Category: English

Choose one of the following prompts to respond to: “Discuss the evolving dynami

Choose one of the following prompts to respond to:
“Discuss the evolving dynamics of Nora and Torvald’s marriage throughout the play. How do external pressures, societal expectations, and individual growth contribute to the shifts in their relationship, and what commentary does Ibsen provide on marriage in the 19th century?”
“Explore the theme of individuality and self-discovery in ‘A Doll’s House.’ How does Nora’s journey to self-realization impact the other characters, and what broader societal critiques does Ibsen make regarding the limitations placed on women during this period?”
“Consider the role of money and economic status in the play. How does financial stability, debt, and social class influence the characters’ decisions and relationships? What do these elements reveal about the society depicted by Ibsen?”
“Examine the character of Mrs. Linde and her relationship with Krogstad. How does their story intertwine with Nora and Torvald’s, and what thematic elements does Ibsen explore through the contrasting dynamics of these two couples?
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2542/2542-h/2542-h.htm

In this discussion, you will answer the question posed and comment on a classmat

In this discussion, you will answer the question posed and comment on a classmate’s response as well. Be thoughtful. Think deeply about the author’s choices. You must use ONE scholarly secondary source in your response. You must use at least TWO in-text citations. One in-text citation must be a paraphrase. One in-text citation must be a direct quote. Cite in APA format. Include the PAGE or PARAGRAPH number for each in-text citation). For example, (Jones, 1990, para 19-22).
List your full reference at the end of your initial post. Do not use MORE THAN ONE scholarly secondary source.
Consider Faulkner’s choice to involve a townsperson in the story as the narrator rather than writing the story in the third person. What difference does the narrator make in this story or any story? How might this story be different if Faulkner had used a first-person narrator?
A Rose for Emily
by William Faulkner
I
WHEN Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old man-servant–a combined gardener and cook–had seen in at least ten years.
It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emily’s house was left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps-an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson.
Alive, Miss Emily had been a tradition, a duty, and a care; a sort of hereditary obligation upon the town, dating from that day in 1894 when Colonel Sartoris, the mayor–he who fathered the edict that no Negro woman should appear on the streets without an apron-remitted her taxes, the dispensation dating from the death of her father on into perpetuity. Not that Miss Emily would have accepted charity. Colonel Sartoris invented an involved tale to the effect that Miss Emily’s father had loaned money to the town, which the town, as a matter of business, preferred this way of repaying. Only a man of Colonel Sartoris’ generation and thought could have invented it, and only a woman could have believed it.
When the next generation, with its more modern ideas, became mayors and aldermen, this arrangement created some little dissatisfaction. On the first of the year they mailed her a tax notice. February came, and there was no reply. They wrote her a formal letter, asking her to call at the sheriff’s office at her convenience. A week later the mayor wrote her himself, offering to call or to send his car for her, and received in reply a note on paper of an archaic shape, in a thin, flowing calligraphy in faded ink, to the effect that she no longer went out at all. The tax notice was also enclosed, without comment.
They called a special meeting of the Board of Aldermen. A deputation waited upon her, knocked at the door through which no visitor had passed since she ceased giving china-painting lessons eight or ten years earlier. They were admitted by the old Negro into a dim hall from which a stairway mounted into still more shadow. It smelled of dust and disuse–a close, dank smell. The Negro led them into the parlor. It was furnished in heavy, leather-covered furniture. When the Negro opened the blinds of one window, they could see that the leather was cracked; and when they sat down, a faint dust rose sluggishly about their thighs, spinning with slow motes in the single sun-ray. On a tarnished gilt easel before the fireplace stood a crayon portrait of Miss Emily’s father.
They rose when she entered–a small, fat woman in black, with a thin gold chain descending to her waist and vanishing into her belt, leaning on an ebony cane with a tarnished gold head. Her skeleton was small and spare; perhaps that was why what would have been merely plumpness in another was obesity in her. She looked bloated, like a body long submerged in motionless water, and of that pallid hue. Her eyes, lost in the fatty ridges of her face, looked like two small pieces of coal pressed into a lump of dough as they moved from one face to another while the visitors stated their errand.
She did not ask them to sit. She just stood in the door and listened quietly until the spokesman came to a stumbling halt. Then they could hear the invisible watch ticking at the end of the gold chain.
Her voice was dry and cold. “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves.”
“But we have. We are the city authorities, Miss Emily. Didn’t you get a notice from the sheriff, signed by him?”
“I received a paper, yes,” Miss Emily said. “Perhaps he considers himself the sheriff . . . I have no taxes in Jefferson.”
“But there is nothing on the books to show that, you see We must go by the–”
“See Colonel Sartoris. I have no taxes in Jefferson.”
“But, Miss Emily–”
