Seeing Flamenco Beach

By Anna Sanchez

I was walking on the warm hot sands of a famous beach in Puerto Rico called “Flamenco Beach,” which is known as one of the most beautiful beaches in Puerto Rico. As I was collecting sea shells for my collection back at home, I saw this beautiful young girl sitting on one of the benches near the shade surrounded by a ton of palm trees. She looked lonely, and I couldn’t help but notice the sadness in her face, so I began to walk towards her to ask what was wrong.

As I was walking towards her and now closer, I realized she didn’t quite notice me or even acknowledge I was there, and that’s when I knew she was blind. I sat on the other side of the bench since it wasn’t occupied. I said to her “ Mind if I steal this seat,” and the girl answered “no.”  I introduced myself and asked for her name; her name was Isabella.

It was hard trying to start a conversation with her considering she kept giving me short responses. I didn’t know what to say, so I just gazed off admiring the beautiful view of the aqua blue waters of the beach. All of a sudden she asked me “Hey can I ask you a question?” I responded, “Of course, what is it?” She asked me, “What’s the beach like? Can you describe to me the view.  I bet it’s beautiful. I can feel it just by the warm sun kisses of the sun and the peaceful sounds of the birds chirping”

 I told her, “Isabella, the beach is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Imagine a place where the water is crystal clear and calm, the sand soft and white, like snow surrounded by green mountains, and palm trees, and an ocean adorned with beautiful coral reefs. Kids are running back and forth in the warm sand feeling the salty air brushes of the wind against their rosy red cheeks, enjoying the joyful atmosphere. That, Isabella, is the beach, and you don’t need to see it to enjoy it. You can simply feel it.”

Coleman Federal Prison Field Trip

by Tabitha Henke

This trip was an opportunity provided by the CF Criminal Justice Club, giving the club members a chance to go see the largest federal prison in the United States.  My experience at Coleman was interesting, from walking through the metal detectors upon entry to getting a stamp on my left arm which can only be detected by a black light. Upon entering I walked past the three layered barbed-wired fence which consisted barbed wire on the external and internal sides, and a less lethal level in the middle of the barbed wire.

Once through the opening doors, I entered the main corridors. Our tour guide, who was one of the correctional officers, guided me and the whole group to the entrance of the inner yard. It consisted of all of the units that hold all of the male inmates, a total of 1,868 inmates. Once the officer unlocked the gate to enter the J-unit, we all followed him through the doors and into the unit. Inmates were looking at us the whole time walking through the unit. All of us were told by the officer to not make eye contact with any of the inmates and to ignore anything they say or do towards us.

Upon exiting the J-unit, we went into the K-unit and then entered the recreation room. The room consisted of all of the activities that the inmates were able to do, such as painting, watching movies, workout out, making purses, and playing sports. The recreation room gives the inmates something to do during the daytime.

Exiting the room, we all walked down the inner yard and observed an enclosed yard with tents and ashes of a fire. The officer informed us that the yard is for inmates who are of the Native American religion; these inmates have the ability to smoke tobacco and have fires in the enclosed yard. If any inmate took the advantage for granted, the privilege would be taken away immediately. The prison consisted of good health care facilities and psychological facilities and an opportunity for inmates to go to school to get their GED or go to college.

This trip is good for anyone who is interested going into criminal justice or law enforcement. 

The Florida Watercolor Society Exhibit at CF

by Cable Brenay

The Florida Watercolor Society exhibit at the CF Webber Center is a wonderful sight to behold. Not only is the art amazing, but it is being created by wonderful people still honing their skills as one of our peers. The realism, the depth, the feelings and wonder that wash over the viewer are warming to know that these works have been done by people among us, not time distant artists but one of us. The work that is being done is impeccable, all in their own way, but a few stood out to me personally.

One of the most striking pieces was “Walking Tall” by Jenny Medued which depicts a young Native American man with new style glasses in the process of a solo spiritual dance clad in traditional garb. The painting skill is only matched by the pride felt when the viewer sees that a young modern age man is keeping the traditions of his ancestors long since passed fresh and alive for people to appreciate. This dedication to family and heritage is breathtaking.

 

"Walking Tall"

Another painting was “Royal Pride” by Susan Tully. Her ability to breathe life into a white horse, in ornate halter, hanging its head, is amazing. The horse appears to be weeping and for what reason is up to the viewer’s interpretation: the straining nature of its cause, the loss of a friend, the last ride before being put to pasture; regardless it is both majestic and moving.

