Blogging, a experience.

Blogging was the option for this semester, and as far as it goes, it will keep increasing writing skills if there is commitment and responsibility. It is an activity that can show you a lot about how much you know, or how much you are able to express with words. But it goes further than just a space to share thoughts, because it can even become a pedagogical tool for learning or improving language skills. My teacher even offered us two options about how to develop the blog, and we all decided to write about class, and  posting things related to it. I think he managed well to at least make us work on them, as most of us didn't have a previous experience on blogging, what takes me to think that if my classmates and I took this exercise not just as a homerwork, it would have increased even our critic and argumentative skills but in english. I must say I really enjoyed the process of writing and always trying to take it as far as I could, but I also discovered that is not something depending on the level of english, of course it is important for developing a good text, but it is most important the commitment and interest you have on posting. This was about having a development of writing and what else can we do than just writing, trying and even accepting mistakes and going over them, enhancing everything we write, by revising.
This was kind of a first experience, but at least, most of class members wanted to work. The class was good, I think we did new things that challenged us, and gave us tools to become better with our writing, this is a process and we must cotinue with it, something I expect my mates to do, because I've seen their potential.

The ringing of a flashback

After explaining the activity in the last post, here I leave, the story that represent flashbacks for me: 

Once, I was damning the world because I lost the right hand. It was when I was just 17 years old, just a boy that was starting to live the world that is disallowed for kids, because they wouldn’t handle so much in just one bite, maybe it is too much even if you are 20 or 30, but at least you are able to do it. We know how much dangers are there outside, not waiting for the perfect victim, or the perfect moment, that would only be important if you wanted to be married.

 But no, that’s not the street like, because it doesn’t wait, it just carries on even if you fell or went out, but it’s just impossible to leave, once you are inside it. I know I was kind of young and my father aware me one thousand times, but I would rather not to listen, but my riffs. I use to go around with something I added to my body, something I would rather not to live without, dreaming not to be big, but to make her important. It wasn’t another girl, she was just different, always quiet waiting for me to arrive, and only speaking to me, that guitar was just awesome. Her curves would take you into the deepest ride you would never get not even owning a rollercoaster, she yelled as fantastic and terrific as a lovely woman does, when you are doing right. Her strings were just as the song says, the highway to the warmest and best place to play, for me and her, the hell. I must accept it was my fault to lose her, and if she’s not here anymore there is nothing else to say but, that I took her away. Of course it wasn’t because I wanted, because I even lost my hand in the same moment. If I had the choice to recover any of them, perhaps it would be my hand, so I would honor her, playing until death, but that was kind of the sacrifice like asked, because of my stupidity. Everything started, one night, I was supposed to stay home, as my father grounded me. I forgot to say, I was kind of an outlaw, and I don’t know if you share this with me, but school was just boring. Everything I wanted was to go around making people realize how a guitar can change either your day or your life, and I used to do my prophet job, in a rookie band, that sounded good enough to make me an addict of music. That night, was supposed to happen our best concert, with lots of people waiting outside wanting to listen to us, and a good set of songs that were going to rock them. Only 10 people was at the place, and 5 worked there. I felt disappointed, perhaps I had to big dreams about what it was going to be like, and for it to be worse I escaped home, so I supposed I was going to be grounded the double, paying for a crime I was supposed to enjoy. As we played for those 5 people, I better packed my guitar and rode my bicycle home, I was kind of blind by anxiety. I was close to the 33th avenue and it was really late, maybe 2 or 3 a.m. I was wearing earphones, listening to those songs that always made me feel happy, but they were not working that night. I didn’t looked at both sides of the street, and a drunk driver, ran over me. He escaped of course, and let me there, kind of unconscious, but looking around for my guitar.

All I could see was that amount of broken wood. A big part of the neck of the guitar was crossing my right hand, making me lose the sense, I was about to faint, but in the horizon I could see some lights, another car I guessed. I expected it to see me, and when I totally fainted, I just can’t remember what happened after all of this. I spent two months on the hospital, recovering myself thinking on other things. Doctors tried to save my hand in every single way, and what I will never forgot what they said: -“I’m sorry, but it’s better for you to let it go”- Immediately I understood what he meant, as he added: -“You’re going to be alright”-. As I was in the hospital, I just listened to my thoughts, nor my music or other people, just my mind. I just laid in the bed looking everything and thinking of everything. No more music for me, I thought after I was out the surgery. I took the imminent choice to leave music forever because it just got me problems. After I went out the hospital, it passed 3 years, which I consider really incredible, 3 years of not listening a guitar. Sometimes I even forgot about I played, and those great moments I had with it, forgetting even my feelings about it, not being able to express about guitar in such a poetic way. I really had taken the choice to be far from music. I had to learn a lot about just using one hand, they even gave me a book to read, but believe it is hard to do with just one hand, I had to change a lot of things I used do, not only playing but quotidian things I never knew could be so hard with just one hand, the world is designed for people with two, I thought. I was kind of making it, trying to change my life, because even school started to seem interesting. Perhaps that made me stronger and less absent from reality, helping me face another things, but just one day, after three years of successful avoid of the guitar, I decided to go for a walk, which I not used to do a lot. One block, six blocks, half an hour walking and I found it kind of distressful, as I was getting nearby a little village close to my town, a single sound, made me stop. I know that, I said. It ringed from the outside of my ear to the deepest room of my soul, and made me freeze, and fall into an absence moment. I remembered those old days, when I used to be less serious, and life was happy to me. When just a sound meant everything for me, and I could make as much as I wanted, I was happy in the many single ways it sounded. It kept ringing, and everything it did was growing that big smile on my face. I didn’t wanted to move, a lot of things inside myself started to explode. It sounded once again, and stronger, like if my own heart was releasing all of it strength in just one sound. I decided to follow it, and found a young man with an old brown acoustic guitar, he was surprised with my presence but I just could ask him to keep playing, that was pure pleasure and immediately I understood why I decided to let it go, perhaps I was too sure about all the pleasure it meant, and it would be harmful to have this machine of love lying in my lap not being able to make that lovely sound. In that moment I forgot about all of my thoughts, my sadness and stopped feeling that kind of emptiness nothing could fill, and just let the guitar ring not in my ears, but in my soul. I knew even I couldn’t play it, I could at least, appreciate it and let it live inside me. Forever.

