The Setting Sun

I see the sun setting all the time, driving home from school or some other function, going out to run a quick errand, and normally all I do is glance at it, think, "Wow, that's pretty," and then move on with whatever I was going to do or return to daydreaming. However, I don't remember the last time I just decided to go outside and watch the sunset. (Maybe I never truly have.) So, I chose to go outside and sit on my back porch just as the sky was starting to move from blue to a sort of yellow near the line of roofs and trees. I sat in the only lawn chair on my back porch with a remaining cushion that the squirrels hadn't destroyed yet and watched. I watched as the colors in the sky began to change. I couldn't directly see the sun from my backyard, but I knew what was occurring just out of my view because of the ever changing colors. I watched as the sky went from predominantly blue to predominately golden. The portion of the sky that seemed to rest on the roof tops held the most color, golden, orange, red, a soft, yet dark purple. Soon after though, the inky black sky of night began to overtake all of the beautiful colors and very quickly then began to make way for a different, but equally beautiful night sky, gleaming with stars.

As the purple, red, and orange began to disappear, the inky black night sky began to show itself and I was sad for a moment, until I remembered that the sun would set again tomorrow. It would set the next night even if it was raining. It would continue to set over and over again, giving me a different, beautiful picture to watch every single night if I chose to. As I headed inside, I wondered why I chose to stare at a rerun of some man-made crime drama far more than I chose to watch the beautiful, unique motion picture that was right out my backdoor every night. When I watched the sunset, I remember thinking about a day in Bible class fairly recently when Mr. Lyman got into one of his story telling modes. He told a story about a friend of his taking his new wife up to see a beautiful clearing on a mountain in New Hampshire. The wife didn't originally want to go, but when she finally got there and saw the changing of the fall leaves and the stunning view, she became so excited by all the God-placed beauty around her. I didn't exactly run around my yard screaming with joy at the beauty of the sunset. I smiled at it and stared in wonder about how I'd managed to miss this most nights. I felt bad for missing it in favor of crime dramas or Matthew McConaughey movies.

There's always something incredibly stunning and natural for humans anywhere in the world to stare at in wonder, but instead we choose man-made, mechanical creations. It took a sunset for me to see this, but, honestly, the stars, a walk through the woods in the fall, or a hike through the mountains would work just as well. God made beautiful things for us to enjoy and we, as humans all across the globe, are so good at turning our noses up at it and going back inside, which, in all honesty, is just a shame.

Forgetting About Peppermint Tea in Favor of Infinity

After last week's slight different venture, I made sure that it would be a clear night when I devoted my time to lay outside on the lawn chair on the back porch with my puffy coat, fox hat, and a cup of peppermint tea. Kind of like the sunset, I'd seen the stars before, many, many, many times, mostly on the very short walk to my front door after being out late. I thought after watching the sunset earlier. That the night sky would kind of be a let down because it wasn't as colorful. I'm proud to say that I was wrong. Sometimes it's really good to be wrong. As I took my first sip of my barely-cool-enough-to-drink-tea, I vowed that I'd go back in when it was finished. When I tilted my head up to the sky and stared at the stars, truly stared at them, for the first time in a while, I let out a long breath before smiling. They were beautiful, even though I'd never gotten the hand of seeing the constellations. (My mom somehow thinks all of them form either the Little or Big Dipper, so I was doomed from the start.) I stared up at the sky, letting my eyes drift around the sky. Some stars were larger than others, brighter than others. Maybe they were closer to me. Maybe then were inconceivably larger. Who knows? It wasn't important as I stared at them. I got lost staring at them for a while, getting kind of lost in their beauty and vastness. I think what I was doing was too intense and in-depth to call "gazing".  I completely forgot about my tea too, just in case you were wondering.

Reading back over my observations, I started thinking about constellations a lot, the idea of assembling pictures from stars and this was what I came up with in response to that idea: I don't think seeing the constellations would've made the stars more beautiful to me though. Making pictures out of something that was already stunning on its own kind of seems redundant, like you're over complicating it and aren't just appreciating it for what it is. Also, my mind drifted back to a Modern Western Thought discussion in which Mr. Nebbia said (I wish I could remember what work we were discussing, but for the life of me, I can't) that humans can't truly grasp the idea of infinity. Looking out at the stars that night, I understood that. I simply could not fathom and still cannot even come close to understanding how many stars were in the little portion of sky I was seeing. There are infinite more little chunks of sky out there similar, but not identical, to the portion of the sky I was viewing. I can't even begin to get my head around how many stars there are out there. It makes my head hurt.

Just because you don't fully understand something doesn't make it any less beautiful, in fact, it might make it even more beautiful. Just because you don't fully understand something doesn't mean you need to try and make pictures out of it or study it with a telescope to understand it. Sometimes, things are beautiful just as they are, in their infinitely complicated ways, like human beings and stars.

Mostly Starless, But Still Beautiful, Night

Outside, at night, in the winter, it's cold, so I bundled up before I stepped outside onto the back porch and frowned. I thought that since it was a cloudy night, I should try again the next night to see what I could learn from nature, but then I stopped and realized that just because it was cloudy out doesn't mean their wasn't anything to observe. Nature doesn't stop teaching just because it's cloudy.

