Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut - Questions & Passages

1. Why do you think the short story was called, "Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut?" Why do you think Walt called Eloise's twisted ankle "Poor old Uncle Wiggily?"

2. What do you think is the significance behind Ramona's imaginary beaus and what do you think is the significance behind her "killing off" (for lack of a better term) Jimmy and replacing him with Mickey?

Passages:
"'Besides. Listen to me, career girl. If you ever get married again, don't tell your husband anything. Do you hear me?"
"Why?" said Mary Jane.
"Because I say so, that's why," said Eloise. "They wanna think you spent your whole
life vomiting every time a boy came near you. I'm not kidding, either. Oh, you can tell
them stuff. But never honestly. I mean never honestly. If you tell 'em you once knew a
handsome boy, you gotta say in the same breath he was too handsome. And if you tell
'em you knew a witty boy, you gotta tell 'em he was kind of a smart aleck, though, or a
wise guy. If you don't, they hit you over the head with the poor boy every time they get a
chance." Eloise paused to drink from her glass and to think. "Oh," she said, "they'll listen very maturely and all that. They'll even look intelligent as hell. But don't let it fool
you. Believe me. You'll go through hell if you ever give 'em any credit for intelligence.
Take my word.'" (45-46)

-------
"'Mary Jane. Listen. Please," Eloise said, sobbing. "You remember our freshman year,
and I had that brawn-and-yellow dress I bought in Boise, and Miriam Ball told me
nobody wore those kind of dresses in New York, and I cried all night?" Eloise shook
Mary Jane's arm. "I was a nice girl," she pleaded, "wasn't I?'" (56)

Esther Vs. Prom 2K15

Ah my favorite time of the year, prom season; and yes, that was sarcasm. I hate this time of the year. Not because all the girls are buying expensive dresses that don't suit their body types, or wearing mass amounts of makeup to conceal how ugly they really are, or fake laughing at guys' jokes in hopes of being asked to prom, well yes, partly because of that, but mainly due to the fact that all of the conversations are about sex. All these girls are whispering in the hallways about whether or not they should have sex with Tom, or Larry, or Jim. It's so obnoxious. They always make the same high pitch squeal while addressing sex, hoping that it makes them seem a little more innocent when talking about such a "vulgar" and "provocative" topic. I really do not understand the big deal about sex. There is no need to wait until marriage. If you want to have sex, then go for it. It is perfectly acceptable for a man to lose his virginity before he is married, but if a woman does it then all of a sudden she is a disgrace? Now that just seems absolutely ridiculous. Like the amount of hypocrisy surrounding the whole sex situation is unnecessary. If a girl wants to have sex with a guy, whether they are married or not, then she should be able to do as she pleases. It is not fair for a woman to have to live her life in fear of upsetting a double standard. So, to all you girls out there who are worried about being treated differently for having sex with a guy before marriage, I say screw that. Do what you want. If you and the guy are both ready to have sex, and you are both of the same page, then get it on. Don't let the conforms of society prevent you from having a very eventful prom night ;)

Chris Mccandless at Kingswood Oxford Pictures

I arrive at the grass section in the center of the school that somehow was given to the seniors as if to show that they are more powerful than the others. This idea of possession didn't quite make sense to me. As I looked around all I could see was the suits and ties and dresses that each person picked out specifically for this picture. Spending so much money on just one outfit for only a few pictures made little sense to me. I certainly didn't spend very much on my outfit and I certainly didn't feel the need to flaunt my wealth to everyone through a simple suit and tie. Everyone is just acting fake to me. I just didn't make sense.
Everyone was taking their pictures in these little white tents with big overwhelming cameras. Every single person was dissatisfied with their picture. Their hair was messed up or their smile was too big or their tie was crooked. Again, everyone was fake. Now it was my turn for a picture. I walked up to the white tent and sat on the short stool and my picture was taken. I had no complaints as the lady was very kind and I thanked her for the picture.
Now it was time to take a group photo with our advisee group, which I feel is pointless because I couldn't connect with these fake people anyway. Why should we take a picture? Well the picture was taken and I didn't care. Picture day meant nothing anyway.

