Bull crew week 8th to 15th

This week on Tuesday the 15th, and last week on Tuesday the 8th and Thursday the 10th, I and Kyle Healey operated to prep rooms for the admissions meetings for next year’s freshmen class. At points we worked separate rooms and others we functioned dependently with one another. We organized them so as to seat the most possible within safety limits in each of the two rooms, so as to maximize the capacity for the expected crowds. Furthermore on Thursday, we set up for staff meetings in room 204, and did our best to help Mr. Andre and Mr. Heiser organize the locations for best traffic flow.
Additionally, on Monday, I personally remained after school to set up seating for the ERB testing, which doesn’t benefit the student’s grades, but means for potential grants for Sturgis as a whole. Being a charter school that offers free IB for all, the budget gets pretty tight especially while maintaining the integrity in what is becoming a more-populated school on a constant basis. There were more than ten rooms in total that needed prepping, and that’s what happened on Monday afternoon.Both of these events influence the lives of Sturgis students for years to come, based on who we gain student-wise and what we earn grant-wise. These two features will support the school’s image and content, since in order to maintain our existence here on main street and in the American school districts, we are constantly needing to prove ourselves through our academic capabilities, which have direct correlation with our students and their ability to learn and develop, sometimes exclusively with the unique experiences we offer and sometimes with the tech… but mostly our brains.

picture from the holiday stroll

HOLIDAY STROLL II

I arrived at the school at 11:45 due to transportation issues (the bus was half an hour late and walking time had not been calculated into the endeavor, and after obtaining a key from Mr.Heiser, I was able to retrieve an elf two piece costume from Mrs. Bottsford's classroom. The magic show I did not help set up, but their was considerable need for enticing people inside. In front of the double doors, I stood with my fellow elves Jacquie and Brian inviting families to make cookies and complete treasure hunts inside of the building where other elves (the ones who opted to stay dry on this rainy Saturday) attended to their needs and Mr. Heiser was able to educate them on the goals and benefits of Sturgis. As the doormen (elves) we gave the pedestrians their first impression of what to expect inside, and so in keeping with the merriment, since we were cheerful we would spread that emotion to our capacity. I honestly believe that our efforts contributed not only making that day more pleasant for the drenched parties abroad, but helped to improve the atmosphere of main street, by giving reason for people to associate this fairly urban area with a more positive lot. The event had some issues like the three hours of standing in the rain and the odd troublemakers who clashed with our intended goals, but on the whole it went off without a hitch. Personally I felt it was a positive experience for me, as I while I intended to evoke joy in others, the reciprocation was emotionally uplifting on my part as well. I was in great spirits by the end of the day

DRESS A DOLL 12/3

- Kiki took on the responsibility for purchasing the gifts our advisory raised the money for, and on the fourth I helped Tildy to relocate the presents to her car for delivery. I am somewhat ashamed by the role I played in this, not having been the most active of charities. I have the conception that there was a communication breakdown somewhere along the line, and so to improve that for next time I ought to consider making a larger effort on my part. Excuses go only so far, and while I am not suggesting that Ive been completely ineffectual, I am not certain that the work was divided so that we both benefitted from the experience. In retrospect however, I suppose that we did play to our strengths, me with my speaking and her with the shopping, we did contribute to a degree where neither of us was too uncomfortable in the roles we played and we were good at those roles. Conclusively for this reason, I think this should be considered a successful operation, as we have contributed to happier holidays while working (mostly) cooperativly.

BULL SQUAD 12/2

– Thanks to a reprieve in timetable congestion, it was possible to finally finish relocating the boxes from Mr. Steedman's office and move them into Mr. Andre's closet. That same night of the 3rd, Kyle Healy and I again preformed the task of populating the music room with chairs for the introductory meeting for potential Sturgis parents, an event which affects the culture of the entire school with the exchange of classes. The new blood is the result of our leaving and so when we seniors depart for anywhere but cape cod, the void we leave behind must be filled by these children who are responsible for continuing our legacy. So in order to have these youths attend, we (not me and kyle) need to host them (the parents) explain the philosophy of Sturgis, while accommodating the enormity of the guardians of this future class.

