happiest refugee 1 - introductory anttyjtyjtyjtyhology

7/28/2019 Happiest Refugee 1 - Introductory Anttyjtyjtyjtyhology

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English Department

Year 9 Identity Unit

Introductory Phase: Anthology of Texts

Book One


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Identity

2


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Identity

Contents Page

Identity Unit: Rubrics 4

Text One: A Fire Fighters Dream (Poem Rupert McCall) 5

Text Two: "The Rising" (Lyric Bruce Springsteen) 6

Text Three: Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own (Lyric U2) 8

Text Four: Father and Son (Lyric Cat Stevens) 9

Text Five: Shes Leaving Home (Lyric Beatles) 10

Text Six: Cats in the Cradle (Lyric Harry Chapin) 11

Text Seven: Fast Car (Lyric Tracey Chapman) 12

Text Eight: The Last of His Tribe (Poem - Oodgeroo Noonuccal) 13

Text Nine: I am Australian (Lyric Bruce Woodley and Dobe Newton) 14

Text Ten: Dead and Gone (Lyric T.I. and Justin Timberlake) 15

Text Eleven: Lose Yourself (Lyric Eminem) 16

Text Twelve: Paint It Black (Lyric Rolling Stones) 17

Text Thirteen: The Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination (Speech

J.K.Rowlings)

18

Text Fourteen: Grief, and its consequences (Feature Article from The Economist) 23

Text Fifteen: My Place (Website) 25

3


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Identity

Identity Unit: Rubrics

Adolescence is a tumultuous period. Your identity is forming partly as an act of your will and partly

in response to the obstacles you encounter. In this unit, you will analyze a number of texts that deal

with characters whose identities are challenged.

The core text of this unit is Anh Dos The Happiest Refugee; yet, you will be required to compare

Anhs experiences with those of others.

When you analyze each text, you may wish to use the following questions to develop your views on

identity:

1. With whom does the protagonist identity? (Family, friends, country, culture etc.?)

2. What are her/his values? (What do they fight for?)

3. What actions do they take to realize their values?

4. What obstacles do they encounter?

5. How do they overcome their obstacles?

6. What insights do they have? What wisdom do they learn?

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Identity

9/11 Text

Text One

A Fire Fighters Dream (2010)- Rupert McCall

His voice boomed like a beacon and it echoed in my soul

From the land of opportunity, reverberations rollAll across the mighty sea to where the Southern Cross stars gleamI was listeningand I heard itwhen he saidI have a dream

And the dream I had was beautiful what more could someone prayThan to wake up in the magic of a perfect summers day?

An aqua blue-like canopy pays tribute to the skiesAnd there I see this young kid with a hero in his eyes

The hero is a humble man and not the type to shirkA proudly spoken fire-fighter on his way to work

His profession is his passion, his adrenalin, his sparkThe hat he wears to battle is his way to make a mark

And waving from a window, now the boy begins to cryYou see the hero is his fatherand he hates to say goodbye

And the dream I had was terrible, from nowhere they appear

Monsters in the New York sky that choke the day with fearIt cant be real the questions burn with why and who and how?

Go and turn your TV onpleasejust do it nowAn evil cloak in plumes of smoke replaces freedoms gown

The flames reveal their tragic truth the world is falling downFalling, sprawling, screaming, calling, crying as they goA fire fighter grabs his hat and flies to meet his foe

Forward into battle now he hears a churchs bellForward into no mans land - Forward into hell

And the dream I had was powerful the best of humankindCourage is a heartfelt word not easily defined

It doesnt equal fearless as some sideline experts claim

Nocourage is to be scaredbut to go on just the sameTo rally in the moment then to rise up through the stairsTo save as many people as an act of courage dares

To dig and dig then dig some more to be there for your matesTo look your leader in the eye and know the end awaits

Underneath the carnage, when the count is done and saidThe only thing recovered is his hat of firey red

And the dream I had was personal Ive put my kids to sleep

But the images still haunt me and reality cuts deepI see the faces of the fallen the tape forever runs

