Link To English 1 Potfolio

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Final Draft: KC3 Language

Hawaii is known for its beautiful beaches, its touristy attractions and its welcoming people. They picture us to live in grass huts and wear coconut bras while dancing hula all day. But outside people don't realize what the true Hawaiians have been through. The Hawaiian people had their land and culture taken away from them. One of these things taken was their language, their main way of life. The western influences slowly eliminated the Hawaiian language from Hawaii's culture leaving the Hawaiians today barely able to speak the language.

 The Hawaiians language played a big role in their society, being their only way of passing down cultures, history and traditions. To understand the importance of this, you must know the origin of the Hawaiian people. Still unsettled, many believe that they derived from the Tahitian or Marquesas race, because of the similarity between languages. Seeking independence, the people traveled to Hawaii. They developed their own language. Most other customs such as religion and government were developed after the creation of the Hawaiian language. This means that the Hawaiian language was the basis for their successful society. It allowed them to communicate between each other and maintain each and every custom. This is what the Hawaiian language did for the natives before the foreigners came and settled in Hawaii. It provided the Hawaiians with a successful society.

 The arrival of the westerns brought many pros and cons to the Hawaiian language. Many think of their arrival as all around bad, that all they did was terrorize the Hawaiian culture. Although this may be somewhat true, they did however help the Hawaiians. Before their arrival, the Hawaiian language was purely oral, meaning there was no written form of their language. Captain Cook and the other westerns noticed this and provided them with a Hawaiian alphabet, based on English. This made Hawaiians more literate and also helped them become more of a successful society, being able to now record most that occurred. But this was really the only way that the westerns helped Hawaii. As more and more foreigners, also known as holes, began to settle, they gained more and more power over the land and its people. They eventually banned all Hawaiians from speaking their native language, feeling that it gave the Hawaiians more power over the foriegners. This did not show the equality the foreigners promised. It still affects all Hawaiians today. Over the years the number of new generation Hawaiians able to speak the language declined. The westerners were the main reason why the Hawaiian culture and language are endangered, nearly extinct. 

 Because of the arrival of the foreigners, most Hawaiians today are at a loss of their culture, unable to speak the language. While the westerns were still settling Hawaii, they set up schools, English being the only language. And since Hawaiian could not be spoken, Hawaiian children were unable to be taught their native language. The affects today because the language is still struggling to survive. An estimated 0.1% of Hawaii's population can speak fluent Hawaiian. But there is still hope. Today, there are public immersion preschools in which their main purpose is to teach the dying language and keep it alive. Also, at the same time, some public high schools here in Hawaii offer the language as courses. Although foreigners still mostly inhabit Hawaii, people still strive to keep this language alive. And this also means that the numbers of fluent speakers are, slowly but surely, increasing. The Hawaiian language today is still a dying language, but people; rather organizations are working to keep it a language. 

 People view Hawaiians very stereotypically. They see us as always happy and very primitive.  But they are very wrong. The Hawaiians are an angry people, with a loss of many customs and cultures. The foreigners that settled here took away and eliminated the Hawaiian language from today’s culture. People don't realize the true history of Hawaii. Although we do have many touristy attractions and lots of welcoming people, there are always two sides of paradise. 

KC3- Westernization of Hawai'i: Hawaiian Language

Hawaii is known for its beautiful beaches, its touristy attractions and its welcoming people. They picture us to live in grass huts and wear coconut bras while dancing hula all day. But outside people don't realize what the true hawaiians have been through. The Hawaiian people had their land and culture taken away from them. One of these things taken was their language, their main way of life. The western influences slowly eliminated the hawaiian language from Hawaii's culture leaving the hawaiians today barely able to speak the language.

The hawaiians language played a big role in their society, being their only way of passing down cultures, history and traditions. To understand the importance of this, you must know the origin of the hawaiian people. Still unsettled, many believe that they derived from the the Tahitian or Marquesas race, because of the similarity between languages . Seeking independence, the people traveled to Hawaii. They developed their own language. Most other customs such as religion and government were developed after the creation of the Hawaiian language. This means that the hawaiian language was the basis for their successful society. It allowed them to communicate between each other and maintain each and every custom. This is what the hawaiian language did for the natives before the foreigners came and settled in Hawaii. It provided the hawaiians with a successful society.

