School Uniforms - 777 Words

Most teenagers think that wearing uniforms is a waste of time and that it shouldnt be mandatory. There are many positive and negative effects but I believe that school uniforms should be mandatory. There are many advantages such as peer equivalency, self esteem, easier for parents, and also stress reducing. There are also some questionable disadvantages such as lack of self expression, demeaning morale, and lack of diversity. Teenagers of this day and age belong in the age group where peer pressure exists and students are more conscious of how they look, from the hair to their shoes. Although this is a normal thing, not all students belong in high-earning income families and can afford to buy expensive clothes and shoes. A uniform policy†¦show more content†¦Also wearing school uniforms is stress reducing for students. One of the challenges most people go through on a daily basis is deciding on what to wear. Students also face this dilemma of choosing their clothes going to school. Some struggle to look different each day while others worry on being bullied or judged on what kind of clothes they have. With a uniform policy in place a kid that often gets bullied can wake up knowing that he and the most popular kid in school is wearing the same thing. Without a uniform policy kids worry about being bullied all the time. A uniform policy eliminates this concern. Some students argue that they are not giving an opportunity to freely express themselves with regular clothes. There are people who have fashion statements and this does not exempt students. By dictating on them when it comes to the clothes they wear, they can be resentful about it. With that being said students can express themselves in other ways such the way they walk, the way they talk, and in many other ways. Also some students do not want to wear school uniforms because they feel as if it would hinder their performance in the classroom. They feel as if they are obligated to wear uniforms, their performance, behavior, and attendance will be affected in a negative way. With that being said students say those things for personal reasons. The clothes students wear does not have a real effect on performance inside the classroom.Show MoreRelatedSchool Uniforms And Schools Uniforms1211 Words   |  5 PagesSchool uniforms began their revolution in private schools; they represented a unique appearance, and provided a safe environment for the students attending. Private and Catholic schools were clever enough for implementing school uniforms, because without their influence public schools would have not adapted on creating a dress code for students. By introducing school uniforms in school policies they have managed to impact students learning environment in reducing stress, changing students’ behaviorRead MoreUniforms in School726 Words   |  3 PagesThe standard issue school uniform of khaki, navy and white once exclusive to the private parochial institutions is becoming a common requirement in public schools across the nation. This trend that was first suggested for public schools in 1980 by then D. C. mayor, Marion Barry, to help diminish the social stigma of low income students has grown significantly in both numbers and reasons (Lawrence, 2013). In 2010, it was reported by the National Center for Education Statistics, that nearly 19% ofRead MoreS chools and Uniforms733 Words   |  3 PagesSchool Uniforms Uniforms in schools are a big debate around the world. Should we have uniforms in schools? The answer is yes because uniform help the schools. They bring to table a great deal of help because students are getting bullied, killed, and some may not have as much as other when shopping for clothes. Having uniforms bring safety to schools and what goes on after school. Why do we need uniforms? Most student have their own style, but a common argument against school uniforms is thatRead MoreSchool Uniform And School Uniforms937 Words   |  4 PagesSchool Uniform School uniforms keep students focused on their education not in their clothings. When all students are wearing the same outfit, they are less concerned about how they look and how they fit in with their peers. It’s easier for parent and students do not spend time choosing appropriate outfit for school day. It helps students can only concentrate on their schoolwork. Education is one of the big institutions for every kid that go to school. Also education is the roots that will help peopleRead MoreSchool Uniforms And Schools Uniforms819 Words   |  4 Pagesas school uniforms, many are quick to deem them as unjust and avoidable. What these individuals do not know is that, in fact, school uniforms would enhance how the learning environment functions. Surely, when schools provide their students with uniforms, they are not providing their students with dreadful apparel, they are providing their students with an opportunity to change; whether