“See Colonel Sartoris.” (Colonel Sartoris had been dead almost ten years.) “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Tobe!” The Negro appeared. “Show these gentlemen out.”
II
So SHE vanquished them, horse and foot, just as she had vanquished their fathers thirty years before about the smell.
That was two years after her father’s death and a short time after her sweetheart–the one we believed would marry her –had deserted her. After her father’s death she went out very little; after her sweetheart went away, people hardly saw her at all. A few of the ladies had the temerity to call, but were not received, and the only sign of life about the place was the Negro man–a young man then–going in and out with a market basket.
“Just as if a man–any man–could keep a kitchen properly, “the ladies said; so they were not surprised when the smell developed. It was another link between the gross, teeming world and the high and mighty Griersons.
A neighbor, a woman, complained to the mayor, Judge Stevens, eighty years old.
“But what will you have me do about it, madam?” he said.
“Why, send her word to stop it,” the woman said. “Isn’t there a law? ”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Judge Stevens said. “It’s probably just a snake or a rat that nigger of hers killed in the yard. I’ll speak to him about it.”
The next day he received two more complaints, one from a man who came in diffident deprecation. “We really must do something about it, Judge. I’d be the last one in the world to bother Miss Emily, but we’ve got to do something.” That night the Board of Aldermen met–three graybeards and one younger man, a member of the rising generation.
“It’s simple enough,” he said. “Send her word to have her place cleaned up. Give her a certain time to do it in, and if she don’t. ..”
“Dammit, sir,” Judge Stevens said, “will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?”
So the next night, after midnight, four men crossed Miss Emily’s lawn and slunk about the house like burglars, sniffing along the base of the brickwork and at the cellar openings while one of them performed a regular sowing motion with his hand out of a sack slung from his shoulder. They broke open the cellar door and sprinkled lime there, and in all the outbuildings. As they recrossed the lawn, a window that had been dark was lighted and Miss Emily sat in it, the light behind her, and her upright torso motionless as that of an idol. They crept quietly across the lawn and into the shadow of the locusts that lined the street. After a week or two the smell went away.
That was when people had begun to feel really sorry for her. People in our town, remembering how old lady Wyatt, her great-aunt, had gone completely crazy at last, believed that the Griersons held themselves a little too high for what they really were. None of the young men were quite good enough for Miss Emily and such. We had long thought of them as a tableau, Miss Emily a slender figure in white in the background, her father a spraddled silhouette in the foreground, his back to her and clutching a horsewhip, the two of them framed by the back-flung front door. So when she got to be thirty and was still single, we were not pleased exactly, but vindicated; even with insanity in the family she wouldn’t have turned down all of her chances if they had really materialized.
When her father died, it got about that the house was all that was left to her; and in a way, people were glad. At last they could pity Miss Emily. Being left alone, and a pauper, she had become humanized. Now she too would know the old thrill and the old despair of a penny more or less.
The day after his death all the ladies prepared to call at the house and offer condolence and aid, as is our custom Miss Emily met them at the door, dressed as usual and with no trace of grief on her face. She told them that her father was not dead. She did that for three days, with the ministers calling on her, and the doctors, trying to persuade her to let them dispose of the body. Just as they were about to resort to law and force, she broke down, and they buried her father quickly.
We did not say she was crazy then. We believed she had to do that. We remembered all the young men her father had driven away, and we knew that with nothing left, she would have to cling to that which had robbed her, as people will.
III
SHE WAS SICK for a long time. When we saw her again, her hair was cut short, making her look like a girl, with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows–sort of tragic and serene.
The town had just let the contracts for paving the sidewalks, and in the summer after her father’s death they began the work. The construction company came with niggers and mules and machinery, and a foreman named Homer Barron, a Yankee–a big, dark, ready man, with a big voice and eyes lighter than his face. The little boys would follow in groups to hear him cuss the niggers, and the niggers singing in time to the rise and fall of picks. Pretty soon he knew everybody in town. Whenever you heard a lot of laughing anywhere about the square, Homer Barron would be in the center of the group. Presently we began to see him and Miss Emily on Sunday afternoons driving in the yellow-wheeled buggy and the matched team of bays from the livery stable.
At first we were glad that Miss Emily would have an interest, because the ladies all said, “Of course a Grierson would not think seriously of a Northerner, a day laborer.” But there were still others, older people, who said that even grief could not cause a real lady to forget noblesse oblige- –
without calling it noblesse oblige. They just said, “Poor Emily. Her kinsfolk should come to her.” She had some kin in Alabama; but years ago her father had fallen out with them over the estate of old lady Wyatt, the crazy woman, and there was no communication between the two families. They had not even been represented at the funeral.