I see the mothers and the brothers and the sisters and the sonsAnd the comrades and the colleagues, they are never to return

But for every face, a candleand tonight, that flame will burn

It burns for something precious something every hero gaveIt illuminates ground zero and commemorates the braveOf religion, race and rivalry, it burns across that scope

It is pure in its simplicity tonight, it burns for hope

Yes the dream we share IS hopeful in our darkest hour of hours

Beams of light now kiss the sky where, once, we saw two towersOf this, be strong and steadfast - Of this, stand tall and say -There are some things that an enemy can never take away

I can feel it through the flag that flies, defiant in the gloomI can see it through the window where a boy waits in his roomHe is waiting for his hero, still, to walk back through that door

The hat he holds is scuffed and scratched but this, he knows for sureOne day he will wear that hat and pride will reign supreme

Because his fathers gift was freedom and for that he has a dream.

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Identity

9/11 Text

Text Two

"The Rising" (2002)

- Bruce Springsteen

Can't see nothin' in front of me

Can't see nothin' coming up behind

I make my way through this darkness

I can't feel nothing but this chain that binds me

Lost track of how far I've gone

How far I've gone, how high I've climbed

On my back's a sixty pound stone

On my shoulder a half mile line

Come on up for the rising

Com on up, lay your hands in mineCome on up for the rising

Come on up for the rising tonight

Left the house this morning

Bells ringing filled the air

Wearin' the cross of my calling

On wheels of fire I come rollin' down here


Come on up, lay your hands in mine

Come on up for the risingCome on up for the rising tonight

Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li

Spirits above and behind me

Faces gone, black eyes burnin' bright

May their precious blood forever bind me

Lord as I stand before your fiery light


I see you Mary in the gardenIn the garden of a thousand sighs

There's holy pictures of our children

Dancin' in a sky filled with light

May I feel your arms around me

May I feel your blood mix with mine

A dream of life comes to me

Like a catfish dancin' on the end of the line

Sky of blackness and sorrow (a dream of life)Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)

Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)

Sky of mercy, sky of fear (a dream of life)

Sky of memory and shadow (a dream of life)

Your burnin' wind fills my arms tonight

Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)

Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life (a dream of

life)


Come on up, lay your hands in mineCome on up for the rising

Come on up for the rising tonight


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Identity

Notes on Text Two

"The Rising"

"The Rising" is the title track on Bruce Springsteen's 12th studio albumThe Rising, and was released as a

single in 2002. Springsteen wrote the song in reaction to the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York City.It gained critical praise and earned Grammy AwardsforBest Rock Songand Best Male Rock Vocal

Performance of the year, as well as a nomination forSong of the Year.Rolling Stone named it the 35th best

song of the decade.[1]

History and themes

The song was written late in The Rising's development, and was meant as a bookend to the album's "Into the

Fire".[2][3] Springsteen couldn't let go of one of the central images of that day, those who were "ascending

into ... what?"[2] Thus, the song tells the story of aNew York City Fire Departmentfirefighter, climbing one

of theWorld Trade Centertowers after the hijacked planes had hit them during the September 11 attacks.[4]

The lyric depicts the surreal, desperate environment in which he finds himself:

Can't see nothin' in front of me,Can't see nothin' coming up behind ...

I make my way through this darkness,

I can't feel nothing but this chain that binds me.

Lost track of how far I've gone

How far I've gone, how high I've climbed ...

On my back's a 60-pound stone

On my shoulder a half mile of line

The choruses are more upbeat, featuring a more pronounced drum part and "Li, li, li" vocal parts that suggest

Hallelujahs,[4] but as the song progresses the verses trace the ever more dire situation. Images offire engines

and theCross of Saint Florianare introduced, and then, in the cemetery-like "garden of a thousand sighs"

fromShakespeare'sTwelfth Night,[4] a series of final visions: his wife, his children, and all humanexperience:

Sky of blackness and sorrow (dream of life)

Sky of love, sky of tears (dream of life)

Sky of glory and sadness (dream of life)

Sky of mercy, sky of fear (dream of life)

Sky of memory and shadow (dream of life)