it be a chance for a student to change t heir role academically, or a chance for a student to fit in. School uniformsRead MoreSchool Uniforms1143 Words   |  5 PagesSchool uniforms make things more complicated Firstly, school is the place where all of us step in at a very tender age. In one word, life begins at school. It’s not just education but school gives us the platform to nurture our faith, emotions in such an early stage of life. The importance of making friends, working as a team- we learn all these in school. And wearing the same dress definitely brings a sense of unity among students. In every school there are students from different backgrounds butRead MoreSchool Uniforms: Yes or No?2109 Words   |  9 Pages3 March 2011 School Uniforms: A Non-Military Proposal for Swedens Students The word school uniform has negative connotations for many people. It makes them think of war, of soldier, of death, brainwashed airheads doing exactly the same as everybody else. It makes them think of reformed, collectivized groups of people with no personal identity. There are, however, reasons for the existence of the uniform; one of them being, as the name suggests, the purpose of uniting. At schools all around theRead MoreDress Codes And School Uniforms1248 Words   |  5 Pagesembarrassing than being dress coded at school? Enforcing a dress code among children is unfair because it not only discriminates against people but it destroys someone’s whole day. Dress codes and school uniforms are meant to increase student achievement and make everyone equal but instead it only hurts people. Most school dress codes are unnecessary and are sexist. Enforcing dress codes is suppose to boost student achievement but instead is racist, sexist and unnecessary. Schools should take in to considerationRead MoreShould School Uniforms For Wear Uniforms?969 Words   |  4 Pagesrequired to wear uniforms? In today’s society this is a very controversial subject across America. Many object uniforms because they feel uniforms don t allow students to have the freedom to express themselves the way they want. People feel uniforms undermine children s individuality. However, taking into consideration facts from both sides, what remains most important is the child s academics. To improve academics, schools should require all students to wear a uniform. Though uniforms may not be theRead MoreAre School Uniforms Beneficial Or Not?1098 Words   |  5 PagesAre School Uniforms Beneficial or Not? How does dressing and feeling the same as everybody else sound? Would it be enjoyable, or would it be no fun? According to Procon.org, the first recorded use of school uniforms in the United States was in 1994. In Europe around the early sixteenth century, school uniforms were made to tell the difference between poor students to the charity schools as opposed to other children. In London people thought that schools without uniforms were to be looked at as lower

Postman Rant or Reason Essay - 1694 Words

Postman: Rant or Reason? In his novel, Amusing Ourselves to Death, author Neil Postman describes to the reader, in detail, the immediate and future dangers of television. The arguement starts out in a logical manner, explaining first the differences between todays media-driven society, and yesterdays typographic America. Postman goes on to discuss in the second half of his book the effects of todays media, politics on television, religion on television, and finally televised educational programs. All, he says, are making a detrimental imprint on our society, its values, and its standards. Postman explains that the media consists of fragment[s] of news (100), and politics are merely a fashion show. Although Postmans arguments†¦show more content†¦Each one flings bring colors at us for 45 seconds before the subject switches to a new topic. A society raised on such a format simply cannot endure lengthy debates or speeches. They seem neither exciting nor entertaining to us. Postman also explains that i n response to this switch in desired format, politicians and presidents have adjusted their means of communication as well. It is hard to imagine the present occupant of the White House being capable of constructing such clauses in similar circumstances. (Postman addressing a very lengthy and inticrate live rebuttal made by Lincoln in response to one of Douglas statements, 46) Todays politicians know that in order to reach audiences, their statements need to be short and sweet. Unfortunately this sort of information shortening is not the only weakness which plagues televisions functionality as a means of communication. To sum up Postmans views about news media on television, one can simply call it a joke. The now this format of news media works in an identical fashion to the previously described commercials. Viewers are rarely required to carry over any thought or feeling from one parcel of time to another. (100) Here