CREATIVE WRITING CLUB 12/3

– Due to complications with the scheduling of my guidance councilor sessions, I had been been unable to satisfy my obligations of attending the weekly meeting and the submissions of literary work. Next Friday is the deadline for sturgeon submissions, as per the extension due to lack of content. I want to tell a story of redemption to change the tone that last year's general lack of hope and substance would not afford me to do. This lacking I mention is my own, and I take responsibility thusly, but I think that the healthier changes Ive made put me in a position to tap the more optimistic side of my spirit. I have two ideas in mind, both of which require partial illustration, which means if my contribution is accepted, it introduces not only a new perspective, but a new media that still falls beneath the umbrella of literature. I feel no need to explain the sequential artist's commonality to Shakespeare, where a play may be interpreted by directors, the “comic” director displays his interpretation of the script, which is as legitimate as any other pastiche or reimagining. Its an exciting thought to think that I could alter the public perspective on the legitimacy of the graphic storytelling, and I can only hope that the looming deadline gives me enough time to compose my thoughts together into a successful piece.

HOLIDAY STROLL 1

– At least I now know it's name. This main street event lasts from about 9:30 to 4:30 on saturday, with a variety of intriguing operations within. Mrs. Carmen is most likely to be more aware of the function's nature and so after I discuss matters with her, it is likely I can explain better my role in this phenomenon. My only limitations are transportation and so unless I can get around the breeze bus, that should be the only limitation on how much I can participate in diffusing the holiday spirit.

thanksgiving/dressadoll #2

today we assigned obligations for the time sensative needs of the forthcoming turkey day food supply. kiki and i plan to hold members of our advisory to each one's designated obligation. furthermore we are planning how to approach the purchasing of items for the dress a live doll child, aged 5. it will be challanging due to the distance of age and the judgement of apropriatness that we have from our teen aged perspective. hopefully that will be resolvable sooner than later.

creative writing club #2

much of the submissions recently have been poetry

thanksgiving/dolldressing service #1

me and my co-cordinator presented to our personal advisory the importance of these charities and ways in which we could participate in helping to raise supplies needed to participate in the dressing of a child and the feeding of a family (not in that order, but you know how thoughts are made)
however in the entire cooperating thing, i did make a suprising statement in our presentation about my own experience with these types of charities, on both ends, so i made a decision that i thought was safe to commit into action, aside from that, we are trying to organize a non advisory fund raising event, probably small, but nothing definite. thats all for now

bull squad 4

on friday i organized papers in steedman's room. the majority of them were final exams-related papers, and i spent my entire lunch period sorting office supplies and multicolored printer paper.
the reason this fulfills my effecting the world is that this job meant that the paper would be mostly ready for the senior mock and final exams in the spring without Mr Steedman having to preform any duties to distract him from the courses he himself needs to plan, preform and grade. however this was a solo activity, and so the requirements of the fourth learning outcome are not fulfilled in this physical instance. perhaps my working with others could be interpreted as my dialogue with Mr Steedman as to how to sort what materials and where to put them (like the mouldy stuff,) so it really is a matter of contextual value. although he was not a part of the program (bull squad) he did participate with me to achieve the goal of sorting such things.

creative writing club #1

last week, there was a newcomer with a story, like there always should be.
his tale was an very much concept driven and his style was erratic and forceful, and from what i saw, he was trying too hard to be an action-packed script rather than the opening to a novelette.

how im achieving outcome 1:
when we reviewed his excerpt, i had noticed my own distaste for the style, and in doing so recognized my hastiness. i was ready to criticize and mock, and that was wrong.

how im achieving outcome 7:
i took a breath and waited until it was my turn to speechify. when it came time, i asked the writer whether he wanted to hear some constructive criticism. by this time i had composed something much diluted from the earlier tirade my thoughts had prepared.
he agreed to hear me out and i recommended that for greatest clarity, he might wish to slow the pacing and describe the paradigms of this story's reality in a paragraph or two, so as not to shock the reader culturally. this input opened the floor for more constructive discussion and the people who had given no advice suddenly made comments that one could tell, the writer was actually gaining insight from...
this i think is a development of my ability to empathize with others.

bull squad entry 3

psat setup after school on tuesday the 12th of October.
did such over the course of an hour, alongside kyle healy: organized seven+ rooms into rows of evenly spaced desks, tables and chairs, transferring furniture from room to room in preperation for the standardized testing of the coming day. achieved learning outcome: impact of global (acedemic) importance, due to the test's needs, to prevent disorganization and promote efficiency in this very important test for juniors future. preserves integrity of test and does not deduct from facultys' other responsabilities.