The song's religious imagery also includes references to Mary Magdelene meeting the risen Christ on Easter

morning ("I see Mary in the garden"), and the Blood of Christ, although Springsteen has stated that the Mary

in the song could also be the hero's wife or lover.[3]Writer Jeffrey Symynkywicz evaluates the song as "an

Easterlike anthem arising out of the darkness and despair of September 11, a national Good Friday

experience if ever there was one."[4]

Fromhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Springsteenhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Springsteenhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(album)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(album)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(album)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_11,_2001_attackshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Awardhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Awardhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Rock_Songhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Rock_Songhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Rock_Songhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Male_Rock_Vocal_Performancehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Male_Rock_Vocal_Performancehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Award_for_Song_of_the_Yearhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Award_for_Song_of_the_Yearhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Award_for_Song_of_the_Yearhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rolling_Stonehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-rs-decade-0http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-graff-1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-graff-1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-vh1-2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-graff-1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_City_Fire_Departmenthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_City_Fire_Departmenthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_City_Fire_Departmenthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Trade_Centerhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Trade_Centerhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Trade_Centerhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_11_attackshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_11_attackshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hallelujahhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_enginehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_Saint_Florianhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_Saint_Florianhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_Saint_Florianhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shakespearehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shakespearehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shakespearehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelfth_Nighthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelfth_Nighthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelfth_Nighthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Magdelenehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_of_Christhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-vh1-2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-vh1-2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-vh1-2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(album)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_11,_2001_attackshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Awardhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Rock_Songhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Male_Rock_Vocal_Performancehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Male_Rock_Vocal_Performancehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Award_for_Song_of_the_Yearhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rolling_Stonehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-rs-decade-0http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-graff-1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-vh1-2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-graff-1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_City_Fire_Departmenthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Trade_Centerhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_11_attackshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hallelujahhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_enginehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_Saint_Florianhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shakespearehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelfth_Nighthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Magdelenehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_of_Christhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-vh1-2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)#cite_note-gospel-150-3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rising_(Bruce_Springsteen_song)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Springsteen


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Identity

Text Three

Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own

- U2

Tough, you think you've got the stuff

You're telling me and anyone

You're hard enough

You don't have to put up a fight

You don't have to always be right

Let me take some of the punches

For you tonight

Listen to me now

I need to let you know

You don't have to go in alone

And it's you when I look in the mirror

And it's you when I don't pick up the phone

Sometimes you can't make it on your own

We fight all the time

You and I... that's alright

We're the same soul

I don't need... I don't need to hear you say

That if we weren't so alike

You'd like me a whole lot more

Listen to me now

I need to let you know

You don't have to go it alone


And it's you when I don't pick up the phone


(This is it)

I know that we don't talkI'm sick of it all

Can, you, hear, me, when, I, sing

You're the reason I sing

You're the reason why the operas in me

Well hey now, still gotta let ya know

A house doesn't make a home

Don't leave me here alone


And it's you that makes it hard to let go


Sometimes you can't make it

Best you can do is to fake it


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9/25

Identity

Text Four

Father and Son

- Cat Stevens

It's not time to make a change,

Just relax, take it easy.

You're still young, that's your fault,

There's so much you have to know.

Find a girl, settle down,

If you want you can marry.

Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,

To be calm when you've found something going on.

But take your time, think a lot,

Why, think of everything you've got.For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.

How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.

It's always been the same, same old story.

From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen.

Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.

I know I have to go.

It's not time to make a change,

Just sit down, take it slowly.

You're still young, that's your fault,There's so much you have to go through.

Find a girl, settle down,

If you want you can marry.

Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

(Son-- Away Away Away, I know I have to

Make this decision alone - no)

All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,

It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.

If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them They know not me.

Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.I know I have to go.

(Father-- Stay Stay Stay, Why must you go and

Make this decision alone?)

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10/25

Identity

Text Five

Shes Leaving Home

- Beatles

Wednesday morning at five o'clock as the day begins

Silently closing her bedroom door

Leaving the note that she hoped would say more

She goes down the stairs to the kitchen clutching her handkerchief

Quietly turning the backdoor key

Stepping outside she is free.

