MARCH MADNESS CONTEST

 

The winning essay will receive a $25.00 gift certificate and three free online tutorials.  Second place, two free online tutorials. Third place, one free online tutorial. Eligibility: Grade 6 through university/community college!! Each essay will be revised/critiqued and scored on potential. So, a sixth grader could win!!!

 Criteria: Grades 6-8: 500-700 words; 1000 words grades 9-uni.  Unsourced (no references except those below), although you may research vocabulary. 1.5 spacing, Times Roman 12. Must include a 'catchy' title,  proper introduction with thesis statement and a strong conclusion. Due via email, Monday April 5 before midnight.

oxbridgeprep101@gmail.com

 Task: Use the following quote and acknowledge and analyze the poem, film and lyrics from one song.  Argue how important it is to be the 'best you can be’ and the repercussions of destiny and fame. Make certain you show a thorough knowledge of your interpretations of the three different genres. HOOSIERS is available at the library on DVD or on YouTube for $5.00

Coach Norman Dale:
You know, most people would kill... to be treated like a god, just for a few moments.

1. Watch the film 'HOOSIERS' and ponder character development.

2. Analyze 'Ex-Basketball Player' and compare Flick's plight to the lyrics in 'Glory Days.'

Ex-Basketball Player

BY JOHN UPDIKE

Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,

Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off

Before it has a chance to go two blocks,

At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth’s Garage

Is on the corner facing west, and there,

Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.

Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps—

Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,

Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.

One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes

An E and O. And one is squat, without

A head at all—more of a football type.

Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.

He was good: in fact, the best. In ’46

He bucketed three hundred ninety points,

A county record still. The ball loved Flick.

I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty

In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.

He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,

Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,

As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,

But most of us remember anyway.

His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.

It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.

Off work, he hangs around Mae’s Luncheonette.

Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,

Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.

Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods

Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers

Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vQpW9XRiyM