The Shoe-Horn Sonata Essay Example for Free

The Shoe-Horn Sonata Essay John Misto, the person behind the play The Shoe-Horn Sonata, uses his distinctively visual text as a memorial for the Australian Army nurses who died in the war, as they were refused one by the government. â€Å"I do not have the power to build a memorial. So I wrote a play instead. † This drama illustrates the way the women were treated in the Japanese prisoner of war camps, during World War II through the two main characters Bridie – an Australian army nurse and Sheila – an English woman. The different dramatic techniques used in this play aid in the manipulation of the audience’s emotions and sway the preconceptions of the group. Misto utilises projected images and the emotive dialogue to create a vivid image in the viewer’s mind that is both distinctively visual and evokes emotions from the audience. Misto is not the only author to have used this technique in his work, John Schumann’s I Was Only 19 is a song that also features distinctively visual elements throughout the song. This text explores the conditions of the Vietnam war and the effect it has afterwards on someone as young as nineteen and has a similar purpose to Misto’s, to expose the terrible conditions of war and the effect it had and is still having on them today. Schumann uses intense emotive language to influence the listener’s opinion on war and draw attention to the conditions prisoners of war face. The Shoe-Horn Sonata digs deep into the readers mind and challenges their thoughts on the way they perceive injustices been done to the memory of the nurses, and of the thousands of other women and children who suffered with them. Misto is able to do this by projecting images onto a screen in the background. â€Å"Projected onto the screen is a photograph of row upon row of captured British and Australian women bowing to the Japanese. These images contribute to the creation of a physical, distinctively visual element in the drama. The confronting images shown forces the audience to reconsider their understanding of the prisoner of war camps in Japan. The audience begins to visualise the conditions the women faced and this leaves an impact on the viewer. Through this, Misto is able to convey his message to his audience through the distin ctively visual images, not only projected on the screen, but shaped in the viewer mind. Although Misto only intended to expose the injustices that had been done to the women’s memory, he has revealed the effect the war had on them and the aftermath of the camps. Misto brings to light the influence the camps had on the women involved in the war. â€Å"She stole every sheet and towel in her room – once she found out the Japanese own this place. † In this quote it is obvious that the women have still not recovered from the traumatic experience in the camp and still feel livid towards the Japanese. The distinctively visual dialogue is enough for the viewer to visualise the event taking place. The fact that the prisoners of war still feel resentment towards the Japanese suggests to the audience that the things they went through must have been worse than the responder originally assumed. The distinctively visual scene allows Misto to manipulate his audiences thinking, this emphasises the injustices that have been done to the women’s memory as the audience begins to realise the damage done to the women, mentally. The Shoe-Horn Sonata continues to battle the audience’s preconceptions of the prisoner of war camps in Japan by using stage directions as a medium for further exposing the effect the war had on its prisoners in Japan. The final scene Bride and Sheila finally feel free after over fifty years. â€Å"Bridie and Sheila are confidently dancing and the theatre is filled with Srauss’ music. It is the music of joy and triumph and survival. † As the two are dancing, triumphant music begins to play emphasising in the viewers mind that after all the years of fear and uncertainty, they finally feel free and confident again. The distinctively visual dancing reinforces the idea that they are free and dancing is a way of expressing your freedom. Misto was even able to, in his stage directions; convey the drama’s purpose through distinctively visual elements. John Schumann’s I Was Only 19 is abundant with different examples of how the distinctively visual conveys the author’s purpose. Schumann uses strong emotive language to produce a distinctively visual image in the reader’s mind. â€Å"And the Anzac legends didn’t mention mud and blood and tears,† the egative connotations attached to the words â€Å"mud†, â€Å"blood†, and â€Å"tears† contrasts with the idea of the Anzac legends, which has a positive connotations. These ideas contrast forcing the reader to reassess their thoughts on the Anzac legends and how they affected the Anzacs during and after the war. The emotive words create a distinctively visual image in the readers mind as they vi sualise the mud-covered jungles of Vietnam and the pain (blood) and suffering (tears) the Anzacs went through. Schumann is able to form a distinctively visual image using only strong emotive language, and he uses this technique to convey the purpose of his song. I Was Only 19 includes many more examples of how Schumann uses distinctively visual language to convey his message. â€Å"And night time’s just a jungle dark and a barking M16? † The emotive word â€Å"dark† creates a distinctively visual image of a dark, dangerous jungle which also incorporates an almost life-like sound of an M16 firing in the background. This image is formed from the powerful emotion in the language and the imagery it creates. As the viewer pictures the dark jungle, they are confronted with the idea that an actual person had fallen into that unfortunate situation and this is what Schumann wants his readers to reflect on, the idea that someone had to experience those conditions for years. Schumann is hopefully able to evoke sympathy in the reader for the soldiers that were in Vietnam. The distinctively visual imagery aids in the creation of this process. John Misto and John Schumann both have a message they want to get out to the world. They may be similar but they both are just as important as the other. These composers are trained in using language and dramatic techniques to manipulate the audience’s emotions and persuading them to think what they wanted them to think, which in this case, is to spread the story of the women nurses in prisoner of war camps and how this affected them and the Vietnam veterans, including their mental and physical diseases. They have successfully done this, using distinctively visual elements in their texts.