She (We gave her most of our lives)

is leaving (Sacrificed most of our lives)

home (We gave her everything money could buy)

She's leaving home after living aloneFor so many years.

Father snores as his wife gets into her dressing gown

Picks up the letter that's lying there

Standing alone at the top of the stairs

She breaks down and cries to her husband Daddy our baby's gone

Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly

How could she do this to me.

She (We never thought of ourselves)

is leaving (Never a thought for ourselves)home (We struggled hard all our lives to get by)

She's leaving home after living alone

For so many years.

Friday morning at nine o'clock she is far away

Waiting to keep the appointment she made

Meeting a man from the motor trade.

She (What did we do that was wrong)

is having (We didn't know it was wrong)

fun (Fun is the one thing that money can't buy)Something inside that was always denied

For so many years.

She's leaving home. Bye, bye

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11/25

Identity

Text Six

Cats in the Cradle

- Harry Chapin

My child arrived just the other dayHe came to the world in the usual way

But there were planes to catch and bills to pay

He learned to walk while I was away

And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it, and as he grew

He'd say "I'm gonna be like you dad

You know I'm gonna be like you"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon

Little boy blue and the man on the moon

When you comin' home dad?

I don't know when, but we'll get together then son

You know we'll have a good time then

My son turned ten just the other day

He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let's play

Can you teach me to throw", I said "Not today

I got a lot to do", he said, "That's ok"

And he walked away but his smile never dimmed

And said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah

You know I'm gonna be like him"


Little boy blue and the man on the moonWhen you comin' home son?



Well, he came home from college just the other day

So much like a man I just had to say

"Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?"

He shook his head and said with a smile

"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys

See you later, can I have them please?"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoonLittle boy blue and the man on the moon

When you comin' home son?



I've long since retired, my son's moved awayI called him up just the other day

I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"

He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time

You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu

But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad

It's been sure nice talking to you"

And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me

He'd grown up just like me

My boy was just like me


Little boy blue and the man on the moon

When you comin' home son?



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12/25

Identity

Text Seven

Fast Car

- Tracey Chapman

You got a fast carI want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better

Starting from zero got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

But me myself I got nothing to prove

You got a fast car

And I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

We won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living

You see my old man's got a problem

He live with the bottle that's the way it is

He says his body's too old for working

I say his body's too young to look like his

My mama went off and left himShe wanted more from life than he could give

I said somebody's got to take care of him

So I quit school and that's what I did

You got a fast car

But is it fast enough so we can fly away

We gotta make a decision

We leave tonight or live and die this way

I remember we were driving driving in your car

The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before usAnd your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I had a feeling that I belonged

And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone,

be someone

You got a fast carAnd we go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a big house and live in the suburbs

You got a fast car

And I got a job that pays all our bills

You stay out drinking late at the bar

See more of your friends than you do of your kids

I'd always hoped for better

Thought maybe together you and me would find it

I got no plans I ain't going nowhere

So take your fast car and keep on driving

You got a fast car

But is it fast enough so you can fly away

You gotta make a decision

You leave tonight or live and die this way

12


13/25

Identity

Text Eight

The Last of His Tribe

- by Oodgeroo Noonuccal (Kath Walker)

Change is the law. The new must oust the old.

I look at you and am back in the long ago,

Old pinaroo lonely and lost here

Last of your clan.

Left only with your memories, you sit

And think of the gay throng, the happy people,

The voices and the laughter

All gone, all gone,

And you remain alone.

I asked and you let me hear

The soft vowelly tongue to be heard nowNo more for ever. For me

You enact old scenes, old ways, you who have used

Boomerang and spear.

You singer of ancient tribal songs,

You leader once in the corroboree,

You twice in fierce tribal fights

With wild enemy blacks from over the river,

All gone, all gone. And I feel

The sudden sting of tears, Willie Mackenzie

In the Salvation Army Home.Displaced person in your own country,

Lonely in teeming city crowds,

Last of your tribe.

