MPA Student Work

2009-09-30T00:28:00.000-07:00

Sept.23, 2009
Teacher - Smiti Sood
Grade6 - Science
Students are learning the different methods of separation of mixture :- sedimentation,decantation,filtration and centrifugation

2009-09-29T23:16:00.000-07:00

Date : Sept 11, 2009
Grade6 - Science
Activity on : States of Matter
Students of Grade6 prepared a chart by categorizing and posting the different properties of matter

2009-04-27T20:24:00.000-07:00

Grade 6
Science students are studying the concept of reflection using plane mirrors.

2009-04-23T01:38:00.000-07:00

EARTH DAY
Suggestions

Grade I & II

1. We will never throw trash on the ground. –Siri Avtar
2. I will not waste water. – Sahil

Grade IV

1. Never waste resources, food, electricity, water and always pick up trash if you see it. Save the world. – Guru Sundesh
2. Do not leave the water on when you brush your teeth. – Sadhana
3. Save light. Do not leave the light on when you go to sleep. – Sukhmani
4. Grow more trees and turn off the lights when you leave the room. – Mehtaab
5. Do not waste food. Do not use polybags. – Sarah

Grade V

1. Don’t waste food ,take as much as you need and if you finish that you can get more.- Gurudev

Grade VI

1. Start a compost pit. – Siri Dharam Kaur
2. Recycle bottles.- Guru Kartar Kaur
3. Use trash bins.- Jeewan Jot Singh
4. Judicious use of water and electricity, avoid wastage of food. -. Harman

Grade VII

1. To reduce the flow of the toilet water fill a water bottle with sand, screw it tightly and put it on the toilet. – Prithipal Pal
2. People should stop throwing garbage everywhere and use trash cans because we have a lot of them. – Sat Paul
3. Turn off lights and electrical gadgets when not using them. – Dev Amrit
4. To reduce water wastage. If it is yellow let it mellow and if it’s brown flush it down. – Simran
5. While you are in the shower close the water when you don’t need it. – Parmatma
6. I will always throw trash in the trash can. – Siri Sham
7. Don’t leave the tap open. – Harbhajan
8. I will always close the taps completely, - Manee
9. The school should get recycling bins to reduce wastage and reuse paper. – Ratnavali
10. We should not throw food in the dustbin. – Jatan
11. We should dump the garbage at one point till it decomposes and reuse it as fertilizer. – Anuradha

Grade VIII

1. When we are not in our rooms we should turn off the lights.- Ramneek
2. We can use less plastic bags.- Guru Fateh
3. Fix all the faucets and shower heads so that they don’t leak anymore. Bring recycling to MPA and try to enforce it as much as possible.- Hari Simran

Grade IX

1. We can have a compost pit near the dining hall for leftover food which can later be used as fertilizer. Each one can plant a flower or bush on the campus.- Hargobind
2. Recycling bins be kept in each classroom. We can use the same bus so that the air does not get polluted. – Jaspreet
3. We can recycle plastic from our milk packets. – Ikiran
4. We should not waste paper because it is made from trees.- Jessica
5. We should turn off all the lights and fans when we leave the room. – Amrita
6. Recycling bins should be placed all over the school. – Siri Simran
7. Reuse of sculptures and canvas. – Harnarayan
8. Use laptops instead of notebooks and don’t waste paper. – Sat Kartar
9. School should use recycled paper for MPA notebooks. – Sukhjit

Grade X

1. Turn off geysers at night. – Teo
2. Install solar panels for electricity. – Savitri
3. Keep lights off when not in the room. Change tube lights into low wattage bulbs. – Ad Sach
4. Once a month or once week electricity should be turned off for the entire night. – Dharam Gian K
5. We should buy new buses that aren’t as polluting as the ones we are using now. We can save so much fuel. – Yoan
6. All MPA students and staff should switch off lights at night. – Akin
7. MPA should start using recycled paper only. We should never use disposable cups and plates which are used in our functions. I bet these badges are not made from recycled paper. – Gobind
8. Turn off the lights when not being used. – Siri Tapa
9. Close the tap while brushing your teeth. – Ken
10. No hair spray, shower should stop giving water after seven minutes, no littering , energy saving light bulbs should be used, solar power and insulated devices be used, use fans instead of AC – Tarun, Tripta

Grade XI

1. Use more natural sources of light and energy and be more electricity conscious. – GAHK
2. Atomized taps save water, blow dryers save paper. – Hari Miter
3. Save energy by switching off water heaters and geysers throughout the day until you need to shower. – Siri Krishna
4. Take as much food as required. Don’t waste. – Puneet
5. Solar energy should be used rather than using excess of fossil fuels. – Line
6. Instead of having all the students standing at attention, they could have trash duty or work like mowing lawns. – Ram Das
7. Cover MPA buildings with solar power to save money and have clean energy.- Amar Atma Singh
8. I am in favor of planting trees and making earth green – Preet Grover
9. The school should buy sprinklers instead of flooding the grass with water with giant hoses, people should take shorter showers which would save excess use of water.- Dev Dharam
10. We should have special trash cans for milk packets and coke bottles brought to the dorms and they should be recycled. – Simran Pal
11. Reduce paper waste by reusing photocopied paper. – Jagat Jyoti Singh
12. Reduce wastage of paper by increasing the quality and reducing production. Use of washable ink will enable use of the same sheet of paper again and again.- Siri Parmeshar Singh

Grade XII

1. Each student should be given a potted plant to take care of during our stay in MPA. When it grows it can be planted in the school garden. – Atma
2. We should brush our teeth while taking a shower to save water.- Dharma
3. Switch off water coolers in winter to save electricity. – Satshabad
4. Put your trash in the trash bin instead of throwing on the ground. – Fynn

2009-04-19T20:40:00.000-07:00

Grade 8
Punjabi students are making Aloo Prantahas

Grade 9 & 10

2009-04-19T20:33:00.000-07:00

Grade 9
Biology Students are performing an experiment to show the test for carbon dioxide gas.

2009-04-19T20:28:00.000-07:00

Grade 7
Science students are viewing microbes on microscope and different specimens in science laboratory.

2009-04-19T20:22:00.000-07:00

Grade 6
Science students are giving presentation on the diseases - Bulimia, Polio and rabies.

2009-03-31T20:45:00.000-07:00

Grade 8
Science Students are learning yogurt and paneer(cheese).

2009-03-31T20:41:00.000-07:00

Grade 7
Science Students have made diagrams on the various topics of reproduction like fertilization, placenta, fetal growth, human life cycle etc.

2009-03-04T20:29:00.000-08:00

Human Respiratory System
by Bhagwati Kaur(Grade 11)

2009-03-04T20:24:00.000-08:00

Human Respiratory System
by Akaljeet kaur(Grade 11)

2009-03-04T20:10:00.000-08:00

Human Respiratory System
by Guru Amrit Hari Kaur(Grade 11)

2009-03-04T20:00:00.000-08:00

Diagram of Heart
by Sri Krishna(Grade 11)

2009-03-04T19:31:00.001-08:00

Grade 11
Biology students are learning the way of measuring Blood Pressure using Mercury Sphygmomanometer.

2009-02-26T19:52:00.000-08:00

Grade 8
Science students were taken to the wheat field to study its physical features and the types of weeds that grow along with the wheat crop.

2009-02-26T18:47:00.000-08:00

Grade 7th did a project to learn about how culture was transmitted in non written ways by making an African masks.

2009-02-17T18:37:00.000-08:00

Grade -10
Punjabi students are making kites and crosswords.

2009-02-11T18:50:00.000-08:00

Students of Grade 10 and 11 were given a topic “Should we respect our elders” to debate upon in their class. The debaters presented thought provoking ideas for and against the topic. The entire class participated actively in the discussion.

2009-02-11T18:33:00.000-08:00

Grade 11
Mathematics students were taught to understand and apply the concept of “Vertical Motion” of mechanics.

2009-02-11T01:26:00.000-08:00

Grade 6
Social Studies students learned about the comparison between U.S and Roman Government.They made a chart on 'COMPARING REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT'

2009-02-11T01:18:00.000-08:00

Grade 7
The social studies class was divided into groups and the Grade 7 students learnt about the Arabian Peninsula in SW Asia. They also learnt about leader Muhammad and religion of Islam followed by the Arabian people. They also learned about the shared views of Muslims, Christians and Jews. They understood the religious and political differences among the Muslim groups.

2009-02-11T00:50:00.000-08:00

Grade 9
Science students are seeing an animated process of digestion where different enzymes act upon food as it passes through the alimentary canal.

2009-02-11T00:35:00.000-08:00

Grade 8
Science students are learning to measure arterial blood pressure using sphygmomanometer and a stethoscope.

2008-12-21T21:20:00.000-08:00

Art students making murals in clay modeling workshop(work in progress)
Grade 10

Grade 9

Grade 5

Grade 6

Grade 4

2008-12-21T18:45:00.000-08:00

Grade 7
Science students are recording the speed of the ball using a meter scale and a stopwatch. Most of them had taken 2 seconds for covering 15 meters.

