school year chronicles
Monday, July 5th, 2010
school year chronicles
I’m an adult, can I still read the Chronicles of Narnia series books and enjoy them?
I remember reading the lion, the witch and the wardrobe back in the 5th grade for school and I loved it, it was one of my favourite books, but that was like 12 years ago.
I want to read the rest of the series but am wondering if I can still enjoy them even though I am an adult?
o yes you can in joy the books when you are an adult, so go read them ok and have fun reading them
school year chronicles

Chronicles of a Not-so-Perfect Prom
My own brother once called me a loser. He didn’t just say it once: he said it like a million times, spreading spittle all over my face every time he opened his mouth. That was after I told him that I wasn’t going to my junior prom. I couldn’t blame him for being so frustrated with me. After all, both of my brothers are normal, sociable human beings…not weird like me. So, why exactly didn’t I want to go to the prom when every other girl in my class was shaking with excitement at the very idea?
1) Dressing up is not exactly my idea of a good time. Tight gowns make me want to hyperventilate. It’s like going back to the 16th century and having yourself strangled by your own clothes. Besides, I have this odd tendency to trip over almost anything: stairs, banana peels, my own feet and yes…the train of whatever unfortunate gown I would wear to the prom. I was–and still am—a clumsy elephant.
2) Make-up grosses me out. I’m probably the only girl in the whole student population right now who can’t tell the difference between eyeliner and mascara. I also don’t know how to put on lipstick by myself or polish my own nails. When it comes to make-up, I’m an alien being from an alternate dimension…and a clueless one at that. Can anybody tell me what a curl lash (at least I think I got the spelling right) is used for? And the nail file—do you do anything with it besides break open doors?
3) I’m a walking disaster in high-heels. Imagine an elephant doing acrobatics. That’s me wearing high-heels. Imagine an elephant wearing a gown and doing acrobatics. That’s me tripping over my prom dress and landing—SMACK—on the floor. Ow…that really hurts!
So there I was: the anti-prom, sitting in front of the computer as I stubbornly tried to ignore my brother’s nagging (He’s a guy but he does a lot of nagging. Mostly the jumping up and down kind). I would like to have said that I had an epiphany: that the skies opened up and a great voice told me, “Go to the prom! It’s gonna be worth your while!” But that only happens in the Bible, or books that read like the Bible. So anyway, what really happened was that my sister and my other brother entered the room and started nagging at me as well. So there I was: the lone anti-prom facing off against my three prom-loving siblings, one of which hadn’t even been to the prom (but she was convinced it was going to be a great experience). What could I do? I didn’t have a chance. The very next day, I handed in my surrender. I told my sister that I was going to the prom. And you know what? It felt kind of good to say it, like I was trying something new for once in my life.
The dress was not really much of a problem. I had this pink gown that I had never worn since my aunt’s wedding a few years ago. It was basically just a tube top and a skirt so I knew that I wouldn’t have any difficulty wearing it. My shoes were these three-inch white slippers that I had learned to walk in at the same wedding, albeit tripping on my gown a few times. They were the kind of slippers that Cinderella wouldn’t have any trouble leaving at the ball, if she were the tripping type. My mom also bought this light pink flower-printed shawl for me to wear over my dress, to cover the embarrassing deformity that was my shoulders.
