Choose the correct sentence.

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She likes planting flowers in spring.

She is liking planting flowers in spring.

She like plant flowers in spring.

Does she like going to the beach in summer?

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School Subjects / Like+ing (Superminds 3 -unit 1)

Can you make a multiple choice of test questions regarding this information given which is Curriculum from Different Points of View There are many definitions of curriculum. Because of this, the concept of curriculum is sometimes characterized as fragmentary, elusive and confusing. However, the numerous definitions indicate dynamism that connotes diverse interpretations of what curriculum is all about. The definitions are influenced by models of thought, pedagogies, political as well as cultural experiences. Let us study some of these definitions. 1. Traditional Points of View of Curriculum In early years of the 20th century, the traditional concepts held of the “curriculum is that it is a body of subjects or subject matter prepaid by the teachers for the student’s to learn”. It was synonymous to the “course of study” and “syllabus” Robert M. Hutchins views curriculum as “permanent studies” where the rules of grammar, reading, rhetoric and logic and mathematics for basic education are emphasized. Basic education should emphasize the 3 Rs and college education should be grounded on liberal education. On the other, Arthur Bestor as an essentialist, believes that the mission of the school should be intellectual training, hence curriculum should focus on the fundamental intellectual disciplines of grammar, literature and writing. It should also include mathematics, science, history and foreign language. The definition leads us to the view of Joseph Schwab that discipline is the sole source of curriculum. Thus in our education system, curriculum is divided into chunks of knowledge we call subject areas in basic education such as English, Mathematics, Science, Social Studies and others. In college, discipline may include humanities, sciences, language and many more. To Phoenix, curriculum should consist entirely of knowledge which comes from various disciplines. Academic discipline became the view of what curriculum is after the cold war and the race to space. Joseph Schwab, a leading curriculum theorist coined the term discipline as a ruling doctrine for curriculum development. Curriculum should consist only of knowledge which comes from disciplines which is the sole source. Thus curriculum can be viewed as a field of study. It is made up of its foundations (philosophical, historical, psychological and social foundations); domains of knowledge as well as its research theories and principles. Curriculum is taken as scholarly and theoretical. It is concerned with broad historical, philosophical and social issues and academics. Most of the traditional ideas view curriculum as written documents or a plan of action in accomplishing goals. 2. Progressive Points of View of Curriculum On the other hand, to a progressivist, a listing of school subjects, syllabi, course of study, and a list of courses or specific discipline do not make a curriculum. These can only be called curriculum if the written materials are actualized by the learner. Broadly speaking, curriculum is defined as the total learning experiences of the individual. This definition is anchored on John Dewey’s definition of experience and education. He believed that reflective thinking is a means that unifies curricular elements. Thought is not derived from action but tested by application. Caswell and Campbell viewed curriculum as “all experiences children have under the guidance of teachers”. This definition is shared by Smith, Stanley and Shores when they defined “curriculum as a sequence of potential experiences set up in the schools for the purpose of disciplining children and youth in group ways of thinking and acting”. Marsh and Willis on the other hand view curriculum as all the “experiences in the classroom which are planned and enacted by the teacher, and also learned by the students”. Points of View on Curriculum Development From the various definitions and concepts presented, it is clear that curriculum is a dynamic process. Development connotes changes which are systematic. A change for the better means any alteration, modification or improvement of existing condition. To produce positive changes, development should be purposeful, planned and progressive. This is how curriculum evolves. Let us look at the two models of curriculum development and concepts of Ralph Tyler and Hilda Taba. Ralph Tyler Model: Four Basic Principles. This is also popularly known as Tyler’s Rationale. He posited four fundamental questions or principles in examining any curriculum in schools. These four fundamental principles are as follows: 1. What educational purposes should the school seek to attain? 2. What educational experiences can be provided that are likely to attain these purposes? 3. How can these educational experiences be effectively organized? 4. How can we determine whether these purposes are being attained or not? In summary, Tyler’s Model show that in curriculum development, the following considerations should be made: (1) Purpose of the school, (2) Educational experiences related to the purposes, (3) Organization of the experiences, and (4) Evaluation of the experiences. On the other hand, Hilda Taba improved on Tyler’s Rationale by making a linear model. She believed that teachers who teach or implement the curriculum should participate in developing it. Her advocacy was commonly called the grassroots approach. She presented seven major steps to her model where teachers could have a major input. These steps are as follows: 1. Diagnosis of learner’s needs and expectations of the larger society. 2. Formulation of learning objectives. 3. Selection of learning content. 4. Organization of learning content. 5. Selection of learning experiences. 6. Organization of learning activities. 