Mark Braam » Greetings from Mr. Braam!

Greetings from Mr. Braam!

Hi, I am Mark Braam.
I am an English teacher at Fairfield High School. During the 2022-23 school year, I am teaching five bells of sophomores in College/Career-Ready English 10 and one bell of a fifth-year Journalism/Media course.
In addition to being an English teacher, I have been a journalist for the better part of a quarter century, working both in Washington, D.C., as a sports and political reporter and editor, and here as a news editor and designer at The Cincinnati Post and The Cincinnati Enquirer. You might see me at many school events with a camera in my hands and journalism students at my side!
I hope to meet you all, in the classroom, at parent-teacher conferences, or via Zoom, phone or email; meanwhile, here is my own webpage on the district website.
I have this page for a number of reasons:
1. So I can send home news (and sometimes share photos!) of what we are doing or will be doing;
2. So I can post reminders and class-specific files
3. So I can post some educational videos that I make from time to time;
4. So I can post some links to some great educational resources;
5. So I can permanently post some files, such as the class syllabus and class policies, and update them as needed; and
6. So parents and students can get an easy notification each time that I post something new.

How does this work? On the right side of this page, there is a "SUBSCRIBE" button. If you click on the subscribe button, and register, you will get an email notification every time that I post something new to the page. Please note that there is a separate page for class files, which is actually where most new things will get posted. That means you need to subscribe to both pages, please!

Now, not everything that I post will be earth-shaking(!!!), but at least you will know when and if I do.

This is a good and fast way to pass on news, get copies of homework assignments, and to permanently post some items (such as the class syllabus).

Take a look and see how it works! Please feel free to contact me at [email protected].

Mr. Braam
P.S. Many things are still different this year due to the COVID-19. THINGS WILL CONTINUE TO CHANGE!!!! That means there will also be many messages that will go back and forth, and sometimes from different platforms. PLEASE ... be patient as we all (teachers, students, parents and administrators) continue to adjust, sometimes on the fly.
 

Posts

Poem of the Day .. "To Althea, From Prison" by Richard Lovelace

 

This poem, set in a prison, is most known for its lines: "Stone Walls do not a Prison make,/Nor Iron bars a Cage." A very brief synopsis is that imprisonment is a state of mind. In this poem, the speaker can escape the drudgeries of prison life by imagining that his lover Althea is there to see him.

The author, Richard Lovelace, might know, as he spent time in jail essentially for speaking his mind during a political period in England when it was not wise to do so. 

To Althea, from Prison

BY RICHARD LOVELACE

 

When Love with unconfinèd wings

   Hovers within my Gates,

And my divine Althea brings

   To whisper at the Grates;

When I lie tangled in her hair,

   And fettered to her eye,

The Gods that wanton in the Air,

   Know no such Liberty.

 

When flowing Cups run swiftly round

   With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with Roses bound,

   Our hearts with Loyal Flames;

When thirsty grief in Wine we steep,

   When Healths and draughts go free,

Fishes that tipple in the Deep

   Know no such Liberty.

   

When (like committed linnets) I

   With shriller throat shall sing

The sweetness, Mercy, Majesty,

   And glories of my King;

When I shall voice aloud how good

   He is, how Great should be,

Enlargèd Winds, that curl the Flood,

   Know no such Liberty.

 

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

   Nor Iron bars a Cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

   That for an Hermitage.

If I have freedom in my Love,

   And in my soul am free,

Angels alone that soar above,

   Enjoy such Liberty.

Victor poem and WS

The attached file was assigned Tuesday, Nov. 11. It was originally set to be completed by Wednesday, but is now to be completed by Thursday, Nov. 12. The poem and related work will be used in future assignments, including another LEST and a Socratic seminar.

Poem of the Day ... "Victor" by WH Auden

This poem was used in Tuesday's class. The homework assignment and a Word file is posted separately. It will be used over a number of lessons

Victor        

By WH Auden

1 Victor was a little baby,
Into this world he came;
His father took him on his knee and said:
“Don’t dishonour the family name.”

2 Victor looked up at his father
Looked up with big round eyes:
His father said; “Victor, my only son,
Don’t you ever ever tell lies.”