And as soon as the old people said, “Poor Emily,” the whispering began. “Do you suppose it’s really so?” they said to one another. “Of course it is. What else could . . .” This behind their hands; rustling of craned silk and satin behind jalousies closed upon the sun of Sunday afternoon as the thin, swift clop-clop-clop of the matched team passed: “Poor Emily.”
She carried her head high enough–even when we believed that she was fallen. It was as if she demanded more than ever the recognition of her dignity as the last Grierson; as if it had wanted that touch of earthiness to reaffirm her imperviousness. Like when she bought the rat poison, the arsenic. That was over a year after they had begun to say “Poor Emily,” and while the two female cousins were visiting her.
“I want some poison,” she said to the druggist. She was over thirty then, still a slight woman, though thinner than usual, with cold, haughty black eyes in a face the flesh of which was strained across the temples and about the eyesockets as you imagine a lighthouse-keeper’s face ought to look. “I want some poison,” she said.
“Yes, Miss Emily. What kind? For rats and such? I’d recom–”
“I want the best you have. I don’t care what kind.”
The druggist named several. “They’ll kill anything up to an elephant. But what you want is–”
“Arsenic,” Miss Emily said. “Is that a good one?”
“Is . . . arsenic? Yes, ma’am. But what you want–”
“I want arsenic.”
The druggist looked down at her. She looked back at him, erect, her face like a strained flag. “Why, of course,” the druggist said. “If that’s what you want. But the law requires you to tell what you are going to use it for.”
Miss Emily just stared at him, her head tilted back in order to look him eye for eye, until he looked away and went and got the arsenic and wrapped it up. The Negro delivery boy brought her the package; the druggist didn’t come back. When she opened the package at home there was written on the box, under the skull and bones: “For rats.”
IV
So THE NEXT day we all said, “She will kill herself”; and we said it would be the best thing. When she had first begun to be seen with Homer Barron, we had said, “She will marry him.” Then we said, “She will persuade him yet,” because Homer himself had remarked–he liked men, and it was known that he drank with the younger men in the Elks’ Club–that he was not a marrying man. Later we said, “Poor Emily” behind the jalousies as they passed on Sunday afternoon in the glittering buggy, Miss Emily with her head high and Homer Barron with his hat cocked and a cigar in his teeth, reins and whip in a yellow glove.
Then some of the ladies began to say that it was a disgrace to the town and a bad example to the young people. The men did not want to interfere, but at last the ladies forced the Baptist minister–Miss Emily’s people were Episcopal– to call upon her. He would never divulge what happened during that interview, but he refused to go back again. The next Sunday they again drove about the streets, and the following day the minister’s wife wrote to Miss Emily’s relations in Alabama.
So she had blood-kin under her roof again and we sat back to watch developments. At first nothing happened. Then we were sure that they were to be married. We learned that Miss Emily had been to the jeweler’s and ordered a man’s toilet set in silver, with the letters H. B. on each piece. Two days later we learned that she had bought a complete outfit of men’s clothing, including a nightshirt, and we said, “They are married.” We were really glad. We were glad because the two female cousins were even more Grierson than Miss Emily had ever been.
So we were not surprised when Homer Barron–the streets had been finished some time since–was gone. We were a little disappointed that there was not a public blowing-off, but we believed that he had gone on to prepare for Miss Emily’s coming, or to give her a chance to get rid of the cousins. (By that time it was a cabal, and we were all Miss Emily’s allies to help circumvent the cousins.) Sure enough, after another week they departed. And, as we had expected all along, within three days Homer Barron was back in town. A neighbor saw the Negro man admit him at the kitchen door at dusk one evening.
And that was the last we saw of Homer Barron. And of Miss Emily for some time. The Negro man went in and out with the market basket, but the front door remained closed. Now and then we would see her at a window for a moment, as the men did that night when they sprinkled the lime, but for almost six months she did not appear on the streets. Then we knew that this was to be expected too; as if that quality of her father which had thwarted her woman’s life so many times had been too virulent and too furious to die.
When we next saw Miss Emily, she had grown fat and her hair was turning gray. During the next few years it grew grayer and grayer until it attained an even pepper-and-salt iron-gray, when it ceased turning. Up to the day of her death at seventy-four it was still that vigorous iron-gray, like the hair of an active man.
From that time on her front door remained closed, save for a period of six or seven years, when she was about forty, during which she gave lessons in china-painting. She fitted up a studio in one of the downstairs rooms, where the daughters and granddaughters of Colonel Sartoris’ contemporaries were sent to her with the same regularity and in the same spirit that they were sent to church on Sundays with a twenty-five-cent piece for the collection plate. Meanwhile her taxes had been remitted.
Then the newer generation became the backbone and the spirit of the town, and the painting pupils grew up and fell away and did not send their children to her with boxes of color and tedious brushes and pictures cut from the ladies’ magazines. The front door closed upon the last one and remained closed for good. When the town got free postal delivery, Miss Emily alone refused to let them fasten the metal numbers above her door and attach a mailbox to it. She would not listen to them.
Daily, monthly, yearly we watched the Negro grow grayer and more stooped, going in and out with the market basket. Each December we sent her a tax notice, which would be returned by the post office a week later, unclaimed. Now and then we would see her in one of the downstairs windows–she had evidently shut up the top floor of the house–like the carven torso of an idol in a niche, looking or not looking at us, we could never tell which. Thus she passed from generation to generation–dear, inescapable, impervious, tranquil, and perverse.
And so she died. Fell ill in the house filled with dust and shadows, with only a doddering Negro man to wait on her. We did not even know she was sick; we had long since given up trying to get any information from the Negro
He talked to no one, probably not even to her, for his voice had grown harsh and rusty, as if from disuse.
She died in one of the downstairs rooms, in a heavy walnut bed with a curtain, her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight.
V
THE NEGRO met the first of the ladies at the front door and let them in, with their hushed, sibilant voices and their quick, curious glances, and then he disappeared. He walked right through the house and out the back and was not seen again.
The two female cousins came at once. They held the funeral on the second day, with the town coming to look at Miss Emily beneath a mass of bought flowers, with the crayon face of her father musing profoundly above the bier and the ladies sibilant and macabre; and the very old men –some in their brushed Confederate uniforms–on the porch and the lawn, talking of Miss Emily as if she had been a contemporary of theirs, believing that they had danced with her and courted her perhaps, confusing time with its mathematical progression, as the old do, to whom all the past is not a diminishing road but, instead, a huge meadow which no winter ever quite touches, divided from them now by the narrow bottle-neck of the most recent decade of years.
Already we knew that there was one room in that region above stairs which no one had seen in forty years, and which would have to be forced. They waited until Miss Emily was decently in the ground before they opened it.
The violence of breaking down the door seemed to fill this room with pervading dust. A thin, acrid pall as of the tomb seemed to lie everywhere upon this room decked and furnished as for a bridal: upon the valance curtains of faded rose color, upon the rose-shaded lights, upon the dressing table, upon the delicate array of crystal and the man’s toilet things backed with tarnished silver, silver so tarnished that the monogram was obscured. Among them lay a collar and tie, as if they had just been removed, which, lifted, left upon the surface a pale crescent in the dust. Upon a chair hung the suit, carefully folded; beneath it the two mute shoes and the discarded socks.
The man himself lay in the bed.
For a long while we just stood there, looking down at the profound and fleshless grin. The body had apparently once lain in the attitude of an embrace, but now the long sleep that outlasts love, that conquers even the grimace of love, had cuckolded him. What was left of him, rotted beneath what was left of the nightshirt, had become inextricable from the bed in which he lay; and upon him and upon the pillow beside him lay that even coating of the patient and biding dust.
Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head. One of us lifted something from it, and leaning forward, that faint and invisible dust dry and acrid in the nostrils, we saw a long strand of iron-gray hair.