7. Determination of what to evaluate and the means of doing it. Thus as you look into curriculum models, the three interacting processes in curriculum development are planning, implementing and evaluating. Types of Curriculum Operating in Schools From the various concepts given, Allan Glatthorn(2000) describes seven types of curriculum operating in the schools. These are (1) Recommended curriculum- proposed by scholars and professional organizations. (2) Written Curriculum- appears in school, district, division or country documents. (3) Taught Curriculum- what teacher’s implement or deliver in the classrooms and schools. (4) Supported Curriculum- resources-textbooks, computers, audio- visual materials which support and help in the implementation of the curriculum. (5) Assessed Curriculum- that which is tested and evaluated. (6) Learned Curriculum- which the students actually learn and what is measured and (7) Hidden Curriculum- the unintended curriculum. 1. Recommended Curriculum- Most of the school curricula are recommended. The curriculum may come from a national agency like the Department of Education, Commission on Higher Education (CHED), Department of Science and Technology (DOST) or any professional organization who has stake in education. For example the Philippine Association for Teacher Education (PAFTE) or the Biology Teacher Association (BIOTA) may recommend a curriculum to be implemented in the elementary or secondary education. 2. Written Curriculum- This includes documents, course of study or syllabi handed down to the schools, districts, division, departments or colleges for implementation. Most of the written curricula are made by curriculum experts with participation of teachers. These were pilot-tested or tried out in sample schools or population. Example of this is the Basic Education Curriculum (BEC). Another example is the written lesson plan of each classroom teacher made up of objectives and planned activities of the teacher. 3. Taught Curriculum- The different planned activities which are put into action in the classroom compose the taught curriculum. These are varied activities that are implemented in order to arrive at the objectives or purposes of the written curriculum. These are used by the learners with the guidance of teachers. Taught curriculum varies according to the learning styles of students and the teaching styles of teachers. 4. Supported Curriculum- In order to have a successful teaching, other than the teacher, there must be materials which should support or help in the implementation of a written curriculum. These refer to the support curriculum that includes material resources such as textbooks, computers, audio-visual materials, laboratory equipment, playgrounds, zoos and other facilities. Support curriculum should enable each learner to achieve real and lifelong learning. 5. Assessed Curriculum- This refers to a tested or evaluated curriculum. At the duration and end of the teaching episodes, series of evaluations are being done by the teachers to determine the extent of teaching or to tell if the students are progressing. This refers to the assessed curriculum. Assessment tools like pencil-and-paper tests, authentic instruments like portfolio are being utilized. 6. Learned Curriculum- This refers the learning outcomes achieved by the students. Learning outcomes are indicated by the results of the tests and changes in behavior which can either be cognitive, affective or psychomotor. 7. Hidden Curriculum- This is the unintended curriculum which is not deliberately planned but may modify behavior or influenced learning outcomes. There are lots of hidden curricula that transpire in the schools. Peer influence, school environment, physical condition, teacher-learner interaction, mood of the teachers and many other factors made up the hidden curriculum.

School is an important part of every student’s life. It is a place where we learn new things, make friends, and grow as individuals. We study different subjects such as math, science, languages, history, and art. These subjects help us discover what we are good at and what we enjoy doing. As students move through school, they begin to think about their future choices. Some students want to go to university, while others prefer to get a job or learn a trade. Our interests, talents, and school experiences help us decide what career we want in the future. Teachers and parents often give advice, but in the end, it is important for each student to choose a path that matches their goals and dreams. School helps us not only with knowledge but also with important life skills like communication, teamwork, and responsibility. In the future, we may become doctors, teachers, engineers, artists, or anything we choose. The most important thing is to work hard at school and believe in ourselves.

Element Definition Example from Text Theme Main message or lesson Be yourself; self-acceptance Tone Author’s attitude toward the subject Encouraging, humorous Diction Word choice Weird, perfect, brave Denotation Literal meaning of a word Weird = unusual Connotation Emotional meaning of a word Weird = negative or unique Allusion Reference to another literary or cultural work Harry Potter, The Last Battle Genre Type of writing Letter Writer Author Letter writer to her teen self Title Name of the text Just Be Yourself Dear Teen Me, Psst! Hey! You in the corner of the library with your nose stuck in a book. Yes, you. Don’t recognize me without that awful perm, do you? (Remind me again why you thought that was a good idea?) Anyway, I hope you don’t mind if I sit with you for a minute, but we need to talk. Don’t worry about the “no talking in the library” rule. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Librarians aren’t as bad as they seem. Judging from the hair and braces I’d have to guess you’re in your junior year. Yes? Thought so. I’d forgotten how many lonely lunch hours you spent in the school library. You have some friends in the cafeteria that you could sit with, but you don’t feel like you really fit in, do you? That’s why you joined every school club you could. I just counted and you’re in eighteen, not to mention the numerous after-school activities you’re involved in. I mean honestly, you joined the ROTC.1 You don’t even like ROTC! And I won’t even bother bringing up that time you tried ballet. I’m still having nightmares about the fifth position! Let me ask you, how’s it all working out? Not very well, am I right? By spending so much time trying to find yourself, you’re slowly losing yourself. We don’t all have one single rock-star talent, and honestly, I think those of us who don’t are the lucky ones. Life isn’t about finding the one thing you’re good at and never doing anything else; it’s about exploring yourself and finding out who you really are on your own terms and in your own way. You don’t have to exhaust yourself to do that. Oh, don’t be so down in the dumps about it. You’ll eventually find something you’re good at, I promise. It’s a long, winding road to get there, but you’ll find it. Being able to spend all day doing what you love (or one of the things that you love) is the most amazing feeling in the world. And no, I won’t tell you what it is, so don’t even ask me. Just remember to always be yourself, because there’s nobody else who can do it for you. I think E. E. Cummings put it best when he said, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” Looks like the bell is about to ring so I’ll leave you to your book. What are you reading, anyway? Oh, The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis. I should have guessed. You should give those Harry Potter books a try. I saw you roll your eyes! I know they seem like just another fad, but trust me, they’re better than you think. They’ve got a real future! finding out who you really are on your own terms and in your own way. You don’t have to exhaust yourself to do that. Oh, don’t be so down in the dumps about it. You’ll eventually find something you’re good at, I promise. It’s a long, winding road to get there, but you’ll find it. Being able to spend all day doing what you love (or one of the things that you love) is the most amazing feeling in the world. And no, I won’t tell you what it is, so don’t even ask me. Just remember to always be yourself, because there’s nobody else who can do it for you. I think E. E. Cummings put it best when he said, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” Looks like the bell is about to ring so I’ll leave you to your book. What are you reading, anyway? Oh, The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis. I should have guessed. You should give those Harry Potter books a try. I saw you roll your eyes! I know they seem like just another fad, but trust me, they’re better than you think. They’ve got a real future! i need you to tell me how can i start this text and i need you to add these essential questions: What are some milestones on the path to gr owing up?, What makes an experience memorable? What makes it life changing? and then Denotation, Connotation, Allusions, Diction, Tone, Genre, Writer, Title, Theme in a table and i need u to add definitions for each one and extract examples from the text

Revolutionising Education: Unleash AI to Spark Joy in the Classroom. What is Artificial Intelligence (AI)? • Definition: AI involves creating computer systems that can perform tasks typically requiring human intelligence. These include learning, reasoning, problem-solving, perception, and language understanding. • Examples in Everyday Life: From personal assistants like Siri and Alexa to more complex applications like predictive analytics in healthcare and autonomous driving. Two Types Artificial Intelligence (AI) • Generative AI: refers to a type of artificial intelligence technology that can generate new content, such as text, images, music, and videos. It leverages advanced algorithms to understand and replicate patterns from existing data, allowing it to create original outputs that mimic human-like creativity. Examples include models that can write like a human, generate realistic images from textual descriptions, or compose music. • Large Language Models: are a subset of Generative AI specifically designed to understand and generate human language. These models are trained on vast amounts of text data, which enable them to perform a variety of language-based tasks such as translation, summarization, answering questions, and even engaging in conversation. Notable examples include OpenAI's ChatGPT, Google Bard, and Microsoft Bing. AI in Education? • Enhancing Learning: AI can personalise learning based on individual student needs by adapting materials and pacing. • Automating Tasks: AI can automate administrative tasks like lesson planning and scheduling, allowing educators more time to focus on teaching and building relationships. Ethical Considerations? • Privacy and Security: Ensuring student data is protected and not misused. • Bias and Fairness: Developing AI systems that provide equal opportunities for all students and do not inherit or amplify biases. • Transparency and Accountability: Making AI decisions in education understandable and subject to checks and balances. Our Top 10 AI For Educators • Classroom conductor – ChatGPT - A versatile AI that assists teachers with emails, lesson plans, generating quiz questions, and example student pieces. • Digital Design Dynamo – Canva - With its AI Magic Media app, Canva helps create engaging visuals and videos, making digital design accessible. • Maetstro of Music – Suno - Instantly generates songs on any lesson topic or converts your lyrics into music, enhancing learning with tunes. • Teacher’s AI Ally – School AI - Focused on educator needs, it features tools for creating interactive exit tickets and engaging chat bots. • Differentiator – Diffit - Transforms PDFs and YouTube videos into differentiated worksheets and activities across languages and reading levels. • Quiz Master – Quizalize - Turns any content into quizzes or games, engaging students with interactive challenges based on lesson material. • Presentation Pro – Gamma - Helps create stunning presentations quickly, ideal for classroom use or professional meetings. • Interactive Lesson Launcher – Cruipod - Quickly generates interactive presentations for classroom use, integrating activities seamlessly into lessons. • Note-Taking Ninja – LLava - Produces study notes and quiz questions from any photo or image, simplifying study material generation. • Creative Story Spinner – StroyWizard - Enables teachers to create custom stories incorporating elements from their own classrooms, linking imagination with academic achievement.