"Royal Pride"

Another article of animal life is shown by Sandi Hanlon-Bruer in “Come on in the Waters Fine” where she shows a lone alligator skulking through the water. The soft color choices and the fact that the fierce teeth are hiding just below the surface echo the title. It’s a painting that would make any native Floridian proud.

"Come on in the Water's Fine"

A very different piece was the “Trail to Vernal Falls” by Sue Archer a very delicate piece showing an elderly woman sitting near the bottom of set of large stone steps. The woman is either sketching or writing with her face hidden behind her snow white hair. This piece pulls at the viewer with curiosity: Why is she sitting? What is she doing? Who is she? She could be anyone for any reason doing anything the viewer can interpret.

 

"Trail to Vernal Falls"

Although all of these were very well done and invoked so many feelings the most amazing piece was “What Now My Love” by Frank Spino. The realism and the detail that was carefully poured into this particular piece is heart stopping. A man wraps is arm around his wife and kisses the side of her head as she clutches his arm with worry cascading across her face. Any man that has ever cared for a woman can relate to this, as well as every woman that has ever sought the comforting embrace of a man that loves her. This is a painting that shows how marriage should be, a man supporting his wife and a wife seeking no one but her husband.

"What Now My Love"

This being the first art exhibit that I have ever viewed I was very impressed. Gladly since then I have visited two other art galleries. I have found a new appreciation for art and the feeling s and thoughts that come with it. I feel that this particular exhibit far exceeded my expectations as prior to it was not a fan of art at all. I hope that you will be able to have a similar experience with the next exhibit and have a few feelings of your own to share.

My Library Family

by Cheyenne McConnell-Sawyers

Many people when they think of their reading experience are haunted with memories of bad grades and the many hours that they spent trying and failing to sound out words correctly. However, when I think back on how my love for reading began I can’t help but smile. My passion for reading was nourished by two inspirational librarians, Mr. Wally and Ms. Heather.

When I was seven years old I begged my mother to get a better variety of books for her to read to me at our nightly storytime sessions because the pages of I Love You Forever by Robert Munsch were starting to look so mangled that the words would have been unrecognizable had I not memorized the story. During our nightly storytime session my mother would read to me one of the books I was gifted from family members that were always ready to be read by my bed before she fluffed the blankets, whispered “I love you forever I like you for always as long as I live my baby you will be,” and kissed me goodnight. Instead of buying more books she took me to the public library and changed my life forever.

When I first walked into the library I immediately felt an icy fear creep into my mind at the sight of the monstrous bookshelves. I was so scared I couldn’t move. After a few minutes of me standing frightened, a nice lady came over and asked me if I wanted to see the kids’ room. I didn’t know it then but that woman, Ms. Heather, would become more than just a nice lady. She would become a second grandmother.

In the kids’ room I found three tables with books for kids along with rows of shelves filled with kids’ books. However, perhaps the best thing in the kids’ room that first time was the other librarian Ms. Heather introduced me to, Mr. Wally. He was an older gentleman who always had a smile; he spoke with a stutter, but that didn’t stop him from inspiring everyone with quotes. He was one of the kindest people I have ever met. Mr. Wally and Ms. Heather talked with me about what my favorite books were and what I liked to do; at that time, I liked watching the tapes of “Raffie.” He was a pleasant guy who sang on tape while playing guitar. I had only seen one tape of his before at my grandma’s house. I thought it was just something that grandma had. However, Mr. Wally pointed out that the library had what seemed like a whole wall of these music videos. Ms. Heather and Mr. Wally helped me decide which tape to check out first. That day Ms. Heather gave me my first library card which I thought was a special club just for people who liked Raffie. 

After that first visit I got to know Ms. Heather further. She was this blonde lady who always wore a sweater. She had the greatest voices for storytelling; She could make what seemed like any character’s voice in a story. I returned to the library twice a week at that time because I loved her and Mr. Wally so much.

