25 May 2011 - Home-Based Learning Assignment

Rainbow Death

Task 1:
This poem is written from the point of view of an American soldier during the Vietnam War, fought between the communist North Vietnam, supported by its communist allies, and the government of South Vietnam, supported by the United States and other anti-communist nations. This poem talks about a modern day ingredient of warfare that has caused appalling death and suffering not only to its intended victims, the Vietnamese people, but also the service personnel that used or even just came into contact with “Agent Orange”.

Agent Orange is the code name for a herbicide and defoliant used by the U.S. military in its Herbicidal Warfare program during the Vietnam War.Approximately 4.8 million Vietnamese people were exposed to Agent Orange, resulting in 400,000 deaths and disabilities, and 500,000 children born with birth defects. From 1962 to 1971, Agent Orange was by far the most widely used of the so-called “Rainbow Herbicides” employed in the herbicidal warfare program. Thus, the title of this poem is “Rainbow Death”. During the production of Agent Orange, dioxins were produced as a contaminant, which have caused numerous health problems for the millions of people who have been exposed.

This poem reminds us that wars can have a lasting impact on its victims. A war might be over, but memories of the war, such as witnessing the death of a fellow soldier, are stuck in the heads of the soldiers who survive. A war can ruin one’s life, as well as one’s loved ones. A soldier could be critically injured or emotionally scarred by war. Either way, war has a negative effect on the ones involved. With that said, not all soldiers have this experience. Some come out stronger from war,more confident than ever, and proud of what they have achieved for their country.

Reference: www.warpoetry.co.uk/2010warpoetry.html

Task 2:
Point of View
This poem is from the point of view of a Vietnam War veteran from America. During the war, Hubert Wilson himself experienced health problems due to herbicidal warfare, such as unexplained headaches and limb pains. Furthermore, his central nervous system radically deteriorated with Parkinsonian type tremors, severe headaches and progressive limb pains. It is evident in the poem that Hubert Wilson disapproves strongly of the use of herbicidal warfare in Vietnam, from “America did not foresee / Green, pink, purple and other colors death potpourri!” and “Nefariously America led astray”. Most probably, the poet had witnessed how enemies or even innocent civilians have suffered from the use of herbicidal warfare. He himself suffered from the contaminants, highlighting his disapproval of herbicidal warfare.
Situation and Setting
This war poem is mainly talking about the Vietnam War, which is a war between the communists and anti-communist. The poem describes how herbicidal warfare is a cruel tactic in war and the agony that it has caused. Apparently, the poet feels angry about America’s use of herbicidal warfare as he portrays America as the party at fault in the poem. Why was herbicidal warfare even used in the Vietnam War? Early in the American military effort it was decided that since the enemy were hiding their activities under triple-canopy jungle, a useful first step might be to defoliate certain areas. As you know, guerilla warfare was a common tactic employed by both sides. The extent of the damage on the environment was very serious. In 1961 and 1962, the Kennedy administration authorized the use of chemicals to destroy rice crops. Between 1961 and 1967, the U.S. Air Force sprayed 20 million U.S. gallons of concentrated herbicides over 6 million acres of crops and trees, affecting an estimated 13% of South Vietnam’s land. In 1965, 42% of all herbicide was sprayed over food crops. The poet is appalled that even the main livelihood of the innocent civilians was not spared.

Reference: Blog by “Silentman”

Language and Diction
Hubert Wilson has used very strong language and some very deep terms that i myself do not comprehend. He has possibly done so to highlight and emphasize his disapproval of the use of herbicidal warfare, as he feels that it is a cruel tactic. From his choice of language, you can fairly easily tell that he is unhappy. Some words are in caps lock as well. His choice of language leaves a very deep and lasting impression on readers and sets readers thinking. Yet, his message is clear and precise.
Personal Response
For a 2 star difficulty poem, I have to say it’s pretty tough. A lot of research was required in order for me to have an understanding of what the poet is referring to. This is quite a strong poem and it has a lasting impression. I find it just amazing how he rhymed “foresee” with “potpourri”! All in all, it’s a tough poem to decipher but at the end of it, I’ve learnt a lot more than I expected from these simple 11 lines.

