TIME MACHINE
I would like to travel the time when the Babilonian is the beautiful place and consider as the seven seven wonders of the world because of their beautiful hanging garden.
Babelonia is well known because of their hanging garden and many countries want to conquer the Babelonia. One of the conquerors was the Missopotamia. The babelonia lead y brave king and beautifull queen’
One morng told his messenger to tell his soldier that the missopotamia sent letter and they want unity. My king sent also a letter that he agree and the agreement was held. But the Missopotamia traitor in their agreement. They want to conquered the Bibolonia. My king get angry with the king of Missopotamia because he traitor him so that they attack and war started. The war stay long and the civilians. My king died together with his soldier. I am the only survivor in the said war of the two country.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Estrella Falls
There was a family lived near to the mountain. In the mountain there lived a fairy, the fairy is good to the people who have a good attitude, but she is cruel to those who have a bad attitude. Estrella is one of the daughters of the poor couple that live near to the mountain. Estrella is the youngest to them, she is beautiful, intelligent, and adored by many man to their barangay, but despite of her beautiful face she has bad attitude, lazy, she don’t respect her parents and sisters.
One day when her father is looking for their food to the mountain he saw the beautiful fairy taking her bath to the river, he tried capture the fairy but it vanish like a bubbles. When he turnaround he saw the fairy and the fairy said, “Why are you here?”
“Sorry if I disturb your bath, I’m just looking for the food for my family because we’re running out of food. Please spare me for disturbing you, my family needs me.” Mang Isko said
“Okay I will forgive you for what you’ve done. You can live now. Bring this fruits for your family”
Mang Isko went home very happy, because he has food for his family. When he arrive, his wife get his things and put in their kitchen. Mang Isko told to his wife about the fairy, and the food that the fairy gave. His wife is very thankful, because her husband went home safe. When the evening come Aling Amalia set the food, after she put the food to the table she called her daughters and husband to eat. When Estrella see the food she complain about it because she don’t like, she said, “the food taste bad, is there anything can you offer for me to eat? I don’t like this food!” her mother get mad at her but her father said, “let her, tomorrow I will look for a delicious food for my beautiful princess.” He said that with a smile on his face. But instead Estrella hug her father she left the table and went to her bed and go to sleep early.
Estrella is the favorite of her father, that’s why all her request is granted by her father. When the next morning come Mang Isko go back to the mountain to look food for Estrella. He go back to the river where the fairy take her bath, but instead of seeing the fairy the huge crocodile eat him. The evening come Estrella is still waiting for her father’s come back. But her father did not come home. Her mother cries all night because she heard that her husband is killed by the crocodile. Estrella cried very hard when she heard about the news. She packed her things and went to the mountain to face crocodile. When she reach the river she saw the fairy with the crocodile playing to the river, Estrella shout and said, “you!you ugly fairy you killed my father! How can you do this to us? He is a good man!” Estrella is crying but the fairy said, “you are the one who killed you father, if not because of you he will not come back here and tried to kill my pet. But before he hit my pet my crocodile ate him!” the fairy said. “How dare you to said the? You are the one who killed him’ Estrellaslap the fairy, the fairy get mad and said “You will cry for the rest of your life, you will become the water fall of this river” after the fairy said that the lighting strike Estrella and she became the water fall of the river.
There was a family lived near to the mountain. In the mountain there lived a fairy, the fairy is good to the people who have a good attitude, but she is cruel to those who have a bad attitude. Estrella is one of the daughters of the poor couple that live near to the mountain. Estrella is the youngest to them, she is beautiful, intelligent, and adored by many man to their barangay, but despite of her beautiful face she has bad attitude, lazy, she don’t respect her parents and sisters.
One day when her father is looking for their food to the mountain he saw the beautiful fairy taking her bath to the river, he tried capture the fairy but it vanish like a bubbles. When he turnaround he saw the fairy and the fairy said, “Why are you here?”
“Sorry if I disturb your bath, I’m just looking for the food for my family because we’re running out of food. Please spare me for disturbing you, my family needs me.” Mang Isko said
“Okay I will forgive you for what you’ve done. You can live now. Bring this fruits for your family”
Mang Isko went home very happy, because he has food for his family. When he arrive, his wife get his things and put in their kitchen. Mang Isko told to his wife about the fairy, and the food that the fairy gave. His wife is very thankful, because her husband went home safe. When the evening come Aling Amalia set the food, after she put the food to the table she called her daughters and husband to eat. When Estrella see the food she complain about it because she don’t like, she said, “the food taste bad, is there anything can you offer for me to eat? I don’t like this food!” her mother get mad at her but her father said, “let her, tomorrow I will look for a delicious food for my beautiful princess.” He said that with a smile on his face. But instead Estrella hug her father she left the table and went to her bed and go to sleep early.