13


14/25

Identity

Text Nine

I am Australian (1987)

- by Bruce Woodley and Dobe Newton

I came from the dream-time, from the dusty red soil plainsI am the ancient heart, the keeper of the flame.

I stood upon the rocky shore, I watched the tall ships come.For forty thousand years I've been the first Australian.

(Chorus) We are one, but we are many

And from all the lands on earth we comeWe share a dream and sing with one voice:

I am, you are, we are Australian

I came upon the prison ship, bowed down by iron chains.I cleared the land, endured the lash and waited for the rains.

I'm a settler, I'm a farmer's wife on a dry and barren runA convict then a free man, I became Australian.

(Chorus)

I'm the daughter of a digger who sought the mother lode

The girl became a woman on the long and dusty roadI'm a child of the depression, I saw the good times come

I'm a bushy, I'm a battler, I am Australian.

(Chorus)

I'm a teller of stories, I'm a singer of songsI am Albert Namatjira, I paint the ghostly gums

I am Clancy on his horse, I'm Ned Kelly on the runI'm the one who waltzed Matilda, I am Australian.

(Chorus)

There are no words of comfort that can hope to ease the pain

Of losing homes and loved ones the memories will remainWithin the silent tears youll find the strength to carry on

Youre not alone, we are with you. We are Australian.

(Chorus)

There are so many heroes whose stories must be told

They fought the raging fires of hell and saved so many souls

From the ashes of despair our towns will rise again!

We mourn your loss, we will rebuild. We are Australian!

(Chorus)

I'm the hot wind from the desert, I'm the black soil of the plains

I'm the mountains and the valleys, I'm the drought and flooding rainsI am the rock, I am the sky, the rivers when they run

The spirit of this great land, I am Australian.

(Chorus)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjkrjYitgeA

14
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjkrjYitgeAhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjkrjYitgeA


15/25

Identity

Text Ten (Some course language)Dead and Gone T.I. and Justin Timberlake

Let me kick it to you right quick, man

That on some gangsta **** man, on some real ****

Anybody done been through the same thing, I'm sure you feel

the same way

Big PhilThis for you pimpin'

Oh, I've been travellin' on this road too long (too long)

Just tryna find my way back home (back home)

The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone

And oh (eyyy)

I've been travellin' on this road too long (too long)

Just tryna find my way back home (back home)

The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone, dead and gone

Ever had one of them days wish would've stayed home

Run into a group of niggas who gettin' they hate onYou walk by

They get wrong

You reply then **** get blown

Way outta proportion

Way past discussion

Just you against them, pick one then rush 'em

Figure you'll get jumped, hell that's nothing

They don't wanna stop there now they bussin'

Now you gushin', ambulance rushin'

You to the hospital with a bad concussion

Plus ya hit 4 times

Plus it hit ya spineParalyzed waist down now ya wheel chair bound

Nevermind that now you lucky to be alive

Just think it all started you fussin' with 3 guys

Now ya pride in the way, but ya pride is the way

You could stuff around, get shot, die anyday

Niggas die everyday

All over bull ****, dope money, dice game, ordinary hood

****

Could this be 'cos of hip hop music?

Or did the ones with the good sense not use it?

Usually niggas don't know what to do when their backagainst the wall so they just start shootin'

For red or for blue or for blo I guess

From Bankhead or from your projects

No more stress, now I'm straight, now I get it, now I take

Time to think, before I make mistakes just for my family's

sake

That part of me left yesterday

The heart of me is strong today

No regrets I'm blessed to say

The old me dead and gone away

I ain't never been scared, I lived through tragedy

Situation could've been dead lookin' back at it

Most of that **** didn't even have to happen

But you don't think about it when you out there trappin'

In apartments, hangin', smokin', and rappin'

Niggas start ****, next thing ya know we cappin'

Get locked up then didn't even get madNow think about damn what a life I had

Most of that ****, look back, just laugh

Some **** still look back get sad

Maybe my homboy still be around

Had I not hit the nigga in the mouth that time

I won that fight

I lost that war

I can still see my nigga walkin' out that door

Who'da thought I'd never see Philant no more?

