Admissions Essay -Forgotten, but Not Gone :: Medicine College Admissions Essays

Admissions Essay - Forgotten, but Not Gone The only signs of life came from faint movements their bodies made when inhaling and exhaling the surrounding air. Most of the patients did not even blink as Bob Barker, host of "The Price is Right," somehow held his viewers in a hypnotic trance. Others maintained slouched postures as they dozed off in their wheelchairs. Ben and Gene, however, danced spastically while quietly chanting unrecognizable hymns. Ninety-four year old Mary was discreetly wheeling herself out of the recreation room. A shaggy looking maintenance man, with the name Ronnie embroidered on his stained uniform, was viciously tearing apart the room's air conditioning unit. Despite this less than ideal environment, my summer internship as a recreational therapist in this long-term health care facility remained unchanged. "Current Events at 11:00" was boldly displayed on the doors and cork-boards throughout the building, and it was my job to facilitate a discussion with this diverse group of brain-injured people. To more than a few jeers from the crowd, Bob Barker's entrancing powers suddenly evaporated as I turned off the television. I convinced our two talented dancers to join the rest of the group, while steadily wheeling Mary back into the room. I sat down with my usual copy of the Boston Globe. A picture of families splashing and running along the coast of a sandy beach immediately seized my attention. Some patients also caught a glimpse of the striking photograph and conversation erupted. The group ranged in age from twenty-one to one-hundred-one, but it did not matter, everyone had a story to tell about their days of summer fun. I could not deny a sense of longing in their voices, as tales of sand and sun sounded like intangible dreams from a remote past. Our dialogue was cut short by the squealing sounds of the lunch cart, signaling the end of our current events session. I bolted down to the recreation office while visions of a beach-related activity flooded my mind. I eventually acknowledged that for medical and safety reasons it would be impossible for patients to leave facility grounds. The focus of my thoughts shifted to images of an artificial beach within the institution. I immediately remembered the second floor patio which was outdoors and easily accessible. When I threw my ideas at the office, everyone was skeptical because of a shortage of staffing, but after two days I was able to enlist an enthusiastic group of volunteers, including kitchen workers, interns and even Ronnie our maintenance man. Admissions Essay -Forgotten, but Not Gone :: Medicine College Admissions Essays Admissions Essay - Forgotten, but Not Gone The only signs of life came from faint movements their bodies made when inhaling and exhaling the surrounding air. Most of the patients did not even blink as Bob Barker, host of "The Price is Right," somehow held his viewers in a hypnotic trance. Others maintained slouched postures as they dozed off in their wheelchairs. Ben and Gene, however, danced spastically while quietly chanting unrecognizable hymns. Ninety-four year old Mary was discreetly wheeling herself out of the recreation room. A shaggy looking maintenance man, with the name Ronnie embroidered on his stained uniform, was viciously tearing apart the room's air conditioning unit. Despite this less than ideal environment, my summer internship as a recreational therapist in this long-term health care facility remained unchanged. "Current Events at 11:00" was boldly displayed on the doors and cork-boards throughout the building, and it was my job to facilitate a discussion with this diverse group of brain-injured people. To more than a few jeers from the crowd, Bob Barker's entrancing powers suddenly evaporated as I turned off the television. I convinced our two talented dancers to join the rest of the group, while steadily wheeling Mary back into the room. I sat down with my usual copy of the Boston Globe. A picture of families splashing and running along the coast of a sandy beach immediately seized my attention. Some patients also caught a glimpse of the striking photograph and conversation erupted. The group ranged in age from twenty-one to one-hundred-one, but it did not matter, everyone had a story to tell about their days of summer fun. I could not deny a sense of longing in their voices, as tales of sand and sun sounded like intangible dreams from a remote past. Our dialogue was cut short by the squealing sounds of the lunch cart, signaling the end of our current events session. I bolted down to the recreation office while visions of a beach-related activity flooded my mind. I eventually acknowledged that for medical and safety reasons it would be impossible for patients to leave facility grounds. The focus of my thoughts shifted to images of an artificial beach within the institution. I immediately remembered the second floor patio which was outdoors and easily accessible. When I threw my ideas at the office, everyone was skeptical because of a shortage of staffing, but after two days I was able to enlist an enthusiastic group of volunteers, including kitchen workers, interns and even Ronnie our maintenance man.