She also took the trouble to set me an appointment with her stylist, who would style my hair and put on my make-up for the prom. My mom even took time off to bring me to the mall for a few last minute items: jewelry, hair accessories and a bag that people call a clutch for the singular reason that it’s really small and only used in formal parties. I think that was the really high point in my prom experience: spending time with my mom while we went shopping. For the first time, I felt really happy and excited about going to the prom. I could hardly wait to get into my dress! I would’ve liked to have ended it at this point, when everything was going really well and there was like this 75-25 chance of a happy ending. But life isn’t all about fairytale finishes, it’s about learning from the not-so-perfect experiences and the almost-fairytale endings…so you’d know how to do things better the next time around. So, this is the rest of my story:
I was thirty minutes late for my appointment. My mom was a bit peeved but the stylist was totally cool about it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was late because I got caught up watching two really cool episodes of Fairly Oddparents. She’d probably have thrown me out of the salon had I told her that. The make-up job was a complete nightmare for me. I was just not used to having someone dust my face with many strange-looking powders. And she kept telling me to close my eyes a lot which I couldn’t really do properly because she kept tickling me with a strange roller device-thingy. It was pretty uncomfortable, and also a bit shocking. I really couldn’t recognize myself after all the make-up had been put on. I was a complete stranger! But she wasn’t done with me yet…
A curling iron is a very strange thing. When I first saw it, I thought it was something you used to cook with. Apparently, a curling iron is used to curl your hair. I honestly didn’t see that one coming. So the stylist brings out this foreign object and starts using it on my hair. I was a bit scared, to be honest, but I tried to concentrate on other things when my hair was being done. And when it was finally done, I couldn’t help letting my mouth hang open a bit as I stared at my reflection in front of the mirror. I looked like a totally different person! For once in my life, I actually looked normal. It was mind-boggling. Me…normal!
It got even more mind-boggling when I finally decided to put on my dress. Yes, my shoulders made me look like a pink elephant but I was an elegant pink elephant, poised and beautiful. Eat your heart out, Dumbo! My dad was beside himself. He’s a very sentimental person and seeing me all dressed up for the prom made him remember how old he was actually getting. I think I saw a tear well up in his eye once or twice but I couldn’t be sure; it might’ve just been a trick of the light…
I was exactly forty-seven minutes late for the prom. I should know, my eyes were stuck to the clock the whole way there. I couldn’t think straight at all; I was so nervous. I kept playing back the same awful scenario in my head: the doors of the ballroom closing in my face as I tripped up the stairs in my three-inch heels. When we finally got there, I was in for the surprise of my life. Everyone else was just arriving…I wasn’t even late! I couldn’t even begin to describe my relief when I realized that they hadn’t started the program yet…my nervousness completely disappeared. Or so I thought.
Five times I tripped as I made my way up the grand staircase of the Renaissance Hotel, clutching my mother’s arm for dear life. It was like the first day of kindergarten all over again. I felt like a nervous kid being dropped off by her mother on the very first day of school. Glancing at the crowd of people directly ahead of us, I tried to scan for a familiar face, anything to ease the tension that was building up in my mind. Why did everyone look so strange? Who were all these people in suits and gowns and cocktail dresses? Did I actually know any of them from school? Maybe I was in the wrong prom… I glanced at my mother. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get out of this… I tried to think up a good excuse.
Oh no, too late…she had let go of my arm. She smiled and told me to enjoy myself. Highly unlikely, I thought as I glanced around uncomfortably. I tried to say something but she was already walking back down the stairs. I sighed, resigned to my fate. There was probably no turning back now. I tried to smile but it only made me feel nauseous. What had I gotten myself into? Pushing my way through the crowd, I thought of only one thing: bathroom. Maybe I could hide in there…hotel bathrooms are usually pretty nice; maybe they’d have a TV inside and I could catch up on some Gossip Girl or something…
And then I heard it. Someone called out my name. I thought I had imagined it at first but then…there it was again. Looking around, I was relieved to be greeted by familiar faces—a group of my friends! Their transformations were particularly astonishing. I couldn’t recognize any of them at all—they were so…beautiful.
Twenty-minutes later, the doors of the ballroom were opened and we were all invited to go inside. It was a bit uncomfortable, navigating my way through the crowd in my gown and three-inch heels. But I managed to find my table almost immediately, albeit tripping a few times. I didn’t fall even once, a great achievement for someone as unsteady as me. My date—the one I was sharing with one of my classmates—hadn’t arrived yet so I just sat there and pretended to be interested by the decorations. I was also texting under the table, mostly ‘arghh’s and ‘urk’s and ‘wahahaha’s, since I couldn’t think of anything sensible to say…at all. I was that nervous. What if my date didn’t like me? What if he said I looked hideous? What if I tripped and fell flat on my face? I tried to be optimistic but the best I got was, “Ohh well…it will probably be over in a few hours or so.” And so I waited…silently hyperventilating in my super-tight corset dress as I counted down the minutes to twelve midnight.