Got enough dead homies I don't want no more

Cost a nigga his job

Cost me moreI'd took that ass-whooping now for sure

Now think before I risk my life

Take them chances to get my stripe

A nigga put his hands on me alright

Otherwise stand there talk **** all night

'Cos I hit you, you sue me,

I shoot you, get locked up, who me?

No more stress, now I'm straight, now I get it, now I

take

Time to think, before I make mistakes just for my

family's sake

That part of me left yesterday

The heart of me is strong today

No regrets I'm blessed to say

The old me dead and gone away

I turn my head to the East

I don't see nobody by my side

I turn my head to the West

Still nobody in sight

So I turn my head to the North

Swallow that pill that they call pride

That old me is dead and goneBut that new me will be alright

I turn my head to the East

I don't see nobody by my side

I turn my head to the West

Still nobody in sight

So I turn my head to the North

Swallow that pill that they call pride

That old me is dead and gone

But that new me will be alright.

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Text Eleven (Some course language)

Lose Yourself - Eminem

Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunityTo seize everything you ever wanted-One moment

Would you capture it or just let it slip?

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavyThere's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready todrop bombs,

but he keeps on forgettin what he wrote down,the whole crowd goes so loud

He opens his mouth, but the words won't come outHe's choking now, everybody's joking now

The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!

Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravityOh, there goes Rabbit, he choked

He's so mad, but he won't give up thatEasy, no

He won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropesIt don't matter, he's dope

He knows that, but he's broke

He's so stagnant that he knowsWhen he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's

Back to the lab again yo

This whole rhapsodyHe better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment

You own it, you better never let it go

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blowThis opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo

The soul's escaping, through this hole that it's gapingThis world is mine for the taking

Make me king, as we move toward a, new world orderA normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post

mortemIt only grows harder, only grows hotter

He blows us all over these hoes is all on himCoast to coast shows, he's know as the globetrotter

Lonely roads, God only knowsHe's grown farther from home, he's no father

He goes home and barely knows his own daughter

But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold waterHis hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product

They moved on to the next schmoe who flowsHe nose dove and sold nada

So the soap opera is told and unfoldsI suppose it's old partner but the beat goes onDa da dum da dum da da

No more games, I'm a change what you call rage

Tear this roof off like 2 dogs cagedI was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed

I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stageBut I kept rhyming and stepwritin the next cypher

Best believe somebody's paying the pied piperAll the pain inside amplified by the fact

That I can't get by with my 9 to 5And I can't provide the right type of life for my family

Cause man, these goddam food stamps don't buy diapersAnd it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life

And these times are so hard and it's getting even harderTrying to feed and water my seed, plus

Teeter totter caught up between being a father and a prima donna

Baby mama drama's screaming on andToo much for me to wanna

Stay in one spot, another day of monotony

Has gotten me to the point, I'm like a snailI've got to formulate a plot or I end up in jail or shot

Success is my only option, failure's notMom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go

I cannot grow old in Salem's lot

So here I go is my shot.Feet fail me not cause maybe the only opportunity that I got

You can do anything you set your mind to, man

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Text Twelve

Paint It Black

- The Rolling Stones

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore I want them to turn blackI see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black

With flowers and my love both never to come back

I see people turn their heads and quickly look away

Like a new born baby it just happens ev'ry day

I look inside myself and see my heart is black

I see my red door and it has been painted black

Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the factsIt's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue

I could not foresee this thing happening to you

If I look hard enough into the settin' sun

My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothesI have to turn my head until my darkness goes

Hmm, hmm, hmm,...

I wanna see it painted, painted black

Black as night, black as coal

I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky

I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black

Yeah!

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Text Thirteen

The Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination

Harvard University Commencement Address by J.K. Rowling

President Faust, members of the

Harvard Corporation and the Board ofOverseers, members of the faculty,

proud parents, and, above all,

graduates, the first thing I would like to

say is 'thank you.' Not only has Harvard

given me an extraordinary honour, but

the weeks of fear and nausea I've

experienced at the thought of giving this

commencement address have made me

lose weight. A win-win situation! Now

all I have to do is take deep breaths,

squint at the red banners and foolmyself into believing I am at the world's

largest Griffindor reunion. Delivering a

commencement address is a great

responsibility; or so I thought until I

cast my mind back to my own

graduation.

