Challenging the student

The challenge in unleashing this hidden intellectualism that all students most likely have is not necessarily in getting them to read about what interests them. The part that teacher’s must learn to do is to convince these students to look at their topic of choice through the eyes of an intellectual. Most students are going to read about what strikes them as “cool.” What the teacher needs to do is challenge them to analyze what makes that cool. What parts of, let’s say baseball, interests that student the most. Challenge that student to form an argument for why baseball is America’s pastime and what makes their favorite player their favorite player. But not only challenge them to find what they like about the sport but also have them look at the other side as well. Similar to planting naysayers in this class, have the student find some negative things about the sport and have the student do their best to respond to these negative aspects with convincing arguments.

The start of my personal response

On a more personal level, I happen to agree with Graff’s sentiment. Granted I still don’t quite consider myself much of an intellectual, I do believe that I am slowly (and ever so surely) arriving at that heralded podium known as intellectualism. However my own laziness still tends to hold me back. I digress though. When I was growing up in my own small town, I too was presented with an interesting dichotomy; that being should I strive to be an exceptional student, or should I play the role of class jock/clown. This was really quite a struggle for a grade-schooler that carried into junior high. It was also a struggle that I may have not handled that well either.

In my defense, I quite effortlessly made above average grades. The problem though was not in necessarily making grades as much as the apparent work that went into it. If I made an A on a test then I would pose a rather cavalier attitude in regards to the matter, acting as if it was by mere good fortune that I came out with such a grade. To act like I had truly attempted at making that grade would have potentially been catastrophic to my reputation. 

Unlocking Intellect

In Gerald Graff’s essay “Hidden Intellectualism,” (2001) the age old problem of students having little to no desire to dive into academic topics is addressed.  However, Graff doesn’t see the problem to be the student’s desire, or lack thereof; so much as he does to see it as one of missed opportunity on behalf of the educator. Graff points out that there has never really been a connection between a given subject and the educational depth that a discussion can generate over said subject. There is no limit to subjects that can be intellectually inclined with a good question that is asked in regards to the topic, just the same there is also no limit to highly intellectually topics that can be drained out by irrelevance or lack of abstract thought. Graff offers his own experiences as an adolescent to strengthen his case.

 As a self-proclaimed “book hater” who cared only for sports, Graff states that it was not until entrance of college that he started to dive into more academic type readings. Like many young boys Graff read sports magazines and autobiographies of sports stars. These are topics that are normally viewed as novel and commonly pigeon hole their readers as being anti-intellectual. This is not necessarily the case though, as Graff so eloquently points out. According to him this is simply intellectualism acquired by other means. Although this may seem like a lofty idea, Graff makes a strong case for his theory.

He points out that growing up in a tough neighborhood; he had to make the choice between being openly smart or being beaten for being too smart. But in this decision and his debates with friends, albeit over sports, movies, or toughness, he was in the state of becoming an intellectual, even before he realized it was happening. During his lack or realization, he started to as he says, “learn the rudiments of the intellectual life.” This life that consisted of “how to make an argument, weigh different kinds of evidence, move between particulars and generalizations, summarize the views of other, and enter a conversation about ideas.” However, Graff’s first arguments were not about Shakespeare or the state of America or anything other topic labeled academic. His arguments were about baseball and movies and other topics deemed that lacked much intellect. But at the time these topics are what were most interesting to him. And at the time, these topics were more intellectual than anything he covered in school.

The problem according to Graff is that teachers do not tap into these resources enough. He says that “schools and colleges are missing an opportunity when they do not encourage students to take their nonacademic interests as objects of academic study.” The idea behind this is to take what seems as non-academia and look at it through different eyes; academic eyes to be exact. Graff encourages the educator to encourage the student in this essay. Because in getting the student to look at their main interests through different eyes, may open them up to what has been deemed as academia all along. 

You Should, I Should, They Should, So Forth and So on

Growing up I was fairly interested in reading books. By fairly interested I mean that I was the three time winner of the "book race" in my elementary school. This is no small feat at a school that consisted of roughly 473 students. I won these book races by reading about things that interested me. Sports, music, popular culture, etc. Reading was, and still is a past time of mine. I do not think I am some "higher than thou" person just because I read. Considering that I'm an English major I'm sure I'm surrounded by people that read consistently and potentially more than I do. These people that surround me are most likely more intellectual than me in regards to most academic areas. However, I have gained intellecualism by a different means. Now maybe I can't get into an in-depth conversation about Shakespeare or Chomskyan linguistics, but if you want to discuss the significance of this years Final Four or about the rise of garage rock in the early part of last decade I would be more than happy to engage in conversation. The significance of this though is that the reading that I have done has brought me to a place where I want to learn about the classic works of literature and the different linguistic approaches.