Estrella is the favorite of her father, that’s why all her request is granted by her father. When the next morning come Mang Isko go back to the mountain to look food for Estrella. He go back to the river where the fairy take her bath, but instead of seeing the fairy the huge crocodile eat him. The evening come Estrella is still waiting for her father’s come back. But her father did not come home. Her mother cries all night because she heard that her husband is killed by the crocodile. Estrella cried very hard when she heard about the news. She packed her things and went to the mountain to face crocodile. When she reach the river she saw the fairy with the crocodile playing to the river, Estrella shout and said, “you!you ugly fairy you killed my father! How can you do this to us? He is a good man!” Estrella is crying but the fairy said, “you are the one who killed you father, if not because of you he will not come back here and tried to kill my pet. But before he hit my pet my crocodile ate him!” the fairy said. “How dare you to said the? You are the one who killed him’ Estrellaslap the fairy, the fairy get mad and said “You will cry for the rest of your life, you will become the water fall of this river” after the fairy said that the lighting strike Estrella and she became the water fall of the river.
Courage
Nobody noticed the teacher as he stood among the members of the high school faculty that early Monday morning after the flag ceremony. The usual fifteen-minute program bases on the theme-this morning the theme was loyalty-followed the brief ritual of raising the colors atop a tall pole in front of the high school building. It was a freshmen program.
The class adviser, standing among the students lined up in front of the building, was apparently holding her breath as a boy and a girl sing “The loyal Soldier.” The song was well rendered and thunderous applause followed as the boy and a girl bowed then disappeared behind the door of library. Then a youth gave a brief talk on loyalty. The program was climaxed by the patriotic pledge, recited slowly and in unison.
The new teacher was impressed. He said he like it-the song, even the speech, everything. And the other teachers smiled and talk briefly to one another as they watch the first period classes file down, the corridors in orderly fashion.
The teacher paused before the door of room 8, looks at his program to make sure he had gone to the right room, and then walked straight to the teacher’s table. A sudden quiet fell on the class as everybody stared at the new teacher.
The class was particularly bright section, especially in English. Fred, the leader, was president of the class. He wrote perfect themes and walk with a limp. He was fond of short stories and short girls like Conchita.
Conchita was a candidate for valedictorian. She knew all the rules in grammar, but somehow or other she could not write as well as Fred. It was said that two exchange love letters that were veritable master piece. They never look at each other in class.
There was other several other brilliant students. Maria, for example, who spoke like a debater and declaimed formula in mathematics; Javier, who was the extemporaneous speaker in class spite of a voice which sounded like a foghorn. He had a temper of a genius. Gloria in particular thought he was a genius. She was a young girl who believed in power of music and the survival of democracy. And there was Sion, perpetual guardian of a perpetually empty treasury. Her ambition in life was to get rid of her shyness and her pimples. And there was Belen,. When people outside the class asked, “Where’s Belen?” her classmates would answer “On the honor roll” for she was always there, a perpetual valedictorian in a class of topnotchers.
The new teacher of the said, “Class, you look intelligent, all of you. But that remains to be proved.”
He did not smile when he said that. Then he calmly conducted the recitation. Some of the girls and even a number of the boys were visibly cowed into submission by the new teacher’s a smiling demeanor, his businesslike firmness, his detachment. And it was a quiet class, that first day. Fred did not say anything. He simply sat his biting lips meditatively. Conchita look at the teacher as if he were a difficult problem in mathematics. Sion was blushing, embarrassed by his own thoughts. Maria fidgeted, and only Javier managed to talk coherently in his foghorn voice.
At the sound of the first bell, as the class was getting ready to leave the room, the new teacher said, “Your adviser id Mr. Arsenio L. Torres. That’s my name. I am an Ilocano. Class dismissed.”
That afternoon the class gossiped about Mr. Torres. Fred said, “Our new teacher as an international figure. Look: he teaches English; he has Chinese eyes; he speaks in an American accent, and… and…”
“He’s an Ilocano,” Conchita finished.
Javier mimicked in his foghorn voice, “Class, you look intelligent, all of you. But that remains to be proved.”
When the laughter died down, Belen was thoughtful.
“Look,” she said, “why don’t we prove it?”
“Why not?” The others chorused.
It was like proving their worth with a vengeance. Mr. Torres should have been impressed, but he was not. He took it all, the perfect lessons, as quit routinely. Often question are asked just to make him commit but he never blundered.
When he taught the shorter poems in there literature, he kept his books closed. He knew them by heart. But he did not act as if he was proud of this feat. He acts as if it were expected of him or of anybody who taught the poems.
But he didn’t seem to love poetry. That was one thing clearly wrong with him. He had no enthusiasm about anything he did.
“He is cold-blooded,” Maria once recommended.
