the bird on fire

Beethoven is de-composing

December 8, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Middle-Schooler Penny Andreas

Palm Valley students discover new music, make beautiful music, critique recently released
music, share compelling music. When streaming or listening or exploring music, we often search by musical genres. Penny shares her favorite genres, and one not-so-favorite. She has eclectic taste and may have some listening “finds” for you.

Out of the millions and billions and trillions of songs and albums, there are different genres. Basically, a genre is just a broad type of music. Many genres are awesome, but these are some of my favorites, and one not-so-favorite.

Number One: Indie Music

This is my absolute favorite genre of music because of its chill, slow-down vibe. I love the instruments they use, along with the subtle echo-y lyrics. It generally has a slow-ish and steady beat. This music is great to listen to while studying, reading, or basically doing anything mellow. My favorite artists in this genre are Em Beihold, Tame Impala, The Alvvays, and Giveon.

Number Two: Hip Hop and Rap

Hip hop and rap is a classic genre that has been around for a long time. I love hip hop because the sounds and the lyrics are good; some of them tell stories, while others may be about life. Though I do not recommend this type of music if you are not allowed to listen to “explicit lyrics.” There are some words that you might rather not want to ask your parents about….Anyways some of my favorite artists are Dr. Dre, Eminem, G-Unit, 50 Cent, Kendrik Lamar, Jay-Z, and Snoop Dogg.

Number Three: Soul

Soul is one of the absolute greatest genres of all time. It first started in the early 1950s, with the rise of gospel music. This was very popular in Black churches, but it quickly spread beyond churches, and it evolved into what is now called soul. Soul is a very broad word for a variety of musical albums and artists, but it is mainly music with a steady beat and a symphony of trumpets, saxophones, and trombones with amazing vocal riffs. Some of my favorite artists in soul are Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, James Brown, and Marvin Gaye.

And . . . One Dislike: Pop

Pop is pretty much just popular music all mushed into one genre. Honestly, I actually hate pop. There’s one specific sound that is just repeated over and over and over again. Also, so many people use samples that were made for original songs, by the original artist, which sounds like total plagiarism, though somehow they get away with it.

Teacher Madlib Video

December 8, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org 3 Comments

An original video by Levi Kassinove and Luke Sonderman, Palm Valley Blog Productions

While other PVS Bloggers searched for videos that have impacted history, communities, movements, fashion, and individual growth–Levi and Luke decided the canon was incomplete. So, they got busy and added to the Video Canon of Cinematography, The Teacher Madlib video. (No teachers were harmed in the making of this video.)

This week on thebirdonfire.org, Levi and I decided to spice things up and create a video post instead of an article. This is The Teacher Madlib, where YOUR Palm Valley Teachers tell you an unscripted story. Enjoy!
Luke Sonderman, Co-Director

https://youtu.be/mZzBJjWgJQ4

The screen

December 6, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

A Poem, by Middle-Schooler Penny Andreas

As the screen turns on

And the pixels turn to color

I stare at it blankly

My mind turning into rubber

4 hours pass

I stay in the same spot

Not blinking once

My eyes about to pop

When it finally turns off

My eyes blink fast

Suddenly bored

Wondering what to do next

My Favorite Comic: Maus by Art Spiegelman

December 6, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Junior Alyna Rei

Student bloggers went in search of something comic that conveyed something profound. Alyna recalls the graphic novel set Maus that she read as a sophomore. She liked it.

I am not the biggest fan of reading history books or learning about history in general. Not that I hate history. I just don’t have the biggest interest in it. But, there is an exception. In my 10th-grade English class, I read Maus by Art Spiegelman. This story was split into two books, and I actually enjoyed reading both. Despite this story being pretty famous, it was actually voted to be banned by a school board in Tennessee (nytimes.com).

The two books take place during the Holocaust. The Jews display as Mice, the Germans as Cats, Americans as dogs, and the Polish as pigs.

The First Book, Maus I: A Survivor’s Tale – My Father Bleeds History

We start off with our main character, Vladek, who was a survivor of the Holocaust. Vladek is telling his experience of the Holocaust to his son, Artie (who is a depiction of Art Spiegelman himself). As well, we see the story of Vladek’s wife and Artie’s mother, Anja. We first experience their regular lives before the Holocaust began and then see a complete switch up over time. We go into the beginning part of Auschwitz at the conclusion of Book I and basically the onslaught of the Holocaust. In Book I, we don’t see the couple in the camps. Rather it’s a run down of the beginning tragedies of the Holocaust: such as people losing their jobs, their homes, their neighborhoods, their livelihoods, their lives, etc.