again, Postman is right on the money when he describes the shortcomings of todays television news. The news show begins with exciting music and professional-looking visuals which set the mood for the show. One cant help but feel a boost of importance. It is as though theShow MoreRelatedAnswers about The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald3327 Words   |  13 Pagesoverconfident. This thought process reveals what East Egg Society is really like; a society deluding themselves to be superior due to their sophistication in science and arts and holding contempt for those who are not alike or do not possess wealth. Another reason why he may appear to be depressed is to Daisy calling him a â€Å"hulkling†, which he is extremely sensitive to, likely because he does not want anyone to realize that his most powerful booster of his self-esteem is his physique. It is evident that his

The Amber Spyglass Chapter 32 Morning Free Essays

string(95) " and we came through, and it was moonlight everywhere, and I put him down to close the window\." The wide golden prairie that Lee Scoresby’s ghost had seen briefly through the window was lying quiet under the first sun of morning. Golden, but also yellow, brown, green, and every one of the million shades between them; and black, in places, in lines and streaks of bright pitch; and silvery, too, where the sun caught the tops of a particular kind of grass just coming into flower; and blue, where a wide lake some way off and a small pond closer by reflected back the wide blue of the sky. And quiet, but not silent, for a soft breeze rustled the billions of little stems, and a billion insects and other small creatures scraped and hummed and chirruped in the grass, and a bird too high in the blue to be seen sang little looping falls of bell notes now close by, now far off, and never twice the same. We will write a custom essay sample on The Amber Spyglass Chapter 32 Morning or any similar topic only for you Order Now In all that wide landscape the only living things that were silent and still were the boy and the girl lying asleep, back to back, under the shade of an outcrop of rock at the top of a little bluff. They were so still, so pale, that they might have been dead. Hunger had drawn the skin over their faces, pain had left lines around their eyes, and they were covered in dust and mud and not a little blood. And from the absolute passivity of their limbs, they seemed in the last stages of exhaustion. Lyra was the first to wake. As the sun moved up the sky, it came past the rock above and touched her hair, and she began to stir, and when the sunlight reached her eyelids, she found herself pulled up from the depths of sleep like a fish, slow and heavy and resistant. But there was no arguing with the sun, and presently she moved her head and threw her arm across her eyes and murmured: â€Å"Pan – Pan†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Under the shadow of her arm, she opened her eyes and came properly awake. She didn’t move for some time, because her arms and legs were so sore, and every part of her body felt limp with weariness; but still she was awake, and she felt the little breeze and the sun’s warmth, and she heard the little insect scrapings and the bell song of that bird high above. It was all good. She had forgotten how good the world was. Presently she rolled over and saw Will, still fast asleep. His hand had bled a lot, his shirt was ripped and filthy, his hair was stiff with dust and sweat. She looked at him for a long time, at the little pulse in his throat, at his chest rising and falling slowly, at the delicate shadows his eyelashes made when the sun finally reached them. He murmured something and stirred. Not wanting to be caught looking at him, she looked the other way at the little grave they’d dug the night before, just a couple of hand spans wide, where the bodies of the Chevalier Tialys and the Lady Salmakia now lay at rest. There was a flat stone nearby; she got up and prized it loose from the soil, and set it upright at the head of the grave, and then sat up and shaded her eyes to gaze across the plain. It seemed to stretch forever and ever. It was nowhere entirely flat; gentle undulations and little ridges and gullies varied the surface wherever she looked, and here and there she saw a stand of trees so tall they seemed to be constructed rather than grown. Their straight trunks and dark green canopy seemed to defy distance, being so clearly visible at what must have been many miles away. Closer, though – in fact, at the foot of the bluff, not more than a hundred yards away – there was a little pond fed by a spring coming out of the rock, and Lyra realized how thirsty she was. She got up on shaky legs and walked slowly down toward it. The spring gurgled and trickled through mossy rocks, and she dipped her hands in it again and again, washing them clear of the mud and grime before