The arrival of the westerns brought many pros and cons to the Hawaiian language. Many think of their arrival as all around bad, that all they did was terrorize the hawaiian culture. Although this may be somewhat true, they did however  help the hawaiians. Before their arrival, the hawaiian language was purely oral, meaning there was no written form of their language. Captain Cook and the other westerns noticed this and provided them with a hawaiian alphabet, based on english. This made hawaiians more literate and also helped them become more of a successful society, being able to now record most that occurred. But this was really the only way that the westerns helped Hawaii. As more and more foreigners, also known as haole's, began to settle, they gained more and more power over the land and its people. They eventually banned all hawaiians from speaking their native language, feeling that it gave the hawaiians more power over the haole's. This did not show the equality the haole's promised. It still affects all hawaiians today. Over the years the number of new generation hawaiians able to speak the language declined. The westerner were the main reason why the hawaiian culture and language are endangered, nearly extinct. 

Because of the arrival of the haole's, most hawaiians today are at a loss of their culture, unable to speak the language. While the westerns were still settling Hawaii, they set up schools, English being the only language. And since hawaiian could not be spoken, hawaiian children were unable to be taught their native language. The affects today because the language is still struggling to survive. An estimated 0.1% of Hawaii's population can speak fluent Hawaiian. But there is still hope. Today, there are public immersion preschools in which their main purpose is to teach the dying language and keep it alive. Also, at the same time, some public high schools here in Hawaii offer the language as courses. Although Hawaii is still mostly inhabited by foreigners,  people still strive to keep this language alive. And this also means that the number of fluent speakers are, slowly but surely, increasing. The hawaiian language today is still a dying language, but people, rather organizations are working to keep it a language. 

People view hawaiians very stereotypically. They see us as always happy and very primitive.  But they are very wrong. The hawaiians are an angry people, with a loss of many customs and cultures. The foreigners that settled here took away and eliminated the hawaiian language from todays culture. People don't realize the true history of Hawaii. Although we do have many touristy attractions and lots of welcoming people, there are always two sides of paradise. 

Oceans of Nothing: Lennon Sullivan and Sheryl Chong

​Whenever fishermen go out to sea they always have to consider the dangerous possibilities of storms, squabbles, and sometimes-even pirates.  Now, a new problem is arising. Research from marine biologist Boris Worm has proven that, “by the middle of this century, fishermen will have almost nothing left to catch.” Overfishing, climate change, and pollution have contributed to thedecrease of fish and damage of reefs and other natural habitats in the ocean. From the looks of the ocean, we must be more conservative with the items we take.

With the decrease of fish in the ocean, the value of export trade has increased.  The demandof seafood has grown intensively because of our dietary needs. In the past several decades the value of fish export trade has grown to $71 billion.  90% of the population of big predators like tuna and cod has almost been fished out of existence.  This means that all the major seafood that we eat on a daily basis are slowly becoming extinct. Right now our best option is to eat sustainably harvested seafood. The Monterey Bay Aquarium gave out a list of options. By eating those certain types of seafood it will decrease the amount of fish being taken out of the sea. Several restaurants even agreed to sell sustainably harvested seafood. Now if we team up with other countries, it will ultimately restore our ocean’s population.

The use of overfishing has caused a diverse amount of fish almost to extinction. Before we know it there won’t be anything left in the ocean to fish for. Knowing that, we have to be more cautious and conservative of the amounts of seafood we take out of the ocean. It is possible to restore our resources. The only way is for everyone to make an effort. If we lost all fish in the ocean it would dramatically harm our economic, political, and social life.

Outside Reading Card

Querenia Final Draft

As I walk into the door, I yank off my shoes, barely able to stand from the weight of my bag. My bag was filled with worksheets, textbooks and binders, and that's all I could think of. Honestly, I wasn't ready for the week. After walking through the door, I immediately sat at my desk and unzipped my bag, eager to finish my homework. As I unzipped the zipper of my backpack, all I could see was a stack of papers, binders, and text books. Jerking each paper out of my bag, it felt as if the stack was endless. My bag kept spitting more and more work at me.

I easily breezed through all of my work sheets. But then, I hit the brick wall.  I started on my first project, an essay. After writing my name, nothing came out. It was as if the pencil was out of led. Every time I tried writing something, it was like nothing could make it to the paper. It was simple, I was out of ideas, I was brain dead. Then, I was reminded of my chores. The level of stress after that increased more and more each time I thought about my deadlines. "Essay for writing, essay or science, project for math."  It seemed as if I was thinking to hard that I couldn't think at all. With to much to bare, I push my homework aside, slip on my slippers, and walk out side.