Esther Greenwood at Kingswood Oxford

I've been here a week and if their's one thing that i have learned, it is that appearance is everything at this school. All the girls here care about is looking like younger versions of the senior girls at my college, every person looking down upon and making fun of anyone who is different from the norm that has been set for them. They all compete to see who can own more of the fancy clothing, many of which are the same brands as the ones i was given while living in New York. The boys are worse, trying to see who can wear the most Vineyard Vines apparel on any given day. Listening to classes is just purely painful because it is nothing more then over spoiled brats acting like they are smart, even though the only reason that they have been successful is because of their parents money or the fact that their teachers have favored them all their lives. None of these kids no what it is like to have to work hard and no one knows that in the real world nothing will be given to them.  Reality is an illusion at this school and anyone who says or thinks outside the bubble these kids live in is looked at as if they need a short stay in a mental hospital. The worst part is that the kids whine and complain anytime that something doesn't go their way, but when it is truly justified the school prevents them from saying or doing anything about it. As a journalist, i cannot stand for this and at the end of the day i'm packing up and going home.

Kingswood Oxford in the Eyes of Christopher McCandless

Walking around campus, I see the same people every day. The girls, walking around in their flashy brand name dresses, flaunting their wealth and outward beauty towards all those who, for some reason, cannot remove their eyes from her. The boy are no different, polo shirts of the same variety, status indicating shoes, attempting to gain as much attention as possible. Either way, male or female, every student' mind has been filled with the idea that wealth should deliver a sense of achievement, and reflect one's success.
I've heard of these students backgrounds, all with doctors, lawyers, or businessmen for parents. They all speak of their parents wealth, their extravagance, the fancy dinners, cars, houses. Never have I heard a student speak of their parents happiness, or self worth.
The minds of the young people have been corrupted by a sense of want rather than need. They believe in a world where a paper rectangle, with numbers indicating its difference from all the other paper rectangles in the world, equates to a life worth living. I wish they would truly explore for their happiness. Enter the world in its most natural form, without paper to determine their value.
A senior, about to enter college, had the intention of becoming a cardiologist. I asked if he had interest in this field. The young man, dressed like all those other boys on campus, responded, stating his lack of interest. However, he was satisfied with the salary he would presumably receive. I suggested that he leave, and reevaluate himself, find his true happiness out in the real world. Not the real world as in the situation people face after they leave school in search of a job, but the world as it was before humans polluted the area with homes and businesses. Unfortunately for him, he did not understand the message I was trying to send to him.
I carried on with my day, laying on the green belonging to the Senior class, because apparently possession is a true indicator of success and power over those beneath you. I lay there listening to the noises of the students fade away, watching the sun slowly drift down, replaced by dusk. At this point, I stood, walked down toward the busy nightlife of a town suppressed by the idea of materialism, and continued on until there were no buildings in sight.

A Visit to Kingwood Oxford - Christopher McCandless

All I can see walking around are giant hundred dollar bills. The girls wear dresses costing more than I have ever had in my pocket, which at the moment is nothing since I burned it all; however, my point is made. Does anyone ever wonder why money is green? Maybe because it inspires envy! Well, whatever the reason, nothing good could possibly come of it.
I've talked to a few of the children at this school, getting to know their stories. Many speak of their families. I never mention mine. I have problems with understanding their ideas of success, however. They possess dreams of college, becoming doctors, men on Wall Street, lawyers, and CEO's of impressive companies. The one thing they all have in common is that they believe being wealthy means they are successful. Shouldn't success be caused and driven by achieving happiness? I think they should try living with this idea for a while. The suggestion of venturing out into the wild, to get to know themselves and spend some time away from the suffocation of society horrified them all. One asked, "You mean like camping? I do that all the time! In fact, this weekend my family and I are taking our RV to Vermont to spend Memorial Day at a site." To this, I could only shake my head. It seems they are incapable of understanding the true meaning of freedom.
I spent most of my time on the fields, laying in the grass and looking up at the clear, blue sky. Some runners jogged past me, chatting and stretching their legs to create even strides. I remembered my days in high school, running on the track team, playing the French-horn. I was just waiting for the opportunity to break free. I can't bring myself to walk around this school anymore, as it contains everything I do not stand for. Where are all the rivers and mountain ranges? All I can see are roads packed with too many cars, schools packed with too many people, and definitely way too many buildings.
At dusk, I finally rise from my resting position in the grass. At least maybe I can use the cars to my advantage. I begin to walk off the campus and down the busy road, cars whizzing past in the imminent night. Stopping by a small brook, I take my glory stance. One hand is wrapped around the strap of my backpack, the other thumb is raised in the air.

Christopher McCandless - Kingswood Oxford & Senior Prom

     Click. Flash. Click. Flash. The pops and snaps of all of the cameras filled my head, as I made my way across the Senior Green. It's prom night and everyone is hustling and bustling to get the perfect photos with their friends, families and even teachers. All the girls sparkled in their seemingly flawless outfits that consisted of sequined, expensive gowns that were paired with dazzling, eye-catching accessories. Hidden beneath all of their makeup and their costly attire, you could tell these young women had a lot on their mind. Why is her dress so much prettier than mine? Where's my date? It was definitely worth the 5 hour-long process to get my hair, nails, and makeup done; I look great! These stilettos really kill, I'm really glad I decided to bring a back-up pair of flats for comfort. I need to get a picture with so-and-so for Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. The boys, who weren't as enthusiastic as the girls, still managed to look very dapper and sophisticated in their freshly-ironed suits, that were matched with several variations of dress shoes. 