2008-12-10T00:11:00.000-08:00

Grade - 10
Students are placing stem cuttings of flowering plants for herbarium sheet.

2008-12-09T23:53:00.000-08:00

Grade - 5
Guru Dev is doing experiment to show that leaves transpire (loose water) through leaves

2008-12-03T00:12:00.000-08:00

Grade - 1 & 2
Students are learning mathematical concepts of addition and subtraction.

2008-12-02T23:52:00.000-08:00

Grade - 6
Students are making geometrical figures with the help of pop stickle sticks. They are also working on number game.

2008-12-02T01:14:00.000-08:00

Grade - 5
Guru Dev is working on a number game and multiplications Bingo game. He's also making a geometrical figure with pop sticks. He is working on decimals and fractions with the help of activity sheet.

2008-12-02T01:04:00.000-08:00

Grade - 4 Math students are working on multiplication concepts with the help of 'Bingo'. They are learning divisions with the help of stencil.

2008-12-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

Grade - 9 & 10 Art students are making murals in clay workshop(work in progress)

2008-12-01T21:22:00.000-08:00

Grade - 6 Subject - English

Students in these pictures are unfolding the ancient Greek play "Daman and Pythias" retold by "Fan Kissen". In a small group, students make their own script covering key events, taking clues about characters and plot from the original text. The performance of the same gave students through understanding of key elements of drama - stage directions, plot, character and dialogue.

2008-12-01T19:37:00.000-08:00

Grade – 10 Science Work

Germinating seeds in Petridishes

Students learning

* Structure of seeds

* Parts of a germinating seed

2008-12-01T18:59:00.001-08:00

English Work

2008-11-30T22:21:00.000-08:00

2008-11-30T21:50:00.000-08:00

2008-11-17T18:54:00.000-08:00

Grade 12 Art Class: Learning the traditional Indian art of applying "Mehndi" (Henna)

2008-11-12T07:49:00.000-08:00

Ratnavali of grade-7th making a diwali card.

2008-11-12T07:40:00.000-08:00

Punjabi class
Beautiful display of "DIWALI CARDS"by students of different grades.

2008-11-12T07:34:00.000-08:00

2008-11-09T20:09:00.000-08:00

Grade 9

Science Experiment on Osmosis in Biology Laboratory.

Students cut out potato cylinders and dip in sugar solution and water. The result was witnessed after a couple of hours as shown in the picture.

2008-11-09T19:49:00.000-08:00

Grade 8
Students view the reaction of metals with air, water and acid.
Adolfo view's cell structure under the microscope.

2008-03-31T22:11:00.000-07:00

Punjabi Class
10th grade
Students are learning words with flash cards

2008-03-30T21:15:00.000-07:00

Biology Class
Grade 11th
Students of 11th grade have made models in groups .

2008-03-30T21:04:00.000-07:00

Maths Class
10th , 11th & 12th grades

Students of maths class displayed their project work on the walls of the room.Each student took a topic and worked under the guideline of their teacher Satinder Singh.

2008-02-06T22:40:00.000-08:00

Chemistry Class

Grade 11th

The students are doing Atomic Structure. They made a chart to show discharge tube(discovery of cathode rays) and Rutherford's Scattering Experiment.

2008-01-20T22:17:00.001-08:00

Biology Class
Grade 10th
Students are watching a fungus through a microscope
Picture 1 : Dev Dharam
Picture 2 : Guru Har Narayan

2008-01-20T22:09:00.001-08:00

Science Class
Junior science room showing different types of clouds with hot air balloon

Science Class
Grade 7th
Students made charts to show different plant and animal tissues

2008-01-20T21:59:00.000-08:00

Morning Maths Class
Grade : 10th
Students working in a chill winter morning to finish their work

2007-12-10T22:38:00.001-08:00

Grade 8th
Science Class
Students doing project on structure of atom.

2007-12-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

Grade 12th

English Class

Students worked on their classroom library through their creative work.

2007-12-09T23:06:00.000-08:00

Grade 10th
Physics practical class
Students of tenth grade are making their practical files.

2007-12-09T23:02:00.000-08:00

Grade 6th
Science Class
Students in their science class made charts on different methods of seperation like magnetic seperation, loading , filteration and distillation.

2007-12-09T22:58:00.000-08:00

Grade : 3rd &4th
Science class
Students made chart on different clothes used in different seasons.

2007-11-25T21:34:00.000-08:00

Grade 6th
Science class
Students made pictorial presentation of a food chain

2007-11-25T20:17:00.000-08:00

Grade : 12th
English Class
Students are working on a book of their own choice creatively.

2007-11-12T22:29:00.000-08:00

Grade 8th

Science class

Project on cell organelles.

2007-11-07T22:38:00.000-08:00

Grade 9th
Students made diwali cards with a message in punjabi

2007-11-07T22:35:00.000-08:00

Grade 10th
Students made diwali cards in punjabi

2007-11-07T22:29:00.001-08:00

Grade 4th

The students are making Halloween cards.

Grade 6th

Students made diwali cards with a message for their parents

2007-10-25T23:39:00.000-07:00

Grade 6th
Punjabi Class
The students made charts on Punjabi Grammar which would assist them in spoken part in punjabi

2007-10-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

Grade 8th
Science Class
Student are making charts on the topics- Metals and their ores and Minerals and their uses.

2007-10-25T20:29:00.000-07:00

Grade 12th
Biology Class
Student are drawing diagrams of Mitosis. They enjoyed their work a lot.

2007-10-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

Grade 9th
Biology Class
Demonstration of experiment "To show that chlorophyll is necessary for photosynthesis" in the science lab.

2007-10-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

Math Class
Grade : 6th
The students are working on graphs. They are representing ordered pairs on co-ordinated graphs. The class had great fun to make different figures.

2007-10-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

English Class
Grade : 12th
Students are working on the short story A Cup of Tea and presenting the ideas through drawings.

Students are working on the novel Sidhartha by presenting the same in the form of a poem.

2007-10-14T23:13:00.000-07:00

Grade 11th
Images from Math class
The students of 11th grade are working on problems on real numbers.

2007-10-10T23:18:00.000-07:00

Grade 6th
English Class
The students are reading a wonderful novel The Little Prince these days. They showed their outstanding performance by making these charts which depict their understanding of the content.

2007-10-04T20:52:00.000-07:00

Physics Class

Grade 12th

Grade 12th students are working on equations of motion . They are solving numerical problems regarding the motion. The pictures show some students helping one another to solve the problems.

Guru Nam , solving a problem on linear equation and

how to apply it in a motion problem.

Rashmeen showing how to solve a linear equation

(cooperative learning)

Rashmeen is explaining to Hansmukh, a problem related to motion

2007-09-30T21:12:00.000-07:00

Math Class

Grade : 7th

We are working on decimals and fractions these days. Students have made beautiful charts and posters related to the topic.

2007-09-27T23:38:00.000-07:00

Social studies class

Grade 6th

The collage made by the two groups of the class was on the topic "Themes of Geography". The pictures illustrated each theme (location, place, region, movement and human environment interaction)

2007-09-27T23:27:00.000-07:00

Images from Socoal studies class

Grade : 3rd and 4th

The project on Community and its kinds. They have tried to show the communities they come from. Liberty Scott of grade 4th have written a poem on her home town and surroundings.

2007-05-16T05:11:00.000-07:00

Somehow, I missed posting this poem back in January when Ariel Retuta, Grade 12 first wrote it in response to an assignment to write a poem about anything she chose.

I Could Write About Anything

I could write about anything.

Should I write about Olympic swimming, hate, or sorrow?
Or passionately express my hopes for tomorrow?

Would it interest you to hear about my life?
Or should I entertain you by confessing that someday, I'd like to be his wife?

I know! You'd rather read about my dying mother.
Or maybe I'll descirbe the beauty of a woman...or a landscape...Or perhaps something other.

Could I tell you about the divine secrets that nature reveals?
No, no. I'll speak about my political views and how their damage is still unhealed.

They've cut the tits of the divine feminine, y'know!
And global warming is sure to kill the planat FAST and not slow.

Actrually, I think it will bore you if about that I sing.
How could I possibly please you? I could write on anything.

I know! I know! I'll write about art.
No wait! I'll tell a story of two siblings who were tragically forced apart.

Well, instead, let me lay out a beautiful sonnet.
Nah, it's a big waste of my time, honest.

I'll tell you about the scars my body holds.
No, I'll write on how life mystically unfolds.

Something more playful? How 'bout chess, or some kind of game?
Is that too light? I know! Would you like to know how a man is tamed?

Wait, wait. I'll bitch bout America being the world's super power!
No..I'll describe the passion of adolescent burning desires.

I could do anything really. Like the innocense of a child.
But now that I think of it, I should to something wild.

Hmm.. Maybe if I don't rhyme.
And make it really crazy. With aboslutely no
structure.
And a. mis.matching.
rhythem. With unnecessary stops.. and pauses.......
.
...
..
And maybe make a poetic revoluation with the "INTENTIONAL" lack of order. (It's art, I swear!!!)

No, that's stupid and doesn't make sense.
This poem is starting to make me feel tense.