The commencement speaker that day

was the distinguished British

philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock.

reflecting on her speech has helped meenormously in writing this one, because

it turns out that I can't remember a

single word she said. This liberating

discovery enables me to proceed

without any fear that I might

inadvertently influence you to abandon

promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the 'gay wizard' joke, I've still come out ahead of

Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked

myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned

in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to

celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as

you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called 'real life', I want to extol the crucial

importance of imagination.

These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience forthe 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance

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between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents,

both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took

the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a

mortgage, or secure a pension.

They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. Acompromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern

Languages. Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched

German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out

for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard

put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an

executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view.

There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the momentyou are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise

my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I

have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty

entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and

hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride

yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in

the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing

examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have

never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the

caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence

of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-

acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for

success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person's idea of

success, so high have you already flown academically.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager

to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a

mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-

lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in

modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had

for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark

one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of

fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the

end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

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So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the

inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to

direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at

anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I

truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still

alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so

rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live

without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at

all in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught

me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will,

and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly

above rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever

after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of yourrelationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is

painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.

Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness

lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your

CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two.

Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that

will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it

played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtimestories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is

not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all

invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the

power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed

much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my

earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in

my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in

London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by menand women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to

them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their

desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their

injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of

kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their

homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government.

Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what

had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had

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become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he

spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was,

and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station

afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite

courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from

behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The dooropened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the

young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own

outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to

live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public

trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to

gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I

saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known

before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their

beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective

action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are

assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My

small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my

life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having

experienced. They can think themselves into other people's minds, imagine themselves into other

people's places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use

such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably

within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have

been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can

close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to

know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any

fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental

agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters.

They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever

committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the

age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author

Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

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That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It

expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other

people's lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives? Your

intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you

unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority

of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, theway you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond

your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no

voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the

ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not

only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people

whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world,

we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. Thefriends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children's

godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been

kind enough not to sue me when I've used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were

bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and,

of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally

valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if

you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old

Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of

ancient wisdom: As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

I wish you all very good lives.

Thank you very much.

Speech on YouTube

Part One: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkREt4ZB-ck

Part Two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kh_tSiqL1U&feature=related

Part Three: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqGotirF20w&feature=related

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkREt4ZB-ckhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kh_tSiqL1U&feature=relatedhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqGotirF20w&feature=relatedhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkREt4ZB-ckhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kh_tSiqL1U&feature=relatedhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqGotirF20w&feature=related


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Text Fourteen

The Economist, Sep 10th 2011

Grief, and its consequencesBy Bagehot

PUBLIC grief can be hard toexpress in a holiday town, built

around the promise of heedless

fun. Yet late last month, the

seaside resort of Weymouth put

on a remarkable, heartfelt

homage to James Wright, a 22-

year-old local man killed

fighting in Afghanistan.

Mourners report, with pride, how

the towns main church wasfilled to capacity by his family,

school friends and neighbours, as well as by his comrades from the Royal Marines. Several hundred

more people gathered outside.

Military traditions were observed. A Royal Marine firing party offered a three-gun salute, a bugler

the Last Post. Elsewhere though, the personal and the informal reigned. A cannon fired from a

Victorian fort on Weymouth Bay signalled a minutes silence throughout the town, organised not by

the authorities but by a caretaker at Marine Wrights former secondary school. Further calls for

quiet were broadcast at Morrisons supermarket and at the towns department store. Along the faded

Regency seafront, souvenir stalls halted trading, led by staff at a sweet shop where Marine Wright

once worked. Oblivious to the grieving around them, tourists chattered, someit is saidthinkingthat the cannons boom marked a lifeboat launch. Townsfolk lined the pavements in silence, in

places three or four deep. Later, the funeral procession was applauded by those along its route.