     It was wonderful to see the excitement in their eyes and the smiles on their faces, but this whole concept just doesn't make sense to me. I just can't understand the perspective that claims that it is completely normal to be so materialistic and spend so much money on bourgeois items, just for one night. Granted, I'm definitely not one to spend money on such nonessentials, period, but it just all seems so pointless. I mean, we can all safely assume that these girls are probably never going to wear these flashy, extravagant dresses ever again, considering they'll probably "out grow them" mentally, and there probably won't be too many occasions where such attire would be deemed as appropriate. Why spend hundreds of dollars, period, let alone on something as trivial and shallow as an evening gown and a pair of heels, which aren't even comfortable to begin with? It all just seems fake to me. Honestly, I don't even want to be here. I just feel so out-of-place, so uncomfortable. I look very incongruous too, just look at me. Being that I was brought here against my free will, I didn't have the motivation in me, to force myself to fit the social norm of dressing up, and so I'm standing here in what would be considered, "the vagabond look," which features simple, extremely casual, worn-out, but comfortable garments. Hopefully one day, these naïve, young adults will soon realize that they can achieve happiness, without having to live with a shallow, materialistic state of mind.

Bananafish Questions

When they mentioned that the man went to war, and now he is crazy, could he potentially have PTSD?

Are the two characters talked about in the second part of the book the same characters as the first part? But they just switch from pro nouns to names when addressing them?

A Perfect Day for Bananafish + Zen Questions

1. Why does Seymour kill himself in the end?
2. What do you think is the significance between Sybil's repeated phrase, "see more glass?"
3. Do you think there is any significance behind the fact that Seymour mistook Sybil's canary-yellow bathing suit, for a blue one?
4. Where do you think Seymour's fascination with younger children (ie. Sybil, Sharon) originates from? Why are we as readers, only being told of his interactions with younger children, rather than adults as well?
5. Does Seymour's description of a bananafish (who grows so large from eating all those bananas, that it eventually dies because it gets stuck in the swimming hole) relate to one of the dilemma-based analogies given for a description of Koan in the Technique of Zen excerpt?

HW Questions

1. How are disciples suppose to verbally answer the masters when asked Koan?

2. Is Seymour a pedophile?

A Perfect Day for Bananafish

1) Why does Sybil's claim on seeing the bananafish shift Seymour from his sanity?
2) What do the bananafish represent?
3) What is the significance of the lady looking at his feet?

A Perfect Day for Bananafish Questions

Is Seymour a bananafish?
Why does Seymour like feet?

HW questions-A perfect day for Bananafish

1. What are the Bananafish used as metaphor for?
2. In what way is Seymour going through the last stage of Koan at the end of the story?

HW questions for APDFB

1. Why does Seymour commit suicide? We are shown evidence of PTSD, but not depression or suicidal thoughts. What is his reason?
2. Why does Muriel seem so fed up with her mother and father?

APDFB Questions

1. What is the significance of Seymour's temporary color blindness as seen through his conversation with Sybil on her bathing suit?
2. What is the effect of Salinger's specificity with objects in the story, such as the
"Ortgies caliber 7.65 automatic?"
3. How would the Technique of Zen help Seymour and Muriel?

Questions from APDFB

1. Does Seymour have PTSD from the war, and is this what causes him to commit suicide?
2. Why does Seymour interact with children easily but not adults?

Question APDFB

1. Is his description of bananafish a hint at someone or something that took advantage of him?
2. Does he avoid his wife, because her presence saddens him, ultimately triggering his suicide?

A Perfect Day for Bananafish Questions

1) Why do you think Seymour is so self conscience about his tattoo? Do you think he is ashamed of his identity?
2) Can you draw any parallels between the lives of the banana fish and Seymour?

APDFB Questions

1. Why do you think Seymour is better at interacting with kids than he is interacting with his wife?

2. What do you think the bananafish symbolize in this story? (19-24)

Questions: A Perfect Day for Bananafish and The Technique of Zen

1. Do you think that Seymour's decision to shoot himself has anything to do with what he sees immediately beforehand (his wife)? p. 26

2. How could Seymour or his wife, Muriel, benefit from practicing the technique of Zen?

A Perfect Day for Banana Fish HW Questions

1. Why does Sybil call Seymour Glass "see more glass"? (pg 14, 15, 16)
2. Is the color blue of any importance? If so, why? (pg 11, 17, 19) 

3. Do the banana fish play a factor in Seymour's decision to commit suicide? Or are there other contributing factors? If there is, what are they?