I was almost delirious when my date (ehem)—the date I was sharing with my classmate—finally arrived. He looked really friendly and surprise, surprise—he actually brought flowers for my classmate and I. I was in awe. Nobody had ever given me flowers before. Sigh…I guess it comes with being the most hideous, awkward girl in class. I was definitely flattered by the gesture. I tried to smile but only managed to grimace awkwardly. He was actually very friendly, chatting openly about his interests and asking us about ours. For the first time that evening, I actually stopped texting and started listening to what he had to say. He was definitely an interesting person to talk to, although I couldn’t relate with him on almost anything. But then again, I can’t relate with everybody on almost anything. I am pretty weird after all.
The program started with the National Anthem and the school hymn, which is SOP for just about every activity in my school. It gets pretty tiring sometimes but you can’t argue with the bigwigs…right? If it’s SOP, then it’s SOP. Period. So then we sat down again to enjoy a speech delivered courtesy of the batch coordinator. Was it just me or did it sound recorded? No, it was the wrong speech. When she did finally start her speech, I had already gotten tired of turning my head around 180 degrees to get a good look at her so I satisfied myself with listening to what she had to say. It was mostly sentimental stuff, which doesn’t move me at all sorry to say, but I think she delivered it pretty well.
Then there were a lot of other ceremonies which I don’t really remember but I think some or another of them had something to do with keys of responsibility, and candles and something about Ms. Alma mater. And then we finally started eating…my worst nightmare.
Bon appetit is a French word which literally translates to, “good appetite”. That evening, I did not have a good appetite. I did not even touch my food. No, the food wasn’t ghastly. It was not bad actually. From the way my date (ehem)—the date that I shared with my classmate—devoured it, it looked pretty good. I was almost tempted to take a bite. Almost. Unfortunately, my dress wouldn’t let me. I know, it sounds crazy: an evil dress who makes it wearer anorexic but you weren’t wearing it that night, you wouldn’t know how it was slowly choking the life out of me, little by little…
To pass the time, I pulled out my cell phone and fell back to my favorite pastime: texting. My friend Ida wouldn’t reply to any of the nonsense I was sending her (she was probably having a good time with her date) so I texted my close friend Patrick instead. We got to texting about how proms are really just weird sentimental gatherings instituted for the singular purpose of dressing up and that there’s really no point in attending them anyway…they’re so lame. He was really sympathetic about my situation, even offered to swing by so we could hang out a little. He’s a nice guy.
Looking back at my Junior prom, I realize now that the Cinderella story I’ve always wanted was right there all along. That evening, I was the princess of my very own fairytale. Although I had my ups and downs, the evening ended on a positive note. I didn’t fall flat on my face. I didn’t trip over my dress. I didn’t roll down the grand staircase or break my champagne glass. Basically, everything I was afraid of didn’t happen. Sometimes, it’s the fear of something that keeps you from trying out new things. I refused to go to the prom because I was afraid of making a fool of myself. But if you look at it in retrospect, I would’ve made a bigger fool of myself for not going.
To all the anti-proms out there: prom only comes twice in a lifetime.
Make the most of it.
I did.
About the Author
Kathleen Yu used to be a high school student but is now in college. This is the story of her awful prom and how it turned out not to be so bad after all.
If I’m doing a brief summary for my honors english class would 2 sentences for each chapter be sufficient?
This is my first year of high school and i want to make a good impression. I’m in honors english and was asked to write a brief summary on the chronicles of narnia: The Lion, the witch, and the wardrobe. Half of it will just be the summary and the other the theme. So, if the criteria was 2-3 page standard essay, 12 font, in times new roman. Would 2 sentences for each chapter be too much or too little
It depends on the sentences and what happens in each chapter. If it’s a major chapter or a longer chapter you might want to do three or four sentences. Will two sentences per chapter give you at least one page worth of essay? If not, then you will need more. I do think that the area of theme will be the most important part and the part that should be longer.
3rd Year Chronicles II (The Remake)
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