A life in the day of…

It's 7am and once again the annoying repetitive sound of the alarm on my phone rings again. As I still have my eyes closed, I feel around the floor for my phone to stop the alarm. After ten seconds I find the cancel button, the alarm is still ringing in my ears. Eventually I open my eyes to find nothing but darkness. I feel as dead as Kurt Cobain. I stumble to the door and pull down the cold handle. As I open the door, I hear the sound of the T. V downstairs. I sit on the top step of the steep stairs knowing if I were to try and walk I would most probably fall. When I reach the bottom I see my Dad lying on the sofa looking half-dead watching the T. V. I say ‘good morning,' he replies with a simple grunt. I walk out the kitchen, look out of the window, the sun shines so brightly, I can't see a thing. To wake myself up, I stumble into the bathroom as if I am drunk to take a shower. As soon as I get into the shower I started to feel awake. I am enjoying a quiet, relaxing shower when all of a sudden my twelve year old sister pushes the bathroom door open so hard that it hits the sink. The noise of that is so loud that it makes me jump a mile. I shout at her so loudly the house began to rumble. Around 7:30 I depart from my shower. I run upstairs very quickly as I only have a towel loosely wrapped around my waist. After that I put my school uniform on, my white polo shirt, black trousers and my black sweater. I pick up my big black bag which I had packed last night and once again walk downstairs to the chaos of everyone getting ready for work or school. I can see the steam coming out of my parent's head from the stress and rush of the morning. I pick up a shining, shark, silver knife from the kitchen and a loaf of bread from the kitchen and make myself a nutella sandwich. Its 8:15 and I have the long walk of approximately twenty metres to get to my bus stop, also known as a video shop. As I walk my shoe's make a loud sound like a horse walking. After five minutes of talking about girls and music the ‘Red Submarine' bus arrives. Yet again we have the same cheery driver with a chin ring, six earrings and a nose stud. All eighteen of us at the bus stop run onto the bus like a herd of galloping rhinos. I jump onto a seat with Sean and Adam near the door of the bus. We drive up the hill towards the nest bus stop at a maximum of three mph. Once all fellow pupils have been picked up in Maesycoed, the ‘fag bags' start puffing away upstairs. I complain to the driver about the smell of the fags but he does nothing. After twenty minutes of torture the bus finally arrives at Coedylan Prison, late as ever and yet again, we are the last people into school. I pull the cold silver metal of the front entrance doors of the prison. As I try to rush to get to registration, I am trapped by somebody walking as slow as a slug. At last my path has been unblocked and then I have to walk up the step staircase to get to the year ten registration corridor. I arrive at my registration room just in time for the register. I sit down and wait for my name to be called on the register. ‘Amy, Sophie, Ian†¦.. ‘ until eventually my name is called. Miss Hambling is a very laid back teacher who will let the class do what we want as long as the register is done. After the register, the class talks until the end of registration. At 9:05 I leave my reg to head for the first joyful lesson of the day, English with the teacher tat has clever ideas on how to wake her up in the morning. Miss Angell's cat jumps on her bladder so that she has to wake up to go the toilet and so that she would feed the cat. During the lesson, Christian usually uses his annoying repetitive noisy behaviour to do something to me and the rest of the class laugh. The rest of the lesson I finish writing up my essay. At 9:55 the repetitive, noisy, silver bell rings for second lesson. I am relieved because my arm is starting to ache but also disappointed because I like English. Second lesson, I can't even walk into the room and I already hear ‘Stand behind your chairs'. And then ‘Sit down; heading is quadratic equations, underline it with a ruler. ‘ As the lesson progresses, the tiredness creeps up on everyone. Page upon page being written on. Graphs to be drawn on blue squared paper. I feel as if my arm is about to drop off. Waiting and waiting for the magic words ‘pack away'. At 10:55, finally, the magic words have been said as well as a yell of, ‘Stand behind your chairs! ‘ As the chairs get pushed along the dusty floor the most high pitched noise I ever heard is being made and it is making the hairs on the back of my neck stick out. Five minutes later, ‘First row†¦ Second row'. Finally break time. The joy of chatting about girls and rock music and getting kicked in the shins or slapped by Kerry Adams. This takes place in a small area cramped with munchkins and lanky people. The sound of people rattling their money as if they're Bill