When they studied the poem, Mr. Torres would tell them in his impersonal way that the author wrote other great poems. He would recite for memory lined from poetry. The class would listen without comprehending.
So the students who have sought to impress their teacher were themselves impressed. It was evident that Mr. Torres had mastered his subject. He had a wide background. But there was something about him and his ways that like a barrier between him and his students. He was too impersonal, too aloof, like a proud god forced to walk among the poor mortals. Maybe it was only indifference or preoccupation with something which he kept a secret, but nobody among those under him tried or cared to find out.
“He does not smile,” everybody complained.
To him laughter in classroom was a crime. What was the student’s smile but camouflage for gross ignorance? The atmosphere in his class was oppressive with learning, assignments, and references. It was always a relief on the part of the students to hear the bell after 40 minutes of academic torture in the approved Torres manner.
The students asked themselves: why can’t Mr. Torres be like the other teachers-affable, pleasant, and full of humor?
During the latter part of August, there were days when Mr. Torres did not report to class. His students were pleased. Such occasions called for celebrations. Some of the students even hoped Mr. Torres would stay away from class even longer than a day at a time. That was how they felt about unpopular teachers, and Mr. Torres was very unpopular.
Nobody notice the change in Mr. Torres. Even the class failed to realize there was something wrong with the teacher. He had grown paler, and his lips were always tightly pressed as if he were enduring some lingering pain. Everybody thought he was working hard, or was worried about his family. They heard his family had come to town. But nobody even saw his wife and children. Nobody cared.
Once he told his class, “I forgot to tell you last week that this class is scheduled to take charge of the morning program on Monday. You have about 12 days to prepare.”
The class was insulted. Everybody talked at the same time: “Why didn’t tell us about it earlier? The other sections had at least one month to prepare. What kind of a program can we put up after 12 days preparation?”
“The time is sufficient, more than sufficient,” Mr. Torres said, a stern finality in his tone. “All you need is a duet, a speech, and a song by a chorus, that’s all.”
“What’s the theme, sir?” asked Fred without rising.
“Courage” answered Mr. Torres.
“Where can we get a song about courage?” wailed Sion.
“Who are the best singers in the class?” Mr. Torres asked.
Most of the names mentioned were those boys and girls who could not carry a tune. They protest and blushed. Some grew angry. The class was very noisy.
“Quiet!” Mr. Torres shouted, rapping the table impatiently. “You are forgetting your selves. Ester and Gloria will sing a duet. I like the song entitled, ’Where’s the Land of Joy’?”
“That’s not a song about courage!” a boy shouted.
“Quiet! I didn’t ask for your opinion, gentleman. Fred, you will give a talk about courage.”
“Javier can do that.” Fred suggested.
“I want you to do it. Why, can’t you do it?”
“Why not?” asked Fred, rising impulsively.
“All right, that’s settled,” Mr. Torres said, and added, as Fred sat down, “Maria, you will take charge the chorus. Any song you choose will do. And on the day of program I want everybody to wear white. I like white.”
Some of the girls didn’t want to wear white. The boys said they preferred khaki. In the midst in the noise, the teacher’s voice rose as he gave the assignment for the next day. That was all that could be said about the program now that the recitation had begun.
For all this seeming indifference, Mr. Torres took quite an interest in the program. Daily before the recitation he would ask the students how they were getting along. They would answer that everything was all right, although, of course it wasn’t. Maria could not get the class together for rehearsal. She kept on changing the song for the chorus. The class sang every song she chose without feeling. When Mr. Torres asked Ester and Gloria to report for the rehearsal, the two girls said they wanted to change their song. “We don’t like it. It’s too common,” they wanted Mr. Torres had to yield, saying they could use any song they liked.
“But I like ‘Where is the Land of Joy?’” he added in a strange voice that the two girls were to remember the rest of tier lives.
For on Sunday, the news of Mr. Torres’ death spread through the town, shocking everybody. The students flocked to the hospital but were not allowed to see the body. In front of the square building of the high school, children loitered and talked of Mr. Torres and his death. Fred was there with a number of his classmates looking bewildered and quiet and lost. They could not speak. Everybody knew now: Mr. Torres had been a sick man. He had managed to keep his diseases a secret from even those who knew him intimately. Nobody remembered having heard him complain. Now they knew there were many days when he attended class although the pain racked him. Only when standing on his feet was physically impossible did he absent himself from school. His death was unexpected even by the doctor who had treated him. It was sudden.
“Where are the others?” Fred asked. “Call them!”
They came, the class of Section A, and at Fred’s command, went down to the creek back of the high school building and gathered flowers, mostly white flowers and trunks of banana and century plants, and took them to the inner court of the schoolhouse. There they work silently till it as dark to see. They talked only in whispers. Everybody listen to Maria when she told them what a song to sing. Gloria and Ester looked away when their eyes met, both of them remembering their teacher’s voice and the look on his face when he said he liked that song.