As I got older Ms. Heather would suggest books that she thought I would like. I would read every day just to be able to talk to her about those suggested books. When I was middle school age and toiling through difficult homework, she would always help answer my questions. I remember many times I wouldn’t be grasping the subject and she would make a great story up to explain it. She made reading Romeo and Juliet simpler to understand for the test. I wasn’t able to do a lot of normal kid things, like climb trees or ride a bike for fun. I have a disorder that causes constant broken and fractured bones, but Ms. Heather let me help with storytime activities for the younger kids who were learning just like I had about the library. Ms. Heather put me in her skits to act out books. She made a great Big Bad Wolf to my Little Red Riding Hood. Ms. Heather never turned me away because I had casts or said I couldn’t help because she was afraid I would fracture another bone. She would just say “Well this new cast adds drama to the story today” as she hugged me. I will never forget her teaching me the love of all books no matter what genre they were. She instilled the saying “It doesn’t matter if it’s not your type of book. It’s worth reading because someone thought it was worth writing.”

Mr. Wally was always right there too in the storytime activities making the books realistic as “Chef Wally.”   He loved to bring the weird foods like green eggs and ham to real life for children, so, he would make them. He would put on a little skit himself pretending to drop the egg while he made the green eggs and ham. He didn’t just perform to bring books alive; he would have book debates with me or what he and I would call “The Meeting of the Minds.” We would discuss different points and perspectives we had about a book we both read. I remember one conversation we had about the poem “The Raven” by Edger Allen Poe. Mr. Wally said, “It is all just a dream. No one was actually at his chamber door; he was just imagining the rapping.” I replied, “It was more than a dream; it was Lenore. She came back for him, and it was sweet of her.” That was the most memorable debate because from that day forward every time either one of us heard someone knock on a door, we would say out loud, “Is it you Lenore?” Mr. Wally taught me that every book has a set word count. He also taught me that the words may be written in ink, but we all read the words differently. 

Another interesting thing he taught me was that everyone has a different perception, of those set words. As Ms. Heather never turned me away for my disorder of broken bones. Mr. Wally never had a shortage of websites and books to turn to for more medical information or more writings to read for our debates. He was the one who recommended I read the book Handle with Care by Jodi Piccoult. He wanted me to know that I wasn’t alone. What he didn’t realize was that with my adopted library family that he and Ms. Heather were, I never felt alone. I will forever cherish and remember the influence that each of them had on my love for reading.

Nanny McPhee said, “When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go.” I had Mr. Wally to influence my dreams and goals in life. I will forever carry his memory in my heart. I still have Ms. Heather to inspire and cheer me on from afar in my academics today because I still need her. I hope that everyone has their own versions of Ms. Heather and Mr. Wally, to nourish their reading for them like Mr. Wally and Ms. Heather did for me.

Let's Read!

By Emmalisa Kaminski

from www.pixabay.com

In these last few weeks as I have been writing my literacy narrative I have had to think a lot about one of the most fundamental pieces of my life.  Literacy is the foundation for anything that we will ever learn as well as a way to escape from the harsh realities of the world that we live in.  Sadly in places around the world literacy is something that is more often than not, placed on the backburner for things such as food, and work.  Children in impoverished countries and areas all around the world, including within our own country are not receiving the literary education that they should be.  Sometimes it falls on the teachers to make sure that the child is being provided with a literary education but really it is the responsibility of the parents to take the time out of their busy schedules to read to the child.

My advice to teachers would be to continue doing what they are doing.  Teachers today have so many standards placed onto them by the state that they are in fact providing the child with a good basic literary education.  However, if there is one thing that I think that teachers could do better for their students and encourage reading in their classroom, would either be an interactive story for the month, so that children can become accustomed to reading out loud in front of an audience, or be able to set aside a time where you could take students aside in groups and begin to have something along the lines of mini book clubs in your class.  There are so many things that you can do for the children, so that they are able to build a positive relationship with literacy and books.

Perhaps the most important part about a literary education would have to be making sure that the child’s reading relationship is growing at home.  It does not matter how hard the teacher might work to make sure that the child is receiving a good literary education, it is up to the parents to make sure that they are taking the skills that their child has learned during the day and cultivate and nurture them in the home.  Whether that is having your child read to you as you are cooking dinner, or reading a story before bed time.  If there is no literacy in the home than the likeliness of the child developing a healthy relationship with reading is going to be quite slim.  Therefore, my advice to parents around the world is to make sure that you carve out time to be with your child and make sure that they are reading anything and everything that they can get their hands on. 