Gates waiting to go to the refreshment machines. I stand near the door and when I saw someone just about to open the door I pushed Brian Mackinnon against it. While Brian is moaning in pain everybody else is laughing. This happened continually until the end of break when the bell rings for third lesson. Biology, the best lesson of the day. Go in sit down for five minutes chatting and ‘gyping' Abi Hughes. After that short time, ‘Timmy' starts reading out of a book and then the class has to write it out. Everyone calls him Timmy because some of the teachers do. After that short, boring waste of time, ‘Timmy' starts to draw something on the white board which he always calls a blackboard because he is still living in the past. During the next ten minutes we have to copy down the picture and then we can talk. When we started talking Pringles got told off for ‘gyping' Abi and Bedgood gets told off for trying to bite Pringles' ear. This is still happening and its nearly time for the bell when, ‘We've got time, so we'll copy down this equation'. I sigh but copy down the equation, once I finished I pack away just as the bell is ringing. At 11:55 I arrive at my I. C. T lesson with Mrs Plant. Walk in, sit down and turn on my usual computer on while a couple of people are having races and spinning around on the blue swivel chairs. Trying to move through the middle of them is like avoiding being fired at or trying not to fall into shell holes on a battle field. Finally Mrs Plant has arrived and the war is caught in action and both sides warned for the rest of the lesson. Obviously, I laugh. Mrs Plant calls everyone to the middle of the classroom where there are several tables. I slid along the floor like a car on ice on a Winters morning. Mrs Plant begins to explain the lesson, I have to finish designing my disco tickets and print them out. ‘Gavin' says Mrs Plant, the fear rose up in me, ‘Could you do me a favour', as those words are spoken I made a sigh of relief. ‘Please go to the staff corridor and into the staffroom to get laser for the printer. I walk to the staff corridor without a question until, ‘What are you doing down here? ‘ It was one of the secretaries. I explained what I am attempting to do so she goes to get it and told me not to go down the staff corridor again but to ask at the office next time. I nod my head and then walk off through the long, dusty corridor holding a big box in both hands. I walk into class and am greeted with a ‘thank you. ‘ I walk to my computer and load up ‘Microsoft Word' and the file ‘Disco tickets. ‘ Within the space of ten minutes, a voice from the other end of the classroom yells, ‘Gavin my friend, come help me please. It is Charlotte who I then helped, after completing the task, Susan asks the same thing so I help her also. I go back to my computer and begin to work as fast as light. At 12:38 I complete the work and ask Mrs Plant to put the laser in the printer so I am able to print out my work. As the bell goes the tickets are just printing. I put them into my file and leave for the canteen. Through the overcrowded, noisy corridors of Coedylan, I eventually reach the canteen and sit with the usual people on the right hand side of the canteen. I am surrounded by Adam and Gregg who are trying to steal my chocolate bars from my lunch box with the green lid. As I quickly eat my food, the canteen becomes more and more crowded and the lines become much longer. I finish my lunch and head back to the Bytezone. I throw my bag on the pile of bags already on the floor and walk over to my friend Grant but then I get surrounded by Kerry and her ‘clang' who are wearing their pyjamas to raise money for charity. At that hideous sight, I began to cry and fall to the ground. I am then asked if I want to go for a walk around the school. When I get to the back it is horrific, people spitting, smoking, I can't help but laugh at their stupidity. As we carry on walking we get to the basketball court where people from year eleven play football. While walking around the edge of the court, Grant is nearly hit on the head with a football. As we walk back into the Bytezone the machines just turned off and somebody's money has got stuck in thee chocolate machine. I go to talk to Kerry's ‘clang' half of them are sitting on the tables. It sounds like Pontypridd Park pool in the Summer with everyone talking or screaming. Grant and I swap phones so we can look at each others messages and all of a sudden a hand appears by the side of me and tries to steal Grants phone so she could have a look. I look at my watch and realise that the bell is about to go so I get my bag and wait for the bell to go at the bottom of the stairs. The bell goes and all of a sudden everyone starts running up the stairs. I walk into my registration classroom followed by other members of my disruptive reg class. As soon as Miss Hambling walks into the room she starts to call the register as there is not