KO Prize Assembly ~ Esther Greenwood

     Throughout my life, I've been the kind of person who spends a lot of time thinking, speculating and just overall, analyzing the world around me. What is the meaning of life, anyway? Why am I here? What miraculous achievement was I destined to accomplish in my short, negligible lifetime? Some like to believe that we were all brought to this world with a purpose. Some say that our fates and destinies are predetermined, and no matter what actions we take in our lives, these destinies and fates will never truly diverge from the original, preordained disposition. I, personally, like to think of life in a more artistic sense. Sharon Salzberg, highly-esteemed author and teacher of Buddhist meditation, perfectly explained my impression the relationship between destiny and life's many occurrences by saying, "Life is like an ever-shifting kaleidoscope; a slight change, and all patterns alter." So maybe, our lives really aren't so restricted to the fixed arrangements that are generated by our supposedly, inevitable fates. It almost seems as though we have the ability to alter and customize the outcomes that come upon us. With this all in mind, it can be implied that every action we make is so valuable and vital, since they each hold so much relevance to the conclusions of our existential journeys. 

      I'm making my way to the hockey rink, where we hold our annual Prize Assembly. Here, students and faculty are honored with awards for achievements in a variety of fields such as academics, athletics and even the arts. It's pretty cold in here, at least in comparison to how bright and sunny it is outside. I kind of like it though, the cheery, springy outdoors can be kind of overwhelming sometimes. I've come to these Prize Assemblies, and year after year I leave, feeling unaccomplished and incompetent. I work hard to be successful, I always have. I guess that's something that just comes along with being a self-critical overachiever with a high standards. Every time I make my way up onto the stage to receive my award, I feel a slight warmth inside me. Everyone at Kingswood Oxford is so friendly and caring. The praise I receive here is absolutely wonderful. I would think to myself, maybe I'm doing something right, maybe this will put me onto a path of grand success, maybe this is what I was "destined" to do However, no matter how inspired and satisfied I feel in the spur of the moment, there always is that underlying pessimism that shortly finds it's way into my head. I always remember the fact that there are so many achievements out there that I didn't meet the qualifications for. The smug, proud expressions on their faces just remind of how no matter how many times I succeed, these successes are always accompanied with even more failures. At this point, I've just started dreading coming to these functions, but no matter how much I argue with my mother, she always finds a way to get me to go.

     Why should I be putting so much emphasis on such irrelevant and worthless achievements? These don't mean anything. They won't alter the patterns within the kaleidoscope of my life. For all I know, KO could just be awarding me because they feel bad for me. They know I don't deserve it; they see how much of a failure I truly am and so, in an attempt to show their commiserations, they create the delusion that I'm worthy of being rewarded for achievements that I didn't even effectuate. Nobody, not even someone who's as much of a disappointment like me, deserves such humiliation and ridicule. Maybe it's not even out of pity; maybe they're just trying to publicize how much of shameful dereliction I am by putting me on that stage, especially when I have no good reason for being on their in the first place. 

McCandless' New Adventure at KO

My parents have recently enrolled me into Kingswood Oxford School in West Hartford Connecticut. Despite my excellent grades throughout my schooling career they wanted to "whip me into shape" by sending me to one of these very proper schools in the North East. From what I've heard these schools are pretty famous and get there kids into great schools. I really did not want to go to any of them, I think these kids at these schools are way to fed up with their grades and their social standings to truly live life. I was disgusted by the idea of people paying a fortune of money to attend a school just to prep you for colleges. My parents also thought the cost was a bit absurd, but unfortunately for me I was offered scholarships to all schools I applied to, a bargain my parents wouldn't turn down. Ultimately my stubborn father, Walt, forced me to attend one of them. I chose Kingswood Oxford because it seemed the most relaxed and free out of the others schools. 

The campus is surrounded by houses and offices, in fact it is just off of the highway. I don't like the location, there aren't many places for me to hike or just be with nature. The campus is nice and secluded, at times setting an illusion that it is not only a few hundred yards off of a major highway. They have allowed me to board with some host family. This family is fine, they try to interact with me all of the time, this annoys me. They just don't understand that I can be alone and be perfectly happy. They have a really nice house. Its four stories tall with spacious rooms, most of which go to complete waste. They spend too much money on things they don't need. During the two weeks I have stayed with them, I have yet to see them play their piano which must have costed a fortune. Their child, a rising junior at KO, is the epitome of the prep school student. He stresses too much over grades and going to college. He also dresses the exact same as everyone else here, clean polo and tan shorts with a pair of shoes that are being sold overpriced by about one hundred dollars. The students think I'm strange. I hang out in the library reading while others hang out on the green interacting. At this school I stick out like a sore thumb, but I don't really care.