Gaining intellectualism through different means is important because it can be applied to almost any person in any form of society. Granted this may seem like a no brainer, I do not know that it is. Take for instance if someone is interested in pop culture. Although this is normally a lightly thought out topic and a majority of pop culture is show and not any kind of worthy tell, a young girl could learn to form an argument on why Lady Gaga is significant to society. Now granted I can not see any strong formula for a case on these grounds, part of that girls gaining intellectualism could be a part of anaylzing and developing new ideas to create valid points. This also applies to some young boy who happens to love sports. His knowledge of statistics and facts on baseball could help him get in challenging arguments on the game. The importance of this is that, while the classic works stay available and true, they will not always be appealing to people. However, there topics of conitnual change that will interest even the most clueless of people. Getting these people to tap into those topics and discovering their significance can develop intellect.

Maybe I Have "Hidden Intellectualism"

In the enlightening essay "Hidden Intellectualism," Gerald Graff brings a valid point about the acquisition of education and a different approach to becoming more intellectual. Graff supports his argument from a first person point of view in which he goes into detail about his reading interests and how they lacked "educational qualities." However it was not that he was an anti-intellectual but instead he was gaining intellectualism by other means. He also points out that while he was trying to balance between proving he was smart and being tough, that he started to gain even more intellect. I thought that his points were interesting because they are things I can relate to. Even to this day I am more in tuned with an argument about sports or some popular culture. However, I always considered these just to be novelty type arguments that didn't really have anything to do with intellect. His main points about seeing interests through "academic eyes" reminds me of one of my favorite writers, an essayist named Chuck Klosterman. Klosterman writes predominately on pop culture but he does so with such an intellect that the reader can't help but think a little differently after reading his work. I would add to this essay by going into my own examples of gaining intellect through seemingly irrelevant arguments and also use some of Klosterman's examples.

We are proud of you

Tonight I went to a high school basketball game. My alma mater which I am still unconditionally (and a little disturbingly) committed to was playing. I enjoy basketball and, with that said, I apparently enjoy high school too because at this very time in my life I am training to be a high school teacher. My aspirations besides that are to be a basketball coach. I've lived a life that is mildly ambitious about accomplishing realistic goals. I have no perception of living life to the fullest. The lack of my goals in life being prodigious is not what I care to discuss though. My greatest concern at this very time is the fact that the cheerleaders at this game --in spite of their peppiness and desire to look like women much older than they (which they may or may not have accomplished)-- had to lead some of the worst cheers/chants in the history of competitive sports. I didn't fully understand some of them and there was flawed logic in most of them.

Now, being active in sports and only acknowledging the cheerleaders when I gawked at them, I know not what makes a good cheer good, nor a bad cheer bad. There are people out there who do, however, I am not trained in the art. One cheer that stood out to me in particularly was one that insisted "the Devils can't be beat." Yes, my high school's mascot is the devil, no I do not think that the devil is the undisputed champion of competitive sports. I found this to be, quite frankly, idiotic. I deemed it this because the team had actually been beaten five times this season. Count them: one, two, three, four, FIVE!! Now I have no doubt that this is probably a quality cheer to start the season off with, or when you're the 2007 New England Patriots up to the point of the Super Bowl. I can accept that. I might even cheer along. But these seem the only exceptions. Definitely not when you're team has proven on five different occasions that they are, in fact, very beatable.