“On this night, we share a roof protecting us from fleets of inequity. Our unification promises a better tomorrow. Those larger than myself, sitting on their marble thrones, sipping blood from cups composed of human skin and singing songs of so-called virtue, grow weaker each moment. Their caravans are revolting. There is hope yet. There is progress! Though tonight may mark a countdown, it is still a celebration. Look at all we have done, not just for Trials but for Palatium Infra as a whole. In four years, when I’m no longer Sovereignty, the Spoiled Purity and his people will continue to strive. So drink! Smoke! Crush up those exotic plants and snort them! We will not falter, weaken, or wane. Our influence is expanding, and somebody new opens their eyes every day. Even the Silbys of Aculeus have reached alarming potentials despite their embittered minds. So long as you relish in tonight, dance, and pray to your “dead” Gods, our revolution shall rise beyond the bounds of class, and when I’m only a commoner, we shall rise again beyond our brainwashed adversaries! Cheers, my people. Cheers!” Followers raised their cups. Some clinked theirs together. Others stood still and screamed breathlessly in agreement. I smiled with courtesy, then stepped off my platform. My voice still rang across the cellar. Speeches before were grander. Those displays were supposed to be emptying, and yet this one left me bloated, swollen tight. I watched as they popped the corks of their bottles and chanted in the name of Purity. Maybe the quality of my words wasn’t what mattered to them anyway, so long as I screamed loud enough. There’s no merit in attacking your people, a voice corrected me. “That’s right,” I said aloud. “Knox, my-my Sovereign!” squealed a nearby devotee, jittering as he stuffed his face with catered pastries. He was one I’d never seen before or had failed to remember. “Look what I’ve found! It’s wine, and not the shoddy Infran kind, either. Earth-made with good fruit! I don’t know how anyone managed to get their hands on this. Maybe some space travel mischief.” He giggled and held up a small glass bottle. “How neat.” “I want you to have it, Sir.” I nodded my head. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Backing off into the midst of rowdy disciples, I clutched the bottle. What a waste of grapes. It could have been jam instead. Earthly food had a superior taste, ripe with delicate intricacies and nostalgia, but Palatium Infra had mastered the art of alcohol. Why waste your time with a drunkenness so sad and sickening? The booze of trash. Not many more followers approached me. The barren peroration must have upset them. My hands itched to submerge into my suit pockets, and my legs stood suddenly numb, wobbling. Four more years until I’m nothing. But tonight, you are nothing. “Shut up,” I told myself. Tightly packed together in the corner of the dwelling sat the Sibyls. A mound of writhing fabric and tones of skin made up their unified silhouette. I snapped the strap of the nearest gown, balancing on my hands and knees, waving the bottle before them. In their almost rodent nature, narrow noses prodded my way. Their dresses wrinkled and fell to their ankles. Knees dropped, and eyes widened. Many grumbled at me like hungry she-beasts. Those newer ones with faded curtains for hair, sunken eyes, and dirtied nails looked, hid their face, then sobbed. I imagined them in a pack together, fighting wildly against the Spoiled Purity in their rat decorum–biting down with square teeth laced with rabies. “I’ve got you all something,” I said. “Go back off to your pedestal and yap some more. We don’t want it.” A woman rose from the pile and spat. “You don’t even know what it is yet. It's Earth hooch, or more likely a near-flawless replica. I figured you girls would also like a chance to enjoy yourselves tonight.” “Your playmates have been harassing us since the moment you hung the banners and opened the cellar door.” The youngest, with a striking cyan mop upon her head, uncoiled from the mass. What was she now? 20, 21? We celebrated a birthday recently, I thought as she spun around me. “I remember something about a promise. Multiple promises, actually. Are you trying to bribe us into just shutting up and taking it? Because if another sticky, 40-year-old, Earth-born virgin gropes my shoulder, I’m going to have an aneurysm!” the girl continued. “Why not an Infran follower? Do you like it when they touch you?” I returned her accusing tone. “I’m sorry, sweet prophets, that you feel I’ve neglected my duties. I’ll keep a better eye out. Remember, you can always just holler if somebody is bothering you. And Anwen, friend, if I’ve ever tried to bribe you with anything, it was certainly the hair dye. I mean, look at you! Such handsomeness!” I exclaimed. The other Siblys began to encircle her, uttering compliments or even announcements of their envy. Anwen disappeared in a wink with flushed cheeks back into the mound. “I’ll just leave this here.” Smiling, I set down the bottle. ** “141, 143. . .” I counted each step as I trekked the staircase. There was no doubt I lost track somewhere. The ledges kept spawning under my feet, infinitely multiplying until I wasn’t moving at all–swallowing me up in a whirlpool of stone. My tie still hung around my neck, and my blazer remained tied around my hips as a skirt. Streaks of red dribbled off from the cavity in my chest. It was a gorgeous marking, sensual to my fingertips as I traced its edges. Purity, oh, Purity. Purity and his wings of burnt skin. Purity and his many faces. Purity the spoiled. Purity the mutilated. The Silbys did not bother waiting for me. On bare feet, they stormed up the stairs to their room. A trail of red, though in paint unlike mine, streamed after them. None looked remotely near me as they squeaked and gossiped intangibly. I saved them, those Infran broads, enlightened them. As much as they liked to deny it, spit at me, and bask in the thought of their victimhood, in