Introduction The activism project consists of three parts: one is to write an ar

Introduction
The activism project consists of three parts: one is to write an argumentative essay targeting an academic audience in support of the campaign; the second is to design the print, electronic, and/or visual materials that support an activist campaign for a mass audience; and the third is to prepare a presentation on your topic for a live audience. Much persuasive writing (in fact, one of the the most challenging persuasive writing) can be considered as an activist project–writing designed to achieve social change. This assignment is intended to allow you the opportunity to imagine and participate in social change, to offer your own “small stone” to our world.
Topic
Your assignment is to invent an activist campaign and argue in support of your cause in a 5-7 page essay. My hope is that your choice of activism will spring from your own interests, but social justice topics seem to work best and are best supported by our readings and examples. In any case, avoid the obvious (smoking, abortion, three strikes law, legalizing marijuana, steroids, stem cell research, and so on). You may be inspired by the texts we read, or you may already have some ideas about how you can contribute to a more just and equitable world. Thus, the following examples are intended only to demonstrate the range of what might be available, not to limit your choices in any way. You might think of organizing a letter-writing campaign to protest a social injustice either locally, nationally, or globally; you might become involved in an event to honor Women’s History Month in March; you might advocate support for a community-based organization which works on problems of literacy, homelessness, immigration issues, domestic violence, local or overseas working conditions; you might organize a public presentation to introduce others to some of the authors we are reading or the issues they raise; you might encourage participation in a public protest (war, government spending, animal rights)—and so on. You may choose to work individually or you may form a group with some of your classmates. Note that this is a three-part project, involving designing campaign materials, making a presentation and writing an argumentative essay; all parts are equally important.
Part 1: Argumentative Essay (5-7 pages) (200 points)
Your argumentative essay should be done individually, written for and academic audience, well-researched with at least 6 outside sources (see “Key Features” below), and in MLA format, providing the specific documentation and supporting evidence that your campaign materials may have discussed only superficially. Your goal is to convince your readers that they need to take action and that apathy, ignorance, and other points of view are wrong.
Part 2: Campaign Materials (At least two contributions per person) (50 points)
You must also submit some graphic or printed materials which would form the basis of your campaign; for example, you might create media (a flyer, pamphlet, poster, newspaper article, or TV/radio commercial spot, news feature, website, or other more creative argumentative strategy) that argues the issue and challenges the audience to action. You might also consider staging some dramatic event or spectacle (street theater, political rally, picketing) that would draw attention to your cause, in which case you might write a brief description of the plan for the event and create the promotional materials you would use to encourage attendance. Both quality and quantity are important here, so consider the audience to which you want to appeal, and the variety of appeals that you might make. Above all, be creative and convincing! You might try using an infographic design site, like canva.com or infogram.com.
Part 3: Presentation (3-5 minutes) (50 points)
For a live audience, design a presentation that communicates your message using storytelling or interactive presentation strategies. You can film yourself and upload the file or audio recording, or write out the speech you would give during your presentation (which should not simply be a summary of your research paper, but instead be an interactive activity or one that uses storytelling or an example to illustrate your point), or design a PowerPoint with your recorded narration–or some combination of those approaches.
Key Features for Argumentative Essay:
An introduction that gives needed background information about the topic and appeals to your audience.
A thesis statement that takes a clear position on the issue that you’ve chosen: tell readers what you want them to do and why.
Clear reasons and sufficient evidence to support the claim in your thesis. This evidence can come from personal experience, fieldwork, articles from the textbook, or library/Internet research. It is best to have a mix of different types of evidence.
Quotes or paraphrases from at least four articles from a library source, such as Proquest or EBSCO. At least two should be from academic journal articles.
Quotes or paraphrases from at least two reliable Internet sources.
Appropriate organization and paragraphing, including use of clear topic sentences. The paragraphs should be in a logical order and use transitions to show links between ideas.
At least one example of counterargument – one or more objections to your own argument that are fairly represented and then refuted.
A conclusion that provides closure to the essay and considers the implications of the argument.
Consistent, correct use of MLA style.
Observance of the conventions of standard written English.
Suggested steps to get started
Alone or in a group, select a topic that has some significance to you—the issue that you argue for and campaign for should interest you and have some personal relevance for best results. You’ll want to frame your argument as a solution to a problem with a specific action as a remedy.
Begin your research. Once you have a good sense of the issues involved with your topic, make a chart that lists the pros and cons of your topic (make sure to have at least four entries under each column). These are your key reasons—and the opposing arguments that require refutation.
After completing the chart, look over your two lists and decide which side makes a stronger argument – that will become your position. Write a tentative thesis based on your ideas so far.
Develop reasons to support your argument. Think of your reasons as responses to someone questioning you about why you believe in your thesis statement and why that person should get involved (your reasons may come from your chart in #2 above but you may also want to include more). Make sure to list at least four reasons.
List at least three pieces of supporting evidence for each of your reasons. Your support should be specific evidence that proves your reasons are valid. Your support may come from fieldwork, from Academic Search Complete (EBSCO) or Proquest, from the Internet, or from your own experiences. It is best to have a mixture of several different types of support. Remember: academic journal articles provide depth and strong credibility for background information or cause-effect relationships; newspaper articles and websites, generally, provide brief but up-up-date descriptions of current events; opinion pieces from experts provide expert testimony or solutions; blogs, social media posts, podcasts, interviews with people affected by an issue, and other primary sources provide eyewitness accounts, testimonials, urgency, and a personal angle;
List at least three possible objections to your argument (you may find it helpful to look at the chart you created for #3 above) and then your responses to these objections. You will probably not use all three in your essay, but this will give you some ideas to choose from.
Create an outline of your essay, listing the topic sentence and evidence/examples for each paragraph that will appear in the essay. See the essay outline below.
Look for opportunities to intentionally include logos, ethos, pathos, and kairos. Combining these elements helps prove that your argument is true, credible & ethical, and concerning enough to matter.
Remember to present your reasons and evidence using a logic model, such as inductive or deductive. Use the Toulmin logic model to present evidence and quotes.
As you begin to create your campaign materials, identify who your intended audience is, what the main points of your campaign are, what types of appeals might secure your audience’s support, how best to reach that audience through print, visual, and electronic media. List these ideas. What would get the right people’s attention? Where would you find those people?
When designing the graphic materials for the campaign, determine what graphics or visual appeals will convey your message with the highest impact. Consider using shock value in both content (the wording) and visual support (the pictures) to get your audience’s attention as well as providing brief supporting information or reasons in bullet point form.
You might search through Google “Images” or visit the Los Angeles Public Library’s collection of photos (http://www.lapl.org/) to find useful photos or graphics for use in your promotional materials and presentation.
Sample Outline for Essay #4
Problem Solving (Proposal) Model
I. Introduction:
Begin with a creative hook to generate reader interest and concern; briefly provide any relevant background information (for instance: history, special concerns, specific problems that need to be addressed or which have plagued our community for a long time and which your proposal addresses); describe the current situation; provide overview of your argument; state thesis (What exactly do you want readers to do and why?).
II. Define the Problem
What is the problem? Use cause-effect reasoning to show the true causes and effects of the problem. (i.e. What are the issues associated with mass deportation, mass incarceration, the school-to-prison pipeline, or access to higher education, etc.?).
III. Establish the need for a solution:
Describe the community, focusing on the urgency of the ongoing problems that the community has, especially those that your proposal will seek to solve; identify your primary goals and outcomes for the community.
IV. Address the perspectives of people concerned:
Describe the needs that those concerned (such as citizens, government officials, police, homeless people, workers, bosses, users of a website, students, patients, prisoners) might have. Who is affected by the issue, how are they affected, and what might their concerns be?
V. Describe your plan (whether it is an action, “solution,” or strategy of resistance):
State in as much detail as necessary what you are proposing to address concerns.
VI. Explain the benefits of your solution:
Show how your solution will meet the needs and concerns identified in section IV (above) and address or solve the problem described in sections I and II. Argue convincingly in favor of your proposal. Use cause-effect reasoning to show that your proposed solution will address the causes of the problem.
VII. Acknowledge drawbacks, costs, or other objections to your solution and refute them:
Explain to those who might disagree with your proposal why your proposal will be effective and respond to potential objections.
VIII. Counterargue alternative solutions
Summarize any alternative solutions that you think could have been applied to this issue but which you have rejected in favor of your better proposal. Explain why your solution or action is the best choice of the alternative ways to move forward or progress toward change.
IX.. Conclusion:
Avoid summary. Consider, instead, one or more of these options: Describe an implementation plan, or issue a call to action urging your readers to support your solution. Re-emphasize the importance of the solution that you are proposing. Issue a heightened appeal for support. Look towards the future if action is taken. Consider including a conventional device (like your creative hook at the beginning) to frame your essay’s ending (i.e. if you began with an anecdote, end with another anecdote).