I've got it:
I could write haikus.
Zen-like and with deep meaning.
Simple yet thoughtful.

On second thought, I've decided against it.
It's impossible for my mind and your liking to fit.

Could I possibly please all with my writing?
The answer is no. It's not worth my fighting.

I swear to God I'm trying and trying.
But if I told you I cared, I'd really be lying.

The bell has rung and I'm all out of time.
At least I wrote this poem with catchy rhymes.

2007-04-19T01:29:00.000-07:00

Fifth graders, while learning about the solar system made colorful pictures of planets. Simran Kaur shows her excitement about the display on the wall of the science classroom. The light bulb in the center depicts the sun.

2007-04-18T02:29:00.000-07:00

Students art work displayed in Annual Art Exibition 2007.

Wahe Guru Kaur

SriBani kaur Khalsa

Sri Deva kaur

Sri Simran kaur

Sat Shabd Singh Khalsa

Satnam Kaur

Sat Amrit Kaur khalsa

Sahib Simran Kaur

Onkar Kaur

Maria Fernanda

Hari Jot Singh Khalsa

Hari Simran Kaur Khalsa

Hargobind Singh Khalsa

Hargobind singh khasla giving finishing touch to his painting.

Hansmukh Kaur Khalsa

Gurusurya Kaur Khalsa

Guru Surya while painting on her canvas

Guru Raj Singh Khalsa

Guru Parkash kaur Khalsa

Guru Mitter Kaur khalsa

Guru Mitter Kaur Khalsa

Guru karam Singh Khalsa

Guru Fateh khalsa

Guru Amrit kaur Khalsa

Christipher John Tohabo

Dharmatama kaur

Guru Amrit Kaur Khalsa (Bibi)

Baldev Kaur Khalsa

Atma Kaur Khalsa

Amrita Kour Khalsa Wester

Amrita Kaur Kaur Khalsa

Amrita Kour Khalsa Wester

Amrit Saroop Kaur KHalsa

2007-04-17T02:33:00.000-07:00

Annual Art competition winners 2007

Drawing and Painting

Juniors

First Prize : Gurudev singh khalsa

Second prize: saibang kaur khalsa , Grade 5

Intermediates

First Prize: Gobind Singh Khalsa, Grade 8

Second Prize: Hargobind Singh wester, Grade-7

Seniors

First Prize; Hansmukh kaur khalsa , Grade 11

Second Prize; Amrita kaur khalsa ,Grade 11

Sculpture

Beginners

First Prize : Gobind Singh Khalsa, Grade 8

Second Prize: Amrit Pal Singh , Grade 8

Advance

First Prize: Guru Sewa Singh Khalsa ,Grade 11

Second Prize: Dharamatma Kaur , Grade 11

Photography

First Prize: Guru Surya Kaur , Grade 11

Second Prize: Gurnam Kaur , Grade 11

2007-04-12T21:29:00.000-07:00

Here's a poem written by Bibi of Grade Eleven, relating events from the novel Ceremony from the point of view of the mountain lion who appears to help the main character, Tayo, in completing his quest of healing.

Hope: A tale by Mr. Mountain Lion

Evil witchery rules the world.
Some have lost hope, but not me.
Oh no, not me!
You see, I have seen hope.
He is fading, but still here.
He roams the North Top,
in search of himself.
Determination rushes the muddled mine.
He will press on, he will fulfill his destiny.
Stars begin to fade,
the sky is a layer of trickery.
Hope, are you there?
The fly and humming bird grow weary,
their wings crumble into the unknown.
Mother Earth weeps as her skin cracks,
The aridness controls life.
Storm clouds, where have you gone?
Imprisonment was not made for you.
Faith is diminishing
The ceremonies are whisked away by lies.
Hope must be near.
Hollowness turns to feelings.
Feelings become confusion.
Confusion brings solutions.
Solutions excite change.
Hope's transformation awaits him.
With the wind, strength blows in.
The sunrise is waiting,
Hiding from Evil.
I catch a glance of Hope.
Pricked paws cause pain,
pain which means naught.
The shine of my fur peers through the blood,
Blood of the Zuni, Hopi, and Laguna.
It is washed away by newly fallen snow.
Evil, depart us.
The sacred animals have returned,
The spider woman's web, a sanctified haven.
Dark whorls shape-shift into a hazel enlightenment.
The water is back.
The storm clouds have come home.
Incomplete ceremonies come to an end.
Mother Earth is smiling.
The fly and humming bird want to rest,
Come home Hope, come home.
Evil witchery, be gone.
Your power becomes obsolete,
Hope grows stronger.
Temptations will try to weaken Hope,
BUT he's not what he once was.
Oh no, he's much stronger.
Corruption becomes humor able,
Hope begins to cackle.
The Evil will not work.
A detonation of relief explodes through Hope's body.
The world has defeated the Evil.
Hope has completed the ceremony.
Hope returns home,
Peace meets him at the door.
Grandma is there,
detached.
He has proven himself.
Welcome home Hope, welcome home.
The weight is lifted from my back,
I have done my job.
Hope is here, now and forever.

2007-04-11T21:57:00.000-07:00

Here's a creative assignment that Siri Bani Kaur aka Ananda Shanti Kuri Robles Gil wrote after reading the novel, Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko. She captures details of the themse of the novel while communicating her individual understanding of its essence.

The Ceremony

Running through the entrails of the world
Running through the Mother Earth
Running through Spider Woman
All the stories start creating sense
Everything is connected
Every single story it’s an essential star in the path of the ceremony
Without just one of these stars
The whole meaning of the sky would change
“The only cure I know is a good ceremony” She said
put your hand in the belly and feel it
feel the life, feel the rituals and ceremonies
they are not destroyed, they are not death
they do not stop, they keep growing and growing
loose your mind and feel them
The witchery can confuse you
The evil can make you believe the lie
Then you would forget Spider Woman
you would forget all the life that surrounds you
don’t believe in the witchery
don’t destruct yourself and everything else
don’t be part of the mighty evil
instead touch the belly, loose your mind and feel it
yes, return to your roots
escape from your jail
yes, touch the belly
and believe in the miracle
the magic of life
you are part of the life
So you are the miracle
The roots are inside you
Spider Woman lives within you
Can’t you feel her?
then touch the belly
it is not YOUR belly, it is THE belly
the entrails of the world
that connect us together
the whole story of the world is within you
not in the mind, you won’t find it there
Yes! There… in the belly
Where the Ceremony beats stronger and stronger
Can’t you feel it?
It is not YOUR Ceremony, it is THE Ceremony
We are all connected
even if you can’t feel it
even if you are in prison
yes even if you are prisoner of your own mind
even if you believe in death, in destruction
even if you can not see life
even if you do not know you are the Miracle
even then, Spider Woman lives inside you
hiding somewhere from your destruction
even if you do not want to feel her
she lives inside your belly
connecting you with everything she has created
making you the Miracle
you can deny her if you want to
just wait… wait… wait…
because she is getting stronger and stronger
soon
soon you won’t able to to deny her anymore
she will beat in your belly so hard…
you won’t b able to deny her anymore
“And in the belly of this story the rituals and
the Ceremony are still growing”
…still growing
…still growing
…still growing!
Set in motion now
Set in motion by our magic
To work for us
Set in motion now
Set in motion
To create
To make miracles
Life to work for us
Life to act for us
Performing the Miracle
For joy
For passion
For love
For the soul
The miracle!
Whirling
Whirling
Whirling
Whirling
Set into motion now
Set into motion.

2007-04-10T22:54:00.000-07:00

For her assignment for the novel Ceremony in grade 11, Guru Mittar wrote an essay about the role of his "friends" in the healing of the main character, Tayo. She bookended the essay section of the assignment with two paragraphs, one at the beginning and one at the end, written from the point of view of Tayo, commenting on his friends' struggle with alcohol and denial.

Tayo’s Healing

The beginning. When I look around me all I can see any more are the cylindrical beer bottles in the hands of my “friends”. Now all I can do is question whether or not I want to live that way. I know that it may be an easier way to heal but does that require me just numbing myself from the world and never facing my life. I look around at my friends and I can see that they have chosen this life style, as a way to cover up the pain or maybe as a way to just forget. Do I want to live like that? I need answers. I cannot just go on telling stories and drinking and never facing what’s in front of me, which is everything.

Tayo, the main character of Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko is on a journey to heal himself. He is challenged by his friends and by his mind. People all around him are using false methods of healing. They drink beer and tell stories as a way to cover up the pain they are feeling inside. His friends are blocks that are set up in his life, and he must find a way to distinguish who is really there for him and who is not. Either way all of his friends are there to help him grow. His ceremony would not have been completed without them.

Leslie Marmon Silko has added many instances in the novel when Tayo is faced with a decision to drink. His friends who do it regularly often ask him to join them. All of his friends have lost faith in the old ceremonies; society has made them forget how important the ceremonies are. They know only to drink as a way to hide their pain, “liquor was medicine for the anger that made them hurt” (40). They think beer makes them happy when on the contrary it makes them numb and in less control of themselves.