Statement of Educational Goals Essay -- Philosophy of Education Teachi

Statement of Educational Goals The role of the teacher has changed, perhaps evolved is a better word, since students left the atmosphere of home schooling to that of the classroom. I'm sure that there have always been innovative teachers, but lecture and paperwork (or slate board work) were at one time the norm. In some classes it still is. However, the fact that we have so many stu- dies concerning the development of learning skill, such as the four stages that Piaget ident- ified, and so many theories on the best way to teach a child, such as Constructivism versus Behavorialism, indicates that many educators have realized there have to be better ways, than exclusive lecture and paperwork, to evoke learning. We have learned in our educational courses there are several styles of learning that each of us use one or more of. This is a challenge to the teacher, because it means we can't con- struct all our lessons based on only one style (which is usually our own learning style). We, as teachers, must be willing to expand our own realm of thinking and try new approaches. I love this concept, since I would get bored if I had to teach the same way every day. In my personal view, a classroom that is learning is not the one where seats are neatly in their rows, each child is busy completing a worksheet and no voices are heard. Give me clusters of desks, with students collaborating on projects and the air buzzing with the sound of excited voices. I feel that textbooks should be used as reference tools, not the sole amount of knowledge we want to obtain on any particular subject. In fact, I believe that the true measure of the success of a teacher is when students endeavor to know more. How can this be ac... ...bjects like Social Studies that require remembering facts and dates. What can you do in that situation? I truly believe that board games, set up along the line of "Sorry" and using an ever expanding set of question and answer cards, could be an enjoyable and effective way for students to recall social studies facts, if played on a regular basis. Other topics requiring memorization, such as the 50 states or the American presidents, could be dealt with by developing trading cards in which students strive to com- plete a set. I believe that my job as a teacher is not simply to place knowledge in my students heads. I must also help them understand that knowledge and show them how they can use it throughout their lives. To be truly successful at my job I must transfer my excitement for learning and curiosity to my students, so they will want to learn more.