“Tomorrow morning,” Fred announced. “all of us will wear white. He like white.”
On Monday morning, after the unusual flag ceremony, the flag at half mast, Fred stood trembling before the students. For sometime he said nothing.
“Friends” he began in a voice that shook with emotion, “our theme this morning is courage. this program is especially dedicated to our beloved teacher and adviser, who, as you all know, passed away yesterday. He was stranger in our midst when he came, and a stranger when he left us. We who were under him misunderstood his firm, quite humorless way of doing things. We did not bother to ask why he was different, why he hurried through things in a business like way as if there was no tomorrow. In our youthful impulsive, we pronounced judgment on him , thinking he was one of those mentors whom years of teaching had hardened to the lovely things of life. We looked upon him as an automaton.
“I’d like to tell you the story of young guilt, of a group of conceited fools who made the remaining days of our teacher not as pleasant as they should have been, but God knows…” He paused, his eyes dimming with tears, and unable to go on, turned his back on the audience and disappeared.
There was no clapping hand. Many were the eyes wet with tears. Only a faint murmur passed like a ripple over the listening throng.
Ester and Gloria, both in white, stood before the students.
“We shall sing this morning,” Gloria said, “our beloved adviser favorite song’”
And they began softly, tremendously, their hearts in their blended voices, quivering with remorse and regret:
“Where’s the land of joy?
Where’s the land of lasting rapture,
Where’s the land of peace replete…?”
The song was never finished. In the middle of the refrain, the two girls began to sob. They ran to the library and burst into tears.
When Maria came forward, she made a sign, and the students in white walked up the steps, and when set faces, their voices hushed as in prayer, they sang “Farewell to Thee”
And when the song ended, it was quite everywhere on the high school campus. Then the bell rang like a church bell tolling, and the two rows of boys and girls in white passed down the corridor, ahead of the other classes, to room 8 where no teacher awaited them.
Nobody noticed the teacher as he stood among the members of the high school faculty that early Monday morning after the flag ceremony. The usual fifteen-minute program bases on the theme-this morning the theme was loyalty-followed the brief ritual of raising the colors atop a tall pole in front of the high school building. It was a freshmen program.
The class adviser, standing among the students lined up in front of the building, was apparently holding her breath as a boy and a girl sing “The loyal Soldier.” The song was well rendered and thunderous applause followed as the boy and a girl bowed then disappeared behind the door of library. Then a youth gave a brief talk on loyalty. The program was climaxed by the patriotic pledge, recited slowly and in unison.
The new teacher was impressed. He said he like it-the song, even the speech, everything. And the other teachers smiled and talk briefly to one another as they watch the first period classes file down, the corridors in orderly fashion.
The teacher paused before the door of room 8, looks at his program to make sure he had gone to the right room, and then walked straight to the teacher’s table. A sudden quiet fell on the class as everybody stared at the new teacher.
The class was particularly bright section, especially in English. Fred, the leader, was president of the class. He wrote perfect themes and walk with a limp. He was fond of short stories and short girls like Conchita.
Conchita was a candidate for valedictorian. She knew all the rules in grammar, but somehow or other she could not write as well as Fred. It was said that two exchange love letters that were veritable master piece. They never look at each other in class.
There was other several other brilliant students. Maria, for example, who spoke like a debater and declaimed formula in mathematics; Javier, who was the extemporaneous speaker in class spite of a voice which sounded like a foghorn. He had a temper of a genius. Gloria in particular thought he was a genius. She was a young girl who believed in power of music and the survival of democracy. And there was Sion, perpetual guardian of a perpetually empty treasury. Her ambition in life was to get rid of her shyness and her pimples. And there was Belen,. When people outside the class asked, “Where’s Belen?” her classmates would answer “On the honor roll” for she was always there, a perpetual valedictorian in a class of topnotchers.
The new teacher of the said, “Class, you look intelligent, all of you. But that remains to be proved.”
He did not smile when he said that. Then he calmly conducted the recitation. Some of the girls and even a number of the boys were visibly cowed into submission by the new teacher’s a smiling demeanor, his businesslike firmness, his detachment. And it was a quiet class, that first day. Fred did not say anything. He simply sat his biting lips meditatively. Conchita look at the teacher as if he were a difficult problem in mathematics. Sion was blushing, embarrassed by his own thoughts. Maria fidgeted, and only Javier managed to talk coherently in his foghorn voice.
At the sound of the first bell, as the class was getting ready to leave the room, the new teacher said, “Your adviser id Mr. Arsenio L. Torres. That’s my name. I am an Ilocano. Class dismissed.”
