Hero project description

How does a hero become a hero?

 A hero becomes a hero by doing something that inspires someone to idolize them in a sort of way that is a little astray from worship. But a hero is a only a hero in the eyes of the person/people that idolizes them.

Project description 

i think the "Hero in my eyes" project was a way to see who we idolize and what we believe a hero is, to see our different hero and what some people do to become a hero, and what we would do to make sure they know we are inspired by what they did.

Process

the most effective habits i used while writing this project was to focus on the task at hand. If the teacher gave us a " thing" to do i went right to it, most of the time, but the point is that its a very useful skill to learn if you have trouble turning things in.

Reflection

i think one of the challenges i encountered was getting everything in on time because in retrospect, it was a lot of work to do. I think somethings I would have done different was i would have written more of my homework during the hero in my eyes assignment down in my planner. writing stuff in my planner is a really good way to keep my homework organized, and so i don't forget what it was or forget to look on the DP's.

Artifact

Hero in my eyes post 

 my hero


















  

Saving a Child

It was Sunday afternoon, and my first drive to my cousin Michael’s house. My mom told me every year that the McClellan’s had a huge block party and soon I would be able to go to it. She also talked about the dog they had and that Michael’s mom was her sister. But she didn’t talk about Michael’s dad so much, so I had to shape an image of him with my mind, but the image I had formed was nothing like what I saw him as. Corey McClellan was tall, and loomed over me like a bird does to a bug about to strike, He wore a dark gray/blue shirt with a collar. His pants were also a dark shade of tan. His voice was as strong as an ox but as calm as a drop of rain. He had a constant vigilant glare that let me know he was watching me. I had only observed him for a few moments before he walked away. As he paced off into the distance, I noticed a slight flick of his pointer finger, like he had constantly pointed his finger at wrong do-ers in his house.

As I cavorted around the McClellan’s house I thought about what went on in this family’s life before they had this beautiful house. So to chide my sensation of asking every single person in this house what there life was like, away, I simply just asked Michael’s dad, Corey, what his life was like. But before I could finish my sentence, he started telling me a ridiculously complicated story about the first time he saved someone’s life. It was told a little like this…

“Back when I was twenty-seven and I had a job as a lifeguard, I could remember the day when I first saved someone’s life, it was an afternoon on a Sunday; I was off duty. As I lay there on the beach watching the sun cake the water with rays of light a faint cry beseeched my calmness, “Corey! Corey! come quick!” I soon noticed the caller to be my friend Tim. He had found a young girl about the age of nine who had fallen in a hole before the tide had risen and knocked herself out. She wasn’t breathing properly so we had to perform CPR for what I assumed was twenty or so minutes. Eventually when the water had risen a few feet we layed the little girl on a surfboard and paddled her back to a rescue boat called “the Outrage.” As the boat came into port we noticed the girl still wasn’t breathing right again so we did CPR on her until the child’s breathing calmed. All the while I felt a wave of nausea, and pity race through my body, which was unfamiliar to me. But I pushed those emotions out of my body and said to myself “I must focus on saving a life not my petty emotions.” As we were coming up to the shore I noticed lifeline there waiting for us to bring them the girl. When we handed her over to lifeline they took her to a hospital to be cared for.

We waited patiently for them to call, but no call came. I looked over at Tim, and tried to engage him in conversation to take my mind off the knot in my stomach, but he was too transfixed on the telephone to even notice my existence. I grunted at him, knowing he wouldn’t hear me, and got up. I strolled over to the restroom, walking as gently as possible to try and calm my nerves. My hand squeezed around the door handle, I felt its cool surface being protruded by my sweat, and I suddenly realized how hot I was. As I was about to enter the bathroom I heard a silent ringing and then a high pitched yelling from behind me, “Corey! Corey! They said she’s alive! she’s alive!” A wave of joy flew over me and I raced to my friend and jumped up and down with glee. “We did it Tim, we are hero’s, so to speak.””

Origin of Zero

The number 0 simply does not exist, why? it just doesn't. I'm right your wrong end of discussion!
well I guess thats not the end of our discussion. will still have to discuss you invented zero. well the answer is no one did, its just a virtual representation of a number between -1 and 1, and
what scientists put on a calculator so we know thats what we start at when we use one, and yes overall its the government's fault and its all part of their plan to brainwash us so they can destroy the world!!!!!! ya its shocking i know.