lifting the water to her mouth. It was teeth-achingly cold, and she swallowed it with delight. The pond was fringed with reeds, where a frog was croaking. It was shallow and warmer than the spring, as she discovered when she took off her shoes and waded into it. She stood for a long time with the sun on her head and her body, relishing the cool mud under her feet and the cold flow of springwater around her calves. She bent down to dip her face under the water and wet her hair thoroughly, letting it trail out and flicking it back again, stirring it with her fingers to lift all the dust and grime out. When she felt a little cleaner and her thirst was satisfied, she looked up the slope again, to see that Will was awake. He was sitting with his knees drawn up and his arms across them, looking out across the plain as she’d done, and marveling at the extent of it. And at the light, and at the warmth, and at the quiet. She climbed slowly back to join him and found him cutting the names of the Gallivespians on the little headstone, and setting it more firmly in the soil. â€Å"Are they†¦Ã¢â‚¬  he said, and she knew he meant the daemons. â€Å"Don’t know. I haven’t seen Pan. I got the feeling he’s not far away, but I don’t know. D’you remember what happened?† He rubbed his eyes and yawned so deeply she heard little cracking noises in his jaw. Then he blinked and shook his head. â€Å"Not much,† he said. â€Å"I picked up Pantalaimon and you picked up – the other one and we came through, and it was moonlight everywhere, and I put him down to close the window. You read "The Amber Spyglass Chapter 32 Morning" in category "Essay examples"† â€Å"And your – the other daemon just jumped out of my arms,† she said. â€Å"And I was trying to see Mr. Scoresby through the window, and Iorek, and to see where Pan had gone, and when I looked around, they just weren’t there.† â€Å"It doesn’t feel like when we went into the world of the dead, though. Like when we were really separated.† â€Å"No,† she agreed. â€Å"They’re somewhere near all right. I remember when we were young we used to try and play hide-and-seek, except it never really worked, because I was too big to hide from him and I always used to know exactly where he was, even if he was camouflaged as a moth or something. But this is strange,† she said, passing her hands over her head involuntarily as if she were trying to dispel some enchantment. â€Å"He en’t here, but I don’t feel torn apart, I feel safe, and I know he is.† â€Å"They’re together, I think,† Will said. â€Å"Yeah. They must be.† He stood up suddenly. â€Å"Look,† he said, â€Å"over there†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He was shading his eyes and pointing. She followed his gaze and saw a distant tremor of movement, quite different from the shimmer of the heat haze. â€Å"Animals?† she said doubtfully. â€Å"And listen,† he said, putting his hand behind his ear. Now he’d pointed it out, she could hear a low, persistent rumble, almost like thunder, a very long way off. â€Å"They’ve disappeared,† Will said, pointing. The little patch of moving shadows had vanished, but the rumble went on for a few moments. Then it became suddenly quieter, though it had been very quiet already. The two of them were still gazing in the same direction, and shortly afterward they saw the movement start up again. And a few moments later came the sound. â€Å"They went behind a ridge or something,† said Will. â€Å"Are they closer?† â€Å"Can’t really see. Yes, they’re turning, look, they’re coming this way.† â€Å"Well, if we have to fight them, I want a drink first,† said Will, and he took the rucksack down to the stream, where he drank deep and washed off most of the dirt. His wound had bled a lot. He was a mess; he longed for a hot shower with plenty of soap, and for some clean clothes. Lyra was watching the†¦ whatever they were; they were very strange. â€Å"Will,† she called, â€Å"they’re riding on wheels†¦Ã¢â‚¬  But she said it uncertainly. He climbed back a little way up the slope and shaded his eyes to look. It was possible to see individuals now. The group, or herd, or gang, was about a dozen strong, and they were moving, as Lyra said, on wheels. They looked like a cross between antelopes and motorcycles, but they were stranger than that, even: they had trunks like small elephants. And they were making for Will and Lyra, with an air of intention. Will took out the knife, but Lyra, sitting on the grass beside him, was already turning the hands of the alethiometer. It responded quickly, while the creatures were still a few hundred yards away. The needle darted swiftly left and right, and left and left, and Lyra felt her mind dart to the meanings and land on them as lightly as a bird. â€Å"They’re friendly,† she said, â€Å"it’s all right, Will, they’re looking for us, they knew we were here†¦ And it’s odd, I can’t quite make it out†¦ Dr. Malone?