The prompt is “Based on your careful reading of Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology, h

The prompt is “Based on your careful reading of Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology, how do Norse spirituality stories reflect Viking society and values?”
I ask that you don’t worry about including an introduction or conclusion and only do body paragraphs answering the prompt. Also please ONLY USE NEIL GAIMAN’S NORSE MYTHOLOGY AND NO OUTSIDE SOURCES to write the essay.
I’d suggest you use themes like fate (highly encourage this one), bravery, and loyalty, but if you feel you can write about something else and tie both the Norse stories and the Norse culture to each other another way, by all means do so. I also ask that you use some in text citations. I’d also suggest you use two to three different stories from Norse Mythology to answer the prompt. Thank you for all your help! Let me know if you need any clarification or have any questions.

In this discussion, you will answer the question posed and comment on a classmat

In this discussion, you will answer the question posed and comment on a classmate’s response as well. Be thoughtful. Think deeply about the author’s choices. You must use ONE scholarly secondary source in your response. You must use at least TWO in-text citations. One in-text citation must be a paraphrase. One in-text citation must be a direct quote. Cite in APA format. Include the PAGE or PARAGRAPH number for each in-text citation). For example, (Jones, 1990, para 19-22).
List your full reference at the end of your initial post. Do not use MORE THAN ONE scholarly secondary source.
Consider Faulkner’s choice to involve a townsperson in the story as the narrator rather than writing the story in the third person. What difference does the narrator make in this story or any story? How might this story be different if Faulkner had used a first-person narrator?
A Rose for Emily
by William Faulkner
I
WHEN Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old man-servant–a combined gardener and cook–had seen in at least ten years.
It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emily’s house was left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps-an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson.
Alive, Miss Emily had been a tradition, a duty, and a care; a sort of hereditary obligation upon the town, dating from that day in 1894 when Colonel Sartoris, the mayor–he who fathered the edict that no Negro woman should appear on the streets without an apron-remitted her taxes, the dispensation dating from the death of her father on into perpetuity. Not that Miss Emily would have accepted charity. Colonel Sartoris invented an involved tale to the effect that Miss Emily’s father had loaned money to the town, which the town, as a matter of business, preferred this way of repaying. Only a man of Colonel Sartoris’ generation and thought could have invented it, and only a woman could have believed it.
When the next generation, with its more modern ideas, became mayors and aldermen, this arrangement created some little dissatisfaction. On the first of the year they mailed her a tax notice. February came, and there was no reply. They wrote her a formal letter, asking her to call at the sheriff’s office at her convenience. A week later the mayor wrote her himself, offering to call or to send his car for her, and received in reply a note on paper of an archaic shape, in a thin, flowing calligraphy in faded ink, to the effect that she no longer went out at all. The tax notice was also enclosed, without comment.
They called a special meeting of the Board of Aldermen. A deputation waited upon her, knocked at the door through which no visitor had passed since she ceased giving china-painting lessons eight or ten years earlier. They were admitted by the old Negro into a dim hall from which a stairway mounted into still more shadow. It smelled of dust and disuse–a close, dank smell. The Negro led them into the parlor. It was furnished in heavy, leather-covered furniture. When the Negro opened the blinds of one window, they could see that the leather was cracked; and when they sat down, a faint dust rose sluggishly about their thighs, spinning with slow motes in the single sun-ray. On a tarnished gilt easel before the fireplace stood a crayon portrait of Miss Emily’s father.
They rose when she entered–a small, fat woman in black, with a thin gold chain descending to her waist and vanishing into her belt, leaning on an ebony cane with a tarnished gold head. Her skeleton was small and spare; perhaps that was why what would have been merely plumpness in another was obesity in her. She looked bloated, like a body long submerged in motionless water, and of that pallid hue. Her eyes, lost in the fatty ridges of her face, looked like two small pieces of coal pressed into a lump of dough as they moved from one face to another while the visitors stated their errand.
She did not ask them to sit. She just stood in the door and listened quietly until the spokesman came to a stumbling halt. Then they could hear the invisible watch ticking at the end of the gold chain.
Her voice was dry and cold. “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves.”
“But we have. We are the city authorities, Miss Emily. Didn’t you get a notice from the sheriff, signed by him?”
“I received a paper, yes,” Miss Emily said. “Perhaps he considers himself the sheriff . . . I have no taxes in Jefferson.”
“But there is nothing on the books to show that, you see We must go by the–”
“See Colonel Sartoris. I have no taxes in Jefferson.”
“But, Miss Emily–”
“See Colonel Sartoris.” (Colonel Sartoris had been dead almost ten years.) “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Tobe!” The Negro appeared. “Show these gentlemen out.”