from www.pixabay.com

The final thing that I want to cover is that the children of today NEED literacy.  It is something that in my opinion is slipping away into history.  From all of the technology that is available today I see more kids playing Pokémon GO, or Clash of Clans than I see sticking their noses into a good book.  Literacy is something that is going to help them throughout the rest of their lives; it is a skill that has to nurtured and cultivated by the people around the child.  For the people that need to help cultivate it, you need to know that the rest of the child’s life is going to depend on what you teach them during these crucial years, for those families that live in impoverished countries or areas, go to someone and explain to them your situation and tell them that you want to be able to teach your children how to love reading.  For the people that meet these parents crying out for help in educating their child, listen to their cries and answer them because these children are the future of our world.  These children could be the next Nelson Mandela or Gandhi, but they will never be able to reach their full potential unless we help them.

Two Perspectives on the Poetry Reading by Dan Albergotti

Perspective 1

by Carlos Garcia

My First Time Attending a Poetry Reading

Prior to this experience I had never attended a poetry reading, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. The poet featured that day was Dan Albergotti. I was somewhat surprised at the turnout. When I entered the room most of the chairs were filled, so I decided to sit up front. Albergotti was getting prepared while occasionally glancing up at the crowd while stooped over the desk sorting out which poems he was going to read. When he was finished sorting through his stuff and proceeded to the front of the room I noticed that he was a tall slender man that possessed an intensity about his glare.

When the poet began, he opened up with poems that had great rhythm as well as humor. This was more or less what I was expecting, light-hearted poems with the occasional laughs, but then something happened that I wasn’t really expecting. He began reading some of his poems that were anything but lighthearted. The energy in the room changed as he read some of these poems with dark undertones. This was something I wasn’t expecting. 

Some of the poems were intense in a way that I never thought a poetry reading could achieve. The poem that stood out for me was “Holy Night,” which was a poem about his father’s racism  and the horrible sentiment towards a child. As he read the poem it felt like the entire room was anticipating each word with a tension that was palpable. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this experience, and I was surprised at the energy and emotions that a poetry reading could evoke. 

Perspective 2

                                                     

By Alex Lund

What you are about to read is something I experienced in a poetry reading at College of Central Florida. The gentleman that came on 10/5/16 was Dan Albergotti.   I had never been to a poetry
reading, so I didn’t know what to expect and neither would you if you haven’t been to one. 

He began by introducing himself. Like I said before, his name was Dan Albergotti. He talked about where he was from and that he wrote and published two books that were for sale. Then he began to start reading off his poems in his books. While he was doing so, I just started writing down whatever he read. The first poem was called “Bad Language.” So here it is: “The root of fuck is as much to strike as to copulate” and “To know is to understand … What do you mean when you say no? I think I know. I want to know. Understand me.”   I think when he wrote this he was in an emotional state which was intense where the only word he could come up with is "fuck," which is a curse word. Writing this might have been to help him understand whatever situation he was dealing with. That gave him confidence in his path to succeed in clearing his issues. 

Another poem called “Ars Poetica” starts with “It’s not a perfect world, Mother, but you died at home, without thought, in little or no pain, better than most.”  Later in the poem he talks about the things he wishes he could have changed, like taking away all the things that she lost and the pain and suffering from her illness and in her life. He says “I would take away the illness from your brain” and “You would meet a kinder man in 1946.”   He regrets how he treated his mother when she was alive, with nothing like kindness and thoughtfulness. What I got out of that, is he wishes he could take everything away that's bad and make it better.   All he knows is poetry is left in him. How sad it is. I believe he tells us about how life can be short. No matter where we are, we must communicate with our loved ones.   

The last poem that stood out to me is called “Holy Night." This poem was about his father being a racist. It starts like this: “My father said he wished the child were dead. He didn't say it in so many words but he said it. And it was Christmas Eve.”  It goes on to tell about his father hearing a news story about a black couple who had seven children and all died but one who would survive. He then says in the poem: “I’m sorry to hear that my father hissed. That’s just what this country needs, seven more --  Of course he used the word. You know he did.”  What he means in that is his father is a man with no words but ones full of hatred.  He is ashamed that his father is racist and hateful to people who are different. 

After he had read some of many poems he has written, there were questions if anyone wanted to ask him and he would answer. Unfortunately I could not stay for that because I had to leave after he read his poems. I thought it was interesting to see how another writer communicates through their writing and how their passion goes through them like a lightning bolt and comes out as poetry.