† She said the name half to herself, because she couldn’t believe Dr. Malone would be in this world. Still, the alethiometer indicated her clearly, although of course it couldn’t give her name. Lyra put it away and stood up slowly beside Will. â€Å"I think we should go down to them,† she said. â€Å"They en’t going to hurt us.† Some of them had stopped, waiting. The leader moved ahead a little, trunk raised, and they could see how he propelled himself with powerful backward strokes of his lateral limbs. Some of the creatures had gone to the pond to drink; the others waited, but not with the mild, passive curiosity of cows gathering at a gate. These were individuals, lively with intelligence and purpose. They were people. Will and Lyra moved down the slope until they were close enough to speak to them. In spite of what Lyra had said, Will kept his hand on the knife. â€Å"I don’t know if you understand me,† Lyra said cautiously, â€Å"but I know you’re friendly. I think we should – â€Å" The leader moved his trunk and said, â€Å"Come see Mary. You ride. We carry. Come see Mary.† â€Å"Oh!† she said, and turned to Will, smiling with delight. Two of the creatures were fitted with bridles and stirrups of braided cord. Not saddles; their diamond-shaped backs turned out to be comfortable enough without them. Lyra had ridden a bear, and Will had ridden a bicycle, but neither had ridden a horse, which was the closest comparison. However, riders of horses are usually in control, and the children soon found that they were not: the reins and the stirrups were there simply to give them something to hold on to and balance with. The creatures themselves made all the decisions. â€Å"Where are – † Will began to say, but had to stop and regain his balance as the creature moved under him. The group swung around and moved down the slight slope, going slowly through the grass. The movement was humpy, but not uncomfortable, because the creatures had no spine; Will and Lyra felt that they were sitting on chairs with a well-sprung seat. Soon they came to what they hadn’t seen clearly from the bluff: one of those patches of black or dark brown ground. And they were as surprised to find roads of smooth rock lacing through the prairie as Mary Malone had been sometime before. The creatures rolled onto the surface and set off, soon picking up speed. The road was more like a watercourse than a highway. In places it broadened into wide areas like small lakes; and at others it split into narrow channels, only to combine again unpredictably. It was quite unlike the brutal, rational way roads in Will’s world sliced through hillsides and leapt across valleys on bridges of concrete. This was part of the landscape, not an imposition on it. They were going faster and faster. It took Will and Lyra a while to get used to the living impulse of the muscles and the shuddering thunder of the hard wheels on the hard stone. Lyra found it more difficult than Will at first, because she had never ridden a bicycle, and she didn’t know the trick of leaning into the corner; but she saw how he was doing it, and soon she was finding the speed exhilarating. The wheels made too much noise for them to speak. Instead, they had to point: at the trees, in amazement at their size and splendor; at a flock of birds, the strangest they had ever seen, their fore and aft wings giving them a twisting, screwing motion through the air; at a fat blue lizard as long as a horse basking in the very middle of the road (the wheeled creatures divided to ride on either side of it, and it took no notice at all). The sun was high in the sky when they began to slow down. And in the air, unmistakable, was the salt smell of the sea. The road was rising toward a bluff, and presently they were moving no faster than a walk. Lyra, stiff and sore, said, â€Å"Can you stop? I want to get off and walk.† Her creature felt the tug at the bridle, and whether or not he understood her words, he came to a halt. Will’s did, too, and both children climbed down, finding themselves stiff and shaken after the continued jolting and tensing. The creatures wheeled around to talk together, their trunks moving elegantly in time with the sounds they made. After a minute they moved on, and Will and Lyra were happy to walk among the hay-scented, grass-warm creatures who trundled beside them. One or two had gone on ahead to the top of the rise, and the children, now that they no longer had to concentrate on hanging on, were able to watch how they moved, and admire the grace and power with which they propelled themselves forward and leaned and turned. As they came to the top of the rise, they stopped, and Will and Lyra heard the leader say, â€Å"Mary close. Mary there.