When they are drunk, they no longer remember the things, which hurt them. The war affected not only Tayo, but it just affected him in a deeper way. There is a part that shows how Harley was affected and how he only began to drink after the war “ Harley didn’t used to like beer at all, and maybe this was something that was different about him now, after the war” (20). Tayo does go with them a lot to drink and because of this he is able to see how idiotic they all get when they are drunk and it upsets him, but they don’t really have a choice: they have forgotten the other ways.

They also tell old stories of war and the times they were respected by the white people. By telling their stories they can remember the past and it continues to feel real. Their stories are what keep them going. The author writes “You don’t have anything if you don’t have the stories” (2), but then she also says “the only cure is a good ceremony…” (3) so his friends are never going to heal if they continue to live like this. The beer and the stories they tell will only get them so far.

Tayo’s friends in the novel help quicken the process of his ceremony, like the catalyst to his healing. Without them it would have taken a longer time for him to complete his ceremony. Because in some ways they are reflections of what he does not want to live like and of what he does not want to become, there are instances when he is with them listening to their stories or observing how drunk they are and he gets frustrated and disgusted by them. “Harley had vomited all over himself”… “One of them had pissed… the rubber mat at Leroys feet was wet” (168). These actions taken by his friends help push him, to make the decision not to drink, and to find other ways of healing himself.

One of the main problems for Tayo and his friends is the way society has set them up to believe things. This is also referred to by Silko as the “lie”. If his friends weren’t in constant need of feeling power and respect, they wouldn’t need to tell their war stories any more. Their use was only to remind them of the power they had. By them having to continuously talk about the past and the war, it also brings back the pain, which is then numbed by the alcohol. This is all a process, which was created by them, and society. It seems that if they didn’t let the lie control them, then they wouldn’t need the alcohol or stories anymore, and they could all heal in a proper way.

The lie was intended to make people feel lesser then others. It is all a corruption, and Tayo’s friends have all been captured by it. Tayo could also be if he hadn’t chosen to fight it. He was aware of the lie and how it affects people and how it had the power to affect him. “He cut into the wires as if cutting away at the lie inside himself” (191). His friends on the other hand didn’t have the knowledge and awareness to see how the lie was affecting them. “They would never be able to see what had been done to them or what they were doing to each other” (191).
The main person, who brought Tayo towards the completion of his ceremony, is Emo. He is the exact opposite of Tayo. He is war hungry and proud of the things he did “he poured the human teeth out on the table… they were his war souvenirs, the teeth he had knocked out of the corpse of a Japanese soldier”(60). He loves to create pain for people and in no way does he want to heal. Tayo can feel the hate that Emo has for him: “he looked across at Emo, and he saw how much Emo hated him”(42). Emo tests Tayo, provides him with a task, and in order to complete his ceremony he must conquer his mind and not fall into Emo’s trap.

Tayo finds out that he is going to be challenged by his friends, as his final step to the completion of his ceremony. This wasn’t easy for him to understand because he had grown up thinking that they actually were his “friends” and that they would be there for him no matter what. He understands they are going to turn on him soon after Ts’eh warns him, ‘“That leaves Emo and the others,’” she said. ‘“And that part wont be easy”’(233). Tayo says at one point that ‘“without friends he didn’t have a chance of completing the ceremony’” (241). He later realizes that this is true but not in the way he thought. He did need them in order to complete his ceremony but not in the normal “friends” way. They were there, as said before, to show him what he didn’t want to be, and they were there to test him and make him realize his strength over himself, and how he was in total control of his body mind and spirit.

During Tayo’s final test before the completion of the ceremony, Emo tries to make him fail by torturing one of Tayo’s friends: ‘“Scream…Scream loud so he can hear you’”(251). Emo wanted Tayo to fail but Tayo didn’t let them destroy him. He overcame his mind and learned not to let the lie and the witchery have power over him any longer.

Tayo completes his ceremony because of many things; he’s learned who he is, he has learned to control his mind: “the witchery had almost ended the story according to its plan; Tayo had almost jammed the screwdriver into Emo’s skull the way the witchery had wanted” (253). He knows that beer and stories won’t work to heal someone. But stories are very powerful and if the stories they had told weren’t about the war and didn’t constantly repeat what had happened then they could have been an aid in their healing. E.g. when Tayo tells Ku’oosh and the others what the steps of the ceremony included he was finally able to release what had happened to him. He told a good story. He also knows that he completed his ceremony with the help from his friends, they showed him he was in control. He no longer believed the witchery could work on him.

Tayo changed his destiny from what was planned for him to what he wanted it to be. If he had killed Emo then Emo would have won but since he refrained from that he could change his fate. Grandma says, “It seems like I already heard these stories before… only thing is, the names sound different”(260). If he had killed Emo then the names in the story that Grandma was telling would have included his own.

I’ve received my answers. I no longer question what my life will be like. How I want to live it is now known to me. I am in control of who I am and I can choose where my life will lead. My “friends” helped me figure this out and I am thankful to them for this.
No more beer, no more useless stories that contain no power. From now on the stories I tell will be the life changing ones, the stories I tell will be worth remembering.
The end.

2007-04-03T02:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a poem from Guru Sundesh, Grade 2:

Computer

A computer and the brain inside,

can drain a man's brain inside.

One sits outside, one sits in,

waiting for the battle ... who will

win?

2007-03-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

Here is an essay from Ruby Bissett, written as an assignment in her Grade 10 English class a few months ago.

My Family

Welcome to the Bissett family. We’re big, loud, and pure Aussie pride. I’m the only Canadian on my mum’s side, but that doesn’t stop my heritage from coming out.

I live in Vancouver, B.C., Canada, with my mum and my cat. We live in an apartment complex off of Commercial Drive, a spunky area in the Downtown East Side of Vancouver. The area is very multicultural, inhabited primarily by Italian, Portuguese, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Canadian families. My mum moved out of her parents’ house in Geelong, Victoria, Australia, when she was 22 to begin traveling around the world, and moved to Vancouver permanently when she learnt she was pregnant with me!

Neither of my parents are Sikh. My father is Christian (his dad was a priest), and while my mother does Kundalini Yoga she doesn’t follow a religion. When she was a child, she went to a Catholic all girls’ school, and my Nana brought my mum and her 9 other siblings up as Catholics, although they were never baptized. These days, the Bissetts aren’t very religious, but we all remember our spirituality and beliefs.

My entire family (on my mum’s side), aside from me, are from Australia. I’ve been to Australia twice, where I visited the twenty-something Bissetts inhabiting Geelong. The central meeting point is my Nana and Papa’s house, which my Pap designed and built himself in his earlier years. My family is a classic Australia family. All our pictures together are at a barbeque (or ‘barbie’), the men usually holding beer cans, and cricket is mandatory at every family gathering.

My father’s side is a touchy and generally unknown subject. I was born as a surprise to my dad, who wasn’t even there when I was born. I never knew this man very well. I’ve had a few encounters with him which weren’t the most pleasurable moments of my life. Nevertheless, I have faith that he will be able to change and I will perhaps be able to have a relationship with him.

My family is very complex but at the same time ridiculously similar. We come from many different worlds but we all have our “biscuit-brain” reputations to be recognized by. Some would say that I’ve had a tough upbringing but I’m grateful for what I’ve got.

2007-03-07T22:11:00.000-08:00

Here's an Identity poem in the form of a list of "I am ...." statements, done as an assignment in Grade 11 by Guru Seva Singh:

I am the sailor looking at the horizon
I am the desert at night
I am 3 races
I am 2 countries
I am 1 religion
I am none racism
I am a veg "torta" with everything in it
I am the hand that pounds one's back
I am the hour of the day in which one drinks tea
I am a smile

2007-03-06T22:27:00.000-08:00

For the Grade 9 alternate version assignment, Siri Parmeshar Singh wrote his version of the short story, "The Sniper" by Liam O'Flaherty. We believe his version is more interesting than the original. See if you agree ...

The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey a canal that ran through the city. Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war.

On a rooftop near O'Connell Bridge that ran over the Liffey, a Republican sniper lay and his sighter sat scoping through the dark streets of Dublin ravaged by war. The sniper’s face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. His mentor was the one that searched a called the shots he took them he was the killer and his master was the commander no more, and by the matter of the fact his was beginning to become fed up with his stringency. They both had experienced death to a degree that it seemed a blunt felling of grief that came and left in just as long.

The sniper was eating a sandwich hungrily. He had eaten nothing since morning. He had been too excited to eat. His sighter had eaten that morning and looked at him with a look of slight disgust that disturbed the sniper intensely. He finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask of whiskey from his pocket, he took a short drought. Then he returned the flask to his pocket. He paused for a moment, considering whether he should risk a smoke. It was dangerous. The flash might be seen in the darkness, and there were enemies watching. He decided to take the risk.

Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match. But as the flame lit a gun cracked a bullet flashed and the sighter’s brains were displayed across the rear wall in a crimson mess. He inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. He did not shake or stir his heart beat did not speed and his hands stayed completely still. The sniper may have lost his sighter but again the feeling came and went plus due to the angle of the gory display on the staircase wall he knew exactly where his enemy was sitting. The sniper took another whiff and put out the cigarette. Then he swore softly and crawled away to the left.