The *Maus I* book cover as it appears at Amazon.com

The Second Book, Maus II: A Survivor’s Pain – And Here My Troubles Began

The second book is set in the middle of the Holocaust. Vladek is trying to get to his wife, Anja, since the two are separated into different gender camps in Auschwitz. Art Spielgelman does drive us into the characters’ arrival at Auschwitz. This book gives us a more detailed presentation on how the Holocaust appeared through Vladek’s perspective. We see Vladek trying to survive in the camp, desperately working for sufficient food, clothing, shelter, and possible escape for Anja and himself. We still see contemporary scenes between Vladek and Artie, but we also do go back into the past.

My Opinion

I actually prefer the first book over the second. The first book gave me a good understanding of what the Holocaust was about after seeing Vladik’s developing story. You see the mice having a regular life, and then you see that life chipped away, and eventually lost. I feel that this graphic novel is a better book from which to learn about the Holocaust than to read a nonfiction book for students. When you read Maus, yes, it is a little graphic. We see graphic depictions of dead bodies. But, the book gives you a good understanding of what the Holocaust tragedy was rather than reading dry facts. You get to stand in the characters’ shoes.

This book had an effect on me more than the rest of the books I read in 10th grade as I was able to learn about the Holocaust more. I do recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn more about the Holocaust because it gives you moving insight about the tragedy of the Holocaust while capitalizing on a compelling stereotype regarding cats and mice.

Encantos De Moçambique*

December 1, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Junior Remy Haring

Portuguese East Africa (Mozambique) – Deutsch Mittelafrika Border

In a series of stories told from multiple perspectives from all over the world– collectively known as the Kaiserreich Files (inspired by the titular mod for Hearts of Iron IV), blogger Remy Haring explores an alternate history, one in which the Central Powers won the First World War.

April 15, 1937

It was a warm, humid dawn. Insects were chirping, and you could see the stars. There was no civilization for miles–only the dense jungles of this far-flung Portuguese colony. The golden crucifix on my uniform glistened in the glaring sunlight. I could hardly breathe behind the mosquito mask. I missed Lisbon: the salty air, seeing the magnificent royal palace towering over the city and the beautiful churches and, most importantly, I missed peace. I didn’t want to be fighting a brutal bush war. My thoughts were broken by distant gunshots. The Germans were out there. My commanding officer João looked toward the source of the gunfire and shouted, “We will attack the enemies of Christ and Duarte II! To arms!” It’s time, I thought, quiero ir para casa, I want to go home. We were launching an offensive against the Germans. I drew my rifle and joined the rest of the squad. We advanced north into Deustch Mittelafrika.

We were marching in a single-file line through the treacherous forest. Who knew what poisonous insects or apex predators could be lurking here, or, worse, we may even be walking straight into a German ambush. I heard João whisper a prayer that we would defeat the German heathens. We wandered the forests for who knows how long when we stumbled upon a small local village deep in the jungle. It was a series of small, circular huts that formed a ring. When we entered the village, we were met by a group of locals. None of them spoke Portuguese, and none of the troops spoke Ngoni. While João was searching for Germans, I sat down leaning against the huts. A little boy, about five or six came up to me with a big smile and gave me a pineapple. I smiled at him, and he skipped away. Back home, I was always told that the colonies were filled with savages who did not recognize the one true faith, but when I looked around, they just seemed like people. I saw two guys working together to build a hut, a child trailing his mother, maybe what I’ve been told since birth is wrong…

My introspection was interrupted when a German soldier was found hiding in one of the huts. He was forcefully grabbed by João and interrogated.

“Where is the rest of your squad!?” João barked.

“I-I don’t know, I vas part of a lost patrol und the people–” he stuttered.

“–harbored a protestant heathen,” João finished for him. “We have ways to make you talk, heretic.” He turned to us with unfeeling eyes. “We must show the natives here what happens when they harbor heathens.” He gestured to the ring of thatched homes and ordered, “Burn. It. All.”

When I turned to the soldier next to me, he had struck a match with no expression on his face. He tossed it at a thatched hut–and another, and another like a storm of embers. The fire began consuming the village. Madly, my platoon cheered. I froze. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak; all I could do was watch as the village structures collapsed in on themselves and burned. I heard screaming, a screaming I sometimes still hear when I wake late at night.