II
So SHE vanquished them, horse and foot, just as she had vanquished their fathers thirty years before about the smell.
That was two years after her father’s death and a short time after her sweetheart–the one we believed would marry her –had deserted her. After her father’s death she went out very little; after her sweetheart went away, people hardly saw her at all. A few of the ladies had the temerity to call, but were not received, and the only sign of life about the place was the Negro man–a young man then–going in and out with a market basket.
“Just as if a man–any man–could keep a kitchen properly, “the ladies said; so they were not surprised when the smell developed. It was another link between the gross, teeming world and the high and mighty Griersons.
A neighbor, a woman, complained to the mayor, Judge Stevens, eighty years old.
“But what will you have me do about it, madam?” he said.
“Why, send her word to stop it,” the woman said. “Isn’t there a law? ”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Judge Stevens said. “It’s probably just a snake or a rat that nigger of hers killed in the yard. I’ll speak to him about it.”
The next day he received two more complaints, one from a man who came in diffident deprecation. “We really must do something about it, Judge. I’d be the last one in the world to bother Miss Emily, but we’ve got to do something.” That night the Board of Aldermen met–three graybeards and one younger man, a member of the rising generation.
“It’s simple enough,” he said. “Send her word to have her place cleaned up. Give her a certain time to do it in, and if she don’t. ..”
“Dammit, sir,” Judge Stevens said, “will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?”
So the next night, after midnight, four men crossed Miss Emily’s lawn and slunk about the house like burglars, sniffing along the base of the brickwork and at the cellar openings while one of them performed a regular sowing motion with his hand out of a sack slung from his shoulder. They broke open the cellar door and sprinkled lime there, and in all the outbuildings. As they recrossed the lawn, a window that had been dark was lighted and Miss Emily sat in it, the light behind her, and her upright torso motionless as that of an idol. They crept quietly across the lawn and into the shadow of the locusts that lined the street. After a week or two the smell went away.
That was when people had begun to feel really sorry for her. People in our town, remembering how old lady Wyatt, her great-aunt, had gone completely crazy at last, believed that the Griersons held themselves a little too high for what they really were. None of the young men were quite good enough for Miss Emily and such. We had long thought of them as a tableau, Miss Emily a slender figure in white in the background, her father a spraddled silhouette in the foreground, his back to her and clutching a horsewhip, the two of them framed by the back-flung front door. So when she got to be thirty and was still single, we were not pleased exactly, but vindicated; even with insanity in the family she wouldn’t have turned down all of her chances if they had really materialized.
When her father died, it got about that the house was all that was left to her; and in a way, people were glad. At last they could pity Miss Emily. Being left alone, and a pauper, she had become humanized. Now she too would know the old thrill and the old despair of a penny more or less.
The day after his death all the ladies prepared to call at the house and offer condolence and aid, as is our custom Miss Emily met them at the door, dressed as usual and with no trace of grief on her face. She told them that her father was not dead. She did that for three days, with the ministers calling on her, and the doctors, trying to persuade her to let them dispose of the body. Just as they were about to resort to law and force, she broke down, and they buried her father quickly.
We did not say she was crazy then. We believed she had to do that. We remembered all the young men her father had driven away, and we knew that with nothing left, she would have to cling to that which had robbed her, as people will.
III
SHE WAS SICK for a long time. When we saw her again, her hair was cut short, making her look like a girl, with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows–sort of tragic and serene.
The town had just let the contracts for paving the sidewalks, and in the summer after her father’s death they began the work. The construction company came with niggers and mules and machinery, and a foreman named Homer Barron, a Yankee–a big, dark, ready man, with a big voice and eyes lighter than his face. The little boys would follow in groups to hear him cuss the niggers, and the niggers singing in time to the rise and fall of picks. Pretty soon he knew everybody in town. Whenever you heard a lot of laughing anywhere about the square, Homer Barron would be in the center of the group. Presently we began to see him and Miss Emily on Sunday afternoons driving in the yellow-wheeled buggy and the matched team of bays from the livery stable.
At first we were glad that Miss Emily would have an interest, because the ladies all said, “Of course a Grierson would not think seriously of a Northerner, a day laborer.” But there were still others, older people, who said that even grief could not cause a real lady to forget noblesse oblige- –
without calling it noblesse oblige. They just said, “Poor Emily. Her kinsfolk should come to her.” She had some kin in Alabama; but years ago her father had fallen out with them over the estate of old lady Wyatt, the crazy woman, and there was no communication between the two families. They had not even been represented at the funeral.