this home, they stood empowered. You’ve done well, my thoughts affirmed, though in the manner of an insincere commentator rather than a hype man. Teeth grace in tile violin goes laundry paper when. It dissolved into an intruding drivel. I rubbed my head and sniveled. “Do you need help, Knox?” called a Silby. Fattened by my coddling, her shadow fell upon me from the doorway steps ahead. I attempted counting again. There must’ve been at least another hundred between me and her. “I’m hallucinating some,” I said, breathing deeply to suppress a burp as I struggled to recall her name. Two syllables. Typically Latin, though sometimes English. Drops of slobber leaked from my mouth. “I’m hallucinating some, Tybal. Do you like your name, Tybal? I would have named you something better. Ty-Tyballinia. No, we’d have to eliminate the ‘ball’ aspect. It sounds too crude.” “One foot in front of the other,” she said. So I walked. Mess greeted me at the doorway. Dirtied culinary obscured the dark wooden countertops, and the sink lay running. I approached the kitchen table, sat, and set my face down upon its cool wooden surface. Assaulting my nose was the smell of neglected flowers, like soil mixed with the kind of sweet cough medicine that would have left me gagging as a child. Open windows whispered songs of the twilight hour through the vessels of busy trolleys and shooting guns. My mouth strained to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach to regurgitate except the petals of Stulto’s bloom, which came out effortlessly in little sputters. Teetering, I stood up and brushed disgorged plant parts off the tabletop. “Love,” I said as I slogged up yet another staircase. “Are you awake?” She said she’d wait. Somebody’s gotten her. No, she always misses movie night. That sleepyhead, I assured myself. There was a stirring amidst the manor’s cloak of dusk. Portraits of myself, my wife, and my daughter turned to face me as the hallway lights flickered, escaping their quartz frames to penetrate my ears with nonsense. The taxidermied heads of Infran creatures bared their teeth. I stopped to stare at my favorite, an adabactor with daunting spiked tusks poking out from its forehead. Its nose remained black and sharp, and its eyes wide with malice. “Where is my Spes, Adaba-boy? Is she sleepy?” There’s someone in the house. The sounds of the stirring rose along with my blood pressure. Footsteps orbited around me, drawing near and far and then near again, little dancers in the dark. The carpet immersed me in its mass of purples and blues, leaving my skin stained indigo and my vision abstracted. I toiled to reach the master bedroom across the aisle as it stretched out to me with bright lights and celestial howling, like a dove struggling in a pool of oil. Never again with Stulto’s bloom. Never again on what was already a bad night. My hand brushed the doorknob, and the high abruptly faded into only a persistent hum-buzz twirling around my brain. The portraits returned to their typical depression–Spes posing with her ax, Ari’s school photo, and myself in the cap I wore when addressing the military with the Verbis emblem embroidered in its center. All lifeless shots. Who were they for when they captured not the subject’s essence but only some fragment of their identity? They used to feel personal, not advertisements of some supposed characters. Servants, babysitters, and likewise civilian guests, I reminded myself, mustn’t forget whose home they’re in. Yet my body moved independently, taking Ari’s from its hook and laying it backward against the wall to hide her distant grin and tamed posture. It was time for new pictures. Sweet ones, real ones; time was ticking. I approached my own when the stirring began again. Groans and squeals erupted from the vents as if someone had set a pen of pigs loose in my crawlspace. No, not the crawlspace, my bedroom door. I turned the ruby knob. Underneath a blanket wrestled my two squealing piglets, their skins melting together beneath the layer of duvet. Fishnet leggings and manicured nails outstretched and scraped at the sheet beneath them. One raised its head, a salmon-colored man with sweat running down his forehead. Through the crack in the door, we met eyes, his Infran Dr. Sesuss nose flaring its narrow nostrils. No mark of the Spoiled Purity existed carved onto his naked body. My chest felt tight. I stepped back. I was suffocating. Spes emerged from the linens, her hair flowing down her back and her dark skin glistening in front of the bedroom window. She giggled and held the man, the blanket falling and revealing inches of her body I had not seen in months. “Darling,” whispered the rosy-faced man, “look.” He was unfathomably ugly and grotesquely young, with beady, lifeless pupils that dilated when he faced me. The excess flesh on his face sagged while he bit down on his thin lips. My wife faced me, gasped, and strained to cover herself. Suddenly, I was a stranger. A small child who had walked into his parents having sex. I unfurled the door completely. “Get out of my house,” I said. The man stayed in place. “Get out of my house,” I repeated. “Knox,” Spes began. Tears ran down her round cheeks. “Shut up!” I turned to the man, picking up a marble trophy from on top of my dresser. “Get out of my house! I’ll kill you!” “Knox!” Spes sobbed. “God damn it! I hate you! You barely look at me. Every day, there’s less passion. God, God, God, I don’t want to fuck a dead man!” she screamed, “You get out! Get! Get!” My hands wrapped tighter around the statue. That pig of a man was attached to her at the side, his face equipped with a scowl that challenged mine. He thought I was weak; frail like a decaying dementia-ridden senior. I imagined his skull bashed in, his scowl gone, and the feist and confidence in his face beaten into numbness. A new portrait was in order of such brutality, him as a splintered slab of wood, rashed and beaten, a carcass licking my boot. The churning in my brain had come