Friday, October 18, 2013

Public Speaking Surveys

Hi everyone--
It seems that the links you made in survey monkey only allow for one person to take the survey. So once the link is used, the next person to click the link is not able to take it. I'm going to try to figure a way around that, but if I can't we'll figure something out during class on Monday.
Sorry about that.
Mrs. Dwyer

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

1920s Poetry, Art and Music

We've read two novels from the 1920s and seen the different perspectives each illustrates. Another essential part of the 1920s in art and literature was the Harlem Renaissance. Below I have listed a number of poems from famous poets of the movement. I've also included links to artwork and music of the time.

Your task: Review the poems, music and artwork. Write a journal entry comparing, contrasting, or commenting on the different pieces. You can also include Gatsby and Sun Also Rises. Discuss at least two or three different pieces. They can mix and match from any category, or they can all be from one category. It's up to you-- write about whatever strikes you.


Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate.
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.
Claude McKay

I, Too
I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"

They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.
by Langston Hughes

A Black Man Talks of Reaping

I have sown beside all waters in my day.
I planted deep, within my heart the fear
that wind or fowl would take the grain away.
I planted safe against this stark, lean year.   

I scattered seed enough to plant the land
in rows from Canada to Mexico
but for my reaping only what the hand
can hold at once is all that I can show.

Yet what I sowed and what the orchard yields
my brother's sons are gathering stalk and root;
small wonder then my children glean in fields
they have not sown, and feed on bitter fruit.

Yet Do I Marvel

I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,
And did He stoop to quibble could tell why
The little buried mole continues blind,   
Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,
Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus
Is baited by the fickle fruit, declare   
If merely brute caprice dooms Sisyphus
To struggle up a never-ending stair.   
Inscrutable His ways are, and immune   
To catechism by a mind too strewn   
With petty cares to slightly understand   
What awful brain compels His awful hand.   
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:   
To make a poet black, and bid him sing!

We Wear the Mask

We wear the mask that grins and lies, 
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— 
This debt we pay to human guile; 
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile 
And mouth with myriad subtleties,
Why should the world be over-wise, 
In counting all our tears and sighs? 
Nay, let them only see us, while 
     We wear the mask.
We smile, but oh great Christ, our cries 
To thee from tortured souls arise. 
We sing, but oh the clay is vile 
Beneath our feet, and long the mile, 
But let the world dream otherwise, 
     We wear the mask!


Jacob Lawrence: The Migration Series (Click on "Experience the Migration Series" for the slide show)


Duke Ellington
Cab Calloway
Ella Fitzgerald
Louis Armstrong

Fats Waller (notice the speakeasy setting)

Saturday, May 11, 2013

The Great Gatsby Blog Discussion

Consider this passage from the very end of the novel. Finish the sentence after the dash and defend your answer.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—

Thursday, February 7, 2013

"Why I Wrote the Crucible"

Click here to access Arthur Miller's article "Why I Wrote the Crucible."

This article was published at the same time the 1996 film version starring Daniel Day Lewis and Winona Ryder came out.