Walking up to the park next to my house, I was easily greeted by a breeze of fresh air. People say that there are barley any stars here in Oahu, but as I sat down on the bench and looked up at the sky, it seemed as if everyone was wrong. I began to look for constellations and other things in the sky. So engaged into what I was doing, I got up from the bench, and laid myself down on the soft, fresh, green grass. The grass was a little damp, but it still didn't matter to me. Star gazing and looking up at the clouds helped me to reminisce and really reflect. I began to think about my Grandpa. For me, my Grandpa was always a symbol of love and affection. He would always be there for my family and I whenever we needed him.  I thought about how much he helped me and how much he cared for me.  I couldn't help but laugh at all our great memories. Every time I heard the slight whistle of the wind, I always thought that he was listening to me. Looking up at the shape of the moon helped me to reflect on my life as a whole. When ever I look up at the moon, I always picture the moon as me. The moon is bright and unique in so many ways, just as myself. And in some cases, the moon can have a difficult time shining through the clouds, almost like me, I can have a difficult time showing my talents when obstacles make it hard for me to do so. After laughing and tearing up, I eventually fell asleep. I was so comfortable it felt as if I was sleeping in my bed. All of a sudden, I felt a slight vibration on the side of my thigh. Pulling my cellphone out of my pocket, I could see that my mom was calling me. Once I answered it, I could tell that my mom was worried about where I was. I eventually calmed her down and told her I was at the park.

Walking back to my house, I felt so relaxed. My mind was cleared, the stress was gone and I was ready to take on the week. I was ready to take on my deadlines, my obligations, my duties.  Going back to the house, I started on my essay, and easily finished it.

The park by house, or Kanoelani park, was always a place I went to clear my head, recollect myself and relax myself. There, I would reminisce and reflect about my life. I could always be myself here and feel comfortable no matter what. For me, no other place could do the same for me. I always felt more private there, because no one could really bother me. The people there were always so friendly and the environment was always so safe. This was Querencia, another place I call home.

Querencia First Draft

As I walk into the door, I yank off my shoes, barely able to stand from the weight of all my bag. My bag was filled with worksheets, textbooks and binders, and that's all I could think of. Honestly, I wasn't ready for the week. After walking through the door, I immediately sat at my desk and unzipped my bag, eager to finish my homework. As I pulled the sliding body across the track of teeth, all I could see was a stack of papers, binders, and text books. Jerking each paper out of my bag, it felt as if the stack was endless. My bag kept spitting more and more work at me.

I easily breezed through all of my work sheets. But then, I hit the brick wall.  I started on my first project, an essay. After writing my name, nothing came out. it was as if The pencil was out of led. Everytime I tried writing something, it was like nothing could make it to the paper. It was simple, I was out of ideas, I was brain dead. Then, I was reminded of my chores. The level of stress after that increased more and more each time I thought about my deadlines. "Essay for writing, essay or science, project for math."  It seemed as f I was thinking to hard that I couldn't think at all. With to much to bare, I push my homework aside, slip on my slippers, and walk out side.

Walking up to the park next to my house, I was easily greeted by a breeze of fresh air. People say that there are barley any stars here in Oahu, but as I sat down on the bench and looked up at the sky, it seemed as everyone was wrong. I began to look for constellations and other things in the sky. So engaged into what I was doing, I got up from the bench, and laid myself down on the soft green grass. The grass was a little damp, but it still didn't matter to me. Star gazing and looking up at the clouds helped me to reminisce and really reflect. I began to think about my Grandpa. I thought about how much he helped me and how much he cared for me. I couldn't help but laugh at all our great memories. Then, the shape of the moon helped me to reflect on my life as a whole. Laughing, and some solemn tears caused me to eventually fall asleep. I was so comfortable it felt as if I was sleeping in my bed. All of a sudden, I felt a slight vibration on the side of my thigh. pulling my cellphone out of my pocket, I could see that my mom was calling me. Once I answered it, I could tell that my mom was worried about where I was. I eventually calmed her down and told her where I was.

Walking back to my house, I was so relaxed. My mind was cleared and I was ready to take on the week. I was ready to take on my deadlines, my obligations, my duties. Starting on my essay, I easily finished it.

The park by house, or Kanoelani park, was always a place I went. Always a place I went to recollect myself and to really relax. It was always a place I went to reminisce and reflect. This place was always a place I could be myself and feel comfortable. The people there were always so friendly and the environment was always so safe. This was Querencia, another place I call home.

Brainy Vocabulary

Final Draft: Root and Recipes

My grandma is a very loving and caring person. Whenever we need something, she is one we can count on. Something that always expresses her hospitality and love is her famous fried rice. Whenever I eat her fried rice, I can feel the dedication and love that went into making it.