much time in afternoon reg. After about ten names she has to stop because Scott has disrupted her as usual. After another ten names, Miss Hambling is disrupted again but this time by the annoying Johnny. The register is being finished just as the bell goes. Now, the quick run through the corridor so I don't get caught up in the jam, but when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I am caught right in the middle of it. Luckily I am not caught up for long and I am first into the classroom. I go to my usual seat on the back row and get my Physics book out of my big, heavy bag and also my pencil case. As I am doing this the rest of the class stumbles through the door. Pringles and Adam both sit either side of me like always and Pringles asks me for a pen yet again. For Physics I have Mr Thomas, he's ‘kool,' he always let's have a joke in lessons. He tells the class to get their homework out so that we can mark it. This takes up fifteen minutes of the lesson. Now, Mr Thomas is telling everyone to go sit around the back desks so that we can watch a experiment. It is a steam train that is run by the water boiling with one exception, it's not working properly. As the lesson is progressing, time is going quite fast. As Mr Thomas is talking, the bells ringing. We all go to get our bags and now we can leave. Now, I have German, probably the best lesson of the day. I walk into the ‘Sunshine room,' which is what Mrs Hewitt calls it because apparently the sun always shines in that room. Today is going to be the second time that I will meet the German student Christiana. As soon as everyone is settled, Mrs Hewitt tells my half of the class to go to another room with Christiana for her to teach us for the first half of the lesson. I walk across the corridor and into a empty room where Christiana then put a map on the OHP. On this we have to say how to get to a building from a certain place. This went on for the first half of the lesson until we changed with the other half of the class. I walk back to the ‘Sunshine room' where Mrs Hewitt is waiting for us. As we are all sat down and quiet she starts to explain about a trip to ‘Kiln' for the Christmas markets. Now, we are moving to translating role-plays from English to German. They are both about directions which is quite fun. Before I knew it the bell had gone, so everyone packed up and now we are all rushing to our ‘sheds' so that we don't have to stand up. The mad rush in the corridors is like a running track at the Olympics. I run onto the red ‘shamrock shed' and sit downstairs for a change. I have made a good choice because the driver walked upstairs and gave everyone a warning for something. When the driver got back downstairs, he sat in his seat and he shut the big glass doors with green handles and off we go at the maximum speed of three mph and four mph down hill. Adam puts his CD player on and lets me listen to one of the earphones. We are listening to Kerrang 4, which is the best album ever created. I finally arrive at my bus stop, at the end of my street, at last I am off that excuse for a vehicle. I open the door of my house and before I can even say ‘Hello' my cousin has his arms around me and he's telling me about his day in school, but now I am feeling tired, so all I want to do is sleep. I turn on the T. V to the ‘Storm,' it's a modern rock radio station. My favourite D. J is on at the moment, he is ‘Deano. ‘ I have sat down for five minutes and the phone is ringing already. It's Adam asking me if I want to go to ‘Ponty. ‘ I can't be bothered but I will because thankfully I have no homework. I walk up the stairs and open my big brown bedroom door and to my surprise my clothes are already out ready for me to wear. I put on my dark blue baggy jeans and my black Nirvana ‘hoodie' with a picture of Kurt Cobain on the back of it. I walk back downstairs, say goodbye to my cousin and my Nan. I am going to the end of my long street which has a pub, a Chinese and a video shop where Adam is waiting. On the way we talk about how much fun the Sum 41 concert is going to be. We arrive in Ponty and head for Woolworths. In Woolworths we look at the rock albums and singles. Ten minutes I get a little bored and even more tired now. At 4:45 we leave Woolworths and head for the swings in the park. While walking through I see our friends Becky, Amy, Stacie and Nathalie and we go to the swings with them. We talk about rock music over and over and how much we hate pop music. Its 6:30 so the park is about to close. The silence of nobody around is relaxing but then the peace is disturbed by the sound of our baggy jeans dragging on the floor. When we reach Ponty, Adam and I depart from the girls and head for our homes in the pitch black apart from a few flickering street light. I keep looking around to make sure nobody is following us. I am now home. ‘Hello fellow family members' I say with a chirpy voice. I then walk towards the bathroom so