*Charms of Mozambique. A Portuguese colonial song.

Knock Knock?

November 30, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By 7th grader Penny Andreas

A lot can be said and conveyed via comedy. PVS Bloggers searched for something comic that
fascinated them or was an integral part of life. Penny remembers those ever-present, slightly annoying knock-knock jokes.

Jokes are a very special phase that I believe all kids go through at one time in their life. My sister, at age five, loved to run up and say something like, “Why did the cat cross the road? . . . To go to the bakery.” It made no sense, but it cracked her up. Knock-knock jokes, in particular, have been around since the 1900s, says NPR’s article “The Secret History of Knock-Knock Jokes.” One thing most people all like are some good ol’ knee-slappers. I surveyed a couple of people to see what their favorite jokes were. I’ve included them below. Enjoy! 🙂

(The “Interrupting Cow” joke happened way too many times so I apologize if you don’t see yours.)

7th-Grader Roman Sooban: Knock, knock?

Who’s there?

Spell!

Spell who?

W. H. O.

Teacher Mrs. Maguire: Knock, knock?

Who’s there?

Impatient cow.

Impati-

MOO!

7th-Grader Jackie Padgett: Why did the chicken cross the road?

I don’t know. Why?

To get to the idiot’s house.

Okay.

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

The chicken.

(Jackie: I always fall for this one; it’s sad.)

7th-Grader Sierra James: What do you call a bear with no teeth?

Dunno.

A gummy bear!

6th-Grader Lorelei Behr: Knock, knock?

Who’s there?

Banana.

Banana who?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Banana.

Banana who?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Orange.

Orange who?

Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?

9th-Grader Kayliee Augustine: Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

A broken pencil.

A broken pencil who?

Nevermind. It’s pointless.

Teacher Ms. Schapiro: What did the snail say while riding on the turtle’s back?

I don’t know.

WHEEEEEEEEEEE!

Junior Levi Kassinove: Knock, knock?

Who’s there?

To.

To who?

To whom.

Cave Dweller

November 30, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Junior Levi Kassinove

Weekly, I assign the Blog Staff a Creative Writing Prompt–separate from their weekly posting prompt. The prompt is intended to be fun–sometimes the results are publishable, sometimes . . . not. Two weeks ago, I asked the staff to write about “darkness.” Levi went . . . dark . . . and to a completely unexpected place. We blame his new alpaca hoodie. Still, if you’re a fan of the workings of Levi’s mind, you may enjoy the following fiction . . . into the dark.
Blog Advisor Zachik

Day 1:

I’m currently hiking in the Andes Mountains. There is a clear sky and a bright sun. I can see a rainbow over the distant mountains. 45 minutes ago, I was separated from my group of friends that I met last night during a shamanic ritual. I am currently following a herd of alpacas. I think that they can at least guide me somewhere safe.

Update 1:

The alpacas led me to a hermit who seemed to be taking care of them. He lived near the entrance of a cave that stretched deep into the mountain. Upon my arrival, the hermit sheared some of the alpacas and gave the fur to his wife, who then proceeded to start weaving the fur into a sweater, presumably as a welcome gift for me. The hermit led me into his minimalistic wooden shed, which had an air of detachment and mystery that made me uneasy. He offered me dinner, which consisted of sautéed, unfamiliar-looking mushrooms and a glass of…some sort of liquor. It tastes pretty good, actually.

Update 2:

I woke up in a cave, presumably the same one that the hermit was near. There is nobody around, and I have an alpaca fur sweater on. I do not remember the weaver finishing the sweater I’m wearing, nor do I remember her giving it to me. The cave is dark, cold, and scary. Right now, I don’t know what to do, and the walls are moving. Though I can’t see the movement, I can feel it.

Day 2:

Nobody has come to save me. I have been eating whatever I could find in the crevices of this cave. All I have is the warmth and comfort of my alpaca sweater. I can only hope that soon someone will save me. Who was that hermit? Why did the alpacas follow him?

Day 35:

I have been using a rock to etch lines into the cave walls to denote the passing days. I am beginning to feel my mind slip, in the sense that I cannot trust my humanity, but I am resisting the slipping. My sweater has, remarkably, remained dry and cozy. I also didn’t know that grass grows in caves. Here there is grass. Why did I even decide to follow the alpacas? What was I thinking?