Thinking this though, took me back about a decade to when I was in the 7th grade. I played football like many 12 year old boys do and the team I was on proved in every game of the season that we were beatable. We didn't just prove it, we almost reveled in it. Now, let me come to defense for my teammates and I. We were not well coached and we were undersized, slow Caucasian boys that were a little late in puberty. Beating us was not a large task. Don't think I'm exaggerating this either. We didn't even score a touchdown until there were two games left in the season. But such as memories go, what I think about the most when I remember that Fall is not that we lost every game, or the fact that I was scared every time I touched the ball. No, what I remember are the cheerleaders. After every game we lost my teammates and I would walk, heads hanging down, back to the sidelines. And the only thing we had to walk back to were our cheerleaders chanting "We are proud of you, we said are proud of you." This always was, and always will be, insult to injury. Getting murdered in football in front of your peers and elders can be traumatizing to a middle school boy. But this traumatic experience becomes tenfold when there are schoolgirls trying to cheer you up over that defeat. They know not the humiliation. And at the time, even right now, I always find it hard to believe that a group of 12 year old girls actually took pride in my lackluster performance in a football game. They didn't know about the game, they probably didn't know what it took to win. But that is not the point. The point is that cheerleaders, as harmless as they might seem, can really devour a boy's confidence. Sure their's was a harmless attempt at cheering us up. But I didn't want to be cheered up, I wanted to win a game.

Nobody wants pity cheers. Nobody wants illogical cheers. It's time this was realized.

Prose of a Lost Boy

Why did I do it? Why did I start this essay without any idea as to what I was going to write about? No attempt at pre-writing, no outline, no real though as to what it was going to be about. I was once told that a personal essay can be about whatever you choose as long as you made it two things: true and interesting. I'm not sure if this essay will be either one of those things. Well, it will most likely be true. However, I am not full enough of myself to honestly believe that anything that comes from my fingertips, from my mouth, or from my brain for that matter, is going to be interesting to the general public. There are those people out in the world who's words almost demand attention. My dad is one of these guys. I feel that he somehow possesses the ability to make people listen. Most world leaders are like this. Many stars somehow convince people to listen but they usually have nothing to say. I am not one of these people though. I tend to fumble around with words I want and usually use many out of context. I get caught up in what I'm saying, or writing, and it generally makes no sense. Almost like what I am writing now. I still do not know what this essay is about. It will probably be about my flaws. But it might be about other people flaws. Or maybe it will be about dogs. Or maybe I will try to dissect my brain and make that interesting. Why did I do it?

You Put Your Right Foot In, You Put Your Right Foot Out

The music of the world gets worse and worse with each new generations downfalls. This is a fact. You can probably look it up somewhere. Maybe Google it. I'm sure someone has blogged about the flaws of these generations without an overall ear for music. Or maybe I'm the only one that cares. Maybe I'm the only one who cringes whenever I hear that house beat bass drum. You know what I'm talking about. That pulsing on the kit that makes your heart feel claustrophobic. In comes the auto tune. Makes you feel like a robot is singing to you every single time. This is confusing to me too because, as if robots weren't starting to get more and more publicity all the time, we have to go and make our human voices like that of one. But its not even the beat or the robotic voice that gets me. Oh no, dear readers, its the lyrics. I mean really? What has our society come to whenever the main part of a song is "Boom Boom Boom?" Yes it rattles my soul and makes me want to get up and pretend I can dance. But it does nothing for the art of music. Is it supposed to be some sort of abstract work that has beauty inside of its simpleness? I know not. However, these are just the first of many lyrics that my   generation thrives on. We go out to the club after reading the same magazine secrets and doing our best to be different when we notice that by being a nonconformist, we've just conformed with the rest of the world. Screw it, lets do the dougie and look like a bunch of idiots together.

The Heart Has No Bones

My relations with the opposite sex tend to get drawn out, over analyzed, and romanticized to much greater heights than necessary. It's a rather shameful thing. Or is it? Am I to be ashamed that I hold such an intense ability to love people, women especially. Should I hang my head and withdraw to the passion of a flea just because I have such an intense ability to use this thing called the heart? I do not know. This is a bit of a problem for me though. I tend to make big issues out of small things. Things like small relationships that I am almost certain had destiny written all over them. It comes natural to me. I meet a woman, talk to her, recognize anything that is possible to love about her and completely disregard all of her flaws. This is no way to live. I hear that we are supposed to accept people for their flaws. And that our love for someone should make those flaws seem minuscule.  But I hear a lot of things. I find it much easier to just act like those flaws do not exist. This, of course, is a complete recipe for disaster. The dish that is served up cold is ultimately heartbreak and turbulence. And its a dish that I've tried often and one that I've served just as much.