I can brush my teeth before I go to bed. I walk into the lounge. ‘I'm off to bed now. ‘ It's only 9:00 but I'm extremely tired. I think about how cool it would be if I could become a very talented rock star like Kurt Cobain. I would call my band†¦ ‘Yawn! ‘ A Life In The Day Of†¦ At around 7: ooam on yet another dull and monotonous school day, my alarm rings. The shrill ear-piercing sounds and death-dance of my mobile phone attempts almost vainly to bring me back from oblivion. So loud that in the process of waking me up this wakes the rest of the house as well, (this will later make me the victim of taunts, mocking and severe punch-ups between my three older brothers and†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ me). I am usually forced out of bed, like a caterpillar breaking away from its cocoon, or tormented until I come round with the use of such agonizing instruments or procedures as the wet flannel or the glass of water over my head. After my torment and persecution, I stagger across the room with eyes still glazed over from around 8 hours of glorious sleep and, with an omnipotent thud, strike my hazily strike my ongoing alarm clock and watch it fall to the ground. With my eyes still twitching, gradually opening to the sight of raw sunlight gleaming through my curtains that have been rudely opened by my insensitive mother, I eventually make it to the bathroom and, because of our feeble, pathetic and broken shower, decide to run a bath. Cleanliness and external appearance is of great importance to me and a lot of other people coming through in this new generation. So, I put on my uniform. This is the one thing I enjoy about school as there is no deciding of what to wear, will it look good does it go with these shoes, just one set of clothes that can never go wrong. I then stumble downstairs, as unfit as I am, still stiff and taut from yesterday's game of football. Then with my ravenous and short-tempered self, attack the fridge like a man possessed, clutching the nearest and often tastiest piece of food, even if it is the remnants of last nights Chinese take-away. Once my journey to the fridge is complete (this usually takes around 10 minutes due to my laziness, and the time taken pondering over whether or not I can be bothered to get up out of my seat), I embark on the stairs, which to me at this time in the morning seem to be like a colossal mountain of sea green carpet. And, once at the top, I realise that in fact, due to the irony of my life, my toothbrush and paste have been tidied and taken downstairs by my once again insensitive mother, whose answer is repeatedly â€Å"well who else is going to do the tidying then. † Thankfully, after all this there are little immature quarrels over who gets to use the bathroom first as my brother who is still studying leaves the house later than me, because of his career as a professional footballer (oh how I do envy him, as he is able to take his time in the morning and yet still gets to play football for a living. Finally, I am ready to leave and the sacrifice made just for a lift to school involves a promise to do more chores or household tasks later in the day, yet I still end up being late due to the slowness of my mother and sister, whose life just seems to revolve around the â€Å"Tweenies! (How I do envy her). In more peaceful moments I often contemplate whether the extra ten minutes lie-in compensates for the un-enjoyable rush I have to endure everyday, but that 10 minutes is an eternity to me. And comments from my mother like â€Å"you need to get more organised†, â€Å"your brother was never like this†, and the old favourite – â€Å"your father and I used to walk 10 miles just to get to school†¦ and in our bare feet†, only seek to annoy me. After the complex procedure of getting everybody in the car, the journey commences at about 8:15am and the complete journey involves my younger sister crying for â€Å"the cheeky girls† and me in the front arguing my right to either revise or select my choice of radio station, if not against my sister, then my mother. It is the usual battle of Galaxy fm v Radio 4. As I arrive at school, my mother's somewhat futile attempts to park the car and later assault me, by trying to kiss me on the cheek amuse my friends as they pass. Once at school I immediately drop my bags and proceed to the metro station, an unofficial youth club, to meet my friends. However this all seems rather tedious until the Central High girls arrive and the sight of a mini-skirt makes the wait completely worthwhile. The day monotonously goes by, with each lesson inevitably uninteresting in its own way, until the joy of the long-awaited tuck-shop is appreciated, with its selection of fine sweets and hot, steaming succulent sandwiches, each as good as each other. As the lessons persist towards lunchtime, the hunger and tension draw near and the shiftiness and eagerness of the pupils become more apparent in the last five