Cautiously he raised himself and peered over the parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped immediately. He began to load his rifle and take aim but realized that his enemy was in too much cover to be reached he had to move.

He rolled over the roof to a chimney stack in the rear, and slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to be seen--just the dim outline of the opposite housetop against the blue sky. He could now see his enemy’s right shoulder and there was something about the band on his arm that sent a shot of apprehension through him, but he disregarded it. Back to killing, he would fire upon his arm but he had to ensure that he was dead, back up was the last thing he was interested in at that point.

Just then an armored car came across the bridge and advanced slowly up the street. It stopped on the opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. The sniper could hear the dull panting of the motor. His heart beat faster. It was an enemy car. He wanted to fire, but he knew it was useless. His bullets would never pierce the steel that covered the gray monster. Unless of course he could hit the thin layer of metal that covered the fuel can, but how? The fuel can was located on the rear of the tank just above the right tire, he was facing the left side. He did spot a plate of scrap metal four to five inches thick behind the truck but if he didn’t get it just right they would learn of his location and it would all go to waste.

Then round the corner of a side street came an old woman, her head covered by a tattered shawl. She began to talk to the man in the turret of the car. She was pointing to the roof where the sniper lay. An informer.

The turret opened. A man's head and shoulders appeared, looking toward the sniper. He was found now what had seemed like a risk never worth taking had become his only way out. The sniper raised his rifle and fired. But not on the man or the woman, at the scrap of metal. The bullet he fired hit and ricocheted directly into the edge of the fuel tank. Perfect. A shot only the best of the best could perform.

The explosion was an intense but contained burst of flames that shot out of every open window of the tank and sent it flying up. If it weren’t for the given situation the informer may have survived, unfortunately she was in the middle of a war. The men within the tank were surely no more than ash, but it seemed for last seconds of there lives that they had screamed so painfully that it had actually shook although only for a moment, this demented soldier’s calm state.

Suddenly from the opposite roof a shot rang out, the battle had begun and he knew that only one of the two of these men would walk away. The sniper thought the noise would wake the dead. He began to reload his rifle when a bullet whizzed right past his head, he felt the brick shatter and peg the back of his head. He dropped and rolled finding any cover possible. He finished reloading his rifle, he had some real competition.

He found a small pile of bricks by the staircase that he could use for temporary cover. Fortunately his opponent had become quite boasted from all of the close calls causing the sniper to flee from fire and had not bothered to call for back up.

Then he lay still against the bricks, and, closing his eyes, he made an effort to think, to calculate, to center and to kill. The enemy on the opposite roof covered his escape. He must kill that enemy and pure skill was not enough, not here. Then that weird feeling of unease form the armband, why was it familiar. Then he thought of a plan.

Taking off his cap, he placed it over the muzzle of his rifle. Then he pushed the rifle slowly upward over the parapet, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a report, and a bullet pierced the center of the cap. The sniper slanted the rifle forward. The cap clipped down into the street. Then catching the rifle in the middle, the sniper dropped his left hand over the roof and let it hang, lifelessly. After a few moments he let the rifle drop to the street. Then he sank to the roof.

Crawling quickly to his feet, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His ruse had succeeded. The other sniper, seeing the cap and rifle fall, thought that he had killed his man. He was now standing before a row of chimney pots, looking across, with his head clearly silhouetted against the western sky.

The Republican sniper smiled and lifted his revolver above the edge of the parapet. The distance was about fifty yards. He took a steady aim. His hand trembled with discomfort. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath through his nostrils and then just before he fired he pulled back shooting far off realizing what the band signified it was his battalions band before he left the army. A terrible feeling formed within his gut. He had by mistake attacked an ally, and he was now aware of his presence un-aware of there alliance and he didn’t have a gun.

Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across and uttered a cry of sudden fear. His enemy had heard the shot and was pointing his rifle right at him. Everything seemed to slow down a second went by and his teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody. Another few seconds it seemed although he knew that not even a second had passed. Then he heard a loud crack, a flash and a bullet was spinning at him. Again a few seconds went by and he remembered his brother and his father and all the time he spent with them. Another second and he felt an intense heat within his head, a blinding white light and then nothing just pure, black nothing.

2007-03-06T22:07:00.000-08:00

Here is an excerpt from an assignment by Prabhjot Kaur Virk, Grade 9, where she writes an alternate ending to the story "The Most Dangerous Game" by Richard Connell. She worked on it for weeks, and it's so long, we can only give you a taste. Her version starts after the **************

Rainsford did not smile, “I am still a beast at bay,” he said, in a low hoarse voice, “Get ready General Zaroff.”

The General made one of his deepest bows, “I see,” he said. “Splendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds, the other will sleep in the excellent bed. On guard Rainsford….”

*************************************************************With those words General Zaroff lunged at Rainsford but Rainsford was ready for the attack. He quickly sidestepped and punched General Zaroff in his stomach. For a moment General Zaroff stood there with the wind blown out of him. He tried to punch Rainsford but Rainsford stopped the punch, and returned one right to General Zaroff’s face. General Zaroff lay on the floor, blood coming out his mouth and it looked like he might be choking.

Rainsford was about to attack again when he heard someone knocking on the door. His first instinct was to hide, but when he heard women’s voice calling for General Zaroff to open the door, his curiosity got the better of him. He walked over to the door and slowly opened it. He felt a great blow on his head and in seconds he was on his knees holding his head. He looked up through the searing pain and his mouth fell open. There in front of him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He looked at her taking everything about her in, from the dirty bloodstained dress to the beautiful face. She was just a little shorter than he was, “Just the perfect height,” Rainsford thought to himself. Her hair had dirt in and was in a braid but it still looked like flowing wheat. She looked a little pale and skinny but was still very radiant. In a proper unstained dress she would look like a goddess. She was holding a baseball bat in one hand. That was what she had hit him over the head with.

She smiled and said apologetically, “I am so sorry good sir, I had not meant to hit you. I thought you were the General for a second, though I don’t know how I could have thought such a thing. I mean you are so much more handsome. Hahahaha!” Her voice got very serious and she continued, “You see I have been waiting, no hiding from General Zaroff, lingering at every corner so I could keep my promise to my father. I thought tonight would be the perfect time, while he would be expecting you, he would find me, a person he thought dead long ago.”

At that moment Rainsford looked at General Zaroff and saw the way he was looking at the woman. His eyes were very wide as if he was in shock and he was trembling all over. There were beads of sweat sliding down his face. What type of woman could strike such fear into a man, Rainsford wondered.

The woman continued, “I have been waiting so long to hunt the hunter but I have had no success. I have been living in a small cramped closet for six months. Ivan felt pity on me and used to bring me food and water. That’s right Zaroff your Ivan brought me food and water. I have been gathering strength so that one day I could kill the man I once called brother,” She sighed a title no longer worthy of him. He killed both my parents in the game. My father died saving me and when he was taking his last breaths I vowed it would be me that killed General Zaroff. Any man that can kill hisown father and mother deserves to die.”

Rainsford looked at Zaroff with pure loathing and horror “Your own parents,” he said in a shaky whisper, “How can anyone kill the people that raised them, the people that worked hard every day just so that you could be happy. It’s just not right.”

General Zaroff was trembling and tears were sliding down his face and mixing with the blood coming from his mouth. He looked really pathetic and weak, not like the crazy mad man he looked like when he was hunting. Ransford almost felt pity on him but it was the kind of pity you would give to a lion, the king of the jungle, when it is dying. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out. He took a long shivering breath, and then whispered in a pleading voice, "Please, Liza, I didn't mean for our parents to die. I was just ... I was just ... just playing. I never meant it to go that far but Father made me angry and I shot." He sobbed and suddenly screamed a sound that would send a chill down any man’s spine. He continued, “I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. I was just playing. I never meant for it to go that far but father made me angry.” He kept sobbing and crawled to touch the edge of her skirt. The lady, no Rainsford thought her name was Liza, Liza was crying and looking at Zaroff with a mixture of hope that he meant what he said and with the sorrow of knowing that Zaroff would never mean any of it.

All of a sudden Zaroff got up and grabbed the bat from Liza’s hands and threw the bat to the other side of the room. Zaroff looked at Liza with great loathing and punched her very hard in the stomach. She immediately started coughing. He took advantage of that moment and shoved her head against the wall. Her forehead had a gash in it and was bleeding, but she still kept struggled though her punching was getting weaker.

Rainsford came up behind Zaroff and punched him on the back of his head.That one moment gave Liza enough time to crawl away. Rainsford punched Zaroff a couple more times and held him up. “He’s all yours my lady. Now you can complete your vow to your father,” Rainsford said.

Liza didn’t need any prompting. She drew out a gun from the hem of her sleeve. She asked Rainsford to move out of the way ...