Chris McCandless at a KO Cross Country Meet

I hear heavy breathing and the pounding of two pairs of feet as I am passing the iron-gate to a school with a pretentious name. I despise the school immediately recognizing its horrid purpose. Simply from the name and a glance at the grounds I can tell that it teaches wasteful clones the skills to achieve a place in their slice of society. It’s a school that will allow them to live the same lavish lifestyle they lead at this point of time as an adult. I grew up with similarly excessive parents and feel drawn by the competition. I’m hoping to find a runner who takes their discipline seriously and runs without the fear of losing the trail. The student who is running away from the evil in the world and toward purity with single-minded determination. The boy for which running is his religion; therefore he has put in the necessary extensive training to finish with the best time. I spot a single boy whose body betrays the signs of each characteristic that I have listed. He is clearly working against the forces that cause waste and stagnant living. This boy enjoys the physical exertion each step causes his body and runs with perfect form. He is gaining on the first and second place runners with a competitive yet joyous gleam in his eye. Minutes after he wins the race he doubles over to puke and I know that will only make his victory sweeter. He will know that he had to push his body to the extremes to achieve his time and because of that he will be sure the victory matters. As the last runners are finishing up I hear a mother squealing about the giant ice-cream sundae she will gift her son if he doesn’t finish last again. The outcry suggesting that he will run faster should he be tempted with the wasted calories disgusts me deeply. I quickly exit the scene running away from the evil that permeates the school moving closer to the cleanliness of the wild.

Esther Greenwood's View

I walked hesitantly up the cement steps wearing my rather tacky designer brand pumps into the cafeteria, unsure of what to expect. I let my body float along the ceaseless waves of students, as the tide pulled me into the hot lunch line amongst everyone else. I became so enthralled and disgusted at the desperate chatter of schemes to catch boyfriends from the teenage girls in back of me, I didn’t notice my moving spot in line. The girls talked about how they needed to find a well-to-do high school sweetheart to marry off to right after graduation so that they can willingly throw their lives away, and were just about as artificial as their acrylic nails. I was brought back into reality when a croaky voice grumbled “I said, what do you want?” I quickly pointed at whatever meat was in front of me and reluctantly grabbed the plate while managing to whisper a rushed thank you.

I felt as though a thousand pairs of eyes shot daggers into my chest as I weaved in and out of tables, trying to find a seat. It seemed like several breathless minutes until I was able to scout out a chair in an empty corner. I dashed for the opening when I felt my foot catch, and the checkerboard floor hit the side of my forehead with a bang. “I’m so sorry!” a pair of big brown eyes exclaimed while reaching out a hand to lift me up. “Are you alright? Here let me help you pick up your-“

I was flying from the claustrophobic café and out the double doors before the big brown eyes could finish. I realized I had been holding in my breath, and took in the fresh air as I leaned against the cool brick wall, hoping that maybe if I stayed there long enough, I would fade away.

Experiencing the KIT's as Esther

As I sit on a bleacher in the corner of the gym, secluded, I take note of all the students, families and staff cheering on the boy's team. I don't understand why people were going so crazy about the game. I was only there because Doreen had dragged me along. It was so pointless; a bunch of sweaty high school kids running up and down a wood floor trying to put a leather ball inside of what was a circle. What's the fun in that? These people are able to find the fun in just about anything and I don't understand it. I also see people wearing fancy clothes, ties and polos and dresses. What joy is found in showing off what you wear? Just about the only thing I see at the KIT's that I like is that not every girl is with some guy or something. I don't understand the unwritten rule that young women like us are supposed to just get married and have babies, like our own lives don't matter. Here the girls are chattering, laughing, and cheering, without a hint of stress on their faces. Right now, at this game, they're not worrying about what tomorrow holds and womanhood and motherhood, something that I worry about everyday. Seeing these young women and students at the game, I wish that I could be like them in that I'm not apprehensive about tomorrow and fitting into the role of a woman or any of that terrible stuff. Those negative thoughts eat me from the inside every damn day but that doesn't seem to be the case with the young females here. They're just happy and I wish I could be too.