That afternoon the class gossiped about Mr. Torres. Fred said, “Our new teacher as an international figure. Look: he teaches English; he has Chinese eyes; he speaks in an American accent, and… and…”
“He’s an Ilocano,” Conchita finished.
Javier mimicked in his foghorn voice, “Class, you look intelligent, all of you. But that remains to be proved.”
When the laughter died down, Belen was thoughtful.
“Look,” she said, “why don’t we prove it?”
“Why not?” The others chorused.
It was like proving their worth with a vengeance. Mr. Torres should have been impressed, but he was not. He took it all, the perfect lessons, as quit routinely. Often question are asked just to make him commit but he never blundered.
When he taught the shorter poems in there literature, he kept his books closed. He knew them by heart. But he did not act as if he was proud of this feat. He acts as if it were expected of him or of anybody who taught the poems.
But he didn’t seem to love poetry. That was one thing clearly wrong with him. He had no enthusiasm about anything he did.
“He is cold-blooded,” Maria once recommended.
When they studied the poem, Mr. Torres would tell them in his impersonal way that the author wrote other great poems. He would recite for memory lined from poetry. The class would listen without comprehending.
So the students who have sought to impress their teacher were themselves impressed. It was evident that Mr. Torres had mastered his subject. He had a wide background. But there was something about him and his ways that like a barrier between him and his students. He was too impersonal, too aloof, like a proud god forced to walk among the poor mortals. Maybe it was only indifference or preoccupation with something which he kept a secret, but nobody among those under him tried or cared to find out.
“He does not smile,” everybody complained.
To him laughter in classroom was a crime. What was the student’s smile but camouflage for gross ignorance? The atmosphere in his class was oppressive with learning, assignments, and references. It was always a relief on the part of the students to hear the bell after 40 minutes of academic torture in the approved Torres manner.
The students asked themselves: why can’t Mr. Torres be like the other teachers-affable, pleasant, and full of humor?
During the latter part of August, there were days when Mr. Torres did not report to class. His students were pleased. Such occasions called for celebrations. Some of the students even hoped Mr. Torres would stay away from class even longer than a day at a time. That was how they felt about unpopular teachers, and Mr. Torres was very unpopular.
Nobody notice the change in Mr. Torres. Even the class failed to realize there was something wrong with the teacher. He had grown paler, and his lips were always tightly pressed as if he were enduring some lingering pain. Everybody thought he was working hard, or was worried about his family. They heard his family had come to town. But nobody even saw his wife and children. Nobody cared.
Once he told his class, “I forgot to tell you last week that this class is scheduled to take charge of the morning program on Monday. You have about 12 days to prepare.”
The class was insulted. Everybody talked at the same time: “Why didn’t tell us about it earlier? The other sections had at least one month to prepare. What kind of a program can we put up after 12 days preparation?”
“The time is sufficient, more than sufficient,” Mr. Torres said, a stern finality in his tone. “All you need is a duet, a speech, and a song by a chorus, that’s all.”
“What’s the theme, sir?” asked Fred without rising.
“Courage” answered Mr. Torres.
“Where can we get a song about courage?” wailed Sion.
“Who are the best singers in the class?” Mr. Torres asked.
Most of the names mentioned were those boys and girls who could not carry a tune. They protest and blushed. Some grew angry. The class was very noisy.
“Quiet!” Mr. Torres shouted, rapping the table impatiently. “You are forgetting your selves. Ester and Gloria will sing a duet. I like the song entitled, ’Where’s the Land of Joy’?”
“That’s not a song about courage!” a boy shouted.
“Quiet! I didn’t ask for your opinion, gentleman. Fred, you will give a talk about courage.”
“Javier can do that.” Fred suggested.
“I want you to do it. Why, can’t you do it?”
“Why not?” asked Fred, rising impulsively.
“All right, that’s settled,” Mr. Torres said, and added, as Fred sat down, “Maria, you will take charge the chorus. Any song you choose will do. And on the day of program I want everybody to wear white. I like white.”
Some of the girls didn’t want to wear white. The boys said they preferred khaki. In the midst in the noise, the teacher’s voice rose as he gave the assignment for the next day. That was all that could be said about the program now that the recitation had begun.
For all this seeming indifference, Mr. Torres took quite an interest in the program. Daily before the recitation he would ask the students how they were getting along. They would answer that everything was all right, although, of course it wasn’t. Maria could not get the class together for rehearsal. She kept on changing the song for the chorus. The class sang every song she chose without feeling. When Mr. Torres asked Ester and Gloria to report for the rehearsal, the two girls said they wanted to change their song. “We don’t like it. It’s too common,” they wanted Mr. Torres had to yield, saying they could use any song they liked.
“But I like ‘Where is the Land of Joy?’” he added in a strange voice that the two girls were to remember the rest of tier lives.