2007-03-06T00:39:00.000-08:00

Here's a poem written by Sat Singh, Grade 10, which he also read at the recent Poetry Cafe:

My Nightmare

I have this dream
I’m in a building
I’m scared
Something is chasing me
I don’t know what
I start to run
I trip and fall
I try to get up
It is hard
Slow
Too slow
My movements are like honey dripping from spoon
I panic
There is a crack in front of me
I jump
Too short
I fall...
That’s when I wake up

2007-03-06T00:18:00.000-08:00

The Grade 10 English class recently read Ray Bradbury's novel, Fahrenheit 451. Here are Sat Shabd Singh's thoughts on the ideas of the dystopia created by Ray Bradbury, which bans book reading and burns books. To Sat Shabd, the urge to read books is an itch that must be scratched.

The Human Itch

If the main Fahrenheit 451 society ideology was implemented in our lives the spread of different ideas would be almost completely destroyed. It would significantly slow down the progress of our intelligence. Books give me ideas; they make me feel different and unique. Books let me get lost into a new world away from my troubles and they allow me to be me. I need them late at night and in math class and when I’m sad or when I need to re-look the world in the eyes. I want to feel the characters and ideas, plot, problems, setting year, solutions all swirling around in my head.

I strongly believe that any and everyone who wants the feeling should have this feeling, should be free to take any means necessary to obtain it (besides causing harm of course). It is vitally important to the progress of mankind for every single human to have different ideas otherwise single sight would make us blind.

I believe in the Itch. Sometimes I get that Itch, that one for a new idea, a new book, something to explore, some thing to … read. If I or any other human can’t scratch that itch I believe it will fester and become negatively infected and come out in some form, such as book burning. It’s important to scratch that itch so that you can never be satisfied with just one idea. So you will be open minded and ready to listen to the new ideas so that you can be satisfied with knowing you know more than you know, what is believed you know.

2007-03-06T00:12:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, the Grade 10 English teacher, Rajbir Kaur, asked the students to write about what superpowers they would want to have. Here is one response from Sat Nam Kaur:

My Superpower

I already have my superpowers. No need to make it up. Have you ever wondered how superheroes feel about their superpowers? I think it is just as normal to them as ours are to us. Superpowers are usually used to save people, help others and make them feel better.

I have the power of a smile that I can give to people. If I give my smile and my hug to someone that is feeling sad and rejected, I might save them from a few hours of crying and feeling alone and hated. And if I really want to help them and keep them from falling into negativity, I use my power of listening, and making them feel understood. Then I use my power of words to help them figure out a way to solve their problems. And then I use the biggest superpower of all, a good laugh. That bans the evil darkness of depression for a little while and lets that person enjoy life for a little bit. And you might even have a little fun on your own while you’re at it.

And that is only a small example of what our superpowers can do. Most people look for superpowers on the outside, wishing to have them, not seeing that they already do. People dream of flying, well, people fly. They dream of being able to read someone else’s thoughts, well, people do. You just have to realize and see what you have, grab it, and use it. Build up on it. Activate it.

What I want to work on and bring into my life right now is healing by the touch of hand. Using my energy to help someone discover some more of themself, some more of their superpowers by helping them work through their blocks.

There is also the power of love and friendship. When you love, you can do things and know things that you usually wouldn’t, which is actually because of your intuition. If something terrible happens to a child that is very much loved by its mother, the mother will know exactly that moment, that something is wrong. Intuition is also what tells you to stop for no reason at all, and then a fast car comes by that would have hit you if you wouldn’t have stopped.

Every one has these superpowers and many more, that’s probably why nobody recognizes them as superpowers. But I think we should, because we can be pretty powerful. And life is a lot more fun if you see it like that. Go ahead and try!

2007-03-06T00:00:00.000-08:00

At the end of Part One of the novel, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, Grade 10 students were asked to write the next part of the novel before reading on. Here is Amrita Kaur's prediction, followed by Dharma Kaur's:

Beatty was standing outside, listening to Montag’s voice, reading out loud: “It is computed that eleven thousand persons have at several times suffered death rather than submit to break their eggs at the smaller end.”

He had faked to be walking away, but he had stayed. Montag had fallen for it.
He went to the firehouse to call an alarm.

When the firemen returned to Montag’s house, they searched everywhere, but they couldn’t find even a single book. Beatty was not convinced that Montag destroyed all of them. They were hidden somewhere.

But he had no proof, so he took off with the other men. The salamander drove away in the pouring rain.

As soon as they were gone for sure, Montag ran out in the garden to save the books from the rain. He had hid them under a little bush. But they were all soaked. He had no choice but to destroy them. He threw them in the incinerator with a deep sigh.

Beatty watched him carefully the next few days. One night about two weeks after, Montag’s hands couldn’t help but take a book. While shoving it under his jacket, he saw Beatty watch him out of the corner of his eye. He knew that Beatty would burn his house tonight.

Montag got out of the firehouse. It was dark all around, except for the streetlamp across the street. He breathed in the fresh cold evening air.

And then he started running. The book in his hand, he ran as fast as he could.

And he just kept on running.

_____________________________________________________
Prediction by Dharma Kaur

Montag stayed up all night reading and re-reading, trying to find something that made the least bit of difference. Still he found nothing, he found not one little piece of information that could unravel this mystery, this puzzle that he concocted for himself.

The next morning Montag awoke to the front door, scared, he called to Mildred. “Millie,” he whispered as not to be heard by whoever was at the front door.

“Millie!” Again there was no answer. “Millie, please answer me”.

“What?” She calls, annoyed at his secretive, nervous behavior.

“The door, there is someone at the door.” He looks at the books, then the door, then back at the books. “What should we do?” Mildred just sat in the living room staring at the walls. Quickly Montag took the books and shoved them into his secret hiding place in the air conditioning vent. “Millie answer the door.”

“Hello, what do you want?” Montag heard. “No, my husband isn’t here right now, you can come back a little later and maybe he will be back.” He felt the weight lift off his shoulders for a fraction of a second but then realized in a panic, what will I do if they come back?

Montag sat for a second listening to the aunts jabbering away in the parlor, who will help me? Who can give me a clue to what I can do? He than remembered the old man he met in the park. He ran to the phone and called the professor. “Hello this is Guy Montag”.

“What do you want?” said Faber.

“I need your help; I need you to answer some questions for me.”

There was no answer for awhile but than slowly Faber said “Okay I will meet you in the park.”

When Montag got to the park the old man had been sitting there for quite sometime, it seemed. He had made himself comfortable, but when he saw Montag he seemed to tense up. “Hello, what can I help you with?” he asked.

“Well” said Montag “I want to ask you about books”. As Montag said this the man seemed to slowly edge away as if Montag was a snake waiting to attack. “No, don’t worry” Montag was desperate and didn’t want Faber to leave. “I won’t report you or what we talk about I just have some unanswered questions.”
The professor stopped “You?” he said, puzzled. “Okay sit down.” Montag took a seat relieved that Faber had not run away. “What do you want to know?”

“What can I do to break free from the parlor walls and bring back the books and the old ways?”

Faber sat for a moment pondering Montag’s question. “Well, we need a plan.”

Montag walked to the firehouse and on his way he thought about everything. Himself, Faber, Millie, Clarisse, The hound, Beatty, Faber, Millie, Clarisse, The hound, Beatty, Millie, Clarisse, The hound, Beatty, Clarisse, The hound, Beatty.

Could we really bring the books back? Focused on their plan, he realized there was a chance but everything had to go perfectly.

As he walked into the firehouse, he saw the hound sleeping in its kennel, eyes glowing. “That’s the first thing that’s gonna go” he whispered to himself. Tiptoeing through the deserted rooms he finally came to the truck, the Salamander. Montag lifted the hose and unhooked it from the kerosene tanks. Carrying the hose and the tanks he made his way back to the hound. As he came into the room a wisp of green light was visible at the corner of his eye. Montag was on a mission. He paid no attention to the hound making its way closer and closer to its prey. Before it reached him, Montag rehooked the hose to the kerosene tanks and turned it on. As the hound extended its morphine needle towards him, he turned around and as expertly as any fireman could, he let the kerosene pump through the hose. He suddenly felt terrible. The old feeling of happiness and of being in control, when he had the hose in his hand, was now lost to him. As quickly as he could he finished the job. Taking a match from the box in the corner he lit it with one small flick of his wrist.

Montag could smell the kerosene burning as he left the station. Without looking back he left all he had known for ten years consumed in flame, burning to the ground. All he could think of as he walked away was Clarisse asking him “Are you happy?” now without any hesitation, walking down the street in the light of the moon he could give her an honest answer.

2007-02-15T13:30:00.000-08:00

Gurmit's Science class's molecular state of matter models

When Gurmit was teaching molecular arrangement in different states of matter to the 6th graders, she came up with an idea of model-making with clay for solids, liquids, and gases so that the concept is clear to them. Here are a few pictures of their models so that you can also enjoy them.

2007-02-15T13:07:00.000-08:00

Do you want to know what the junior scientists in Gurmeet's class are doing these days? They are busy nurturing their grain plants which they have grown in the backyard of the girls' dorm. And now they are planning to grow radish plants.

2007-02-15T12:14:00.000-08:00

Plaster Sculptures

Gurinder and Davinder, the art teachers, would like to share with you the finished plaster sculptures from both the regular art class and from the extracurricular evening class.