(unofficial cleanup after open mic nite) 19th October.
was one of the crowd that re-furnished the music room post production. was important because the help reduced stress of preformers and faculty, restoring the layout of the learning area. not very crucial, but was something i did.

hiking club entry 2

i would like to establish that my failure to participate in the white mountain trek several weeks back was only due to my incapability to scrounge the materials required, such as a tent, sleeping bag, ect, which is apropriate considering that fiscally, one cannot always be prepared and such fiscally challenged folks are not always capable to support such hobbies.

every day i walk 1-2 miles each direction to and from my busstop in varying weather and baggage conditions. though this is necessary, any benefit this may have to my hiking ability is completely unintentional, but may indirectly affect my capabilities in the field. there is a hike next week on the 17th which i have reschedualed a college tour to attend. it will be from truro to providencetown.

bullsquad entry 2

today i moved two packages of paper to the art room during the break period.
that wasnt much work, so i might edit this post as the week continues, or the month.
i'm feeling like i may have made a slight difference in this war against want, but not enough to REALLY benefit my fellow students and teachers.
i will be done when there is a no child without a number two pencil in his or her hand, when there is a sheet of looseleaf paper avaliable for pop-quizes, when the desks are arranged so that everyone has no choice but to stare at the whiteboard and learn! having only just begun, i expect challenges and papercuts galore, with much glory and office supplies for all!

bull-squad entry one

yesterday i recieved confirmation from Mr. Andre that the bull-squad will be working with an on-call in-between class. presently the objectives for the members of this organization are to determine possible candidates for filling the squad's requirements, inadvertantly benefitting others in need for cas oppertunity. I'd like to think this is helping people, while i await orders from the boss. my only concern is that this job will be on an erratic schedual, so i cannot guarentee any regularity in relevant cas journaling.

Hiking journal entry one:

This is written on Sunday, September 13, 2009, to record events of Saturday 12, 2009.