I sat down on the back porch, tightened my coat, and looked up at the dark sky. It wasn't too dark yet and the clouds weren't solid, so I could see the clouds moving across the sky a bit, just slowly, sort of meandering across the sky. The clouds over the moon seemed to glow in a sort of eerie, yet beautiful way. The moon still shown even if nobody could see it directly, it's light could still be seen. Occasionally, in a break in the clouds, I caught a glimpse of the stars and couldn't help but smile at their beauty. I tried to count the ones I could see in a break in the clouds, but stopped because I realized it was silly to try and count the stars because there were far more stars in that same strip of sky that I just couldn't see. 

Just as I did with my walk earlier, I couldn't help but compare this night to the times I've stepped out of the car after returning from some late night school function, looking up, and seeing a sky full of beautiful stars, creating many constellations I that just don't see no matter how many people have pointed them out to me or how many fun apps try and draw them in the sky for me. Normally, I get disappointed when there are no stars in the sky, but this night, I tried to see the cloudy sky as moving too, just in a different way, and I did. The glimpses of the stars in the breaks in the clouds are obviously beautiful and stunning and show God's handiwork. The faint moonlight behind the clouds, which is just the reflection of the light from a small dwarf star called the sun, is beautiful too. The clouds cover up the stars and the moon as best as they can, but they can't do it forever or entirely. 

Just as the clouds can't cover the beautiful night sky forever, our sins don't cover us forever, as long as we ask for our forgiveness, then we are washed clean, white as snow, and our true potential and beauty is revealed. We are no longer covered by sin, by darkness, by clouds, we are clean, pure, white, and cloudless and our beauty and potential as a child of God is revealed.

Through the Neighborhood

Despite that it was in the mid-fifties, it was still February in Maryland, so nature didn't really match the temperature. As I walked through the neighborhood, the only green I saw was evergreens, which remind me of Christmas trees. The rest of the trees are bare. The grass is dormant for the winter. But the sky is blue, one of the only remaining natural colors in winter, was beautiful. Sure, the houses are colorful, some of them anyway, depending on how adventurous the neighbors were when they picked out the color of their siding and shutters for their houses that look the same as the one four doors down. Some cars are colorful, once again, depending on their owners' tastes. Occasionally, I passed someone walking their dog. They nodded at me, I nodded at them, and we both kept on walking our separate ways through nature. Everything out there either was nature or was in it for a while. Every now and again, a few dead leaves crunched under my feet. I like that sound. As I neared the end of my walk, I remember thinking that the mid-fifties were warmer than previous days, but it's still just a little chilly for me. When I reached my front porch, I looked at the flower beds and noticed a few green leaves, the beginnings of the hosta plants, coming up through the mulch and I smiled.

Looking back, I can't help but compare those observations to previous times I've walked the same route in the middle of spring or summer when all the leaves are green and the squirrels and bunnies are out and the flowers are blooming. When I walk that same route in spring or summer, I always immediately think it's obviously beautiful because of the bright colors and copious amounts of sunshine. The beauty of nature is much less obvious in winter, when even if the weather is nice for a day, everything remains dormant. Now I realize that's the beauty of nature in winter, it's dormant state. The fact that trees and other plants can practically stop all metabolic functions for a time and then grow again like they never stopped is incredible, miraculous, and beautiful, absolutely beautiful, just like the blue sky that was still as blue as it would be in the spring. Seeing the hosta and daffodils starting to come up just a little bit too early in my flower beds made me remember that about plants, that even when I don't see their beauty immediately, it's still there, just below the surface. I guess that works with people too. 

Sometimes people get too absorbed in the instantaneous physical appearance that they don't bother to look at the beautiful life with amazing potential that truly matters just below the surface. People are kind of like plants in that way. Some are beautiful on the outside, but rotting on the inside. Sooner or later, the outside reflects the inside. Some plants appear to be plain and boring, until their flowers blossom and then they're as beautiful and amazing on the outside as they are on the inside. People can become a bit too worried about appearances, so when they see a plain, boring looking person, they look no further or think no further about them, when if they did, they'd realize that the real, beautiful, miraculous life is just under the surface, waiting to show itself at the right time. 

For Those Against Cruel Teachers

Natalie Munroe's blog posts in which she bashed her students were almost as contrversial as her refusal to apologize for the rude comments and continual defense of herself, despite the fact that she hurt her students. The argument of "An Open Letter to Natalie Munroe" is, at its core, that Natalie Munroe was wrong in her original blog posts, her defense of her rude comments, and refusal to apologize because she has forgotten her responsibilities to her students and their parents as a teacher. Lehmann begins his open letter to Ms. Munroe by stating that the teachers "have a moral obligation to work to see the best in them", them referring to students. Lehmann goes onto say that Munroe failed this obligation by being cruel to her students.Munroe, in Lehmann's eyes, attempts to justify her cruelty to her students rather than swallowing her pride, admitting her grave error, and apologizing to her students. "Whatever frustration, grief, anger you may have over the behavior of your students... you gave up the moral high ground to speak with authority about that when you wrote publicly in a manner that was profoundly disrespectfulddrrd of and demeaning to those who are in your care" (Lehmann). Finally, the argument is summed up with the author's return to the idea that being a teacher is an incredibly hard job and that very few people, including Munroe, can successfully do it because they lack the patience, open mind, and drive to better their students that teaching requires. 