In Britain, public sympathy for the military has not been this intense for many years, arguably since

the Falklands conflict of 1982. It was headline news in late August when hearses bearing casualties

of the Afghan conflict stopped driving down the high street of Wootton Bassett, a market town that

for four years has saluted the war dead with tolling bells and flag-bearing veterans. The prime

minister, David Cameron, thanked Wootton Bassett on the nations behalf, and vowed to monitor

whether mourning families felt welcome on a new route to be used by funeral cortges (chosen after

a change of the airbase used for repatriations).

Set against that intense support for the troops, polls consistently show the British opposed to the

war in Afghanistan (though only a minority want the troops home immediately, with a larger

number hoping for a swift-ish exit that denies the Taliban total victory). A 2011 poll by YouGov

found the cost in human lives the top reason for opposing the war.

A single column cannot offer a scientific survey of this phenomenon. Nor can it offer adequate

memorial to Marine Wright, by all accounts a remarkable athlete, soldier and family man, whose

death stunned friends who thought him invincible. Instead, hopefully, some broad hints can be

drawn from the response of one southern English town to a military death (the 378th in Afghanistan

since 2001).

Graham Winter is mayor of Weymouth and the neighbouring isle of Portland, and he taught JamesWright at primary school. Mostly, he ascribes the turnout at the marines funeral to the young mans

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Identity

popularity and high profile in a small community. But he also notes a trend of rising attendance at

veterans events. There were large crowds at a homecoming parade in July for Royal Tank

Regiment troops back from Afghanistan. The underlying cause, he suggests, is growing awareness

of the dangers faced by troops overseas, rammed home by press reporting. That awareness should

not be confused with endorsement of government policies, the mayor says: if asked why troops

were in Afghanistan, many would find it hard to answer.

On the Esplanade, Hazel Coleman, a sixth-form student with a part-time job at a souvenir shop,observed the minutes silence for Marine Wright. But she saysnot unreasonablythat the war has

gotten more complicated over the years, so she only vaguely knows why troops are still in

Afghanistan. To her, the public mood is about respect, and people dying.

The Wootton Bassett effect

During interviews in Weymouth, the example of Wootton Bassett comes up a lot. Locals needed no

persuasion to organise a minutes silence, says the school caretaker behind the tribute, Geoff Bright.

But, he admits, there was a sense of: If Wootton Bassett can do it, so can Weymouth, no getting

away from it.

Whatever the model is, it is not Falklands Britain. Trawl through archive copies of the local

newspaper, theDorset Evening Echo, covering the period of that conflict, and a barely-recognisable

country swims into view. In 1982 deaths are reported briskly, and upper lips are still stiff. Opening

a large Falklands homecoming fete, a naval officer declares tersely: I wish you could have seen

how our chaps behaved under not ideal circumstances. Returning troops are greeted with a mixture

of amateurish cheer, bunting and alcohol: there are endless reports of champagne welcomes, an

improbable sherry reception for commandos, andin Dorchester1,000 free pints of beer.

Three decades on, a new tolerance for public emotion has strict limits, however. One of Marine

Wrights former teachers, now retired, caused anger by telling local reporters that, as well as pride,

he also felt sorrow at a futile waste of a young life. A totally inappropriate comment, retorts aserving school colleague.

Yet if the current public mood is patriotic, it is not deferential. Phil Thomas, headmaster of Marine

Wrights old school, senses local communities sending a message to the government: We are

recognising these individuals, they are dying on your behalf, make sure you have your policies

right.

Such talk alarms British military commanders. They yearn for public support for the troops, not

sympathy, and fret about a debilitating focus on individual losses. A visit to Weymouth suggests

they are too late. Overt grief is part of life now, stoked by a public and media hungry for human

interest. Will it make future wars harder to fight? Probably. But there is no going back.

Fromhttp://www.economist.com/node/21528604

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Text Fifteen

My Place (Website opportunities for creative writing)

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happiest refugee 1 - introductory anttyjtyjtyjtyhology

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