† They looked down. On the horizon there was the blue gleam of the sea. A broad, slow-moving river wound through rich grassland in the middle distance, and at the foot of the long slope, among copses of small trees and rows of vegetables, stood a village of thatched houses. More creatures like these moved about among the houses, or tended crops, or worked among the trees. â€Å"Now ride again,† said the leader. There wasn’t far to go. Will and Lyra climbed up once more, and the other creatures looked closely at their balance and checked the stirrups with their trunks, as if to make sure they were safe. Then they set off, beating the road with their lateral limbs, and urging themselves forward down the slope until they were moving at a terrific pace. Will and Lyra clung tight with hands and knees. They felt the air whip past their faces, flinging their hair back and pressing on their eyeballs. The thundering of the wheels, the rush of the grassland on either side, the sure and powerful lean into the broad curve ahead, the clearheaded rapture of speed – the creatures loved this, and Will and Lyra felt their joy and laughed in happy response. They stopped in the center of the village, and the others, who had seen them coming, gathered around raising their trunks and speaking words of welcome. And then Lyra cried, â€Å"Dr. Malone!† Mary had come out of one of the huts, her faded blue shirt, her stocky figure, her warm, ruddy cheeks both strange and familiar. Lyra ran and embraced her, and the woman hugged her tight, and Will stood back, careful and doubtful. Mary kissed Lyra warmly and then came forward to welcome Will. And then came a curious little mental dance of sympathy and awkwardness, which took place in a second or less. Moved by compassion for the state they were in, Mary first meant to embrace him as well as Lyra. But Mary was grown up, and Will was nearly grown, and she could see that that kind of response would have made a child of him, because while she might have embraced a child, she would never have done that to a man she didn’t know; so she drew back mentally, wanting above all to honor this friend of Lyra’s and not cause him to lose face. So instead she held out her hand and he shook it, and a current of understanding and respect passed between them, so powerful that it became liking at once and each of them felt that they had made a lifelong friend, as indeed they had. â€Å"This is Will,† said Lyra, â€Å"he’s from your world – remember, I told you about him – â€Å" â€Å"I’m Mary Malone,† she said, â€Å"and you’re hungry, the pair of you, you look half-starved.† She turned to the creature by her side and spoke some of those singing, hooting sounds, moving her arm as she did so. At once the creatures moved away, and some of them brought cushions and rugs from the nearest house and laid them on the firm soil under a tree nearby, whose dense leaves and low-hanging branches gave a cool and fragrant shade. And as soon as they were comfortable, their hosts brought smooth wooden bowls brimming with milk, which had a faint lemony astringency and was wonderfully refreshing; and small nuts like hazels, but with a richer buttery taste; and salad plucked fresh from the soil, sharp, peppery leaves mingled with soft, thick ones that oozed a creamy sap, and little cherry-sized roots tasting like sweet carrots. But they couldn’t eat much. It was too rich. Will wanted to do justice to their generosity, but the only thing he could easily swallow, apart from the drink, was some flat, slightly scorched floury bread like chapatis or tortillas. It was plain and nourishing, and that was all Will could cope with. Lyra tried some of everything, but like Will she soon found that a little was quite enough. Mary managed to avoid asking any questions. These two had passed through an experience that had marked them deeply; they didn’t want to talk about it yet. So she answered their questions about the mulefa, and told them briefly how she had arrived in this world; and then she left them under the shade of the tree, because she could see their eyelids drooping and their heads nodding. â€Å"You don’t have to do anything now but sleep,† she said. The afternoon air was warm and still, and the shade of the tree was drowsy and murmurous with crickets. Less than five minutes after they’d swallowed the last of the drink, both Will and Lyra were fast asleep. They are of two sexes? said Atal, surprised. But how can you tell? It’s easy, said Mary. Their bodies are different shapes. They move differently. They are not much smaller than you. But they have less sraf. When will that come to them? I don’t know, Mary said. I suppose sometime soon. I don’t know when it happens to us. No wheels, said Atal sympathetically. They were weeding the vegetable garden. Mary had made a hoe to save having to bend down; Atal used her trunk, so their conversation was intermittent. But you knew they were coming, said Atal. Yes. Was it the sticks that told you? No, said Mary, blushing. She was a scientist; it was bad enough to have to admit to consulting the I Ching, but this was even more embarrassing. It was a night picture, she confessed. The mulefa had no single word