A Visit to Kingwood Oxford - Ester Greenwood

I do not belong in this overly privileged community of clean cut grass, clothes that are both crisp and excessively expensive, and perfectly placed buildings. However, it does remind me of the places in which I used to stay, and I feel slightly more at home. One thing that I embrace are the smiles, but I say this lightly, as they appear on all of the students who are purposely shoving their "happiness" around with these feigned smiles. They are so forced it feels as if they are trying to convince even themselves of their own satisfaction with life. I notice that these privileges make them feel just as empty as I had in New York. A majority of them are trapped in their unhappiness, attempting desperately not to believe in it. They will accept it one day. I have.
Most of the students here act as if they have won the lottery, flaunting their success (that still has yet to be earned) around. I want to step back and breathe, just observing the crowds that pass by; however, I link arms with the girl next to me who has introduced herself to me as Mary when I first arrived. She looks stunning in a pretty blue dress that perfectly frames her body. I pretend not to notice the blouse and skirt that cover my body in such an unflattering way that it seems as if they are trying to protect me from looking pretty. People passing by scrunch up their noses at the stench, but why would I waste time cleaning something when I would just have to do it again later? It's such a waste of time.
As the day moves along, I pay more attention to the confidence in the way each girl carries herself. It appears that everyone thinks they will come out of this school, go to a new college and find riches in their ignorantly bright futures. This will not happen to all of them, as none know shorthand, speak more than one language, or can cook. My mother would be appalled.
I begin to imagine dried blood dripping from the corners of their mouths, each drop representing something they are desperately seeking and hoping to hold onto. The moment in which the last stain of blood has disappeared, they will want to die. I think all of them will hold onto the stains too long, even though they must know that nothing will ever change. The drops will always be dispersed into the earth along with their sanity, and each person will slowly vanish into their own sheaths, whether it is a jar or a hidden away cupboard. These people are nothing but doctored-up dust, and even their jars that have kept them apart for so long cannot prevent the wind from tearing them apart and blowing their last specs of dust away.

Esther Greenwood at Kingwood Oxford- Lunch

There I was at the first lunch of the year and I couldn't help but think about all of the people in the room. I knew for sure they would all be gone and withered away some day. I observed all of the people in the room and looked at all the marvelous dresses and polos and khakis surrounding me and thats when I realized, I would never be as good as the other people in the room. They all looked and acted like intelligent human beings, but I was just a speck of dust on their shoes that they always looked down at with frustration and almost no empathy. I thought maybe I was crazy and that all of this was just normal. I felt as if no one even noticed me like the speck of dust I am, just sitting there watching everyone else throughout the day as they proceeded through their work and classes. I eventually reached the front of the line and got my food, but the lunch lady gave me an angry sneer so I quickly moved away as I was unsure how to react. I am often confused in situations like that. For example, this morning in math the big and towering teacher belted out my name and I didn't know what to say so I just said, "I'm sorry sir," at which point the entire class laughed at me and pushed me away. I brought my food to the nearest table and sat down eating as fast as I could in order to escape the overwhelming hatred peering at me from every direction. I began to agree with them with every bite of my quesadilla, I was worth hating and I wondered what would happen if I just hid for the day and avoided everyone.

Kingswood Oxford: Through the Eyes of Esther

As I stroll around the campus of the modern prep school Kingswood Oxford, I am struck by how much it reminds me of the special hospital where I lived for a while. Tall trees, bright flowers, and faculty with giant smiles provide a constant reminder that this is a place where I am supposed to feel comfortable, safe and happy. Unfortunately I cannot share this sentiment. I can only concentrate on how out of place I seem in my long skirt and high heels. Young women here do not seem to be as proper as I am, nor as ladylike. Instead they laugh and hug, trotting around in tiny garments with their equally underdressed, elated friends. What happened to the demure young ladies of my elite college? Clearly times have changed.

As I continue to walk toward the building where I will meet the English teacher who wanted to discuss poetry with me, students seem to give me questioning glances, as though they’re above me. I despise people with superior attitudes. If only Doctor Nolan were here, she would understand my agitation. But today I have to focus on my meeting, in hopes that the teacher I have come to speak with can set me up with a job. Maybe once I can get a steady internship I’ll be able to write better poetry. As I continue to mull over job opportunities, immediately discarding anything involving shorthand, a boy who looks too much like someone from my past stops me in my tracks. He has the same blue collared sweater, the same long khakis, and the same smug smile as Buddy Willard. Breathing deeply, I remind myself that Buddy is back in the TB hospital, far far away. I have no reason to think about him, or worry about him coming to find me. Once I get a job, I figure I will be busy enough to forget about the horrible incidents involving Buddy for once and for all. For now, though, I am reduced to visiting the campus of ‘above average’ students, wishing I could understand the drive behind their inexplicable constant happiness.