minutes of the lesson time and as the impatience and intolerance become more increase, people begin gradually and stealthily to shuffle books into their bags and look at their watches, too disgusted at the effrontery of the French teacher for keeping the class five minutes longer to discuss the application of the ultimately pointless past tense. Then, three loud rings signal lunch time and the class is promptly dispatched. At lunchtime, I usually enjoy a game of football, which ends up in me being late for lunch and lessons and becoming extremely sweaty. However, I believe in continually playing football in order to improve and become fitter, so that I can hopefully someday follow in my brother's footsteps in becoming a professional footballer, as this is what I enjoy doing most of all. I do also enjoy school however as long as I am not behind in work (this usually stops me from playing football at lunchtimes as I continually have something on my mind). I enjoy economics and am fascinated by the world of business and media, thus possibly leading me to a future career in either of these. Yet as lunchtime dawns upon us, the sun is exposed and my day is suddenly all the better for it, compared to the dreary, depressing clouds and bleak weather in the morning as I am still waking up. In the afternoon, once again the lessons slowly progress and once again the shuffling and shiftiness return towards the end of the day, all to save an extra five to ten minutes. At the end of the day, if I am not playing football, I head home and by around 5:30pm I can be started on my homework, so long as my mother nags at me enough. At home we have a very hectic household and I sometimes find it difficult to concentrate on just one thing, such as trying to attempt my maths homework when there is the constant ringing of the phone or my brother forever chatting to his girlfriend. There is also my sister wanting someone to play with her, the noise of the computer and the television. And, due to my other brother's strange profession of being a busker, he is forever making absurd things for his show, for example hammering nails into a bed of nails. Even though it always seems that as soon as I get started, my mother or father is calling for dinnertime and lamenting the fact that the family never eats together enough and so I never get started. But I always try to complete my homework's, even if it means staying up past midnight. However I do get to take my breaks, when my mother is busy, I sneak into the games room for a quick fifteen minutes on my play station, or sometimes just downstairs to watch television, with the repeated arguments every night over who gets to choose what programme to watch, with the forever ongoing debate or war over The Simpsons v The Discovery Channel. At long last I reach bedtime. As I return to the bliss of my furry, comfortable and warm bed, like a baby crawling back to its womb. Exhausted from going to bed too late after playing on the play station for too long and planning to go to bed early tomorrow night, I drift off to sleep, but we all know it will never happen, don't we?

Neither a Mule nor a Queen - 1031 Words

Neither a Mule nor Queen Have you ever felt like you had no say on anything you do? Have you ever been a relationship where you had no voice? In the novel, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, Janie, the protagonist, goes through the same thing. Janie goes from being a young girl to being a strong, independent woman. She marries multiple men trying to find the one who will make her dream of love come true. Janie begins her quest of finding the right man at a very young age. As she continues to grow, she realizes that she wants more than love in a man. She learned that she wanted to be free and have her own voice. All three marriages were necessary in order for Janie to become a strong and independent woman. In the beginning of the novel, it is seen that Janie starts to be curious about her womanhood. After the kiss with Johnny Taylor her grandmother, Nanny, forces Janie to marry Logan Killicks, so that Logan could take good care of her â€Å"De nigger woman is de’ mule uh de world so fur as Ah can see†(Hurston 14) Nanny preaches this to Janie so she can understand why she chose Logan to take good care of her. In Janie’s first marriage with, Logan Killicks, a wealthy but much older land owner, in the beginning of her journey to finding who she is meant to become. â€Å"Janie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman.† (Hurston 25) Her dream died because Janie thought that love came with marriage. But she realized that she could love this man, he was ugly, in herShow MoreRelatedThe Golden Age of Piracy Essay example1197 Words   |  5 Pagesthrough letters of marque since 1353, during the reign of Edward 111. However, it was not till Queen Elizabet h’s reign that England would heavily rely on â€Å"Sea Dogs.