Newcomb Hollow Beach in Wellfleet: 8 am.
Arriving at the starting line, familiar faces poured out of cars. My friend Miles, who had originally told me of the club’s existence, had driven us to the beach at six thirty that morning, which ordinarily is an hour I refuse to see on weekends. The weather had begun misty, and by the time we pulled into our yellow paint parking spot, the sky had turned the color of granite. Mr. Patterson’s vehicle contained Noah, Joe, and Kelsie, who drowned out our greetings with the slamming of car doors. Nathan and Justin arrived separately, as did two others whose names I did not know, along with a variety of teachers that I did and did not know. Our supervisor, Mr. Patterson handed out compasses and maps to the hikers who were navigating that day, and proceeded to instruct to those who listened, the proper way to situate a map with a compass, so that the map’s compass matched the handheld one’s reading of magnetic north, and informed us that we were to be “bushwhacking” at points and that we were headed in a generally north, north-west direction. Furthermore he handed out trash bags with which we were to protect our backpacks from the inclement weather.
Half an hour later, we departed from the parking lot at the beach and began hiking uphill on a well beaten path aimed north. The air was clearer and the sound of the surf was heard between the trees. We began to grow nearer and nearer to the coast, until we came to a funnel of foliage which placed me and my close companions and associates at the head of the pack {two of which were the leading folks,} and we raced through the jungle of brush that covered our heads. I took a keen interest in the foliage, a kaleidoscope at the speed I moved at, and would have liked to slow down, but for pace of my companions, I did not stop for rose sniffing.
At the top we reached hill-dunes, with cliffs estimated at sixty feet tall, and from the tops of the mountains of sand, we could see the forests stretching out as far as the fog would allow us to see. For a while it was like this, we lingered on the tops of the dunes, waiting for the rest to catch up so that we could then race like children to the next interesting destination, giggling as we scraped sand against boot, running and sliding through fields of ivy and grass, until the wood swallowed us again.
As soon as we were in, we were out, and climbed around the largest dune, whose face I challenged on a short peak against the gradual slope. There wasn’t so much danger as excitement, as I had realized the familiarity of this experience was as I had done as a child in the conservation woods of my neighborhood, but without the adult concept of destination. Rejoining the group we saw the next checkpoint of our journey, a dome protruding from the hillside, with a lake at the bottom, as though a giant had scooped a ball from the earth, only to set it down mere yards away. We descended passing a ranger and pausing to use the restrooms at the beach below the gargantuan, now shrouded by foliage. I changed my socks in anticipation.
Bearberry Hill East Summit: 11:45 am.
At the beach, we walked out to witness the sea before our next leg of the trip. By chance, a pride of seals swam by, playing with each other. We began on a paved road that had been immersed by sand at some point, leaving the riverbed of where the cape had been divided my lifetime ago. The road circled a hill being developed with a generously sized house, and then veered to tangent beside the pond. At this point we departed to bushwhack on what appeared to be the side farthest from the hill, and in the course of our actions we, for the last time grazed the Oceanside cliffs, atop which there were two openings for investigation. Being near enough to the lead, Noah and I chose to divide the both of us to investigate routes. He discovered what resembled a beaten path, while I did not, which coincidently did not stop me from regaining the lead. Barreling though the undergrowth, I caught up to him, and we led the group across the east side of the small valley, until he, Justin and I reached the base of the hill, where we jockeyed in the semi-vertical climb. Our momentum kept us going and once we had reached the platform on its plateau where we collapsed, cheerfully breathless, which we will claim was in response to the view.
When the group had ascended, we ate our lunches as a flock of birds danced overhead, a black ballet as one fled the rest in synchronized flight from the mob. The mist descended on us, and we rushed to pack, a mere fifteen minutes after arrival, but in retrospect it was necessary, as thunder was to follow. We hiked down in the direction of the Western summit, and then branched off in the wrong direction, which took us little more than forty minutes to correct. The mass of our ragtag bunch started to take breaks more frequently and with the onset of rain, the dirt roads became more difficult to navigate. For what could have been easily two miles, we began to doubt ourselves, and took a series of misconceived turns, leading us up agonizingly difficult hills to witness the useless driveways of the forest. The ends were abrupt and often led to nowhere, or private places that would have shot first and asked questions later, which we were in no mood to analyze, and so we resumed our following of the superior dirt road.
Abandoned Radar Station: Time unknown?
A caterpillar landed on my shoulder. I didn’t feel it at that point, like I didn’t feel my backpack, like I didn’t feel my feet, like I hardly acknowledged the rain slapping my face, trying to revive my senses. Noah noticed however, and that was the last straw, after having been drenched to my boxers, and wearing small lakes in my sneakers, without a moment’s hesitation proceeded to hop about and flick the fuzzy multi-legged leaf-chewer off my shirtsleeve. Miles and I walked side by side in the memories of tire tracks. While this happened I thought back a half hour ago to when we had been on pavement waving goodbye to the happy couple who had been concerned about us taking their wedding flowers off the beach. Whatever emotion felt then was no longer present as we tromped for what seemed like hours in the impressions of car treads, with the rain continuing its barrage. Eventually we stopped at forks in the road, always taking the northern option, until the path split into two sections. We the runners had our own ideas, and the adults theirs, so while they consulted maps, we sat with our gut intuition cringing and complaining so. Fifteen minutes went by, until the supervisors had decided to agree, and while I can reflect in the comfort of my home with some amount of nostalgia, the bitterness of the situation is a vivid memory to me.
Our legs were tight and needed stretching and our compasses required watching, so I and my friends ran. The cold winds dried what they could, and we bounced from root to root, dancing feverously for tomorrow, and everything that the day would entail. Soon though, the path gave out to a submerged hardtop. Squares of pavement a hundred feet across lay wasted in the brush, and a pile of rocks sat in its center. There was another fork, from which we took a left {after I so ungraciously opted for the right} and for that I am glad {to have lost.}
High fences with triangles of steel atop the poles where barbed-wire teeth once stretched above this unraveled wire mesh fence-worm, left to guard its once-internal organs, now open to the air. Visible through the chain link were numerous white box-buildings, their paint peeled, revealing blackened wood where mold had crept into veins. The ground was barren, save for the refuse which grew in abundance; chairs, desks, and the cast iron skeleton of a gazebo, who’s black build contrasted the off white circus tent that was, according to a discovered map, where the church had once stood. To our left, the boarded up houses of the same black, white and brown, with no glass in eye-windows. They formed a key shaped avenue, reminiscent of a suburban neighborhood that could have housed the American dream. Ahead was the baseball diamond, lonesome with its uncut outfield, the pastime having died with the childhood fantasies. We were silent and giddy. We were shouting and grim. We passed a building belched from the rest, outside the flesh, with bars on its windows. It cried and cringed as we walked past, but we saw shelter, and through the rain, it was hard to tell if the sounds we heard were not our own footsteps.
Highland Light in Truro: 4:20 pm.
Through the woods, there was a castle, or what remained of one. Besieged by foes long since gone, a yawning wound revealed a gutted inside to the almost-magic rook, empty with coke cans and other signs of neglect. We cut through the woods, and felt our journey almost over. Some ran ahead, others tried to keep up, while I stayed back, having gotten caught up in the way the rain fell from the tiers of the tower. Now three groups wandered, and bushwhacking through the densest course of our long trek, I made an effort to display my agreeability to navigation. Half here in the now, half back in my childhood remembering how to duck and weave and jump through the undergrowth and over the fallen stumps, my youth guided me from our path, to stragglers from the first half of our party, and I directed them to our path the best I could. Eye popping spokes jutted from trees and sleeve-tearing thorns crisscrossed the path, meeting my elbows and forearms. Then I cleared a path for the more encumbered people, removing dead limbs, tucking limber ones from the way I wanted to make, we soon met with the end of the first group. I waited to rejoin my friends at the head, watching the tail of our collection to help when needed, somewhat worrisome; even though they were more experienced than I. to my excitement however, and to alleviate the stresses of the trip, I found a reward in a golf ball tucked into some dead leaves. We emerged on the golf course, carts zipping around the muddy field, and I broke from the pack, waving farewell to those I’d watched needlessly, or more to make me feel better.
Across the field, in less than a minute, I ascended the final hill with vigor more than I had felt the entire time we’d been on this expedition, and like a jester, I mock tackled Miles, who was more glad that I was still enthused than upset at nearly being knocked over by my exhausted antics. We made it to a car, any car, ruddy faced, complaining and having the time of our lives. Doubtless we were more appreciative of the commonplace objects we used everyday, and we roiled in the luxury of chairs and towels, anxious for our next opportunity to shower.