Term 2 Online Lesson 1: Crisis in Japan Letter

123 Danke St 99
Sendai, Japan 123456

4 April 2011

Dear Chun Ang,

How are you doing? As you probably know, Japan has been struck by a tsunami. I would like to reassure you that I am currently safe. Sendai was one of the worst-hit areas in Japan, being one of the nearest to the epicentre of the earthquake. I barely escaped with my life. I was unprepared when the tsunami wave struck. I was cooking in the kitchen when I heard a loud rushing sound outside the house. It seemed quite far away, but I could hear it rapidly getting louder as though it was coming closer. I went out of the house to investigate and was stunned to see a huge wall of water, many metres high, rushing towards me at great speed. When I regained my senses, I hurried frantically back into the house and prepared myself for the wave. My parents were away at work. As I grabbed onto a pole nailed firmly to the ground, the wave struck. A loud thundering noise approached and I braced myself. Even so, it came as a total shock when the walls of my house crumbled around me and I was swept out, still clinging to the pole for dear life. As I was swept away by the surging froth, I was knocked unconscious along the way.

I woke up, safe and sound, in a house high above street level. I was perched near the railing and I looked over to see the entire city submerged in surging waters, with only the tops of some houses protruding out. I had been rescued by a group of local rescuers.

I am currently searching for my parents and I believe they are both safe and looking for me as well. I hope we will be reunited as soon as possible. If you know about the whereabouts of my parents, please let me know.

Yours Sincerely
Darryl

My Comments on the Blogs of Wei Loon, Benedict and Wei Cong respectively

The links to the blog comments are provided directly above each screenshot, though I could not change the colour to one that can be more easily read.

http://wlcheng-lablog.blogspot.com/2011/02/term-1-week-8-blended-learning.html?showComment=1299337628079#c1855765048872291988

http://arts-du-langage.blogspot.com/2011/01/term-1-week-4-weekend-assignment.html?showComment=1299336797021#c2747520573334993950

http://wongweicong.blogspot.com/2011/02/characterisation-story-excerpt.html?showComment=1299336013007#c3837073780963669670

Becoming and Identity - Essay Final Draft

She laughed and spun round, her frilly dress swirling round in a lovely way. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheeks. Ah, how that had felt – her soft delicate lips touching his sun burnt skin in a moment of bliss. This is the girl I want to spend my life with, he had thought.

Now that seemed surreal. All these happy moments had come to an abrupt end, along with all hope of a marriage to Shayna, when the world had stopped turning for him. That was when the Japanese invaded, under the command of the greedy dictator Yamasuki Marutama. He sought out their country as a base for his assault into Asia.

Now he, Julian Teo Zi Zhao, looked at the bleak future and saw no promise ahead, no light at the end of the dark tunnel. He simply had nothing to look forward to, no future ahead, and no reason to live any longer. He looked at the wall and wanted desperately to smash his head against it. But he did not dare to. Although he knew the Chinese saying that a moment of suffering is preferable to prolonged suffering, he was afraid of the pain. With a long-suffering sigh of self-pity and leaned against the wall to try and sleep while the bombing was taking place. If the bomb shelter caved in on him while he was sleeping, all the better.

A voice cut sharply into the haze of his weary slumber. No one had spoken loudly since the bomb shelter door had shut days before. “It sounds like the bombing has stopped…” “Why don’t you have a look, Ming?” The door creaked open slowly. Suddenly a great cheer erupted and everyone, despite their weary bodies, surged towards the door.

When Julian stepped into the daylight once again, it seemed that the entire city had changed completely. An entire row of buildings towards the left had been leveled by heavy bombing, and most of the buildings around had been reduced to rubble as well.

The people who had spent days cooped up in the tiny bomb shelter now streamed out as fast as their stiff joints would allow. Most went looking for loved ones, some just cried, and the rest, including Julian, now simply walked around aimlessly. After all, since their country was now on the losing end of a war, with their houses probably destroyed and family split up, they had nowhere to go, no idea at all of what to do. Suddenly a shout rang out and people started to flee in all directions. It was a group of Japanese soldiers, now heading their way! The crack of a rifle fire split the air, and instantly all of Julian’s thoughts of turning tail and running vanished. The people who did were dispatched swiftly. The group of straggling survivors were rounded up and brought to a six-tonner truck, where they boarded and were blindfolded.