back. Every wall shook. Clock faces came to life and rang in alarm. Indescribable noises caressed my eardrum before breaking into sorrowful weeps. Was it my own? I stared at Spes in motionless frenzy, clenched my teeth, and screamed like a siren. Passionless. What a lie! An excuse, more like. One that erased all my ventures, reducing me to a nobody. But I was not a nobody. I thought of my sect, my campaigns, my endurance through the political brutality of my empty hive-mind world–even my collection of literature, maps, and artifacts. I thought of daring nights alone with Spes when we were young, ravaging each other, two sardonic eggheads suddenly overcome with desire. The veins in my neck throbbed as I gasped for air. It was all I had. I threw the figurine at the man’s head. Eye shut, I heard the thud. A million singing voices of victory flooded out of the cracks in the floorboard. Proving myself a man to the woman I loved in a display of fervent violence was passion. I strained my ears for his cries, though I did not look yet. There had to be a pause, a moment of relief, where I stood tall as a skyscraper and seemingly fought to stay contained in front of my wife and her wounded, quivering paramour. Frantic footsteps rushed off the bed and past my side. I turned and grappled against myself to seize my wife’s shoulder. “Spes!” My eyelids lifted. Escaping was the man with that same numb expression in which I had imagined him. “You’re insane,” he said. I swiveled back towards the bed. With her curly locks flowing over her breasts and her limbs bent at her sides, Spes sat limp pressed against the headboard, her forehead bludgeoned and the statue resting on her stomach. Lips pursed and sweet, my Renaissance beauty reclined there in the guise of a squashed bug. But she was not dead. The desk ornament I flung was only the size of my shoe. Spes, that dramatist, may have been slightly hurt but was far from dead. She only wanted me to think she was to observe me at my most distraught, like a leech feeding on misery. “Get up.” Staggering toward the bed, I said. “You wanted passion? I showed you passion. ‘Shoved it right into your head. Of course, we both know who that gesture was meant for. . .” I fumbled to find my wit. Cold skin met my hands as I stroked her face, unable to resist checking her pulse, even though she was not dead. “I love you, Spes,” I said. Rain pelted against a nearby window. “Spes, please. Please.” No vibration answered my plea. I lifted my hand, sitting next to her now. Tears did not come. There was not any blood on the trophy, but when I picked it up, it felt to be now only a cruel instrument. It depicted a younger me in white marble, with my glasses and collared shirt being the only things painted. Both were in pink. It was a favorable color. I scrambled from the bed to vomit pure digestive bile on the rug. My stomach heaved. I ran my nails along every piece of myself I saw, a dog chasing my tail. As I slammed myself against walls and convulsed, my own heart grew ever louder in my chest. “Dad? I heard–” Ari’s slippered feet hammered across the floor. “Mom? Mom?” I kept my eyes on the storm. Silence fell. “She-She isn’t—your—.” Gasps interrupted every syllable she spoke. “You’re a murderer. Bad. Like they said,” she breathed, “ You beat her!” The words became mush, alphabet soup. Ari ran back down the hall. “My-My mom is dead. . . .Yes. . . Manor of the Trials Sovereignty. . .Ari Sorkin. . . I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me,” she said, presumably over the phone. It was all too fast. I crawled onto the windowsill, opened the glass, and let myself plummet into the alley below. Gusts of wind howled. The lack of motion or sensation informed me I had passed and again lived. Another Palatium Infra, another strange planet in which the celestial endowed rotting men with the opportunity to inhabit. Was this it? Was it all just an impossible limbo of galactic traveling? My surroundings were overwhelmingly gray, an abyss of clouds. Perhaps I had now met the real coming world, and my family and old friends lived here, ready to rush to my sides, lift me up, and jump for joy. Spes would be there. She would be enraged, but at least she’d be there. You are a bad man. You are a bad man. My eyelashes fluttered. There was a tugging sensation in my leg. The fog was wavering along with my ascendance. “No,” I yearned, trying to grip the clouds and stick them in place. “Stay with me.” But the peace was fleeting. I felt the cement under me and the moist garments clinging to my figure. My leg burned. Carefully, I craned my neck, only to observe the promenade as my surroundings. The most underwhelming of filth and danger, individually Infran. Forever my coming world. What a fool I was, having forgotten my blessing. Those idiot Gods could not tell the difference between assassination and self-infliction; a faulty insurance plan. The urge to cry at last set over me, and so I sat and wailed hot salvia into my palm, shielding my mouth to muffle the noise. Thunder echoed my hushed howling. Raindrops turned to pebbles. Under the ambiance of the stormy night, I could have sworn I heard troops stomping, guns cocking, and the chanting of my name. They had all been waiting for this. Billboards came to life, and I could only sit and spectate as the scenery flashed red. I inhaled fear and sobriety through runny nostrils. “Trials Sovereign Vsevolod “Knox” Sorkin is currently at large for the suspected homicide of Spes Sorkin, breaking the first term of the Sovereignty Charter. We now instruct you to report any sightings of the Earth-born, caucasian, roughly 195 centimeters tall, brown-haired, and brown-eyed man to your local Guard post. One can identify the suspected convict specifically by an occult tattoo of Purity’s Coronet on his lower back. No attempted execution or elongated punishment will take place until our Guards conduct an autopsy proving his guilt, per Life’s 1238 commandment. We cannot be