Day 203:

I found the hermit’s corpse last week. He had chunks bitten out of him, as if he was eaten by a pack of hyenas. But I have an eerie suspicion that it was the alpacas. I wonder if I’m their next target. I should have never followed them to the hermit’s cave. They are a murderous bunch. A gang of land dolphins. ~~I wonder if~~ no…that can’t be right. They must’ve tricked me…somehow…into following them to the hermit so that they could murder both of us and dispose of the evidence. Yes, I am beginning to piece it together now.

Day 116:

They were always out to get me. Alpacas are sentient beings. I don’t even think that they are from earth. That innocent hermit…he was just happy to be in the presence of nature. He treated the alpacas well. Those animals are a bunch of psychopaths. I don’t know why I am still wearing this sweater. I don’t want to wear the fur of murderers. It’s just…so…warm. I wonder what happened to the weaver. She must be worried sick.

Day that I will escape:

Last night, sure enough, I found the weaver’s corpse. I am definitely next. This is all just a sick game to the alpacas. Torturing me just for entertainment. Is it because I took their fur? Is it because I’m human? A contributor to the demise of the planet? Whatever it is, I am going to escape. I just need to figure out how. How am I going to escape when the walls are constantly moving?!!!

Day ___:

there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape they tasted so good there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is no escape there is

It was all a red herring.

The hermit. The weaver. The cave. The alpacas. They are just animals. Just grazing…they happened to bump into the hermit and the weaver.

I’ve just got it…I’ve repressed the idea for so long. The sweater proves it all. I couldn’t take it off no matter how much I wanted to. Nature is me, and I am nature. We were always one. This is the end of my journal. I can’t bear to write anymore, and there’s some hay over there that looks pretty good. My hands…have they always looked like . . . hooves??

An Ode to Levi’s Hoodie

November 29, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

I asked PVS bloggers to find a captivating photo. Indy was captivated by Levi’s new hoodie. In these 60-degree days, an alpaca hoodie is surprisingly appealing.

By Junior Indy Behr

Levi stays cozy in his alpaca fiber-based hoodie in blog class, risking a potential dress-code violation. Note: No alpacas were harmed in the making of Levi’s sweater hoodie.

When I was assigned to write about a photograph I considered long and hard what sort of a piece I should author inspired by this prompt. It did not take me long to find what I wanted to discuss. Recently, a hoodie has come into my classmate Levi’s possession. To put it nicely, it is all he has talked about over the last few days. It is certainly not inexpensive, so I wanted to see why he said it was so worth it, and why he thinks it’s so special. Inspired by Pablo Neruda, I am creating my very own An Ode to Levi’s Hoodie.

An interesting story that inspired me to write this article is an incident wherein Ms. Zachik inquired to Levi whether his hoodie was made of cashmere. Levi was borderline offended at even the insinuation that his hoodie was made with cashmere, and he quickly interjected that it in fact was made of alpaca fiber. Several of us in blog class described Levi as pretentious, and his recent article regarding beef that costs $200 dollars per pound did not help him defend himself against these accusations. Levi’s blog colleague Luke went so far as to give him the nickname, “Princess Levi.”

The hoodie is Paka Apparel’s appropriately named The Hoodie. It is made up primarily of royal alpaca fiber, recycled nylon, and pima cotton. It is handwoven in the southeastern Peruvian city of Cusco. Paka Apparel describes The Hoodie as casual but also functional. It is very lightweight, coming in at less than 10 oz. It is said to be appropriate for climates both cold and warm. Though it is not cashmere–which is obtained from goats rather than alpacas, Paka claims it is just as soft. I have felt this hoodie, and I can confirm it is amazingly soft.

I was shocked to see how positive the reviews for this hoodie were. Reviewer Julia B. said, “It’s comfier and cozier than I ever could have thought.” Levi echoed this sentiment. Though some reviewers expressed their disappointment regarding the fact that The Hoodie does not have a pocket, Levi told me that the quality more than makes up for the lack of such a pocket.

This hoodie may be $139, but Levi does not even question its worth, and he wouldn’t let us question it either. When asked what his favorite part of The Hoodie is, Levi told me he appreciates that he can wake up everyday to dress himself in the fur of a Peruvian alpaca. He has said that his self-confidence is boosted when he sees “pitiful” students wandering donning “makeshift polyester hoodies with their logos and capitalistic designs.” In a sophisticated manner, Levi explained he values the cusqueña alpacas who do not provide their fur for profit, and he is of the belief that the alpacas “are honored” to provide their fur for such a noble cause as his hoodie.