A shot was heard. Immediately all the Japanese soldiers responded, speed borne of rigorous military training and alertness coming from sheer necessity during the war to survive. Aiming their rifles at the British platoon that was just coming into view, a firefight began. The soldier beside Julian was shot down, a bullet clean through hi8 head. This was the perfect distraction for him to escape! Then a thought occurred to him – how was he going to help the rest of the survivors escape? If he did the large group of people running off would surely get the attention of the Japanese. So he resolved that he would leave the rest of the people here and run off by himself. He jumped off the truck and made a mad dash for the nearest standing building. His life depended on it. As he was nearing his target, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left thigh. He looked down and stared numbly at the bullet hole there, finally toppling to the ground. His head hit the ground and the world faded from existence.

Julian woke up three days later in a torture chamber in the Japanese Secret Police Headquarters. He opened his eyes to find a menacing looking man staring straight into his eyes. He held a blood-crusted whip in one hand and in the other he was holding Julian’s shoulder in an iron grip. The look on his face seemed to say, I will be your torturer for the day, and indeed he would be, Julian realised. The man pulled Julian roughly from the blood-stained floor, cracking the whip across his back. Julian screamed as white hot agony seared across his back.

That was when the door flew open. A bald-headed European man and a Japanese general, easily identifiable by his uniform, stepped in. “What is going on?” The bald-headed man asked in perfect, accented English. His eyes widened when he saw Julian. “What is he doing in such a place? He’s but a teenager, and moreover an injured one. Get him down now!” The menacing sadist who was the officer on duty tried to protest, but the European man was firm and would not budge from his stand. The torturer had no choice but to let him into the custody of his benefactor. The European man beckoned to Julian and said, “Walk beside me, if you will.” Julian stood and made his way to the man’s side, feeling a little dizzy, because of his wound and also because of his close brush with the torturer and simply because events were happening too fast for him to comprehend.

The man asked him, “What is your name?””Julian, sir.””Well, Julian, would you like a cup of coffee?” Julian looked at the man, surprised. This man was actually offering him coffee, which had been a rarity since the war started? “Sure, thank you.” He put on the accent he had picked up from his British tutor, whom his father had hired at great cost, but then money was no problem in a rich businessman’s estate. His near-perfect, accented English was not lost on the European. “You speak well, my friend. Almost like a native speaker from Europe.” Julian tried to be modest. “My teacher taught me well.” The European surprised him yet again. “How would you like to restore your family’s wealth?” Julian was cautious of this too-good-to-be-true offer and the stranger’s quick wit and intelligence. “What do I have to do?” “Well, it’s simple. As a teenager no one would notice you. No one would realise you arelistening in. Now, all you have to do is report to me what you hear, and that’s it. Sometimes I will give you some assignments. Now you will be doing no one any harm, and you will be helping me at the same time. Don’t you want to help me, Julian, after I have saved you from the reach of that evil man? Surely you do not want to return to the grasp of people like him?” Suddenly the man’s voice, though still kindly, had a hard edge to it. Seeing no choice at all in the choice he was being given, and since as the man had said, no harm would come out of it, Julian agreed.

“Here’s your first task. It’s rather simple, actually. You shall go to the warehouse next to the noodle shop “Fu Tak’s Noodle Stall” and report to me what you heard from the traitorous resistance’s meeting. You will be protected if anything happens, so don’t worry. At the end of this you can take back 20000 banana notes.”

Julian found the place after an hour of searching. He climbed up the rafters, scrambling up the last few planks just as the “resistance traitors” came in. He strained his ears to listen. “…and we have to get rid of Japanese control in the eastern part of Singapore. That is a crucial step in ridding the country of the invaders and restoring our freedom.” Julian knew from their conversation that these people were trying to free the country, and wondered whether reporting this would really do no harm. It seemed that these matters were much more important than him, and Julian was starting to think perhaps he shouldn’t report this after all. Caught up in his considerations, Julian accidentally knocked his feet against a plank. All heads looked up. Julian froze. “He’s there!” A bearded man pointed. A pistol was drawn and aimed at him, as a man instructed him to get down immediately. He climbed down from the rafters, thinking desperately how to get out of this mess. With the gun aimed at his head, Julian didn’t dare to try anything. He tried to keep still and not make any confrontational moves, even though he knew there was a skilled Japanese Secret Service team behind him. He waited and answered, biding his time. But even as he talked to them, he wondered if he truly wanted these fighters to die. Did he want his country to stay under Japanese rule forever? Was the hunger in his stomach enough justification for that?