sure when or if the Gods will revoke his blessing. Remember, when Gods frown upon strife, opt for a peaceful life. We permit all grieving festivities until Cagidus 4th. Good year!” towering buildings sang out in broadcast, repeating that same convoluted message quicker the instant it ended. Sometimes, the announcer spoke in Latin for the Infran children, other times in Chinese, Hindi, or Spanish to cater to those of irrelevant tongues. You aren’t a bad man. You are a stupid boy. Puddles sloshed. Somebody was approaching. I didn’t dare waste any remaining energy avoiding the Guards and their prodding blades. How did that phrase go? You dug your grave. Now lie in it. And so I embraced the cement. “Knox?” said the Guard. No, her tone was too sincere, and no authority would proceed in such a manner. There wasn’t confirmation on whether or not I was armed, and it wasn’t as if she could shoot me first. She was a partygoer, having just left from the cellar’s backdoor. I shooed her away with my hand. She hovered, and I discerned her shadow hesitating over my body. A man could not rot in peace. “Come on, get up! They’re after you!” Hands reached around my torso, struggling to handle my weight as they urged me onto my feet. That leg, the burning one, my right, trembled and bent unnaturally upon impact with the ground. The partygoer slung my arm over her shoulder, balancing me. My eyes caught a glimpse of a cyan mop. “Anwen?” I rasped, “hu-who let you out?” Keys jangled in her hands–my keys. “I escaped,” she said casually, coercing me to walk beside her. “Quicken your pace. I just heard somebody on your front porch. ‘You see that compost bin down the alley? We’re gonna burrow right down into the depth of that. If they open it and uncover us, I’ll be on top, and I can hide you and act like I’m just a homeless amica trying to take a nap.” With a tightening grip, she led me like livestock to the stinking crate. “I don’t understand, Anwen,” I said. “They’re going to torture and kill you, stupid. You know they’ve been wanting to, and you just handed the opportunity to them!” “I understand that.” It was becoming increasingly challenging to hide the fragility emerging in my voice. “You said you were escaping. Why stop and help your captor?” “What else could I do? Leave you there?” Attempts to shove my wounded body inside its mass of discarded fruits and vegetables began. She yanked down upon my head and submerged me in the fertilizer sea. The evidence grows indisputable, I thought as I stared at the abruptly humane Infran girl, diving in after me, that I belong here. “Damn me to hell! I’ve killed her! My love is dead!” an uncontrollable cry leaped from my mouth. “Shut up! Soon you’ll be, too, if you don’t quiet down.” The actual noise of the Guards darted past us: disorientated marching, guns clanking against each other, cluttered belts rattling, the Latin squawking. One paused to open the bin’s lid, though only rummaged through the surface layer of peat before carrying on. “What are they talking about? I struggle with my Latin,” I whispered. “The search, mainly.” Aggression remained firey in Anwen’s clenched jaw. Though she sat on top of me, there was a monumental distance between our rain-soaked forms. I curled up into a ball, ducked my head between my knees, and dreamt of Spes, ignoring the stench of spoiled food rising from every crevice of my dwelling. The next coming world was due to adopt me again as I forced sleep. I prayed for a canyon of fluffy haze, where I waltzed with pale memories but found nothing but the petrifying stillness of my mind. Killed and ran. Violent as a Guard just to prove a point and watch it backfire. Why would any heaven want to welcome me? I clung to the picture of Spes in my head like it was the last ember of an extinguished flame. “Did you mean to kill her?” Anwen interrogated. “Someone like you would immutably believe yes.” “And who is someone like me? You can’t even treat me like a person for a moment, can you?” grating drama decorated her words. “You know my opinions. I have not seen much of your or your breed’s faces besides that of cruelty and ignorance.” I retorted. “I just saved you! Does that make me cruel and ignorant?” “It makes you an idiot, which is another word for somebody ignorant.” “And why am I an idiot?” She asked. “Because you helping me does no good. Thank you anyhow. Now, do yourself a favor and scram.” As she bent her leg in anticipation, preparing to strike me on the forehead, I sensed an invisible withdrawal widening the gap between us. “You never answered my question,” Anwen took me by the end of my tattered tie suddenly and started her game of shepherd and sheep over again, pulling me back up to the crate’s exit. It appeared as a shining light at the end of a maze of rubbish and mold. “No. Of course not. Spes was my everything,” I sniffled. “I knew it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hit us, let alone murder your wife. The girls and I always figured you were sensitive.” My heart rate quickened. Today was one of humbling and misery–one to pray a hail spike would fall from the sky as sharp as a needle, pierce into my eyelid, and lobotomize me. I wished I could have merely died or hit my head hard enough not to have to deal with it all. No, I wished I was Anwen with her snarky, careless glow and lack of depth in her eyes. As we emerged from the compost bin together, I fantasized about strangling her until her face turned purple, her weakening spirit no longer categorizing me as “sensitive”, but the thought could only remind me of wielding that trophy and the microscopic traces of my wife’s tender skin tainting it, which turned my guts inside out. “That’s why I think you could use a little help,” Anwen said, “It seems like you can’t walk, either. Your leg is all twisted up.” She undid one of her trim pigtails and handed me the band. “Take off your tie and put up your hair. ‘Will make you less recognizable. Then swallow your pride and stick with me.”