All in all, I can very much understand why Levi treasures this hoodie so very much. Evidently, its price point is understandable once one factors in the quality ingredients that it is composed of, as well as the fact that it is handcrafted by experts in the Urubamba Valley who oversee the stunning views of the surrounding Andes mountain range (just look at Paka’s website, really). I think it is safe to say that Levi has successfully made me want to purchase The Hoodie.

You can find The Hoodie at pakaapparel.com.

Note: This hoodie is not considered dress code. Levi has been dress-coded and will only wear his alpaca during free-dress days.

Solitudes of which are dreadful

November 17, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Middle-School Blogger Penny Andreas

PVS Bloggers went in search of a compelling photograph. They were asked to tell the story behind the photograph. To answer, Why does this photograph pull you in? Penny pulled this photo because it made her afraid. To me, it looks like a scary scene out of Severance. For Penny, it’s a jumping-off place from which to discuss phobias.
Blog Advisor Zachik

Photo Source: Luanna Strawbridge at Pixy.org

Imagine yourself walking in this empty hallway. Does anything seem wrong or scary? This photograph, to most people, seems as though this is a regular hallway, with a regular ceiling, and a regular set of walls. For myself, and some other people in the world, this is absolutely terrifying. Though this might sound ridiculous, this is an actual fear, or “phobia.” This is called “Autophobia.” Autophobia is the fear of being alone, or in solitude. And, no, this is not about relationships. It is about literally being alone in any situation, and being afraid. However, people have even reported having autophobia attacks in crowds, though it is rare.

What is a phobia?

A phobia is pretty simple, and this word dates back to ancient Greece. “Phobia” comes from the Greek word “Phobos,” which is a Greek god that summons human fear. So, it’s pretty self explanatory; a phobia is what you simply fear. Want to read more about phobias? See what Healthline has to say:

https://www.healthline.com/health/phobia-simple-specific

How to figure out your phobias and find anecdotes

First, there are so many phobias in this world–from the fear of long words, (Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia) to the fear of holes (Trypophobia), or even something super common such as Claustrophobia, the fear of tight spaces.

To deal with your phobias, the first thing I would personally do is just walk around town, or around your house. If you come across something that scares you, or makes you freeze up, and makes it hard to breathe, try to find out what that object is. Keep in mind this could literally be anything: spider, a bird, a tight space, a cliff. Once you know the source of the disturbance, I suggest researching things to help when you are scared. One thing that helps me with my autophobia is simply staying close to something I love: such as my family, my dogs, or even a heavy blanket to comfort me. Of course, do whatever comforts you the most, and what makes you feel a little less scared.

Does the Camera See Who We Really Are?

November 15, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Junior Alyna Rei

Years ago, Stanford admissions asked freshman applicants to attach a significant photograph, then write about it. Generations of Stanford applicants attached photos of horses, grandfathers, fields of flowers, the contents of their desks. The PVS Blog Staff went on their own photo scavenger hunt in search of a compelling photograph. Once found, their task was to tell us the story behind the photo. Alyna found a photo that reveals, perhaps, “the real Alyna.”

I recently went through my camera roll on my phone and found this interesting photo of me. I was curious about the photo and asked my mom what I was doing. This photo was taken when I was about three.

Apparently, it was another day of preschool for me, and I was acting like the normal toddler that did not want to leave the house. I’ve been told that I was screaming and crying, so my parents bribed me into quiet with a bag of Ruffles chips.

Alyna, not happy, on the way to preschool. Circa 2009

Then, my memory came back to me. I remember I was feeling so betrayed. I had this annoyed feeling in my chest. When I was younger, usually I would be okay with going to places, but I guess this one day I was not having it. I made a fuss. Ironically, as soon as we hit the preschool, I remember I was actually fine. Maybe I just had a rough morning.

I’m not sure why this photo fascinates me so much. Maybe it’s because of the way my mom turned in her seat to take a photo of me. Or maybe it’s because of the way my mom dressed me (I hate those pants). But, this photo will always be a favorite of mine and be something I will always find funny. Today this is not usually how I act. Back then . . ., apparently, it was another story.

In the words of my mother, if you have a kid who is fussy or crying because of preschool, bribe them with food; make it a treat that they don’t usually get, like ice cream. That’s funny, too–my mom advocating bribery.