And as soon as the old people said, “Poor Emily,” the whispering began. “Do you suppose it’s really so?” they said to one another. “Of course it is. What else could . . .” This behind their hands; rustling of craned silk and satin behind jalousies closed upon the sun of Sunday afternoon as the thin, swift clop-clop-clop of the matched team passed: “Poor Emily.”
She carried her head high enough–even when we believed that she was fallen. It was as if she demanded more than ever the recognition of her dignity as the last Grierson; as if it had wanted that touch of earthiness to reaffirm her imperviousness. Like when she bought the rat poison, the arsenic. That was over a year after they had begun to say “Poor Emily,” and while the two female cousins were visiting her.
“I want some poison,” she said to the druggist. She was over thirty then, still a slight woman, though thinner than usual, with cold, haughty black eyes in a face the flesh of which was strained across the temples and about the eyesockets as you imagine a lighthouse-keeper’s face ought to look. “I want some poison,” she said.
“Yes, Miss Emily. What kind? For rats and such? I’d recom–”
“I want the best you have. I don’t care what kind.”
The druggist named several. “They’ll kill anything up to an elephant. But what you want is–”
“Arsenic,” Miss Emily said. “Is that a good one?”
“Is . . . arsenic? Yes, ma’am. But what you want–”
“I want arsenic.”
The druggist looked down at her. She looked back at him, erect, her face like a strained flag. “Why, of course,” the druggist said. “If that’s what you want. But the law requires you to tell what you are going to use it for.”
Miss Emily just stared at him, her head tilted back in order to look him eye for eye, until he looked away and went and got the arsenic and wrapped it up. The Negro delivery boy brought her the package; the druggist didn’t come back. When she opened the package at home there was written on the box, under the skull and bones: “For rats.”
IV
So THE NEXT day we all said, “She will kill herself”; and we said it would be the best thing. When she had first begun to be seen with Homer Barron, we had said, “She will marry him.” Then we said, “She will persuade him yet,” because Homer himself had remarked–he liked men, and it was known that he drank with the younger men in the Elks’ Club–that he was not a marrying man. Later we said, “Poor Emily” behind the jalousies as they passed on Sunday afternoon in the glittering buggy, Miss Emily with her head high and Homer Barron with his hat cocked and a cigar in his teeth, reins and whip in a yellow glove.
Then some of the ladies began to say that it was a disgrace to the town and a bad example to the young people. The men did not want to interfere, but at last the ladies forced the Baptist minister–Miss Emily’s people were Episcopal– to call upon her. He would never divulge what happened during that interview, but he refused to go back again. The next Sunday they again drove about the streets, and the following day the minister’s wife wrote to Miss Emily’s relations in Alabama.
So she had blood-kin under her roof again and we sat back to watch developments. At first nothing happened. Then we were sure that they were to be married. We learned that Miss Emily had been to the jeweler’s and ordered a man’s toilet set in silver, with the letters H. B. on each piece. Two days later we learned that she had bought a complete outfit of men’s clothing, including a nightshirt, and we said, “They are married.” We were really glad. We were glad because the two female cousins were even more Grierson than Miss Emily had ever been.
So we were not surprised when Homer Barron–the streets had been finished some time since–was gone. We were a little disappointed that there was not a public blowing-off, but we believed that he had gone on to prepare for Miss Emily’s coming, or to give her a chance to get rid of the cousins. (By that time it was a cabal, and we were all Miss Emily’s allies to help circumvent the cousins.) Sure enough, after another week they departed. And, as we had expected all along, within three days Homer Barron was back in town. A neighbor saw the Negro man admit him at the kitchen door at dusk one evening.
And that was the last we saw of Homer Barron. And of Miss Emily for some time. The Negro man went in and out with the market basket, but the front door remained closed. Now and then we would see her at a window for a moment, as the men did that night when they sprinkled the lime, but for almost six months she did not appear on the streets. Then we knew that this was to be expected too; as if that quality of her father which had thwarted her woman’s life so many times had been too virulent and too furious to die.
When we next saw Miss Emily, she had grown fat and her hair was turning gray. During the next few years it grew grayer and grayer until it attained an even pepper-and-salt iron-gray, when it ceased turning. Up to the day of her death at seventy-four it was still that vigorous iron-gray, like the hair of an active man.
From that time on her front door remained closed, save for a period of six or seven years, when she was about forty, during which she gave lessons in china-painting. She fitted up a studio in one of the downstairs rooms, where the daughters and granddaughters of Colonel Sartoris’ contemporaries were sent to her with the same regularity and in the same spirit that they were sent to church on Sundays with a twenty-five-cent piece for the collection plate. Meanwhile her taxes had been remitted.
Then the newer generation became the backbone and the spirit of the town, and the painting pupils grew up and fell away and did not send their children to her with boxes of color and tedious brushes and pictures cut from the ladies’ magazines. The front door closed upon the last one and remained closed for good. When the town got free postal delivery, Miss Emily alone refused to let them fasten the metal numbers above her door and attach a mailbox to it. She would not listen to them.
Daily, monthly, yearly we watched the Negro grow grayer and more stooped, going in and out with the market basket. Each December we sent her a tax notice, which would be returned by the post office a week later, unclaimed. Now and then we would see her in one of the downstairs windows–she had evidently shut up the top floor of the house–like the carven torso of an idol in a niche, looking or not looking at us, we could never tell which. Thus she passed from generation to generation–dear, inescapable, impervious, tranquil, and perverse.
And so she died. Fell ill in the house filled with dust and shadows, with only a doddering Negro man to wait on her. We did not even know she was sick; we had long since given up trying to get any information from the Negro
He talked to no one, probably not even to her, for his voice had grown harsh and rusty, as if from disuse.
She died in one of the downstairs rooms, in a heavy walnut bed with a curtain, her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight.
V
THE NEGRO met the first of the ladies at the front door and let them in, with their hushed, sibilant voices and their quick, curious glances, and then he disappeared. He walked right through the house and out the back and was not seen again.
The two female cousins came at once. They held the funeral on the second day, with the town coming to look at Miss Emily beneath a mass of bought flowers, with the crayon face of her father musing profoundly above the bier and the ladies sibilant and macabre; and the very old men –some in their brushed Confederate uniforms–on the porch and the lawn, talking of Miss Emily as if she had been a contemporary of theirs, believing that they had danced with her and courted her perhaps, confusing time with its mathematical progression, as the old do, to whom all the past is not a diminishing road but, instead, a huge meadow which no winter ever quite touches, divided from them now by the narrow bottle-neck of the most recent decade of years.
Already we knew that there was one room in that region above stairs which no one had seen in forty years, and which would have to be forced. They waited until Miss Emily was decently in the ground before they opened it.
The violence of breaking down the door seemed to fill this room with pervading dust. A thin, acrid pall as of the tomb seemed to lie everywhere upon this room decked and furnished as for a bridal: upon the valance curtains of faded rose color, upon the rose-shaded lights, upon the dressing table, upon the delicate array of crystal and the man’s toilet things backed with tarnished silver, silver so tarnished that the monogram was obscured. Among them lay a collar and tie, as if they had just been removed, which, lifted, left upon the surface a pale crescent in the dust. Upon a chair hung the suit, carefully folded; beneath it the two mute shoes and the discarded socks.
The man himself lay in the bed.
For a long while we just stood there, looking down at the profound and fleshless grin. The body had apparently once lain in the attitude of an embrace, but now the long sleep that outlasts love, that conquers even the grimace of love, had cuckolded him. What was left of him, rotted beneath what was left of the nightshirt, had become inextricable from the bed in which he lay; and upon him and upon the pillow beside him lay that even coating of the patient and biding dust.
Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head. One of us lifted something from it, and leaning forward, that faint and invisible dust dry and acrid in the nostrils, we saw a long strand of iron-gray hair.