Permission to duplicate has been granted.

sprites for proposal

octo-lenin

red and blue cruisers

background... in space

cas supervispr evaluation sheet

http://spreadsheets.google.com/viewform?key=p3o_nMbp5CrPgEm0jMvY2Zg&hl=en

video game club entry 3

sebastian called a surprise meeting today:

{ http://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=rZokkANimNs9bnw7de14UZA&hl=en } importante!

we have determined the initial game will be a six levels long satyr of the cold war, starring villains such as octo-lenin, robo-stalin, and mistah marx. during the meeting it was made clear that the sprites would be an initial 10 x 15 pixels big, and that there would be minor animation for the protagonist { he tilts whichever horizontal direction he moves in} and major {the octopus's arms can move.} previously it was determined that i would be in charge of backgrounds, so i will try to produce some over the weekend. although i cannot say that there will be much active doing in the cases of most clubgoers, but i plan to do my best, in art direction, and in learning about the way the process of making these games works.

video game meeting 2

second week of may, sebastian and i confirmed my place in the club, that i would be involved with the art direction, providing backgrounds, player and enemies along with my long-time comrade Miles Cook.
otherwise, my participation was limited, due to the surprisingly cluttered gamer-talk of the underclassmen. although i grasp the concepts like health, sprites and top down, there is something left to be desired... i will need to discuss this with sebastian later, but there was no club this last week, so i will have to speak with him outside of our group.