Laziness and Indecision...and Growing Up Too Soon

I probably should not have been an English major. Sure, I like to read and I'm perfectly content with writing. But I do not know the first thing about teaching this particular subject. And trust me, I am completely aware that I go to college so that professors can teach me how to teach the subject and so forth and so on. However the root of this problem stems deeper than just not knowing how to teach it. This problem goes back to my high school days when I didn't even learn anything about English. My English classes in high school were more than just a joke. They were almost an entire stand up comedy routine. The result of this act was me getting the same A that everyone else got and also missing the same lessons. I mean, it took me two different attempts to pass Composition I. In my defense, I completely withdrew from the entire university the first time. And the second time I swear I was sabotaged by a beautiful, sexist who's approval I wanted nothing more than. But I'm sure that if I had at least learned a little something in high school, then the dominance of such a simple subject as the written word would have been in my grasp. I digress though. The point is that I should not have been an English major. But the greater question is, what should I have been? What really revs up my brain and keeps me primed for excellence? I'm not sure, but let's find out.

The Dog Days are Over

I'm not good at this. That's what I tell myself. So since I hate to be wrong, I go out and prove it. I mean if I am the one that decides whether I'm right or wrong, then I will do my best to make myself look good. Even if that means me looking like an imbecile. Its a vicious cycle that I have going on up top. I honestly think I'm terrible at this blogging business. I'm almost certain that my blogs have shown just that too. But I have no one to blame but myself. Yes, it's nobody's fault but mine. I'm a poor writer due to sheer laziness. At least that's what I tell myself. If I'm bad due to laziness then I guess I can control that by actually working at it. So since this is a free sight then maybe I will. I have at least a consistent audience (granted anyone reads this) and I already have it as a partial assignment. And I believe that doing this could pay sweeping dividends. At least two that I'm almost certain of.

One simple reason is that I'm going to be a teacher of English. It would be humiliating, detrimental, unexplainable, if my students were better writers than me. How am I going to explain that to parents?  After all, I paid people to teach me how to write. I paid people to teach me so I could teach others. However, the educator can only do so much. If my professor gives me a portal to become a better writer and I steer clear of it, then there is no logical explanation. So I will take this opportunity to become more comfortable with the written word. I do believe that it is an art form and I've seemed to be a consistent minimalist when it comes to things art. I've got no real natural talent for any kind but I am quite fascinated with a majority of all art forms. Music, literature, paintings, you get it. So I now take it on myself to at least exert myself and see what I have to offer in this form we call blogging.

Another reason I am to blog is because, although I think that its ridiculous that our world and mainly my generation feels the need to document our every single thought, I do like to do it myself. I am a bit of an oxymoron. I despise all technology but I still try to figure it out. I hate Facebook and other social networking sites but I still have one. This blog is a form of those and although I do not care for the blog itself, it does come in handy for me getting my thoughts out there and for the improvement of my writing. I'm really terrible at endings.

I Am of Many

It's not uncommon for human beings to daydream. Often times these dreams are what push people through the day. We let out minds wander off into some abyss, imagining scenarios that are never possible or even some that are within our grasp. We dream of playing in Super Bowls or flying down the half-pipe in the X-games. We dream about being president or the decisions we'd make if we were in charge. Being Hollywood actors or famous writers are also common places we explorer. However, there is also another sort of element that comes into play in our dreams sometimes. These are realistic, achievable dreams that we strive to achieve. They are the basis off what we live our lives. Maybe it's as simple as to make a moderate living  and leave our kids with minimal worries. (Which is no simple dream at all.) Or maybe it is to remodel a home, to learn the art of fine cuisine, or maybe even graduate college.

A dream of mine is to overcome my fickleness. My indecisive nature that has often times lead to confusion or regret is enough to make me go mad. This is not my only one of course but this one quality that I possess, makes all other dreams quite trying. I wander in my mind, day to day, and try to decide what it is I'll become. Like a young child who still dreams of the endless, I too, create so many goals that most seem unobtainable. One day I want to be a high school basketball coach, the next I want to go live in Colorado and build my life around snowboarding. After that I decide I want to train horses and spend my time roping. If not that, then I want to play guitar in a band that just barely gets by but is still playing music. Sure these are simple dreams for the most part. But to achieve them all seems a little unrealistic. This is the problem that I am faced with, since I am interested in so many things. I, by no means, excel at anything. I'm actually mediocrity at its finest, when pertaining to most of the aforementioned goals. But that doesn't mean I want to do them any less. I think if I was to let go of this fickleness, then maybe I could set one goal and work hard to accomplish it. But that sounds too boring. Is everyone like this? They want to do so many different things that they go through their entire life in a complex?