organize week to week , fill out all 15 weeks, managing week to week , must comp

organize week to week , fill out all 15 weeks, managing week to week , must complete all 15 weeks. With16 hours each week decided to Psych .use the syllabus, put the to do list from syllabus in each week. Add 50 -100 self study questions from Sherpath DAILY to your plan. Pluck out assignments from each week from and and fill your calendar

The Impact of Marketing The Impact of Marketing Explore how food marketing and a

The Impact of Marketing
The Impact of Marketing
Explore how food marketing and advertising contribute to childhood obesity. Reference a specific campaign or study that highlights this issue and include it in your initial post. Post two replies to other students after reviewing their reference. Your initial post is due on Tuesday and your replies due by Sunday. For more information, check out 99 Examples of Innovative Food Marketing.Links to an external site.
How do I get the most points for this discussion?
Discussions should be 8-12 complete sentences long and reference something that we discussed in the module or something that you looked up online (with the exception of this one which is just to get to know you). Main Discussions are worth 20 points, and replies to discussions are 5 points each. This discussion requires two replies to other students. These replies are worth 5 points each with the option for five extra credit points for an additional reply. For example, if the discussion is worth 20 points and you need two replies, then the initial post is worth 10 points and each reply is worth 5 points each for a total of 20 points. You can then write a third reply to another post in that discussion for an additional 5 points, which would give you 25 out of 20 points for the assignment.
Refer to the syllabus for more information and click on pulldown bar in upper right corner to review Discussion Rubric. Main Discussions are worth 10 points, reply Discussions are the “reply” discussion posts made to another student in the course and are worth 5 points; no points are awarded for late or short Reply discussions. Reply Discussions need to be at least 4 informative sentences.
response 1 zainab :
Food marketing and advertising play a big role in childhood obesity in various ways. Ads for junk food and soft drinks are crafted to make children favor these over healthier options. Kids naturally prefer tasty foods, and when marketing is designed to make certain foods more appealing, it influences their choices. Fast food and quick snacks are often unhealthy, but these ads don’t highlight this important fact to children. Marketing significantly impacts the types of food we choose to eat. Children are often the target of promotions that push unhealthy snacks, shaping their food preferences and eating habits. This can lead to obesity, especially if parents also enjoy junk food or fast food, as they tend to buy these items for the whole family. For instance, McDonald’s and KFC use eye-catching packaging and characters to attract kids, even though these meals are sugary snacks, fast foods, and unhealthy beverages. Children are targeted through TV, print media, social media, and other platforms to catch their interest.
response 2 zeyad :
‏Ads and marketing associated with food have an important impact on the obesity of children.Unhealthy eating habits have been supported by the overt promotion of high-calorie, low-nutrient foods, particularly through media channels aimed at youngsters. Research indicates that kids are especially exposed to marketing, which can affect their eating patterns, food preferences, and at some point, their weight.The World Health Organization’s (WHO) research on food marketing to children is one study that sheds light on this problem. According to the report, the majority of child-targeted commercials highlight meals that are heavy in sugar, fat, energy, and salt. Children are drawn to these commercials because of their cartoon characters, vivid colors, and catchy jingles, which make them crave unhealthy food. For example, the “McDonald’s Happy Meals” advertising campaign regularly makes use of toys and collaborations According to the report, the majority of child-targeted commercials point out meals that are heavy in sugar, fat, energy, and salt. Children are drawn to these commercials because of their cartoon characters, vivid colors, and catchy jingles, which make them crave unhealthy food And deeply feel in love with they are eating and drinking.