Literary Devices

           Destiny designs reality

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. As she stumbled towards he boy, Angela noticed the ends of his lips curl up to reveal three rows of sharp, crisp white teeth fresh with the blood of his latest devoured victim. As she got closer and closer to the demon child, the wet grass kept sticking to the souls of her shoes, pace by pace slowing her down like they were reaching out with the small green fingers, trying to stop her from reaching the side of this sin of nature.  But she could not stop destiny. She knew she was destined to lead this creature into the real world, she knew the boy would react in violence to how the commoners treated him. They would think him an abomination; and they would cast him away like he was trash waiting for the compacter. Angela turned her head to face her friends, and saw the looks of sadness on they faces, knowing their demise was soon to come in the near future of cataclysmic catastrophes, that involved Angela and this demon boy. She finally turned away from her friends and propped herself next to the boy and said "come with me young master, your destiny awaits."

Vignette

One Moment in Time

I smiled as I glided over the water; I looked up at the sun as it bathed my body with rays of light. Suddenly I felt my board slide from under me, and my smile faded from my face and I felt a searing pain shoot through my body starting from my left side until it reached my right shoulder muscle. I blacked out.

I awoke to a rumbling of metal against metal. I realized I was in my mom’s car, and by the direction of the road we were taking I guessed we were headed to Scripps hospital. I wondered why might she be driving to Scripps? Then reality hit me like a bull made of led! I had somehow injured myself during surfing badly enough to be sent to the hospital. I blacked out again.

My vision blurred as I gained a perception on what was around me and I noticed I was in a bed in a hospital. I glanced out the door at the people passing by outside that I’ve never seen before, why was I here? I thought. I noticed a figure standing across the room from me, with a grin on his face; hmm I wonder what he could want? But I didn’t have time to give myself an answer before I drifted into blackness again. As I regained consciousness I heard someone whispering my name, “Mitch, Mitch?” I realized who it was, it was my mom and my aunt and my cozen. I saw that my brother wasn’t there, I wondered why? But now was not the time to care I had others who wanted to be with me in my time of need.

Soon after I got settled I kept track of how long I had been in the hospital and what my schedule was. First my doctor would come in and see if my blood transfusion was in my arm properly, then every night at around one AM people would come to me and draw my blood from my right arm like vampires. I would black out, and wake up to the sound of my dad or my mom coming in and resting on the bead next to me, and I would try to get up but they would tell me to stay lying down until the doctors said it was ok for me to walk. This cycle repeated until I was ready to go home for the first time in weeks.

This was a time covered with pain and it is full of questionable topics and sadness. But if there’s one thing I remember from that week is that from that point on I had to eat healthier than I had recently.

Metal, Roar, Shrieks and Mumurs

It begins as a loud scratching noise, like a broken record set on repeat until it's batteries die. then a crash interrupts the scratching fingers with abrupt rudeness. As if a great beast is ripping its kill apart, while someone who appeases violence watches. Then the reverberating sound of the pitter patter of a high pitched sound comes into view along with a brushing sound much like that of human begging for water but his mouth is to dry to talk. after you settle into the constant hushing voices, you are struck my a helicopter taking flight right outside you bedroom window. You try and sleep but the "slam, slam" of someone closing the doors to your cell wakes you and stimulates your nerves. a wave a sound hit you as you imagine your in a graveyard at night and graves are shaking
and the gates of the tomb where wealthy people stay are opening and closing, for no reason but to scare you. Something hits your eardrum, its the faint sound of what seems like a bird, it calls to its master but the master can not be found. grief and sadness overwhelm you as hear the beat of ghostly construction workers, working on a time consuming job that can never be finished. the yell of a gargantuan hits your ear as you fade into oblivion. blackness overwhelms you and fall into nothingness.

The locker problem (Mitch's way)

Mitchell gill

                                                                                                            10/2/09

 

                                                The locker problem

 

The order of the lockers is, open, closed, closed, open, closed, closed, closed, closed, open, closed, closed, closed, closed, closed, closed, open, the pattern of closed lockers goes on and on, adding two closed lockers for every open locker. Open lockers are perfect squares, because they have an odd # of factors. Closed lockers have an even # of factors. Factors = 1, 2, 4, 8, 16 are factors for locker 16, that’s an odd # of factors.

Factors = 1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 18 are factors for 18, that’s an even # of factors. This leads up to 31 lockers being open and 961 being closed.

 

 

Locker 1   Open   odd	Locker 2   Closed   even	Locker 3   Closed   even	Locker 4   Open   odd	Locker 5   Closed   even
Locker 6   Closed   even	Locker 7   Closed   even	Locker 8   Closed   even	Locker 9   Open   odd	Locker 10   Closed   even

Odd = odd # of factors                     even = even # of factors