Salty Freshness

I've always been pretty fond of eating fish. For some reason I always thought it was a little exotic. It has always been a rather rare thing for me. Growing up we usually had some sort of beef or chicken, matched with a form of a potato and some vegetable that my parents would make me choke down. Fish was not something that graced the Davis household, with the exception of the occasional tuna sandwich. My father, in all of his greatness, was never a fan of fish. He despised it actually. All except the tuna sandwich, and that had to be my grandma's recipe. However, I have not logged in tonight to discuss tuna, oh no, my dear readers. That will not take place here. The purpose of this is to sing the praises of my Granny and her ability to conjure up the greatest fish treat known to man, or at least to a young adolescent. My Granny was an amazing woman. She was a rather larger than life figure. Although only standing five feet nothing and probably never weighing in over 100 pounds in her whole life, I was certain that they didn't come much better. She married young, had six kids, two of which came in the same year (my aunt was born in January 1958, my mom November of that same year), and somewhere along the way she managed to create the most perfect, lightly crisped Salmon patties. My Granny was an amazing woman. And she took a pretty amazing fish, one that lives in both fresh water and salt water, and made it into a first class meal in its afterlife. I remember being young at her and Poppy's farm, getting into whatever trouble my brother and I could get into and then coming in to that most glamorous meal. I remember when I first ate it. I was kinda worried for this was not something I was accustomed to. It took some convincing but since she was my Granny, I knew that she wouldn't lead me astray.  Little did I know that I'd be in for a treat that day. I'm almost certain that from that day forward I hoped that that's what would be on the stove whenever I came in. Although she passed away in 2002, whenever I think of her this food immediately comes to mind. I've not had any quite like hers actually. But this is only one of the many memories I have of her. This woman had a tremendous impact on my life, in more ways than just fish products too. She was a woman that encouraged me in everything I did and always made me feel like I was the best and the brightest. She taught me lessons in hard-work, loyalty, and in compassion. She was one of the most selfless people I've known and I try to mimic her in this way in my life.

I Hesitate To Go Here

C.S. Lewis once said that "To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." His short, simple definition was spot on. His short, simple definition completely sums up  what Christianity is, or is supposed to be. It is grace, it is love. We've all heard the term "grace period." We all know that a grace period is something that we do not deserve but we receive anyways, out of the goodness of another's heart. Grace is a term that defies all logic and reason. Grace trumps Karma. They can't coincide. 


Although Hazlitt's was an example, and a very short example at that, what he says about the way Christians act is completely accurate. I say that as a generalization, of course. The Christian that the world is shown is constantly "casting the soul that differs into hell-fire." But that is not the way it was intended to be. These are religious people who have lost sight, or never sought, the truth. (Although many might argue the validity of this with one particular passage in the Gospel of John that mentions something about truth.) The truth is that if Christians are to be followers of Jesus, then they should act as Jesus acted. Jesus, as documented, was a man of the aforementioned grace and love. He exemplified these words in His life. He exemplified these words in His teachings. He was not a man of hate and bitterness but of love and service. A life of compassion that is to be an example to human beings altogether. 


The world misses the message of Christianity because the Christian has led them to. The world's Christian is too worried about damning people, when they should be loving people. That Christian gets so caught up in damnation that they fail to realize the sole purpose of Christ's life. He spoke more on helping the poor and the sick than He spoke on anything else. But that doesn't seem to concern those that are here to love a hurting world.  


The world's Christian makes it about the religion, instead of the relationship. The world's Christian is me a lot of the time. As an active member of a church and on a praise and worship team, I rarely live the life that is expected to me. I go to class and become a different person. I point out flaws and speak illy of others. I hurt the world instead of helping it. I rarely build up so that can only mean that I'm tearing down. I'm the hypocrite that so many hypocrites openly speak about. And yet, I'm still shown that grace. It is a much needed grace too. Because if I was to rely on myself then there'd be no hope. I'm holding out for that grace.

The Conversational Element

Although I hesitate to say that I'm this sort of essayist, I think I'm a Conversationalist. I feel that the ambivalence and self-doubt fit me the best of all in my life. This sort of ambivalence has almost lead to me being a contradiction in almost every aspect of life. I feel that this contradiction could be reflected in my writing. I do not necessarily like this aspect of me, however I don't mind that it is reflected in my writing. Since this style is conversational, I feel that it is good that my personality is reflected; especially considering that that's what the personal essay is based off of. 

