My Fitness Card

RLA Top 10 List- "What I Think About While in Air"

Have you ever had a late-night flight? 12am, 1am... perhaps even 3am? Well, I did. This fall break, on the flight going to my destination. I was cranky that night, with my eyelids swollen the size of party balloons and my eyelashes heavy as bricks. I was crying for sleep. Just one small nap.....just one quick rest....
Too late.
Before I knew it, we were swept away by the elevator and vacuumed into the taxi.
I decided...there was a solution! I could sleep in the plane!
Surely I wouldn't stay awake the whole flight... right?
But then, while we were in the plane, and the plane was about to take off, instead of snoozing and getting a good chunk of sleep like I'd anticipated I would, I started looking through the magazine for movies.
Like really, MOVIES.
And then I looked through the menu of food they were serving.
Like really, A MENU.
And then I started thinking about how the destination would look like, with a pink-lemonade-stained sky, and a sticky sun....
LIKE REALLY, THINKING.

And out of all the things I did in my 5-hour flight, I couldn't find the word 'sleep' anywhere. Where did it go? I don't know, maybe it vanished amongst the exciting selection of movies I had yet to watch, or the mouth-watering list of cuisines I had yet to try, or even the beautiful landscape of the destination I had yet to visit. Maybe I wasn't tired anymore...
But then, I was tired. I was tired after we landed. As if magic, my eyelids swelled the size of hot air balloons, and my eyelashes felt as heavy as a whole brick house!
And then, I was left with the misery of staying tired until I decided we could sleep in the hotel room... right?
But then.

"I Can..." Choir Statements

I can do the basic solfege using hand signs and accurate pitches using head voice.

I can use tonal memory to blend more than one pitch together at the same time. I can manipulate and improvise some notes to create different tunes. All of this is shown through harmonizing with a partner. 

Application Essay- Most Meaningful

Most Meaningful

By: Vainavi Gambhir

“Never trust me.

       I might tell a lie,

     I might make you cry.

    I’m kinda’ like a bully,

bad luck you trust me fully.”

The problem was: I wasn’t the bully. Poetry was the real bully. It troubled me because I didn’t know how to get a poem to sound meaningful. Poetry was quite different than any other form of writing. There was literally no rule to it, yet there were too many. Embedded in every sentence had to be some important message; every word had to be stuffed with “meat” and impact.

I remember the time when I was so determined to actually finish writing a poem of some sort. My third-grade self recalled what my teacher had told me about writing poetry.

“Think about something that impacts the world, and write about that to make the poem powerful.”

• The burning face and skinned elbows hiding behind older, tougher fists.

• The noise of a growling stomach and cracking joints searching a trash bin for traces of survival.

  These were pretty powerful topics.

        Big. Impactful. Important.

I decided to go for ocean pollution. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for choking animals tied in nets with plastic down their throats? I worked on getting some good imagery and emotion into the poem. In time, I’d even achieved adding as many impactful words as my nine-year-old brain could think of, with (of course) a seemingly clear and meaningful message.

“ …The nets attack,

as the poison spreads.

Creating a blanket

of trash… “

But was this poem meaningful enough to me?

I realized how many authors and children had already written about issues in the world. I narrowed my eyebrows and blinked at my work: the words that were someone else’s, the problem known to everyone. I was confused. Wasn’t this what would make my poem meaningful? Yet it wasn’t working, and so I crumpled the black words into a ball to be shoved away. I gazed outside the window at the golden streaks in the sea as the wet sun seeped through the sticky, evening clouds. I observed the people scurrying to coffee shops and malls, tranced by their phones. I noticed the sky blend from amber, to crimson, to pink. I then turned to the crumpled ball of poetry.

And I smiled.

As I grasped my pencil for the second time, I suddenly felt the rough wood around the metallic lead. I began to write. Not about all the issues in the world, the major events, tragic losses, or anything big. I wrote about the light bulb at my bedside table, flickering like the sun peeking behind a scribble of mountains. I wrote about that sea outside my window, the waves spreading like a melting cube of ice. I wrote about that one moment when I was at the beach, tasting the sweet breeze and feeling the sandy granules between my toes. It was the first time in so long that I had actually lived the moment I was in. I’d felt so powerful then. But I felt the same way now too. My pencil glided across those familiar lines in my notebook like ice.

“Think about something that impacts the world, and write about that to make the poem powerful.”

I understood how those small moments are the greatest impact on every single person; everyone is made of those moments, whether cherished or not. Likewise, each word for a moment represents a tiny puzzle piece of who I am, what my poem of life is.

And ever since I held that rough pencil between my fingers again, I realized that every moment was a precious topic to write about in itself. Writing about my surroundings helped me open my eyes and mind to recognize the hidden poetry every little thing offered. I felt like I had grown to appreciate the most trivial acts in my surroundings.

I began to write poems about nothing. It was astonishing how much of nothing there was to write about.

And through my life, “stuffing” each moment like a meaningful word is what would make my poem of life truly reflective and complete. Just like a good poem.

Small. Precise. Precious.

         I glanced back at the poetry I’d formed in my notebook…

“...feet sunk in the rich earth

The sunset dancing above my hair,

cherishing the moment for all its worth,

As I breathe today’s fresh air.”

      … and I signed my name below.

My PE Goal For 8th Grade

My PE goal for 8th grade is to improve my mile time from 9:12 to at least 8:40 in this year. I will prepare for this by going to the gym for an hour at least 3 days a week. This will help me be fitter and more confident.

Ellis Island Reflection

September 19, 1907

1. How do you think people felt upon their arrival at Ellis Island?

The people probably felt very nervous because very few of them would actually get a US citizenship and move forward without being sent back. They probably would think of ways and answers to move forward. And since the ship ride would be very long to arrive at Ellis Island, many would feel sick and cold.

2. What do you think the screening process was like in immigration hall?

The process must be very painstaking. Many would get sent back over trivial issues or lack of certain things. While checking for diseases, it was very unhygienic because using the same tool to check an ill person, the doctors would check other people. That's why even if the people weren't ill, they would become ill and would almost always get sent back.

3. How did you feel when you arrived at the classroom and learned about your fate?

When I arrived at the classroom and learned about my fate, I felt it was quite unfair, because since I was deported, I was being sent back repeatedly and called "mental" or "sick". It was almost impossible for anyone to get by without having the officer point out something that wasn't true.

Health Wellness Prezi