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fandomhigh2006-04-05 12:59 pm
professor-lyman.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2006-04-05 12:59 pm
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US History (Wednesday, April 5, 7th period)
"I'll be getting your tests back to you next week," Josh said as the history class walked in. "And if you missed it, please stop by my office hours next week to make it up."
Josh passed out a poem:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” "These are the words engraved on the Statue of Liberty," he said, "and it was written by Emma Lazurus."
He raised an eyebrow. "As you might've guessed, today we talk about immigration. Doesn't matter if your relatives came over on the Mayflower or snuck across the Mexican border in the middle of the night--everyone in the the United States came from somewhere else originally. This is one of the things that makes this country so unique. Hundreds of cultures, dozens of religions and we haven't dissolved into chaos and war except for that once."
He waved his hands. "Okay. Today's discussion. How's the United States doing on immigration policy? Have we gotten better or worse at it? Are we just in the same cycle of whining about the newcomers that we've always been?"
Josh passed out a poem:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” "These are the words engraved on the Statue of Liberty," he said, "and it was written by Emma Lazurus."
He raised an eyebrow. "As you might've guessed, today we talk about immigration. Doesn't matter if your relatives came over on the Mayflower or snuck across the Mexican border in the middle of the night--everyone in the the United States came from somewhere else originally. This is one of the things that makes this country so unique. Hundreds of cultures, dozens of religions and we haven't dissolved into chaos and war except for that once."
He waved his hands. "Okay. Today's discussion. How's the United States doing on immigration policy? Have we gotten better or worse at it? Are we just in the same cycle of whining about the newcomers that we've always been?"
Re: Sign in (April 5, US History)
Re: Sign in (April 5, US History)
Re: Sign in (April 5, US History)
Re: Sign in (April 5, US History)