Simran Kaur's "Tree"

Saibhang Kaur's "Stars"

Sarabsaraswati's Sculpture

Ad Such's "Fire"

Gobind Singh's "Khanda"

Amritpal's "Form"

Guru Fateh's "Monster"

Hargobind painting his "Fireman"

Hargobind's "Fireman"

Gurudyal's "The Rock"

Maria Fernanda's "My Life"

2007-02-08T09:48:00.000-08:00

Here is a poem by Baldev Kaur, Grade 12:

Inside my heart

My mind is changing trying to follow my heart
I don’t know if my beliefs are real,
or simply just a dream.
I can see an opening in my life
It makes me feel something in between awake and asleep.
I know it is not the same to think and to actually do.
My beliefs are my hopes, my joys and my fears.
My head is stuffed with thoughts, memories and beliefs
but neither of them will stay in peace.
I feel drowning in a glass of water,
I feel this is like the night eating shadows.
But after all it’s a duality,
a fight between me and … me.
So I decide to go along the path,
I may get lost,
but I will always get somewhere else,
as it is meant to be.

2007-02-08T09:46:00.000-08:00

In response to an assignment to write a performance style poem addressed to a person, place or object, Hari Simran Singh, Grade 12, wrote this:

Time Means Nothing To Mum-Raaa!!

You tick and you tock
But I never know what you’re talking about
It’s ticking me off.
You act like you’ve got
Some really great reason
For telling me
To get to formation.
Get out of my face
You mindless, gear-driven automation!
Analog or digital I’m absolutely sick of you.
Everyone always says O clock this and O clock that
But I do not praise you.
I know the games you play.
You think this is “red-light-green-light”
Running fast
Whenever I turn my back.
Ignorance is my weapon
Against your fascist oppression.

2007-02-08T09:40:00.000-08:00

The Grade 11's were given the assignment to write a poem capturing a moment. Here are two, one by Fateh Singh and one by Dharmatma Kaur, with very different sentiments: one to make you laugh, the other to make you cry.

Sparking Moment
by Fateh Singh

A sparking moment
I’m supposed to write

So I will say it
in this light

I cannot think
of what to say

So I will write
‘bout this today.

I do not have
one memory

Of any moment
that brings to me

That inspiration
to write something

With rhyming lines
that you can sing

I hope that this
you’ll still accept

As my classwork
though it hasn’t kept

To the assignment
you have given

But this is what
I have written.

____________________________________________________________

Lady
by Dharmatma Kaur

The sound of hoof stepping on the cold black tar
The feeling… knowing something is wrong
Panic coming up inside of me
Panic that now the time has come
Panic that now it is, to say Goodbye
The hope that nothing is happening
The hope it is not the time to say Goodbye
The fear of losing Lady
The fear of death taking away what I love
Knowing that I will miss her more than I already do
Saying Goodbye in a language which she does not understand but
I know she does…
I understand what she is telling me…
And both we try to run away
Both we drown in our memory
We go back one more time,
Until death takes her away from me.

2007-02-08T09:16:00.000-08:00

The Grade 11's recently wrote poems about place. As you can see below, the choices were varied, and the metaphors were mighty.

Baia Mare

By Atma Hari Kaur

Baia Mare is a girl.

Her voice is calling me home, wherever I go

She’s waiting patiently and when I come she opens her arms and says “You’re home”.

The grains are her golden hair.

The fire is on her lips and the sky on her eyes.

Her teeth are made of gold and her skin is made of snow.

She smells like homemade bread

The nature is her bed.

And once you’ve seen her you fall in love.

Forever she will be your home.

_______________________________________________

America
By Guru Amar Kaur

Land of the free, home of the brave, they say.
An overpowering, wasteful, careless little child, I say,
that grabs what it wants and doesn’t listen to reason.
It takes what it sees, then forgets and moves on.
The ever-growing, unstoppable anthill that never ends,
and never pauses.
But it also is the savior of the downtrodden.
The haven for those ground beneath the heel
of all those that name themselves high & mighty,
so that the spurned ones might pick themselves back up again
and begin something new and great.
America is the great river pulling everything along with it,
roaring defiance and tearing down
anything that stands in its path.

__________________________________________________

(This one by Harijot Singh is a response poem to a positive poem about Espanola by Ms. Bentley)

The Espanola game puts its players to shame

What is it that makes people think Espanola is great
It’s a place only a gila monster would go to mate

Is it the strange appeal of hard dry land
Or the Radio Shack where five robberies were planned

Is it taste buds disgraced by green chile eaten in haste
is it the dry old man at the texico station

the truth of the matter …it’s the nuclear test site radiation.

___________________________________________________________

Punjab
by Gurusurya Kaur

A color picture in a black and white newspaper:
vivid ,unmistakable.
A blaring speaker
So loud you can almost see the sound.
An uneven spoke
on an ever turning wheel.
Its belly holds a nation of fertile grounds:
Feeding many a hungry mouth
To many this is third world,
To me it is my first.

_____________________________________________________________

India
by Ram Das Singh

A place where fantasies and nightmares reside,
A place that culture surpasses any boundary,

India is a place I couldn’t ever call home

India is a child excluded from a game,
Wishing to be “just like everyone else”

India is a shelter-less single mother,
Fighting to provide for her litter

India is a bare-ribbed mutt, scrounging for scraps,
Finding only the cold hearted kick of a worn chuppal

India is a harsh word from a loved one,
Their words ripping more painfully than a serrated knife

India is the place I now call home.

___________________________________________________________

My new found home
by Wahe Guru Kaur

The golden Temple is a place of ease,
letting your mind realize, your worries are smaller than they seem.

The cold marble under your feet like a cold stone path to infinity.

Cooling under the sun, but an icy devil
crawling through your feet beneath the moon.

The Golden Temple is countless bowed heads, prayers of the heart, dust of devoted feet, and millions of inspirations.

Sitting inside the Golden Temple is like being in your mother's lap once again.

______________________________________________________________

Portland
by Hari Amrit Singh

Where oak and pine bombard the senses
Stargazing atop a mountain with your friends
This Is Portland
An Evergreen La-Z Boy chair,
Where the worries of the world are left behind
This Is Portland
A granola munching Caucasian Rastafarian,
Zach’s Shack at 3 am,
A drink on Tabor after a long day
An oasis the world
That, is Portland

______________________________________________________________

Los Angeles
by Sat Amrit Kaur

The plasticized celebutant
Who throws her life away,
In the asphalt and concrete paradise,
Where the blue collar man,
With the family of four to feed,
Is laid off from work.

He was paving your sunshine highway
With someone else’s dreams,
Now he drives the Sunset Strip
Along the moonlit mile
Then on to Mulholland.

The city, it never sleeps.
A melting pot,
A conundrum.
Where corrupt angels dwell.
They call it, “our home”
“Our city,” they say.

It’s that perfect wave.
You know,
The one that killed the surfer.
I dove in optimistic
And came out disappointed.

Look how beautiful!
The starless sky!

The land of the Holly
The Wood
And the Vine.

It speaks through its body
And pulsates in Time.

2007-01-30T22:44:00.000-08:00

Denizens of Dystopia

The Grade 12 English class read the novel The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood and each wrote an analytical essay on an aspect of the novel. Here is Dev Darshan Kaur's:

Denizens of Dystopia

In Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale the characters all serve a similar purpose: to provide an explanation and understanding of the structure of the society to the reader. While the main characters must aid in plot and story development, there are some minor characters whose only purpose is to provide a clearer picture of the setting. However, Atwood is extremely skilled at incorporating these characters into the plotline of the novel. These characters are essential to the reader’s full comprehension of the world Offred inhabits.

One of the first minor characters that provides us with insight into the working of Offred’s mind is Aunt Lydia. Aunt Lydia’s character provides a view of how the society is producing its Handmaids. Offred’s references to Aunt Lydia are always in the form of ideas she has continuously repeated and instilled into the Handmaids at the Red Center. Offred seems to associate all philosophies and ideals of the Republic with the personality of Aunt Lydia. Aunt Lydia was Offred’s first encounter with her new position in life, and she represents the control the society has over women, their actions, even their thoughts.

Aunt Lydia seems to be a true believer in the system. The stories she tells and the messages she imparts are delivered in a manner of true conviction. She appears to be very emotionally involved in the issues she preaches upon. “Modesty is invisibility . . . Never forget it. To be seen – to be seen – is to be – her voice trembled – penetrated” (28). In order for the society to operate, they must employ women to control and, in a sense, brainwash the other women. A group is best controlled when its own members are put in positions of power and brought to believe in what they are serving. Aunt Lydia thinks that she is helping the women that she is training. “I’m doing my best, she said. I’m trying to give you the best chance you can have. . . Don’t think it’s easy for me either . . .” (55).

During one specific event we are given an opportunity to see a different aspect of the world Gilead is a part of. Even though Offred’s encounter with the Japanese visitors is fairly short, occupying only a few pages, it is a very useful view into the outside world. We are able to see that life has gone on normally in other places despite the drastic changes that have taken place in the United States.

