavily on my mind I found myself at Randy Newman’s Jazzfest Concert, fully aware of the fact that my height was once again inhibiting my potential enjoyment of the experience. By that point in the show I had given up on trying to make out the man on stage, and instead resorted to finding complex patterns in the mass of back hair displayed in front of me. Fortunately my search was interrupted as I became aware of the words to the song Mr. Newman had started. Out of his globally recognizable drawling voice came the death blow to my already weakened self-confidence.

“Short people got no reason, short people got no reason, short people got no reason to liiiivvveee.”

Each word felt like a knife to the back. My eyes immediately jumped to the ground as I assumed everyone in the crowd, as if on cue, was about to turn in my direction, point, and laugh. However, much to my surprise minutes passed without insults or even laughter. The song ended, but my private pity party raged on; there was no doubt in my mind that at any moment I was to be stoned by a large group or Randy Newman worshiping heightists. My self-loathing was finally interrupted by a tap on my shoulder, which I knew could only mean one thing; the time had come to be humiliated.

I looked up and there in all of his masculine glory stood Jonathan Drennan, my long time friend and starting defensive linemen on my school’s football team. With a scowl I poised myself for the insults to come.

“Hey Gabe,” he shouted over Randy’s piano solo, “Do you want to get on my shoulders so you can see over that fat dude?”

By this point I was so completely corrupted by the idea that I had become the private joke of the entire concert that the true intention of Jonny’s words made no difference. I balanced my weight on my back foot and prepared to defend my dignity through a physical demonstration. But just as I lifted my fist and prepared to deal the blow that would have destroyed a friendship, I noticed an unmistakable earnestness in the look on Jonny’s face. He had hunched over and was motioning for me to climb onto his back with his right hand, and in one of the more level headed decisions of my life, I unclenched my fist and climbed aboard.

It seems ironic that the time I spent elevated that day was the experience I needed to finally come to terms with the reality of how low I was to the ground, but each minute Jonny spent struggling to keep me aloft served as a shining example of exactly how little my height truly mattered. Through thick and thin I could always rely on my friends and family for a metaphorical, or in some cases even literal, leg up. I had vanquished the biggest critic of my height, myself, and for the first time in my life things were truly looking up.

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Newman English Department Highlights Students’ Best Work