The self-doubt is probably what I possess even more than the ambivalence. I feel that self-doubt is something that is inside of every single human being. This doubt is what defines us sometimes, or me, in this case. The doubt is what makes me want to be better in all aspects of life. The fear that my thoughts or capabilities will be inadequate runs deep inside of me and its something that has been with me a majority of my life. Although I rarely speak of these feelings, I think that they will come flowing out in the form of personal essay. They are much easier to write on paper to unknown readers than to actually express them vocally. 

In Over my Head: A Story on How my Flaws, Lead to my Failures.

Oh, to be young and know everything the world has to offer. To lack fear of change, or to lack boldness to admit it. This was me at the age of 17 when I graduated high school. I had experienced so much in my small little town of roughly 2,000. I had been a mediocre student with exceptional people skills. I had no money managing skills and little study habits at all. So, who was to think that I couldn't go to Oklahoma State and major in engineering? Just my parents, my sister, my brother, my aunts, my uncles, my coach, etc, etc. Its not that these people lacked faith in my abilities, its just that they knew me too well. Sure, I'd say that I was going to work hard and stay on top of my school work and always go to class but saying and doing are two separate things. High school was but a mere precursor for what college was to offer. And the very first day, although I wouldn't admit it, was a clear cut sign. I walked into an auditorium that held as many people as my entire school system. Talk about a real shocker. I tried convincing myself that it wasn't a very big deal, and to many it is not, however I did not fall under that category. I don't come from a very long line of college graduates, nor of a wealthy family, so my parents were not of much help other than to tell me to work hard. I appreciate everything that they've done and everything that they do but the support that was there for many, just didn't exist for me.

Now that is the end of the woe is Trevor part. Of course a young man in my situation could handle a situation like that. I mean, it happens all of the time. What, with hard work, determination, and a good grasp on the situation people can overcome just about anything. Without all three though, there is an impending doom. Hard work is not something I lack. Well, when it comes to a job, a sport, or to roping. Determination has never necessarily been a problem either, for without determination, hard work is rarely seen. What I lacked was a good grasp on what I was getting myself into when I moved in the first place. I moved to Stillwater with 400 dollars in my bank account, a 300 dollar a month rent payment and a 200 dollar a month truck payment. Oh yeah, and no job. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do that math. However, I only made a B in Algebra III. But I was certain I could do it. Surely finding gameful employment wouldn't too difficult in that town. That was not the case when I started my search though. It took me a full month to find a job and when I did, it was working at a gas station on the graveyard shift. I would get off work at 7:00 A.M. and go straight to class most of the time. This did not help my already poor study habits nor did it lead to the most exciting social life, which we all know is the most important part of college. It really didn't take too long for me to realize that my situation was not going to work. Only after a month of attempting this I threw in the towel. I admitted to myself that I wasn't prepared and I decided to go to a nearby community college where I ended up having reasonable success. At first I was ashamed of what had happened but as I talked to more people, I realized that my scenario was not uncommon. I am happy where I am now and thankful that I have that experience to draw from.

Photos of Trevor

Having my photo taken leads to an over-analytical process that takes place in my head. The whole time leading up to the picture, and even while the event is taking place, all I can do is wonder if I should take a serious picture and try to live up to the moment, or should I try to make the picture more entertaining for whoever sees it. Its not that I don't think I' m photogenic really, for I think I look rather dashing in most photos, but whether or not others will see through what is just a picture. I'm not necessarily insecure about my looks, I just think my personality is my stronger suit (although it may rarely come out in this class.) It takes a little while for me to come out of my shell but for those that know me, they know that I am quite entertaining and tend to always have a good quip for any moment.
I feel that a picture gives the opportunity for me to have fun, even when it is not quite the time. A picture for me isn't necessarily about the outcome of the shot but more so the memory that I create while being in the picture. I can still think back to team and group pictures that I was in throughout my life and I tend to be able to conjure up a good memory about that moment. They are usually with my closest friends and seeing the the photo takes me to the time that I had with them and all of the fun that we had, and still have when together. For me, photos don't say words so much as bring back memories, as well as create new thoughts.

Visible Opinions

Unchartered waters that I'm nervously exploring are ones where my classmates can see what I'm writing. Although I have the desire to become stronger in the form of essays, I am uneasy about my peers being able to view my work. I feel that being opened up to criticism and/or praise could be of great value though and I look forward to that in this class.