The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening Chapter Fifteen

As soon as he left Elena at her house, Stefan went to the woods. He took Old Creek Road, driving under the sullen clouds-through which no patch of sky could be seen, to the place where he had parked on the first day of school. Leaving the car, he tried to retrace his steps exactly to the clearing where he had seen the crow. His hunter's instincts helped him, recalling the shape of this bush and that knotted root, until he stood in the open place ringed with ancient oak trees. Here. Under this blanket of dingy-brown leaves, some of the rabbit's bones might even remain. Taking a long breath to still himself, to gather his Powers, he cast out a probing, demanding thought. And for the first time since he'd come to Fell's Church, he felt the flicker of a reply. But it seemed faint and wavering, and he could not locate it in space. He sighed and turned around-and stopped dead. Damon stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, lounging against the largest oak tree. He looked as if he might have been there for hours. â€Å"So,† said Stefan heavily, â€Å"it is true. It's been a long time, brother.† â€Å"Not as long as you think, brother .† Stefan remembered that voice, that velvety, ironical voice. â€Å"I've kept track of you over the years,† Damon said calmly. He flicked a bit of bark from the sleeve of his leather jacket as casually as he had once arranged his brocade cuffs. â€Å"But then, you wouldn't know that, would you? Ah, no, your Powers are as weak as ever.† â€Å"Be careful, Damon,† Stefan said softly, dangerously. â€Å"Be very careful tonight. I'm not in a tolerant mood.† â€Å"St. Stefan in a pique? Imagine. You're distressed, I suppose, because of my little excursions into your territory. I only did it because I wanted to be close to you. Brothers should be close.† â€Å"Youkilled tonight. And you tried to make me think I'd done it.† â€Å"Are you quite sure you didn't? Perhaps we did it together. Careful!† he said as Stefan stepped toward him. â€Å"My mood is not the most tolerant tonight, either. I only had a wizened little history teacher; you had a pretty girl.† The fury inside Stefan coalesced, seeming to focus in one bright burning spot, like a sun inside him. â€Å"Keep away from Elena,† he whispered with such menace that Damon actually tilted his head back slightly. â€Å"Keep away from her, Damon. I know you've been spying on her, watching her. But no more. Go near her again and you'll regret it.† â€Å"You always were selfish. Your one fault. Not willing to share anything, are you?† Suddenly, Damon's lips curved in a singularly beautiful smile. â€Å"But fortunately the lovely Elena is more generous. Didn't she tell you about our little liaisons? Why, the first time we met she almost gave herself to me on the spot.† â€Å"That's a lie!† â€Å"Oh, no, dear brother. I never lie about anything important. Or do I mean unimportant? Anyway, your beauteous damsel nearly swooned into my arms. I think she likes men in black.† As Stefan stared at him, trying to control his breathing, Damon added, almost gently, â€Å"You're wrong about her, you know. You think she's sweet and docile, like Katherine. She isn't. She's not your type at all, my saintly brother. She has a spirit and a fire in her that you wouldn't know what to do with.† â€Å"And you would, I suppose.† Damon uncrossed his arms and slowly smiled again. â€Å"Oh, yes.† Stefan wanted to leap for him, to smash that beautiful, arrogant smile, to tear Damon's throat out. He said, in a barely controlled voice, â€Å"You're right about one thing. She's strong. Strong enough to fight you off. And now that she knows what you really are, she will. All she feels for you now is disgust.† Damon's eyebrows lifted. â€Å"Does she, now? We'll see about that. Perhaps she'll find that real darkness is more to her taste than feeble twilight. I, at least, can admit the truth about my nature. But I worry about you, little brother. You're looking weak and ill-fed. She's a tease, is she?† Kill him, something in Stefan's mind demanded. Kill him, snap his neck, rip his throat to bloody shreds. But he knew Damon had fed very well tonight. His brother's dark aura was swollen, pulsing, almost shining with the life essence he had taken. â€Å"Yes, I drank deeply,† Damon said pleasantly, as if he knew what was in Stefan's mind. He sighed and ran his tongue over his lips in satisfied remembrance. â€Å"He was small, but there was a surprising amount of juice in him. Not pretty like Elena, and he certainly didn't smell as good. But it's always exhilarating to feel the new blood singing inside you.† Damon breathed expansively, stepping away from the tree and looking around. Stefan remembered those graceful movements, too, each gesture controlled and precise. The centuries had only refined Damon's natural poise. â€Å"It makes me feel like doing this,† said Damon, moving to a sapling a few yards away. It was half again as tall as he was, and when he grasped it his fingers did not meet around the trunk. But Stefan saw the quick breath and the ripple of muscles under Damon's thin black shirt, and then the tree tore loose from the ground, its roots dangling. Stefan could smell the pungent dampness of disturbed earth. â€Å"I didn't like it there anyway,† said Damon, and heaved it as far away as the still-entangled roots would allow. Then he smiled engagingly. â€Å"It also makes me feel like doingthis .† There was a shimmer of motion, and then Damon was gone. Stefan looked around but could see no sign of him. â€Å"Up here, brother.† The voice came from overhead, and when Stefan looked up he saw Damon perching among the spreading branches of the oak tree. There was a rustle of tawny brown leaves, and he disappeared again. â€Å"Back here, brother.† Stefan spun at the tap on his shoulder, only to see nothing behind him. â€Å"Right here, brother.† He spun again. â€Å"No, try here.† Furious, Stefan whipped the other way, trying to catch hold of Damon. But his fingers grasped only air. Here, Stefan . This time the voice was in his mind, and the Power of it shook him to the core. It took enormous strength to project thoughts that clearly. Slowly, he turned around once more, to see Damon back in his original position, leaning against the big oak tree. But this time the humor in those dark eyes had faded. They were black and fathomless, and Damon's lips were set in a straight line. What more proof do you need, Stefan? I'm as much stronger than you as you are stronger than these pitiful humans. I'm faster than you, too, and I have other Powers you've scarcely heard of. The Old Powers, Stefan. And I'm not afraid to use them. If you fight me, I'll use them against you. â€Å"Is that what you came here for? To torture me?† I've been merciful with you, brother. Many times you've been mine for the killing, but I've always spared your life. But this time is different. Damon stepped away from the tree again and spoke aloud. â€Å"I am warning you, Stefan, don't oppose me. It doesn't matter what I came here for. What I want now is Elena. And if you try to stop me from taking her, I will kill you.† â€Å"You can try,† said Stefan. The hot pinpoint of fury inside him burned brighter than ever, pouring forth its brilliance like a whole galaxy of stars. He knew, somehow, that it threatened Damon's darkness. â€Å"You think I can't do it? You never learn, do you, little brother?† Stefan had just enough time to note Damon's weary shake of the head when there was another blur of motion and he felt strong hands seize him. He was fighting instantly, violently, trying with all his strength to throw them off. But they were like hands of steel. He lashed out savagely, trying to strike at the vulnerable area under Damon's jaw. It did no good; his arms were pinioned behind him, his body immobilized. He was as helpless as a bird under the claws of a lean and expert cat. He went limp for an instant, making himself a deadweight, and then he suddenly surged with all his muscles, trying to break free, trying to get a blow in. The cruel hands only tightened on him, making his struggles useless. Pathetic. You always were stubborn. Perhaps this will convince you . Stefan looked into his brother's face, pale as the frosted-glass windows at the boarding house, and at those black bottomless eyes. Then he felt fingers grasp his hair, jerk his head back, exposing his throat. His struggles redoubled, became frantic. Don't bother , came the voice in his head, and then he felt the sharp rending pain of teeth. He felt the humiliation and helplessness of the hunter's victim, of the hunted, of the prey. And then the pain of blood being drawn out against his will. He refused to give in to it, and the pain grew worse, a feeling as if his soul was tearing loose like the sapling. It stabbed through him like spears of fire, concentrating on the punctures in his flesh where Damon's teeth had sunk in. Agony flamed up his jaw and cheek and down his chest and shoulder. He felt a wave of vertigo and realized he was losing consciousness. Then, abruptly, the hands released him and he fell to the ground, onto a bed of damp and moldering oak leaves. Gasping for breath, he painfully got to his hands and knees. â€Å"You see, little brother, I'm stronger than you. Strong enough to take you, take your blood and your life if I wish it. Leave Elena to me, or I will.† Stefan looked up. Damon was standing with head thrown back, legs slightly apart, like a conqueror putting his foot on the neck of the conquered. Those night-black eyes were hot with triumph, and Stefan's blood was on his lips. Hatred filled Stefan, such hatred as he had never known before. It was as if all his earlier hatred of Damon had been a drop of water to this crashing, foaming ocean. Many times in the last long centuries he had regretted what he had done to his brother, when he'd wished with all his soul to change it. Now he only wanted to do it again. â€Å"Elena is not yours,† he ground out, getting to his feet, trying not to show what an effort it cost him. â€Å"And she never will be.† Concentrating on each step, putting one foot in front of the other, he began walking away. His entire body hurt, and the shame he felt was even greater than the physical ache. There were bits of wet leaves and crumbs of earth adhering to his clothes, but he did not brush them off. He fought to keep moving, to hold out against the weakness that lapped at his limbs. You never learn, brother. Stefan did not look back or try to reply. He gritted his teeth and kept his legs moving. Another step. And another step. And another step. If he could just sit down for a moment, rest†¦ Another step, and another step. The car couldn't be far now. Leaves crackled under his feet, and then he heard leaves crackle behind him. He tried to turn quickly, but his reflexes were almost gone. And the sharp motion was too much for him. Darkness filled him, filled his body and his mind, and he was falling. He fell forever into the black of absolute night. And then, mercifully, he knew no more.