Our family doesn't really have much tradition to uphold. But as far as I can remember, my grandma has always made this fried rice. Every time I ate the dish, it always brought back memories of my childhood years. I remember me at my grandma's house always begging her to cook it for me. Her sarcastic face and rolling of eyes didn't stop me. I kept begging and begging until I was satisfied. Just thinking about it now makes my mouth water and my stomach growl. I can start to picture her cooking it. The aromas of eggs and different breakfast meats filled the air. The hot, moist steam brushing on my face. As she cut the first package of Portuguese sausage open, I could see her enter a deep concentration, nothing could break it. She moved as swift as a professional chef, cutting the oily sausage into bits and bits. Then, she moved on to the spam. She plopped open the can of spam and jerked out a thick soggy piece of meat. As gross as that sounds, my grandma's cooking would always make it savory. Like the sausage, she cut the hunk of meat into bits and bits until it was like a jigsaw puzzle. Putting each type of meat into a separate bowl, she then broke six eggs. She jabbed each egg against the side of a bowl, and cracked it in half until a gooey, thick liquid came out. Then she stirred up the yolk. She had everything ready, except the main part, the rice! She pulled the steaming, sticky rice out of the rice pot, and set heated metal bowl on the counter. Ready to start putting everything together, she first dumped the rice into a second pot. Then she added oyster sauce while she stirred. As she added pepper and garlic seasoning, the smell of bland, plain rice soon turned more appetizing.

Each time she did something, she explained to me what she did and how she did.“You don’t have to cook the eggs all the way, because they will be cooked more in the fried rice….. Always add two teaspoons of garlic to the spam beforehand, so that the spam will have more flavor… Portuguese sausage doesn’t need oil because its already packed with it.” She would say.

Every time she said something, I listened intently to her instructing voice, knowing that she wanted me to learn the recipe and keep the tradition going. Anxious to know about the recipe, I started asking her questions like… “Where did you learn how to make this? Why don’t you cook the rice all the way? How do you always make it taste the same?” Trying to make out a story, I could see her a slightly smirk every time I asked a question. I could tell she thought each question was “goofy”… but that was just my grandma.She told me that when she was in her early twenties, her dad taught her his way of making the fried rice. Then over the years, she modified it, making it unique to our family, learning things from her friends and family. Now that my great grandpa is gone, she says that every time she cooks this dish, it reminds her of his love and hospitality.

Listening to her story distracted me from what she was doing. She slowly stirred in the Portuguese sausage, then the spam, and lastly, the eggs. Each time she put an ingredient into the rice, the aroma grew more delectable and made my empty stomach growled more and more. As she finished, she put a shiny glass cover over the pot, and yelled “It’s ready!” to my family lounging in the living room. My excited family immediately rushed and grabbed a plastic bowl from the counter. They walked up to the pot and shoveled scoops and scoops of rice into the bowl. As it was my turn, I knew that there would probably be no seconds, so I took the rigid plastic rice paddle and put as much rice as I could and then sat at the table. A plastic bowl lying right in front of me. In it, a steaming mountain of sticky mushy grain. Its color was a light brown, as if it was died with soy sauce. In the big mountain, lay boulders of meat and eggs, lodged all around it. As I dug my spoon into the top of the mountain, I pulled out a bite size heap of rice, and shoveled it into my mouth.  It tasted wonderful! A fusion of different meats and flavors collided in my mouth. I couldn't get enough of it. As I ate more and more, I began to feel my empty stomach gradually fill. And then, I stopped to the point where I could not eat anymore. As my dad looked at my half empty bowl, he excitedly asked me, “Are you finished?” for I knew he wanted it. I gave a disappointing “Yes” and handed him my bowl.

Although my family isn’t very traditional, this recipe has always ran in the family. And now, I know a deeper meaning to it than just being Grandma’s fried rice. For me, seeing my grandma cook  it this reminds me about my heritage. The rice, white and bland, would be me. And as different foods and seasonings were added, which would be the different cultures and customs, the end result would be a delicious unique dish, or a unique and talented Lennon. This being one of the only customs I have, I will always try to uphold this unique recipe.

Roots and Recipes draft

My grandma is a very loving and caring person. Whenever we need something, she is one we can count on. Something that always expresses her hospitality and love is her famous fried rice. Whenever I eat her fried rice, I can feel the dedication and love that went into making it.

Our family doesn't really have much tradition to uphold. But as far as I can remember, my grandma has always made this fried rice. It was one of the many reasons why I always loved for her to come over my house. Just thinking about it now makes my mouth water and my stomach growl. I can start to picture her cooking it. The aromas of eggs and different breakfast meats filled the air. The hot, moist steam brushing on my face. 

