Descriptive Essay : Sketching Out Trouble

Old school conquers new school: A personal response to “An Ode to the User-Friendly Pencil”

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

First, I would like to discuss the merits of the argument that the author assumes that the pencil is for anyone that can read and write. I totally disagree with this merit because, what about artists both young and old who draw and use their creativity on paper through the pencil. Are they not using the pencil, it is a proven fact that people with disabilities and impaired in some shape or form can benefit from art, especially Alzheimer’s patients. The reason why I disagree, is that the pencil is for those that have not yet learned to read or write because we have all been through grade school and if it was not for the pencil we would not be able to communicate, read, or write. You see, the pencil is for both young and old that are still

“Mrs. Pontellier had brought her sketching materials, which she sometimes dabbled with in an unprofessional way. She liked the dabbling. She felt in it a satisfaction of a kind which no other employment afforded her” (40).

I’m sitting at my computer, ignoring pages of economics homework and mugs of cold tea now strewn about my desk, as I search for a direction to go with my life. Such was was my predicament several months ago. It’s undeniable that I’m an artist, hard and true, for a pencil found its way into my hand as a child, and no desire of mine nor of the universe ever tempted it to pry away. Throughout my earliest years and memories, I maneuvered with graphite, paint, and crayon every adventure that I ever dreamt of pursuing. Oh, I was a resilient child, as well, who refused to take part in any art class at school or as an extracurricular for an abundance of years, as I was invariably convinced that I could learn all I wished on my own accord! Consequently,

They are the capabilities of a pencil to make promises, a human action. The promise is that if more and more children are proved with the materials that they need, especially a pencil, and is given the opportunity, anyone and everyone will be able to become educated. This is where Braun’s tone turns from an benevolent, to an informational tone. This shows the power of not only how one human can change the educational world, but an object

I, Pencil is an essay about how a pencil came to be, his family tree and what he thinks about the mysterious life he lives. The essay begins with the pencil talking about his mysterious genealogy

When I shook the hand of the Board of Education President, I felt freedom. I looked down at the people who terrorized me and I smiled. Not only did I receive a diploma that day, but I received a pencil, the most freeing utensil I ever held. Todd Boss says it best in his poem by saying, “I’ll bet it felt good in the hand—the o of the ocean, and the and and the and of the land” (12-16). Boss is saying that when we write our lives and worlds out in pencil, we are free to explore vast areas and open ranges of ideas.

The classroom that I observed today was called, “Rainbow Fish,” and the first student I observed was drawing pictures in her notebook. Each child has their own notebook they are able to write, color, draw, whatever they would like in. These notebooks are placed together on the writing center shelf. The student grabbed her notebook off of the shelf and walked over to the crayon, marker, and pencil area to choose a writing utensil. This classroom was clearly marked with pictures and words so students knew where to get every item they need. Once she had her notebook and her blue marker, she sat down to begin her drawing. The tables in the classroom had the children’s names written on them so the children knew where to sit during meal time. This student sat in her designated area. Although she did not have to sit at this specific table or in this specific spot, she was so use to sitting in this area, she felt like this was safe for her creative side to come out. What I observed the student drawing, I saw, which was to me, nothing but simple blue scribbles. When the student stopped to think of what to draw next, I asked her what she was making. The student replied with, “A flower, can’t you

In the essay, Leonard E. Read talks about the division of labor, and how everyone works together. Even a simple pencil involves millions of people work together. A pencil includes lead, cedar, and metal, which are combined. To combined these resources, a pencil goes through several stages, with the pencil moving from person to person.

She was able to dip the paintbrush into the container and apply the liquid to her fish. Athena then grabbed small pieces of tissue paper and began putting them on her fish. (fine motor skills) Every time she glued a piece of tissue paper, she would look at what the other children were doing with their fishes. She continued to glue tissue paper on her fish. She told the teacher, “My fish is pretty.” (Self-esteem) The teacher told her fish was beautiful and Athena smiled at the teacher. (extrinsic motivation) After a few minutes, Athena once again dipped her paintbrush into the container and flailed the brush. The teacher asked her to stop and Athena announced, “I’m done with my fishy”. The teacher asked her to take her fish to the dry rack and to wash her hands. Athena carefully picked up her paper and was having difficulties balancing her art work with her walking. She proceeded to walk very slowly to the dry rack. On the way, she bumped into a few students. A nearby teacher told her to say “Excuse me” but Athena did not say anything. She had her gaze on the dry rack. When she reached the dry rack, she placed her artwork in an empty slot. She then turned around and waved her hands at a teacher and said, “Look, my dirty hands!” Athena went to the sink and washed her hands with a teacher’s help.

Mary was grading one of her 4th grader’s homework while angrily mumbling about the fact that a 4th grader’s handwriting is pretty much a glorified scribbling when the man came in.

We were both sophomores, and happy to be out of the terrible freshmen initiation year. I followed her into the middle of the hallway where we leaned against a heavy pillar, waiting for our advanced ILA class, or as some people call it, Group Therapy, to start. I ran my hands through my short edgy bob of curly hair and took in my surroundings:

Special Note: a pencil is important because if you make mistakes you can erase it unlike with a pen makes a more of a permanent

I stare at this blank sheet of paper. It is so white, waiting to be given form and life. New thoughts are flooding in my brain. I wait - wait for the ideas to accumulate, become clear, and finally pour out. In the next second, those ideas manipulate the pencil in my hand to express what my brain has conceived.