3 Victor and his father went riding
Out in a little dog-cart;
His father took a Bible from his pocket and read;
“Blessed are the pure in heart.”

4 It was a frosty December
Victor was only eighteen,
But his figures were neat and his margins were straight
And his cuffs were always clean.

5 He took a room at the Peveril,
A respectable boarding-house;
And Time watched Victor day after day
As a cat will watch a mouse.

6 The clerks slapped Victor on the shoulder;
“Have you ever had a woman?” they said,
“Come down town with us on Saturday night.”
Victor smiled and shook his head.

7 The manager sat in his office,
Smoked a Corona cigar:
Said; “Victor’s a decent fellow but
He’s too mousy to go far.”

8 Victor went up to his bedroom,
Set the alarum bell;
Climbed into bed, took his Bible and read
Of what happened to Jezebel.

9 It was the First of April,
Anna to the Peveril came;
Her eyes, her lips, her breasts, her hips
And her smile set men aflame.

 

 

10 She looked as pure as a schoolgirl
On her First Communion day,
But her kisses were like the best champagne
When she gave herself away.

11 It was the Second of April.
She was wearing a coat of fur;
Victor met her upon the stair
And he fell in love with her.

12 The first time he made his proposal,
She laughed, said; “I’ll never wed”;
The second time there was a pause;
Then she smiled and shook her head.

13 Anna looked into her mirror,
Pouted and gave a frown:
Said “Victor’s as dull as a wet afternoon
But I’ve got to settle down.”

14 The third time he made his proposal,
As they walked by the Reservoir:
She gave him a kiss like a blow on the head,
Said; “You are my heart’s desire.”

15 They were married early in August,
She said; “Kiss me, you funny boy”;
Victor took her in his arms and said;
“O my Helen of Troy.”

16 It was the middle of September,
Victor came to the office one day;
He was wearing a flower in his buttonhole,
He was late but he was gay.

17 The clerks were talking of Anna,
The door was just ajar:
One said, “Poor old Victor, but where ignorance
Is bliss, et cetera.”

18 Victor stood still as a statue,
The door was just ajar:
One said, “God, what fun I had with her
In that Baby Austin car.”

19 Victor walked out into the High Street,
He walked to the edge of town:
He came to the allotments and the rubbish heap
And his tears came tumbling down.

20 Victor looked up at the sunset
As he stood there all alone;
Cried; “Are you in Heaven, Father?”
But the sky said “Address not known.”

21 Victor looked at the mountains,
The mountains all covered in snow
Cried; “Are you pleased with me, Father?”
And the answer came back, No.

22 Victor came to the forest,
Cried: “Father, will she ever be true?”
And the oaks and the beeches shook their heads
And they answered: “Not to you.”

23 Victor came to the meadow
Where the wind went sweeping by:
Cried; “O Father, I love her so,”
But the wind said, “She must die.”

24 Victor came to the river
Running so deep and so still:
Crying; “O Father, what shall I do?”
And the river answered, “Kill.”

25 Anna was sitting at table,
Drawing cards from a pack;
Anna was sitting at table
Waiting for her husband to come back.

26 It wasn’t the Jack of Diamonds
Nor the Joker she drew first;
It wasn’t the King or the Queen of Hearts
But the Ace of Spades reversed.

27 Victor stood in the doorway,
He didn’t utter a word:
She said; “What’s the matter, darling?”
He behaved as if he hadn’t heard.

28 There was a voice in his left ear,
There was a voice in his right,
There was a voice at the base of his skull
Saying, “She must die tonight.”

29 Victor picked up a carving-knife,
His features were set and drawn,
Said; “Anna it would have been better for you
If you had not been born.”

30 Anna jumped up from the table,
Anna started to scream,
But Victor came slowly after her
Like a horror in a dream.

31 She dodged behind the sofa,
She tore down a curtain rod,
But Victor came slowly after her:
Said; “Prepare to meet thy God.”

32 She managed to wrench the door open,
She ran and she didn’t stop.
But Victor followed her up the stairs
And he caught her at the top.

33 He stood there above the body,
He stood there holding the knife;
And the blood ran down the stairs and sang,
“I’m the Resurrection and the Life.”

34 They tapped Victor on the shoulder,
They took him away in a van;
He sat as quiet as a lump of moss
Saying, “I am the Son of Man.”