As she cut the first package of Portuguese sausage open, I could see her enter a deep focus. She moved as swift as a professional chef, cutting the oily sausage into bits and bits. then, she moved on to the spam. She plopped open the can of spam and jerked out a thick soggy piece of meat. As gross as that sounds, my grandma's cooking would always suppress the facts. Like the sausage, she cut the hunk of meat into bits and bits until it was like a jigsaw puzzle. Putting each type of meat into a separate bowl, she then broke six eggs. She jabbed each egg against the side of a bowl, and cracked it in half until a gooey, thick liquid came out. Then she stirred up the yolk.

She had everything ready, except the main part, the rice! She pulled the steaming, sticky rice out of the rice pot, and set heated metal bowl on the counter. Ready to start putting everything together, she first dumped the rice into a second pot. Then she added oyster sauce while she stirred. The aroma of bland rice soon changed into a more appetizing smell, as she added pepper and garlic seasoning.

Each time she did something, she explained to me what she did and how she did.

“You don’t have to cook the eggs all the way, because they will cook more in the fried rice….. Always add two teaspoons of garlic to the spam beforehand, so that the spam will have more flavor… Portuguese sausage doesn’t need oil because its already packed with it.” She would say.

Every time she said something, I listened intently to her instructing voice, knowing that she wanted me to learn the recipe and keep the tradition going. Anxious to know about the recipe, I started asking her questions as soon as I thought of them… “Where did you learn how to make this? Why don’t you cook the rice all the way? How do you always make it the same?” Trying to make out a story, I could see how with a slight smirk every time I asked a question. I could tell she thought each question was “goofy”… but that was just my grandma.

She told me that when she was in her early twenties, her dad taught her his way of making the fried rice. Then over the years, she modified it, making it unique to our family, learning things from her friends and family. Now that my great grandpa is gone, she says that every time she cooks this dish, it reminds her of his love and hospitality.

Listening to her story distracted me from what she was doing. She slowly stirred in the Portuguese sausage, then the spam, and lastly, the eggs. Each time she put an ingredient into the rice, the aroma grew and mad my empty stomach growl more and more. As she finished, she put a shiny glass cover over the pit, and yelled “It’s ready!” to my family lounging in the living room. My excited family immediately rushed and grabbed a plastic bowl from the counter. They walked up to the pit and shoveled scoops and scoops of rice in the bowl. As it was my turn, I knew that there would probably be no seconds, so I took the rigid plastic rice paddle and put as much rice as I could and then sat at my wooden dining room table. A plastic bowl lying right in front of me. In it, a steaming mountain of sticky mushy grain. Its color was a light brown, as if it was died with soy sauce. in the big mountain, lay boulders of meat and eggs, lodged all around it. As I dug my spoon into the top of the mountain, I pulled out a bite size heap of rice, and shoveled it into my mouth.  It tasted wonderful! A fusion of different meats and flavors collided in my mouth. I couldn't get enough of it.

As I ate more and more, I began to feel my empty stomach slowly fill. And then, I stopped to the point where I could not eat anymore. As my dad looked at my half empty bowl, he excitedly asked me, “Are you finished?” for I knew he wanted it. I gave a disappointed “Yes” and handed him my bowl.

Although my family isn’t very traditional, this recipe has always ran in the family. And now that I know a deeper meaning about it than just being Grandma’s fried rice. For me, seeing my grandma cook this reminds me about my heritage. The rice, white and bland, would be me. And as different foods and seasonings were added, which would be the different cultures and customs, the end result would be a delicious unique dish, or a unique and talented Lennon. This being one of the only customs I have, I will always try to uphold this unique recipe.

                                                                                                                                               

Roots and Recipes Brainstorm

1. The food that i will be describing is my Grandma's fried rice... aka The Sullivan fried rice.

2. Some special memories I have of this food is that I have always ate this since I was a little kid, about four or five. This food always brings to mind my grand mothers hospitality and her unique sense of love.

3. A plastic bowl laying right in front of me. In it, a steaming mountain of of sticky mushy grain. Its color was a light brown, as if it was died with soy sauce. in the big mountain, lay boulders of meat and eggs, lodged all around it. As I dug my spoon into the top of the mountain, I pulled out a bite size heap of rice, and shoveled it into my mouth.  It tasted wonderful! A fusion of different meats and flavors collided in my mouth. I couldn't get enough of it.

4. The person I will be interviewing for this food is my grandma, and also my dad. The reason is because they both know how to make it the same and also know the history of how it came to be.