For on Sunday, the news of Mr. Torres’ death spread through the town, shocking everybody. The students flocked to the hospital but were not allowed to see the body. In front of the square building of the high school, children loitered and talked of Mr. Torres and his death. Fred was there with a number of his classmates looking bewildered and quiet and lost. They could not speak. Everybody knew now: Mr. Torres had been a sick man. He had managed to keep his diseases a secret from even those who knew him intimately. Nobody remembered having heard him complain. Now they knew there were many days when he attended class although the pain racked him. Only when standing on his feet was physically impossible did he absent himself from school. His death was unexpected even by the doctor who had treated him. It was sudden.
“Where are the others?” Fred asked. “Call them!”
They came, the class of Section A, and at Fred’s command, went down to the creek back of the high school building and gathered flowers, mostly white flowers and trunks of banana and century plants, and took them to the inner court of the schoolhouse. There they work silently till it as dark to see. They talked only in whispers. Everybody listen to Maria when she told them what a song to sing. Gloria and Ester looked away when their eyes met, both of them remembering their teacher’s voice and the look on his face when he said he liked that song.
“Tomorrow morning,” Fred announced. “all of us will wear white. He like white.”
On Monday morning, after the unusual flag ceremony, the flag at half mast, Fred stood trembling before the students. For sometime he said nothing.
“Friends” he began in a voice that shook with emotion, “our theme this morning is courage. this program is especially dedicated to our beloved teacher and adviser, who, as you all know, passed away yesterday. He was stranger in our midst when he came, and a stranger when he left us. We who were under him misunderstood his firm, quite humorless way of doing things. We did not bother to ask why he was different, why he hurried through things in a business like way as if there was no tomorrow. In our youthful impulsive, we pronounced judgment on him , thinking he was one of those mentors whom years of teaching had hardened to the lovely things of life. We looked upon him as an automaton.
“I’d like to tell you the story of young guilt, of a group of conceited fools who made the remaining days of our teacher not as pleasant as they should have been, but God knows…” He paused, his eyes dimming with tears, and unable to go on, turned his back on the audience and disappeared.
There was no clapping hand. Many were the eyes wet with tears. Only a faint murmur passed like a ripple over the listening throng.
Ester and Gloria, both in white, stood before the students.
“We shall sing this morning,” Gloria said, “our beloved adviser favorite song’”
And they began softly, tremendously, their hearts in their blended voices, quivering with remorse and regret:
“Where’s the land of joy?
Where’s the land of lasting rapture,
Where’s the land of peace replete…?”
The song was never finished. In the middle of the refrain, the two girls began to sob. They ran to the library and burst into tears.
When Maria came forward, she made a sign, and the students in white walked up the steps, and when set faces, their voices hushed as in prayer, they sang “Farewell to Thee”
And when the song ended, it was quite everywhere on the high school campus. Then the bell rang like a church bell tolling, and the two rows of boys and girls in white passed down the corridor, ahead of the other classes, to room 8 where no teacher awaited them.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Comments
Our greatest national hero, Dr. Jose P. Rizal, our pride and own honor. Because he showed us something out of nothings the one that leads to our other heroes to protect and fight for their equal rights each by others.
His piece of work lights our darkest days and he give us hope that all has an end, he never surrender fighting even it’s only by letter. He sacrifice his own self just to save others life and the future life of our nations.
What did he write are very meaningful giving chance to others to realize their mistake and to wake up for their dreams, he is very a talented and original author in our time, those dead, lives and unborn can do no better. All of his works are refers o love and cared for nation. Rizal are best among the rest. He never give up writing because maybe he knows that writing can be our best weapon to depend our enemies. That in writing he can express his emotion that longing to release his passion was on the pen and piece of paper.
Dr. Jose Rizal is my best author, he is knowledgable about things that happened and will be happe. He is also a handsome doctors and posses some honest to goodnest attitude.
Our greatest national hero, Dr. Jose P. Rizal, our pride and own honor. Because he showed us something out of nothings the one that leads to our other heroes to protect and fight for their equal rights each by others.
His piece of work lights our darkest days and he give us hope that all has an end, he never surrender fighting even it’s only by letter. He sacrifice his own self just to save others life and the future life of our nations.
What did he write are very meaningful giving chance to others to realize their mistake and to wake up for their dreams, he is very a talented and original author in our time, those dead, lives and unborn can do no better. All of his works are refers o love and cared for nation. Rizal are best among the rest. He never give up writing because maybe he knows that writing can be our best weapon to depend our enemies. That in writing he can express his emotion that longing to release his passion was on the pen and piece of paper.
Dr. Jose Rizal is my best author, he is knowledgable about things that happened and will be happe. He is also a handsome doctors and posses some honest to goodnest attitude.