for dream. They dreamed vividly, though, and took their dreams very seriously. You don’t like night pictures, Atal said. Yes, I do. But I didn’t believe them until now. I saw the boy and the girl so clearly, and a voice told me to prepare for them. What sort of voice? How did it speak if you couldn’t see it? It was hard for Atal to imagine speech without the trunk movements that clarified and defined it. She’d stopped in the middle of a row of beans and faced Mary with fascinated curiosity. Well, I did see it, said Mary. It was a woman, or a female wise one, like us, like my people. But very old and yet not old at all. Wise one was what the mulefa called their leaders. She saw that Atal was looking intensely interested. How could she be old and also not old? said Atal. It is a make-like, said Mary. Atal swung her trunk, reassured. Mary went on as best she could: She told me that I should expect the children, and when they would appear, and where. But not why. I must just look after them. They are hurt and tired, said Atal. Will they stop the sraf leaving? Mary looked up uneasily. She knew without having to check through the spyglass that the shadow particles were streaming away faster than ever. I hope so, she said. But I don’t know how. In the early evening, when the cooking fires were lit and the first stars were coming out, a group of strangers arrived. Mary was washing; she heard the thunder of their wheels and the agitated murmur of their talk, and hurried out of her house, drying herself. Will and Lyra had been asleep all afternoon, and they were just stirring now, hearing the noise. Lyra sat up groggily to see Mary talking to five or six of the mulefa, who were surrounding her, clearly excited; but whether they were angry or joyful, she couldn’t tell. Mary saw her and broke away. â€Å"Lyra,† she said, â€Å"something’s happened – they’ve found something they can’t explain and it’s†¦ I don’t know what it is†¦I’ve got to go and look. It’s an hour or so away. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Help yourself to anything you need from my house – I can’t stop, they’re too anxious – â€Å" â€Å"All right,† said Lyra, still dazed from her long sleep. Mary looked under the tree. Will was rubbing his eyes. â€Å"I really won’t be too long,† she said. â€Å"Atal will stay with you.† The leader was impatient. Mary swiftly threw her bridle and stirrups over his back, excusing herself for being clumsy, and mounted at once. They wheeled and turned and drove away into the dusk. They set off in a new direction, along the ridge above the coast to the north. Mary had never ridden in the dark before, and she found the speed even more alarming than by day. As they climbed, she could see the glitter of the moon on the sea far off to the left, and its silver-sepia light seemed to envelop her in a cool, skeptical wonder. The wonder was in her, and the skepticism was in the world, and the coolness was in both. She looked up from time to time and touched the spyglass in her pocket, but she couldn’t use it till they’d stopped moving. And these mulefa were moving urgently, with the air of not wanting to stop for anything. After an hour’s hard riding they swung inland, leaving the stone road and moving slowly along a trail of beaten earth that ran between knee-high grass past a stand of wheel trees and up toward a ridge. The landscape glowed under the moon: wide, bare hills with occasional little gullies, where streams trickled down among the trees that clustered there. It was toward one of these gullies that they led her. She had dismounted when they left the road, and she walked steadily at their pace over the brow of the hill and down into the gully. She heard the trickling of the spring, and the night wind in the grass. She heard the quiet sound of the wheels crunching over the hard-packed earth, and she heard the mulefa ahead of her murmuring to one another, and then they stopped. In the side of the hill, just a few yards away, was one of those openings made by the subtle knife. It was like the mouth of a cave, because the moonlight shone into it a little way, just as if inside the opening there were the inside of the hill; but it wasn’t. And out of it was coming a procession of ghosts. Mary felt as if the ground had given way beneath her mind. She caught herself with a start, seizing the nearest branch for reassurance that there still was a physical world, and she was still part of it. She moved closer. Old men and women, children, babes in arms, humans and other beings, too, more and more thickly they came out of the dark into the world of solid moonlight – and vanished. That was the strangest thing. They took a few steps in the world of grass and air and silver light, and looked around, their faces transformed with joy – Mary had never seen such joy – and held out their arms as if they were embracing the whole universe; and then, as if they were made of mist or smoke, they simply drifted away, becoming part of the earth and the dew and the night breeze. Some of them came toward Mary as if they wanted to tell her something, and reached out their hands, and she felt their touch like little shocks of cold. One of the ghosts – an old woman – beckoned, urging her to come close. Then she spoke, and Mary heard her say: â€Å"Tell them stories. They need the truth. You must tell them true stories, and everything will be well, just tell them stories.