35 Victor sat in a corner
Making a woman of clay:
Saying; “I am Alpha and Omega, I shall come
To judge the earth some day.”

Poem of the Day ... "Annabel Lee"

Teacher note: For some reason, this poem did not post last Friday, so I am resending it today!

Annabel Lee

    BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

It was many and many a year ago,

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

 

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

 

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

 

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Poem of the Day ... Shakespeare's Sonnet 71

Sonnet 71

By William Shakespeare

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled 
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe. 
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay,
   Lest the wise world should look into your moan
   And mock you with me after I am gone. 

      PARAPHRASE

You can mourn for me when I am dead, but no longer
Than when you hear the solemn-sounding bell
Announce to the world that I have gone
From this vile world, to live with the worms (in the grave):
If you read this line, do not remember
The hand that wrote it; for I love you so much
That I would rather you forget me completely
If thinking about me when I am gone would make you upset.
O, if you look upon this sonnet
When my body has become mixed with the dust and dirt,
Do not even mention my insignificant name.
But let your love decay in the same way that my life rots away,
So that the malicious people in world do not pry into your grief
And use your relationship with me to mock you after I am dead.

 

 

 

Why We Proofread ... A Continuing Series

I stumbled across even another proofreading snafu from back in January. This Boston sign -- blamed on contractors making a BIG mistake -- had a missing letter AND spelled "only" incorrectly.
Would you hire this contractor again? I think not.
 
 
 

Why We Proofread ... A continuing series

TEACHER'S NOTE: The following story is from January of 2014, but I just stumbled across it and felt I had to share!

NFL Store Sells Misspelled Eagles Hat

Posted: Jan 17, 2014 2:27 PM EST Updated: Feb 02, 2014 10:53 AM EST

 

PHILADELPHIA - They are the Philadephia Eagles and they're awesome. Wait, read that previous sentence again. "Philadephia"?

It turns out that the NFL store is selling an Eagles hat with a misspelling of the name of the City of Brotherly Love. They spelled Philadelphia "Philadephia."

Spelling mistakes happen. We know, we make them, too.

A FOX 29 viewer named Beth McHugh bought the hat and first alerted us to the typo. She said that the NFLshop.com sent her another hat for free with the correct spelling after she called them.

The hat costs $21.95. Would you buy the hat for the humor of it?

Bring Poetic Devices Packet Friday!!!

Just a quick reminder to bring your Poetic Devices Packets that you are working on to class Friday.

Poetry Analysis-Amy Lowell HW

The attached file includes two things:
* A model LEST analysis of "The Taxi"
* A HW assignment, due Monday, Nov. 10, that requires a LEST analysis of one of two other Amy Lowell poems, "Fireworks" or "Absence."
The assignment was passed out in class on Thursday.

Why Analyze Poetry? Powerpoint

The attached file is the presentation from Thursday, Nov. 6, 2014. It utilizes the poem, "The Road Not Taken." It discusses why the skill of poetry analysis is important in our everyday, non_English class daily lives.

Poem of the Day: The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

Poem of the Day "The Taxi"

The Taxi

By Amy Lowell

When I go away from you

The world beats dead

Like a slackened drum.

I call out for you against the jutted stars   

And shout into the ridges of the wind.   

Streets coming fast,

One after the other,

Wedge you away from me,

And the lamps of the city prick my eyes

So that I can no longer see your face.

Why should I leave you,

To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Amy Lowell, “The Taxi” from The Complete Poetical Works of Amy Lowell. Copyright © 1955 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Copyright © renewed 1983 by Houghton Mifflin Company, Brinton P. Roberts, and G. D'Andelot, Esquire. Reprinted with the permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

 

The Taxi questions-background

Attached is the poetry HW due Thursday, Nov. 6, 2014.
On Monday, the poem "The Taxi" was assigned to be read.
On Wednesday, the questioned were answered and discussed in class.
The portion due for Thursday is the LEST response on the last page.

 

Poem of the Day ... "Invictus"

Each day, we will have a poem read at the start of class. Some of the poems tie directly to classwork, while others are just because I like them or a student has suggested them.
Here is the one for Monday, Nov. 3

Invictus

by W.E. Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.