Thank you! 

Flashback

Memory for me, is a labyrinth where we hide things, whose destiny is to remain there, intact, until we come back because of whatever is a trigger for us. In the last class we had, we were asked to remember the first class based on something in that class that transported us to the first... That's kind of what a flashback means, I will explain with this example: 

Today the teacher arrived and said hello with his deep and strong voice. That took me to the first class when I was expecting everything, then he arrived and  started speaking and his voice made me think the class was going to be fun. 

That was kind of what the teacher was expecting from the excercise, but from every single one of us. I must say not everyone understood that, but we did our best until we all could make a better example, thinking of those triggers that make us think of something that was not forgot but turned off, while we find that thing I call "trigger" or also "detonator" for those memories, good times or feelings that in any moment of our lives, made us feel great. If I had to answer te question, What detonates you? It would be really hard to know, many things make me get into flashbacks, but I think they're always different ways to get to the same point, things that are related to my memories in any way. Actually I don't focus too much on the way I become involved in flashbacks, but I'm sure It can be many amount of things. Whatever is the trigger, I'd like to know which is yours readers. Are you able to answer? 

Thank You 

Further the horizon, words mean different.

I was asked to write a story with re-meaned words, and here I present you it, a little piece of digital paper. The words I'll use are:  take the Metro = diving; a kiss = monster; telephone = night; smiling = house; looking = zoo (Words taken from the blog of  my classmate Julian because  I really  liked them.)

There was I trying to save myself from the looking filled  with fears and darkness. I knew I was not going to survive, as I did not know how swim and I had to take the metro to escape. Things were getting stronger and harder in my head, I was hearing lots of voices confusing myself about what to do, and me, standing there watching  life losing the battle second by second, losing time while the fears were at smiling waiting for me to fall again. All of those kisses wanted to approach on me and attack until there remained nothing, but the ashes of a coward man, that lost because didn't fight. I was being consumed by the pass of telephone, and it ringed as strong as never. My destiny was to know my horrible end, and as I couldn't decide what to do, I risked everything, I lost everything, just to stand there, watching how I wasn't even able to take the metro. Kisses of my deep, now you can forbid me in this world that only accept the risky, and dismiss the afraid.

This was kind of a little paragraph, but I'd like you to write a short one with this words I'm going to invent:

Fish=Girlfriend

Sword=Dreams

Eat= kill

Robot= love

Water= journey

Thank you!

Colombia very well, very fast.

I assume most of the readers know what I'm about to speak, and it is indeed, the new program of english the goverment proposed for the spread of it. I say this as I want to focus on the reflexive aspect from the point of view of a teacher on  formation, and even most important being formed in the area of languages, exactly english. I think is nice to start being aware both teacher and goverment of the fast grow of societies nowadays and how they expand, making possible the concept of globalization, and for this languages are a key. English since the launch of american economy in the past century, has been becoming a strong language that is being adopted by many continents as the global language, opting to start including it as a second language program, and in Colombia's case we're about to start developing it until 2025, which is for me a really short term, but workable as it is becoming mandatory for teachers to do a hard work, to reach to the levels they have proposed. I think that is responsibility of everyone, goverment, teachers and students, of the success of this program. They must apply a collaboration and start accepting a work together making of it related in any aspect, so everything daily will improve, creating a consciousness of easy access from the economical to the individual aspect. English is going to be better, as the people is able even more each day to meet the world by internet, or accesing to travelling, which also is getting easier. Colombia very well from the positive eye I watch it, may be the start, not the mere success, but the doors of a even better politic on language education and the creation of a generation of people who trust languages as a proved way of being even more free, and as a way of developing many other skills. Maybe 10 years are not enough, yet they can be really useful for our future work, on what for me will be the matter, and its facing the real need of not only english but many other languages.

My readers, I'd like you to answer also this questions:

1. What could you improve from Colombia Very Well ?

2. Why you trust or not the program?

3.From your point of view of teacher in formation, Do you feel like facing this program and doing everything to accomplish it? Why?

Thank you!