† That was all, and then she was gone. It was one of those moments when we suddenly recall a dream that we’ve unaccountably forgotten, and back in a flood comes all the emotion we felt in our sleep. It was the dream she’d tried to describe to Atal, the night picture; but as Mary tried to find it again, it dissolved and drifted apart, just as these presences did in the open air. The dream was gone. All that was left was the sweetness of that feeling, and the injunction to tell them stories. She looked into the darkness. As far as she could see into that endless silence, more of these ghosts were coming, thousands upon thousands, like refugees returning to their homeland. â€Å"Tell them stories,† she said to herself. How to cite The Amber Spyglass Chapter 32 Morning, Essay examples

Peer assessment free essay sample

This past year has seen the rise In a new fast-evolving Internet-born dance-music submerge called Spunk. Spunk is the name of a Midwestern Internet phenomenon created by a group of 20 somethings birthed out of tumbler to describe a lifestyle aesthetic. The submerge began gaining popularity across the Internet due to the birth of Coral records founded by Fire for effect and Zombie, who class themselves as Spunk musicians. (http://scorecards. Bandanna. Com) Spunk Incorporates bits of ass house and techno, the past 15 years or so of pop ran and he latest In southern trap-rap- overlaid with twinkle. Argotic energy that recalls new-age music. Digital imagery is the main iconography of Spunk, which mashes together cartoonist aquatic themes with ass, computerized Internet imagery. This piece will explore how the submerge of Spunk came about and how current artist like Iranian and Azalea Banks have incorporated this imagery into their current videos/stage performances that questions whether Spunk is entering the mainstream. We will write a custom essay sample on Peer assessment or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Bringing to question whether mainstream artist are turning to the Internet to discover more alternative looks to try and separate themselves.The notoriously homophobic music scene is having a change of heart. Over the past two years theres been a sudden change in urban music and slowly but surely it is coming full circle in hip-hop. The topic I speak of is homosexuality. On the heels of Frank Ocean addressing widespread rumors about his sexual orientation, it appears a new wave of fearless young rappers is claiming their space In the world of hip-hop. Is hip-hop the last demographic to embrace the gay culture and leaving us with the question is homophobia in hip-hop at a tipping point?This piece will explore how cats such as Zebra Katz and Mike Blanch have helped with the first Queer rap crossover hits. It will demonstrate how the hip-hop genre has begun to embrace these new artists, who have come from the underground ball culture. Ball culture was a LBS. subculture that flourished in the sass, which consisted of lavish pageants drawing black and Latino crowds and awarding prizes for voicing, captured brilliantly In the 1990 documentary Paris Is Burning, a big Influence on Madonna. Fittingly, In Early November 2012, The Independent did a story called New gay club nights bring hop-hop out of the dark Which highlights the current relationship change and how hip-hop is readdressing its attitude towards homosexuality. Ultimately. Com Ultimately is a print and interactive transmuted company that focuses upon music, fashion and art for young, international taskmaster and is aimed towards promoting the arts in todays industry. Bullet tends to focus more upon the latest trends and youth within the industry yet keeping it very professional when doing so. Letter magazine is quarterly released publication that launched in winter 2010 and IS currently available in 20 countries.The main primary target audience is B, CLC, CA; originally the website had aimed to target A class but thought that was too ambitious for a recently released magazine. I believe these pitches are suitable for this magazine as they are relatable to their target audience that is mainly the youth of today, ages 18 30. When analyzing the website I found similar articles which specifically accompanied both my trend report and feature. The stories can be quite humorous and making a mockery of certain artists at times (I. E I-J X-Factor stars Little Mix ruin/improve Uniform and Sons I will wait).