Wedding dance
The plot of this story when Awiyao married with Madulimay for the sake of having a child. Lumnay the wife of Awiyao hurt so much but she can’t do foolish things even though she wants to stop the wedding. She keep the pain that she have when the wedding ceremony started. Her heart broke into pieces. She don’t know what to do, if how the pain was gone. She loved her husband so much, she can’t imagine that her husband going to marry with other girl. She faced different direction and went towards their fields. Under the pale silver moon, she imagine their siblings as it grow continually.
This is the plot of the story. You can notice in this scene that she loves her husband very much. She can’t do anything to just to obeyed their law when the elders decide to their lives.
The plot of this story when Awiyao married with Madulimay for the sake of having a child. Lumnay the wife of Awiyao hurt so much but she can’t do foolish things even though she wants to stop the wedding. She keep the pain that she have when the wedding ceremony started. Her heart broke into pieces. She don’t know what to do, if how the pain was gone. She loved her husband so much, she can’t imagine that her husband going to marry with other girl. She faced different direction and went towards their fields. Under the pale silver moon, she imagine their siblings as it grow continually.
This is the plot of the story. You can notice in this scene that she loves her husband very much. She can’t do anything to just to obeyed their law when the elders decide to their lives.
Poem
Joyful day when I was born
Only child of the king and poor
Naughty witch stole me away
Alone to the tower I stay
Lonely king and his wife
Yelling for the justice of mine
No one can find me, but sooner it will be fine
But the faith of my parents is strong
Each day they pray and hope
Riding his horse, carrying his sword
Making a way to look for the hive
Even his life is willing to give
Just to save me from the witch
Overpower witch fight him with fright
Before the end of the story of mine
Away from the tower the prince won
Carry me to my parents and love ones
Oh joyful the day when I come
Love of the prince save me from the dark
Out of the castle we wed by the king
That day is so happy for me and my family
Joyful day when I was born
Only child of the king and poor
Naughty witch stole me away
Alone to the tower I stay
Lonely king and his wife
Yelling for the justice of mine
No one can find me, but sooner it will be fine
But the faith of my parents is strong
Each day they pray and hope
Riding his horse, carrying his sword
Making a way to look for the hive
Even his life is willing to give
Just to save me from the witch
Overpower witch fight him with fright
Before the end of the story of mine
Away from the tower the prince won
Carry me to my parents and love ones
Oh joyful the day when I come
Love of the prince save me from the dark
Out of the castle we wed by the king
That day is so happy for me and my family
Monday, March 15, 2010
2 Summarize (short story)
Courage
There was a section that all students are brilliant in every subject, especially in English. The students have a new teacher, he was very strict. He does not laugh, or even smile. Each of the students has their talent. The new teacher challenges them to be a better than they are before. The students don’t like the attitude of their new teacher, because he does not appreciate the thing that they have done. There are times that Mr. Torres did not attend to their class. Nobody notice the change of their teacher, he had grown paler, and his lips were always tightly pressed as if he was enduring some lingering pain. One time the teacher announced that they are going to have their presentation. The students get mad because they only have 12 days to prepare their presentation. They are all complaining to each other, but they don’t have a choice. The theme that was “Courage” everybody complain because they don’t know if there are songs that entitled courage, they are going to sing “Where’s the land of Joy?” They complain to the entire teacher’s suggestion but they don’t have a choice but to follow their teacher.
It was Sunday; they all heard the news that Mr. Torres, their adviser died that day, before their presentation. They have heard that he is sick long time ago, but he did not say anything about it, he did not show to them that he is weak, pathetic, and ill. The next day is their presentation, it was Monday, even if they are not ready they still perform their presentation, they dedicate it to their teacher. As the speaker speak all cried, because he tell the story about the courage of their teacher. The students performed their presentation very well. They finished their presentation by singing a song “Farewell to Thee” then everyone cried.
The beautiful horse
This story is about the horse from the carnival. The horse has escaped from the carnival. Estong found the horse on his way to go home, the horse follow him to their house. While they are on the road, people say that Estong stole the horse, because they know that Estong cannot afford to buy such a beautiful horse like that. When Mang Estong reaches their house, he tied the horse to their backyard. He said that, the horse is not just a horse, it the reincarnation of Barang, the cousin of his wife that is already dead. The eyes of the horse are the same of the eyes of Barang. He never lives the horse alone, he can’t take away his eyes to the beautiful horse, but the dark come his wife calls him for dinner. He tell his wife what he saw, he said that the horse is the reincarnation of her cousin Barang, but his wife did not believe to him, instead she get mad at her husband because he is repeating what he is saying. The next morning Marcos sister, Victa almost believe that the horse is their Aunt Barang. Later there are few man from the carnival looked for the horse. They took the horse from Mang Estong and bring it back to the carnival. After that Mang Estong still believe that the horse is Barang,a nd he can’t believe that Barang in Turned into a circus lady.