Shakespeares Hamlet - Claudius Essay - 2442 Words

Claudius of Shakespeares Hamlet’s G. Wilson Knight in The Embassy of Death interprets the character of Claudius in Shakespeare’s Hamlet: Claudius, as he appears in the play, is not a criminal. He is - strange as it may seem - a good and gentle king, enmeshed by the chain of causality linking him with his crime. And this chain he might, perhaps, have broken except for Hamlet, and all would have been well. But, granted the presence of Hamlet - which Claudius at first genuinely desired, persuading him not to return to Wittenberg as he wished - and granted the fact of his original crime which cannot now be altered, Claudius cannot now be blamed for his later actions. They are forced on him. As King, he could scarcely be expected†¦show more content†¦pag.). Hamlet has also learned of the disturbing news of the new king’s â€Å"o’erhasty marriage† to Hamlet I’s wife less than two month’s after the funeral of Hamlet’s father (Gordon 128). The protagonist stands alone, with just about everyone allied with Claudius in his viewpoint on the rightness of the situation: G. Wilson Knight says, â€Å"Instinctively the creatures of earth—Laertes, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, league themselves with Claudius: they are of his kind. They sever themselves from Hamlet.† It would seem initially that Gertrude, â€Å"kindly, slow witted† (Pitt 47), rather than Claudius, is to blame for the protagonist’s â€Å"violent emotions† (Smith 80); thus in his first soliloquy Hamlet cries out, â€Å"Frailty, thy name is woman!† Claudius’ first appearance is at a court gathering where he very dishonestly laments the death of his brother: Though yet of Hamlet our dear brothers death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe,Show MoreRelatedEssay on Claudius of Shakespeares Hamlet1872 Words   |  8 PagesClaudius of Hamlet  Ã‚        Ã‚  Ã‚   A close second in nobility to the protagonist in Shakespeare’s Hamlet is the incredible King Claudius. His superior qualities render him a worthy antagonist capable of a plummeting downfall at the climax.    G. 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