“What did you hear?””Nothing, sir. Really nothing.” He continued this pretence for as long as he could, but soon he knew that no Japanese team would come. He was exposed and he was of no further use. He blurted out everything to the interrogator. After hearing his story, the man shook his head and sighed softly. “Many people living in this conquered city have fallen prey to this scheme, where someone appears to be very rough and fearful, then another will save you from him. So you will owe your ‘saviour’ and also be grateful to him.” Reflecting upon what the man had said, Julian realised it was the truth. He had indeed fallen prey to such a scheme, which explained why no troops had come to his rescue. He had lost his value and at that very moment someone was probably being tricked the same way. His chest swelled in anger as he understood he had been made use of, his emotions played with by the Caucasian. He thought about the many people who had been tricked like him, and the people who had to actually go through torture at the hands of evil Japanese sadists. He wanted to join these noble men to free his country! As he thought this, layers of skin peeled off him. His cowardice, his indifference, all of them were shed like snakeskin. A new resolve and confidence hardened his heart.

He turned to the fighters and said,“I want to join you.”

Language Arts Blended Learning Assignment - Point of View in Narrative Writing

First Person Voice – a new Student & a Parent

A new Student

It is my first day at the Welton Academy. I take the stairs step by step - I don’t want to fall and embarrass myself even more in front of Neil Perry. Earlier, when I was in my room, Neil, who is my new roommate, had some friends over to see our new room, and I heard his friend describe me condescendingly, and though Neil seemed quite friendly and told me to ignore his friend, but I still felt inferior. His other friends that I met earlier seemed rather nice people though, and I wouldn’t mind knowing them better. Perhaps Neil could introduce me to them someday, I wonder as I reach the bottom of the flight of stairs.

A Parent

As I am striding out of the school in a brisk pace, thoughts are flying through my mind in a mess. My mind is in a whirl as I wonder if the change I have just asked Neil to make would destroy his future. I had asked him to pursue a different career path as that was the wishes of his mother. My wife always comes first, I tell myself. This does not help and I am still in a dilemma. Earlier on, I had been very firm with Neil, not allowing him to offer even a shred of resistance against the decision I had conveyed to him. I had asked him to change his course of study from one he has always wanted to one he dislikes. I hope I have not caused him to lose interest in studying and impact his future career severely.

Term 1 Week 7 Weekend Assignment: Reflection on LA Lessons covered so far

Up till today, we have had many Language Arts lessons, covering various topics in literature. In the course of learning Language Arts this year, with the frequency that we have been writing essays this year, I believe my writing skills have improved quite a bit and I have enjoyed myself at the same time. Though writing essays is a tiring and long process that requires hard work, sometimes late into the night, I like brainstorming for ideas and “letting my creative juices flow”. One problem I have, though, is that at times the “creative juices” just don’t flow, so I just can’t come up with any storyline that I am satisfied in. I hope that instead of the current method, where we learn a lot about theory, we can focus more on practical usage, where we can actually utilise that knowledge for far better results. I believe that with more practical usage we can bridge the gap between theory and appliance, and learn to apply what we learn. I think this is a better way to use the limited time we have. I particularly enjoyed the lesson where we researched on America’s history and presenting it in the form of a mind map, as this requires creativity and hones research skills on top of learning Language Arts, which is really killing three birds with one stone!

Term 1 Week 5 Weekend Assignment: Photo Description

This is the Clock Tower in Hwa Chong Institution. It is situated right in the centre of the school, standing proud and majestic as a lion, staring down at the statue of Tan Kah Kee and the school field, the clock on each face of the tower resembling a Cyclops’s eye. What you are looking at is not just a standard school clock tower. This is a national monument, having gone through and seen much. There is a fleet of stairs ascending the tower from the road, with a globe in the centre of the large landing above the stairs. Walk through any one of the side corridors and you will be faced with cosy, old-style classrooms. This is where the best of the students study. A small steep set of stairs wind their way up to the upper levels of the tower, where more classrooms fill the space. Ascend these steps and one will find themselves in a place that exudes rustic charm. Gentle breeze lightly caresses bushes and grasses green as grass in small plots of greenery within the clock tower. The clock tower is fronted by a road that is accessed by many, and hence the clock tower is seen by all entering the school. In fact, even those on the road outside the school can see the clock tower from afar in its prominent position, as it towers above the entire school. The night view is especially breathtaking, the clock tower a beacon of light in a sea of darkness, and one can see it from even further away in all its lighted glory.