A summarize story using the perspective
The lion and the Scholars
I have three friends, they are all scholars, I am the weakest of them all. My friends and I talked; they first said
“What a waste! We are scholars we should use our intelligence to show that we are magnificent!”
“Yes we should take our journey and face our fate,” said of my second friend,
“But what about her?” pointing on me. “She is not like us, she is not scholar, maybe she would our burden in our journey” said my third friend, “let’s bring her, she is still our friend”
So we packed our things, and we start the adventure of our life. We pass to the forest that is very dangerous animals live. In our way we saw the dead lion on the ground, my friends said; “we can bring back this lion to life, I can put back the bones of the lion” said my first friend, “I can put back the flesh and skin of the lion” said of my second friend, “I can bring back the breath of this lion to make alive again” said of the third one. I tried to stop them, but they don’t listen to me. They continue to bring back the life of the lion.
While they are busy doing their business, I climb the tree to be safe when the lion awaken. I waited there till they finish their work. When the two of my friend finish their job, my third friend give the lion a breath, the lion awake and the lion eat them all. I waited for the lion to go away so that I can climb down. Then after the lion finished its food the lion go away. I climb down and go back to our town alone.
Courage
There was a section that all students are brilliant in every subject, especially in English. The students have a new teacher, he was very strict. He does not laugh, or even smile. Each of the students has their talent. The new teacher challenges them to be a better than they are before. The students don’t like the attitude of their new teacher, because he does not appreciate the thing that they have done. There are times that Mr. Torres did not attend to their class. Nobody notice the change of their teacher, he had grown paler, and his lips were always tightly pressed as if he was enduring some lingering pain. One time the teacher announced that they are going to have their presentation. The students get mad because they only have 12 days to prepare their presentation. They are all complaining to each other, but they don’t have a choice. The theme that was “Courage” everybody complain because they don’t know if there are songs that entitled courage, they are going to sing “Where’s the land of Joy?” They complain to the entire teacher’s suggestion but they don’t have a choice but to follow their teacher.
It was Sunday; they all heard the news that Mr. Torres, their adviser died that day, before their presentation. They have heard that he is sick long time ago, but he did not say anything about it, he did not show to them that he is weak, pathetic, and ill. The next day is their presentation, it was Monday, even if they are not ready they still perform their presentation, they dedicate it to their teacher. As the speaker speak all cried, because he tell the story about the courage of their teacher. The students performed their presentation very well. They finished their presentation by singing a song “Farewell to Thee” then everyone cried.
The beautiful horse
This story is about the horse from the carnival. The horse has escaped from the carnival. Estong found the horse on his way to go home, the horse follow him to their house. While they are on the road, people say that Estong stole the horse, because they know that Estong cannot afford to buy such a beautiful horse like that. When Mang Estong reaches their house, he tied the horse to their backyard. He said that, the horse is not just a horse, it the reincarnation of Barang, the cousin of his wife that is already dead. The eyes of the horse are the same of the eyes of Barang. He never lives the horse alone, he can’t take away his eyes to the beautiful horse, but the dark come his wife calls him for dinner. He tell his wife what he saw, he said that the horse is the reincarnation of her cousin Barang, but his wife did not believe to him, instead she get mad at her husband because he is repeating what he is saying. The next morning Marcos sister, Victa almost believe that the horse is their Aunt Barang. Later there are few man from the carnival looked for the horse. They took the horse from Mang Estong and bring it back to the carnival. After that Mang Estong still believe that the horse is Barang,a nd he can’t believe that Barang in Turned into a circus lady.
A summarize story using the perspective
The lion and the Scholars
I have three friends, they are all scholars, I am the weakest of them all. My friends and I talked; they first said
“What a waste! We are scholars we should use our intelligence to show that we are magnificent!”
“Yes we should take our journey and face our fate,” said of my second friend,
“But what about her?” pointing on me. “She is not like us, she is not scholar, maybe she would our burden in our journey” said my third friend, “let’s bring her, she is still our friend”
So we packed our things, and we start the adventure of our life. We pass to the forest that is very dangerous animals live. In our way we saw the dead lion on the ground, my friends said; “we can bring back this lion to life, I can put back the bones of the lion” said my first friend, “I can put back the flesh and skin of the lion” said of my second friend, “I can bring back the breath of this lion to make alive again” said of the third one. I tried to stop them, but they don’t listen to me. They continue to bring back the life of the lion.
While they are busy doing their business, I climb the tree to be safe when the lion awaken. I waited there till they finish their work. When the two of my friend finish their job, my third friend give the lion a breath, the lion awake and the lion eat them all. I waited for the lion to go away so that I can climb down. Then after the lion finished its food the lion go away. I climb down and go back to our town alone.
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