Although Atwood mostly describes the visitors’ appearances through the voice of Offred, we also are given an opportunity to view their reactions and to a degree begin to understand their feelings towards this new government. Offred sees how intriguing she and Ofglen are to the Japanese, how curious they are about their situation. "I can feel their bright black eyes on us, the way they lean a little forward . . . the women especially . . . (29). It is a natural curiosity, one that comes of a small amount of knowledge about the makeup of the society but no clear idea of the inner workings, the feelings and emotions, of the people who live in it. Offred understands this. ". . . we are secret, forbidden, we excite them" (29).

Atwood also takes this opportunity to show the irony of the society that has been created in what was the United States. These visitors, mainly the women, are dressed not in the traditional styles of their own region but in the clothing they have adopted from the West, particularly from the United States. Their skirts are short, their shoes, high heels, are impractical, they are wearing makeup, and their hair is uncovered. Offred, while first "fascinated, but also repelled" (28) by the apparent immodesty of these women, soon drops the mindset that has been recently instilled in her by the new society. "Then I think: I used to dress like that. That was freedom" (29). She hasn’t completely adapted to the new values of the society.

The minor characters of The Handmaid’s Tale are crucial in the expansion of the world the reader sees through the telling of Offred’s story. Characters are always one of the most important aspects of a story, but Atwood utilizes the minor ones particularly well in this tale. Without characters such as Aunt Lydia and the Japanese visitors our understanding of the Republic of Gilead would not be as complete. These characters make the setting of The Handmaid’s Tale much richer and much more comprehensive.

2007-01-29T23:04:00.000-08:00

Literary essay

Last semester, one of the Grade 11 classes read the novel Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston while the other read the novel Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko. We came up with a list of essay topics for each novel, and students wrote on one of their choice. Here is Bibi's essay about Ceremony.

The Whorls of Life

In the book Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko there are many references made to certain aspects of life that struck my attention. Such as having the ability to achieve the impossible. It made me think about how modern day society stops people from taking a second to be grateful for everything they have instead of complaining about everything they don’t have. I also realize that the respect the people used to have for the earth no longer exists. Tayo taught me this and healed himself by breaking though these barriers throughout the book and by realizing the difference between him and his friends.

In this novel there are two different types of people. Those who respect the earth with all their heart and those who couldn’t care less. After Josiah says, “‘this is were we come from, see. This sand, this stone, these trees, the vines, all the wild flowers. This earth keeps us going’” (45), I realized that we live on the earth and it’s the earth that is serving us. People take advantage of it and destroy the earth by cutting down forests and building huge factories, thinking that the earth is just an object to experiment on, rather than realizing that it’s the earth that feeds us when were hungry and shelters us when its cold. It’s the earth that gives us a home.

Tayo knows this and respects the animals by filling their tracks with pollen such as “the yellow spotted snake [who was] the first to emerge, carrying this message [that the world was alive] on his back to the people” (221). He also covered the deer’s head with his coat because “the people said you should do that before you gutted a deer. Out of respect”(51). He carefully shakes the snow off the tree to keep its branches from breaking (208) and he respects the rain when he realizes Josiah was right when he said, “Nothing is all good or all bad either” (11).

In life there are some things such as the heat of the sun or the shade of the trees that all people either complain there is too much of or too little of. In Ceremony it was the rain that Tayo complained about. When he was in the jungle he cursed the rain for never stopping and he blamed the rain for killing Rocky (12), but when he is home on the ranch it is the rain that he prays for. “‘Nothing is all good or all bad either’” (11). When Josiah said this it made me realize that we should just be grateful for what we do have because some where in the world there is someone else who wants it. The lack of gratitude is one of the barriers Tayo had to break through in order to heal.

“They were not barriers if a person wanted to get to the moon there was a way; it all depended on weather you knew the directions-exactly which way to go and what to do to get there; it depended on weather you knew the story of how others before you had gone” (19). It was this that Tayo needed to know to heal. The “they” referred to above is talking about a physical barrier, the high sandstone cliff of a mesa, but on a broader spectrum it refers to any obstacle in life that makes us doubt our ability to achieve what we want. In life when you know what to do or you follow in the path of someone who has already succeeded, you have a better chance of succeeding yourself. Tayo followed the path of Coyote with the guidance of Betonie by making hoops of hard oak, scrub oak, and pinon, tieing them together with yucca, and sitting in the middle of a sand panting (141). I’ve learned that by following a path that has already been walked I can achieve anything I want. Tayo may not have realized, but by choosing to follow the path laid out by Betonie, Kh’oosh, and Ts’eh, he would eventually reach his goal of being healed.

All in all, Tayo’s journey from sickness to health showed me that there are many different ways of dealing with situations in your life. Whether it is taking the high road and becoming a better person by breaking thought barriers or taking the easy way by drinking and numbing the pain in your life. That’s how Tayo was different. He had the strength and ability to see that the world was a gift and was grateful for that. He used that knowledge and understanding to his advantage, healing himself and consequently healing everyone around him.

2007-01-29T16:42:00.000-08:00

Dreaming Of Bases In The Land Of Wickets

Here's a personal essay from Hari Simran Singh from Grade 12:

Dreaming Of Bases In The Land Of Wickets
by Hari Simran Singh Khalsa
I doubt that many people have ever listened to the live radio broadcast of Game Seven of the National League Championship Series at the break of dawn on a chilly Punjabi morning. When I found myself in this peculiar, and probably unprecedented, situation, I felt blessed, just as Sir Edmund Hillary must have felt when his blue eyes took in the view from the top of the world. Granted, I did not have to face the difficulties that he faced prior to attaining this feeling, but I am certain that it was that same part of the brain, that same voice that declares, “I am unique!”, that spoke up in my mind as I listened to Gary Cohen’s play-by-play through laptop speakers in the staff office of Miri Piri Academy.
I am a baseball fan by nature (the spirit of Ebbets Field lives on in us Brooklynites) and a Mets fan by nurture (even though I pray for a subway series every year). During my summer break I follow the sport through the Times at breakfast, on the radio in my dad’s car, and on the TV when the games aren’t on cable. I also go to both stadiums at least once before September rolls around and I have to return to boarding school in India . Back at Miri Piri Academy , I check the scores and news daily in the same computer lab in which I am typing this, and I stay connected to the New York passion for the game through my phone conversations with my dad.
Sadly, none of the activities of this school involve Louiseville Sluggers or four-seem fastballs. I distract myself with basketball and an occasional soccer game, plus a good deal of yoga and meditation, which are emphasized in our education.
To teach us how to live a yogic lifestyle is one of the chief goals of Miri Piri Academy . This involves yoga classes almost everyday, teacher training during school, and an early morning start to the day. A couple times each year we do forty day programs during which we get up at three or four to practice a specific meditation. The first of these 40 day Sadhanas usually coincides with the end of the season and the playoffs.
The Mets had the best team in baseball this past season. They conquered the NL East and seemed certain to continue their victorious run through the post season. In the Division Series they toppled the Dodgers without too much difficulty and advanced to the National League Championship Series, where they faced off with one of they’re more worthy rivals, the St. Louis Cardinals.
Most playoffs games happen at night, starting at around 7 PM , Eastern Standard Time. This equates to about six in the morning on my side of the world, which is right when we’re nearing the end of our early morning meditation. Each day that I knew the Mets were playing a game I was consumed with speculation from the time I woke up ( 4:30 ) to the time when I could manage to get in the computer lab during school (usually around ten).
It was a very close series. The pitching and the hitting were outstanding on both sides. After six games, they had won three apiece which forced a seventh, deciding, game. Due to injuries and lack of rest on their pitching staffs, the Mets and the Cards both had to start reserve pitchers.
Throughout the chanting and yogic exercise on the morning of this vastly important game my focus alternated between God and the state of the Mets’ lineup and bullpen. I remembered that Sat Avtar, a friend and fellow Brooklynite, had invited me to listen to the game on the radio through a service she had signed up for on the Internet.
As soon as our Sadhana was over we rushed over to the staff office, where her laptop was. It was the fifth inning and the Mets were winning 2-0. Both starting pitchers were doing extraordinarily well. My attention was locked on the game, but I was feeling somewhat dislocated, even dimensionally removed, because of the oddity of the situation. In between innings there were commercials that offered $50 gift certificates to Tony’s Italian Steak House on Broadway. Dollars don’t mean much to me, the lifestyle that the school follows forbids steak, and I’m twelve thousand miles away from Broadway, as well as a nice little plane ride away from any Italians named Tony. Nonetheless, I felt the same excitement as the fans I could hear roaring in the stadium that would love to get fifty bucks to spend at Tony’s. My heart jumped just as high when Albert Pujols’ smash was snatched by Endy Chavez as it was about to sail over the wall, and the same chant of “Rally, rally!” was going though my head after the Mets’ lead slipped away in the top of the eighth. When they could not come up with the tying run with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, I hung my head in unison with the ballpark crowd of fifty thousand.
As I shuffled out of the staff office that morning, it became my own stadium, filled with the quiet of dashed hopes. My team had lost but my situation was the same. I was still one of the best Mets fans in this wonderful land of yoga and wickets.