† Queen Elizabeth inherited the throne of England at a volatile time. Spain under King Philip the second, was the most powerful nation in Europe at the time and sought to weaken Elizabeth’s reign and have her replaced. So, for the Queen to keep her power and avoid open conflict with Spain, England engaged in an â€Å"aggressive para-navalRead More The Life and Accomplishments of Sir Francis Drake Essay3752 Words   |  16 Pagesgreatest defeats and captured his greatest prizes. Sir Francis Drake was just the man the British needed to destroy a dominating Spanish monarchy. The Queen however was embarrassed half of the time for Drake’s ability to take basic orders and expand on them to greater serve himself and his country. Although this jeopardized the safety of the Queen by provoking the Spanish into war. Sir Francis Drake was a man who was feared by all countries who sailed under the Roman Catholic Church’s flag. He wasRead MoreExposing Racism in William Shakespeare’s Othello Essay2036 Words   |  9 PagesInquisitor and the â€Å"star† of nearly every witch’s confession. The women invariably said, it was cold but there was disagreement on other details . . . Most reported it was black and covered with scales . . . One likened the Devils penis to that of a mule, which the Evil One constantly exposed, so proud was he of its massive size and shape. (qtd. in Daileader 1) The Christian religion approves the confessions that presently contribute to Elizabethan’s offensive opinion toward black coloured men. ShakespeareRead MoreWomen Of The Ancient Greek Work, The Iliad And The Mesopotamian Epic Of Gilgamesh2549 Words   |  11 Pagesthe other hand, are mostly weaker and submissive both to men and gods. They are not more than puppets or objects handled by men to meet their needs. The Athenian society was misogynistic, giving no rights and respect to women. Women neither had any rights to property nor were they allowed moving around freely or having a choice in any matter pertaining to their own self. They had little independence and remained constantly under the guardianship of men throughout their life. Women, either wives orRead MoreDiscovery of America6704 Words   |  27 Pagescitations for verification. | He had sought an audience from the monarchs King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella I of Castile, who had informally united the largest kingdoms of Spain through marriage, and while ruling their kingdoms independently, their internal and foreign policies were coordinated as one. On May 1, 1489, permission having been granted, Columbus presented his plans to Queen Isabella, who, in turn, referred it to a committee. After the passing of much time, these savants of CastileRead MoreThe Incredible And Sad Tale Of Innocent Erendira And Her Heartless Grandmother16345 Words   |  40 Pagescomes to female matters. Long before they saw them they both recognized the sound of two mules walking on the flint of the desert. At a command from her grandmother, Erendira lay down on the mat the way an amateur actress might have done at the moment when the curtain was about to go up. Leaning on her bishop s crosier, the grandmother went out of the shelter and sat down on the throne to wait for the mules to pass. The mailman was coming. He was only twenty years old, but his work had aged himRead MoreLangston Hughes Research Paper25309 Words   |  102 Pagesfamous. Previously, his poems had lacked any racial tone. This poem, When Sue Wears Red, praises the beauty of a black girl, using rhythms and responses that he had heard in church. He compared her face to a cameo and her walk to that of a regal queen of Egypt. He described his physical and emotional reaction to her as a blast of trumpets that awakened his heart with a love-fire sharp like pain. On June 6, 1920, Hughes and 126 classmates marched down the aisle of Central High School to receiveRead MoreEssay on The Odyssey21353 Words   |  86 Pagesreturn and heightens the readers anticipation of his triumph. The rich house at Sparta first appears imposing, but it soon reveals the sad adventures of which it has been a part. Menelaus has lost his brother and his friends, and neither his wealth nor Helen can make up for the loss. Helens portrayal is more vivid than that or Nestor or Menelaus. She is a woman of intensity and of powers beyond human coping. Although she is divine, she has no peace, since she is filled with sorrowRead MoreIgbo Dictionary129408 Words   |  518 Pagesto the ground) lay foundation lorry; car A. boundary (of farmland) B. bank of river break up land by digging; divide land for planting; dig ground bring down; humble; humiliate B. Ànà ¬Ã¯â‚¬ ¬, Ànà   the Earth Spirit, regarded as the mother of all men, the queen of the underworld, and the custodian of public morality aspect of the earth related to death rites person’s name person’s name (lit. The land has done very well) the shrine of Ànà ¬Ã¯â‚¬ ¬ owned by the head of a compound, kept in front of his house secret