Chris McCandless vs. KO Auction

So today I was invited to attend the annual Kingswood Oxford auction dinner for Alumni. No, I am not an alum, however, my father, of course, decided he needed to donate something to the auction, so my whole family needed to attend. My father is not a generous person, so I don't know why he decided to give someone the opportunity to be an intern at his job, but it is probably because he is trying to make up for the double life he led for quite some time. Whatever the reason is, I'm not buying it. My father still makes me sick, he would make me less sick if he just owned up to being an awful person, but he likes to try and pretend like he's not, which makes him even more volatile in my eyes. Anyways, I had to attend this dinner. Not only did I have to sit in the same room as people who have more money than they know what to do with, but I had to watch them spend ridiculous amounts of it on the stupidest things. For example, some obnoxious man who kept going on and on about how big of a hunter he was, which already made me develop a strong dislike for him, dropped two thousand dollars to allow his son and the rest of his grade to have a dress down day. Now if that is not one of the most absurd things I have ever witnessed, then I don't know what is. I was astounded by the fact that these people were wasting massive amounts of money, just in hopes of their child being able to wear sweatpants to school, or having a good parking space. Why not donate some of the money to a charity, try to help someone who is less fortunate, or at least do something half decent with it. I just could not believe how unaware these people were of what was going on in the real world. Their concept of money was so deranged that it made my stomach turn. Just thinking about how some of the stupidest people I ever met in my life were at this dinner, and the fact that they had so much money scares me a little bit. People that lack the ability to comprehend what is going on in the real world make me nauseous. I got so angry at this event that I got up and left an hour and a half before it was supposed to end. I could not be in the same room with those awful human beings for much longer, in a way, I kind of felt bad for them. But before I left, I did manage to make a very powerful speech about how these people should do something better with their money, if they were not planning on doing better things with their lives.

Esther Greenwood at Graduation

  I honestly never thought I would reach this day, but here I am. Standing amongst all these other teenage girls, dressed up in white dresses as though we all need to look so similar on a day in which we received similar honors, linking arms with similar looking young men, in similar looking outfits as well. It was extravagant yes, but mundane just the same.
  Of course, we had rehearsed, which actually seemed quite silly, all we were doing was walking down a gray path and sitting down. Though, if anyone were to mess it up, just slip up, with all those parents behind her, looking out at their child heading off into the real world, it would be me.
  The couple in front of me began to walk, which signaled that it was my turn to link arms with one of those young men dress up in the same outfit as the guy in front of him. It really wouldn't be quite that bad, I suppose, if they hadn't paired me up with some boy who was three inches shorter than me. I knew I would look the same as all the other girls dressed in white, but I'd be so different, so tall, so out there for everyone to see and judge in the back of their minds.
  We began walking, and the boy beside me, whose name I never really cared to remember, was grabbing my arm a little too tight for comfort. I tried to pull my arm away slightly, but as we entered the view of parents we were mobbed by flashes from what seemed like thousands of cameras. I couldn't push away from him now, it would seem awkward and maybe even edgy. I just faked a smile, sat down in my seat on the perfectly cut green, and listened to the speeches to come.
  Every adult spoke about graduation as if it were one giant funeral. Speaking of all the good they had done, how much they had grown and changed. I thought to myself, I really feel no different than I did before, but I guess Graduation is some big deal where one has to fake some sense of achievement. I had never done anything useful for this world, I have never saved someone's life, I had never been kind for no apparent reason, I was fake, everyone around me is fake. If I were to just leave these fake people right now - step up on that stage receive my recognition via and handshake - and enter a state at which even I wasn't aware of my own consciousness, would anyone even care?

KO News Planning Meeting through the Eyes of Esther

I meant to be on time. I really did! But I got the newspaper just as I was leaving and the suicide of that prison guard looked so interesting! I just had to read it, and I lost my way to Seaverns as I was lost in thought. How did he end up with a gun? I ended up in Roberts. That place looks like a jail. It’s better than CT, though. The building is progressive and modern, but it houses the math and science classes. Why can’t it be for English? I hate how people say poetry and writing are things of the past, or that print journalism is going out of style. It’s not fair to make people feel invalidated based on their area of interest. What about people who can't do math? This whole place is just like Buddy. They race ahead in their shiny buildings with math and science but leave poor old literature in the dust like some pathetic grandmother! 