The reason Lehmann's argument is successful in swaying the reader's opinion is because it accurately appeals to logos, ethos, and pathos via expertly chosen diction and syntax. Beginning with diction, firstly, the entire article focuses on Munroe being "cruel" to her students. Cruel has an extremely negative, evil, horrible connotation for most people. If Lehmann had chose a word such as "bad" or "harsh", it would not create the same emotional response in the reader and appeals to pathos. Secondly, Lehmann uses specific phrases that are designed to make a reader pity the students in this event rather than Munroe. He says, "You see... you don't teach English. You teach kids. Flawed, messed-up, never perfect, wonderful, amazing, kids" (Lehmann). The author's elaboration and positive word choices cause the reader to have an emotional response, both pitying the students and becoming angry at anyone who would dare to insult them or hurt them. Regarding ethos, Lehmann begins his open letter by stating that he's speaking out as a teacher, principal, and a parent (also dipping into pathos as well). Because of this statement, the reader can comfortably assume that Lehmann likes children and does not ever wish to see them be harmed, a common ethic. Throughout his argument, this becomes evident. Not only is it ethical that adults should not insult and be cruel to teens, it's also a fairly logical statement, appealing to logos. Lehmann's call for an apology does not seem too far fetched considering the things Munroe said about her students and how she, according to the author, as violated the moral, ethical agreement between student, parent, and teacher. 

Moving on to Lehmann's syntax, all but the very last paragraph of his open letter are relatively short. Some of the paragraphs are only one or two sentences, which puts much greater emphasis on these points. Also, Lehmann moves from writing in sentences and paragraphs to indenting and using a numbered list to make three, key, specific requests from Ms. Munroe. These three things stick onto because of the way they are constructed and allow for the great, necessary emphasis on these words. As previously stated, the last paragraph is rather long compared to the others. This is because it sums up Lehmann's entire argument and sticks out, just like the numbered list, as something important and crucial to the argument.

Question: How would syntax be applied in a formal paper (say, like something for this class)?

Visual Arguments

(ASPCA Advertisement)

This image makes the argument that any observer must save this dog because its life matters. The argument is an emotional argument designed to tug at any observer's heart strings so they will want to donate to the ASPCA or adopt a dog. The only reason this argument is successful is because it makes the observer feel sad and therefore the observer pities the dog in the photo and wants to save the dog, all dogs. When the observer becomes sad upon looking at this image, he or she doesn't want to be sad anymore. Logically, the observer arrives at the conclusion that saving the dog's life will take away the sadness the observer doesn't want to feel. Therefore, the observer donates to the ASPCA and/or tries to adopt a dog.

Question for Discussion: What are other emotions that visual arguments might rely on? 

Angry Outbursts on the Interwebs

Ms. Munroe, a teacher at a high school in Pennsylvania, was fired a year following her posting insulting comments about her students on a supposedly anonymus blog that included her own picture. She called some of her students "rat-like" and "loathsome". One of the comments on the Today news website, following a few other comments claiming that Ms. Munroe should have been fired and that there is good in every student, was: "I think the little ******** should be flogged at random intervals throughout the day. That will keep them alert and teach them RESPECT! Those who fail to learn these simple tasks should be publicly executed in a morning assembly Monday of each week!" Now, obviously this man doesn't really think that students should be abused and/or executed on a weekly basis, but the question rightly asked is, "Why would he say it anyway?"

The most common answer, also the correct answer, is that people say whatever they want to on the internet because they believe that no one knows their name or face, so it doesn't really matter. People take the whole idea of "freedom of speech" a little bit too far on the Internet and seem to forget that they're speaking to another human being, or a group of human beings. When people don't feel like they're directly speaking to another person, they feel like they can say whatever they want and be as angry as they want because they remove the idea of other people and therefore other peoples' emotions from the equation of normal communication. (Of course, on the Internet, angry usually means typing in caps lock, using extra exclamation marks, leaving rude, sarcastic comments, and/or plainly insulting people.)

However, there is a considerable difference in the amount of angry comments depending on where in the Internet one is. On a standard, public, common website, such as Today's new website, there seem to be a far larger amount of angry comments than on Chris Lehmann's Open Letter to Ms. Munroe. One of the biggest differences between these two websites is that the Today's article did not make a personal stand, choosing to let people in the comments vent how they felt about the subject since the article was nondescript. This left the door wide open for people to choose to comment about how they felt about Ms. Munroe's termination, so, the commenters walked through that open door. However, Mr. Lehmann's blog post obviously sided against Ms. Munroe, saying that she was wrong for hurting her students and should apologize. This did not leave the door wide open for personal interpretation of Ms. Munroe's termination. Therefore, those who commented generally sided with Lehmann.

Question for discussion: Why do people feel the need to voice their opinion on the Internet if nobody knows its really them?