Honduras is a Central American nation bordered by Nicaragua, Guatemala, and El Salvador. The Caribbean Sea forms its northern coastline. The Pacific Ocean borders a small southern strip of land. Almanaque Nombre oficial: República de Honduras Área total: 112.090 km2 Población: 9.038.741 Ciudad capital: Tegucigalpa Moneda: lempira Lenguas: español, dialectos amerindios Early History Explorer Christopher Columbus came to Honduras in 1502 on his fourth trip to the New World. As was the case in North America, Honduras, in Central America, had been home to many native indigenous groups including the Sumu and Lenca. Some estimates suggest an indigenous population of up to 2,000,000 before the Europeans arrived. Among these indigenous groups were the Maya. Their civilization spread from the Yucatán area of Mexico to Honduras’ ancient city of Copán. Spain’s conquest of Honduras began in 1525, but it was not easy. It took until 1539 to fully conquer it. There were conflicts with the native population, who were forced into labor. Many died from disease and abuse. Others were enslaved and sent to the Caribbean islands. In addition, there were pirate attacks and in-fighting among the Spaniards. Phawat/Shutterstock Gold and silver deposits were discovered in Honduras in the 1530s, attracting more settlers. By the mid-16th century, mining was an important industry, mainly in the towns of Gracias and Comayagua. More native labor was needed, taking its toll on the dwindling indigenous population. As a solution, enslaved Africans were introduced in the 1540s. This was well before 1619, when enslaved Africans first arrived in Jamestown in the American colonies. The 17th century was filled with conflicts, primarily between the Spanish and the British. Britain wanted to establish colonies on the Caribbean coast of Honduras. They eventually seized the coast with help from the native Sambo and Miskito peoples. However, Spain later regained control. Independence In the early 1800s in Honduras, resentment toward Spain grew. One reason was that Honduras was subject to more taxes to help pay for conflicts that were happening between Spain and France. Other Spanish colonies were also increasingly resentful toward Spain. In 1776 in North America, the 13 colonies banded together to declare their independence from Britain. Similarly, Honduras joined other Central American provinces. Together, they declared independence from Spain on September 15, 1821. Honduras briefly became a part of Mexico, but in 1823, it became independent from Mexico. It then joined the United Provinces of Central America. This included other former Spanish colonies: Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Nicaragua. But the federation did not last, partially due to divisions in political beliefs. In 1838, Honduras declared its independence from the federation. By the early 1900s, the United States had economic interests in Honduras. American fruit corporations like the Standard Fruit Company and United Fruit Company began investing in Honduras to export bananas. To protect American investments, the United States became more involved in Honduras’ political affairs. When Nicaragua appeared to threaten the stability in Honduras, US President Taft sent forces to Honduras to protect American interests. The Great Depression caused economic havoc in the United States and elsewhere. In Honduras, this meant economic problems and political turmoil. During this time, General Tiburcio Carías Andino was elected president, in 1932. He worked to strengthen the military and pay off Honduran debt. Yet he also worked to gather and maintain his own power. He changed the constitution so that he could extend his term in office as president until 1949. His advanced age and pressure from the United States forced him to allow free elections in 1948. General Francisco Morazán In 1823, Honduras joined the United Provinces of Central America. In 1830, Tegucigalpa-born General José Francisco Morazán was elected president of the federation. He remained president until just before the federation disbanded in 1840. aalezk/Shutterstock Morazán favored liberal policies and the reduced power of the church. Morazán was a self-educated man. He recognized the importance of education and the need for schools in Honduras. He believed that girls and boys should have an equal opportunity for education. During his presidency, he tried to make improvements in education. He opened schools that were free to attend. In addition to improving education, he established a system of trial by jury. It was based on the Livingston Code, created in Louisiana. This was a set of reforms to the system of legal punishment. Today, Honduras celebrates the Day of the Honduran Soldier on October 3, Morazán’s birthday. This holiday honors Morazán for his fight for democracy, liberalism, and the nation. Modern Honduras The last half of the 20th century was a political rollercoaster. There were various coups (government takeovers), conflicts, and changing leaders. Starting in 1963, Honduras was primarily led by military governments. This continued for almost 20 years. In 1969, Honduras fought a four-day war with El Salvador. The conflict was over immigration and the shared border. Though the war was brief, the two nations didn’t sign a peace treaty until 1980. With the election of president Roberto Suazo Córdova in 1981, Honduras returned to a civilian government. In the 1980s Honduras was tangled in conflicts of Nicaragua and El Salvador, partly because of the United States. Nicaraguan Contras, who wanted to overthrow the Sandinista government in Nicaragua, were using US-approved bases in Honduras. The United States was also running training camps in Honduras for Salvadoran forces facing their own civil war. This sparked anti-American protests and a desire to reduce the US presence in Honduras. Over the next few decades, Honduras continued to experience political instability. In 2009, President Manuel Zelaya was removed from power by a military coup. People were upset because he called for a referendum to change the constitution. The international community condemned this coup. As a result, Honduras cut diplomatic ties with several countries. In 2010, the United States recognized President Porfirio Lobo Sosa as a democratically elected leader. He was followed by Juan Orlando Hernández in 2014. However, protests in 2015 called for his resignation over claims of campaign fraud. In 2017, Orlando Hernández was re-elected in a disputed election.

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