When I did get to the planning meeting, My editor did get mad at me, but it wasn’t as bad as when I didn’t meet the deadline for my article last week. I hate having writer’s block - it makes me want to die. The problem is that I’m writing about other people! I need to feel something - to experience it in order to write about it. If I ever want to become an adventure writer (I can see it now - the Adventures of Elaine), I need to go to the edge and back - escape from the clutches of death. My editor is talking at me now, so I’m going to smile and nod, pretend I understand whats going on. I really think I should quit journalism… I started as a way to improve my shorthand but clearly that’s not happening. I think I’m going to switch over to creative writing… The problem with that is that I really do want to get my work published and as both a fictional writer and journalist. Seeing my name on a byline is incredible enough, how amazing would it be for the name Esther Greenwood to be plastered across 24 million books all over the United States? And it wouldn't just be the United States, because I would translate my work into different languages so everyone can read it. 

Into the Wild of KO

I have spent all day observing the people on this large green campus. When the kids are all in class the campus is peaceful and quiet, like this it very serene as the tall trees behind the turf almost block the houses completely from view. The senior green is chalked full of natural life that live in the trees, squirrels, birds, and growing mushrooms all enjoying their rightful place in nature. Their is a beauty in this place, until the kids come out. At which point, the beauty is ruined by groups of stuck up snobs, too caught up in studying or too angry because something didn't go there way like it always does, ignoring the and ruining the natural beauty around them. They are all dressed head to toe in the most expensive clothing that they can find, so they will not look different from one another. Here, being different is frowned upon because all anybody cares about is what other people think. I don't care what other people think or how they look at me. I embrace being different and another place  I will hitchhike to a campground where other people like me reside, people who aren't afraid to embrace nature and cast aside the eyes of society. However, i must first spend the night on the campus, surrounded not by the noises and distractions of society. No i will spend the night on the senior green enjoying the natural and peaceful beauty of the campus when the kids aren't around while also experiencing nature in the way that it was meant to be.

Kingswood Oxford by Chris McCandless

I sit on the weather-worn bench facing the Senior Green. Everything is well-trimmed, well taken care of. There is no wilderness, no wild for me to take refuge in. I am fully immersed in society, surrounded by civilization. Every person I have seen in my short time on this bench has been worried about what other people think of them. They are all trying to conform to the societal ideal. Yes, there are different personalties, but the common prep school personality hangs thick in the air. All of these people have money. They want many things. Right now, I hear a pair of girls walking past me arguing about what shoes they want the most. The prices coming up are ridiculous. Some of these shoes are over a hundred dollars of a pair of leather flip flops. Extravagances like those are completely unnecessary. I have hitch-hiked across America with the clothes I have on my back, little money, and rice. The girls enter the building behind my back, and I view the campus once more. The people sit mainly in groups of two, and mainly in groups of the same gender. I shake my head at their necessity of community and other human presence as I gather my things, heading inside the air-conditioned building. It is almost too cold, a shock from the warm September weather outside the thick doors. The tile floor shines, and the building is quite neat. Everything is trim, cleaned, polished, organized. I feel confined in the almost too clean building, so I quickly walk through to the other side, into the parking lot. I see many new cars, and I know that there are some are owned by the faculty and staff, while others are owned by the students. I see only one or two cars that are much over four or five years old, much unlike the Datsun I loved so much. I don’t particularly like this place. Chock-full of brand new extravagances, confining buildings, and just swimming in the hated ideals of society. 

Summer Reading- KO Through the Eyes of Chris

As I arrive on campus at Kingswood Oxford I can’t help but notice how green it is. Granted it’s not as green as Alaska in the summer but it is very serene. I can't see myself staying here for longer then a day. All the people look and act the same. The boys wear polos, shorts and $100+ dollar shoes (which are a complete waste of money) and the girls wear dresses and skirts. I don't even want to think about how much they spent on them.I have come to the realization that they are only concerned about their grades and getting into an ivy league college of their choice. From there they will graduate and live conventional lives just like the rest of society. My dad would like it here; he would like all of the clean cut kids and how they are so focused about on their futures. Had it been possible for me to attend this school when I was in high school I know my parents would have sent me here. I have to admit the lunches are a welcome change as they serve actual food rather than berries and rice. That’s just about the only thing that I’m going to miss when I book out of here tomorrow. I will have to enjoy it while I can. When I walked into the CT building I couldn't help but notice how modern and squeaky clean it. As I walked past the fish tank that in the center of the entrance (behind the school's mascot, of course) I couldn't help but notice the students in the class rooms. They all looked eager and attentive to learn, that didn't bother me. What bothered me was seeing all of the glowing apple logos. I just don't see the point of buying an expensive laptop to just take notes on in class. All and all the campus is beautiful and the food is great but I won't be able to be around the people in this community as I just can't agree with their need to mold to society.