Crowd Sourced Language Learning

By: Zachary Rosen '16

     The world today is incredibly globalized, a result of both the international economy and the world wide web. Social media can let people from different continents speak casually to each other. One can read the news from papers of any number of nations. Agricultural products and industrial goods, the tech gadgets and designer clothing, can all be moved between different countries, providing to consumers the most of what they want for the lowest costs.
     The problem this presents is that now, for those seeking careers in any professional field, but most importantly government and business, foreign language ability is a necessity. The problem is that learning a new language, if you aren't raised in a multilingual household or spend a month in a a different country, is exceptionally difficult. This is exacerbated by the fact that many people don't practice when they aren't in school, that we don't live in an immersive environment, and that some people just don't like language learning. Even with the mandate that Severn students take three years of a consecutive language, few will graduate being truly fluent.
      One new language app/website, called "Duolingo", might help fix this problem. Duolingo is a free language learning resource, invented by Luis Von Ahn, the creator of Captcha. The app works by teaching users the basics of the language of their choice with a variety of relatively entertaining games. It then provides users with articles, websites, and other texts in the language of study for the student to translate. Because so many different people are translating the same article, eventually, algorithms determine an incredibly accurate translation, which is then sold to the company seeking the translation (this is how the website is able to keep itself free).
      Of course, this is no way to achieve fluency. However, it does offer a great chance to start learning a language your interested in, and it's incredibly easy to stick with compared to normal independent study. The creators of the website intend to eventually put every language up, but for now, they have Spanish, French, German, Italian, Portuguese, Dutch, Irish, Danish, and Swedish. Hungarian, Turkish, Esperanto, Russian, Ukrainian, Romanian, and Polish are coming soon. This is a perfect opportunity to augment study in your current language class or to start looking into something you've always been curious about. Viel Glück!

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From Paris with News

Photo by the Examiner.com

By: Zachary Rosen '16

Most everyone has been made aware, in some form or another, of the terrible events in Paris not long ago. A group of armed men attacked a small satirical newspaper (Charlie Hebdo), killing a total of ten editors and two security guards and sparking the popular tweet "Je Suis Charlie" (or the English equivalent, "I am Charlie"). They were pursued over the course of a few days into the North of France, where they were eventually killed by police forces. A separate individual working with them killed a policewoman in Paris. He was later killed after taking control of a Kosher deli and killing several shoppers. Charlie Hebdo was originally an incredibly small paper that produced around 60,000 copies per circulation, and was in danger of closing because of such a low circulation amount. In light of the shootings, they ran out of the first three million copies they printed in a manner of hours and are now printing more. The paper had actually been fire bombed by extremist several years ago for printing an issue many muslims considered insulting.

There have been a few developments since then. France has moved to deploy a total of 10,000 troops domestically to protect Jewish schools, synagogues, and mosques throughout the country (in fear of both terroristic and retaliatory actions). For some background, France has the highest Jewish population in Europe (around 500,000), yet has been dealing with a huge immigration problem whereby Jews are moving out of the country (many to Israel); hopefully, this move might provide a sense of security to counteract this outward flow.

The attack itself has been claimed by Al Qaeda Yemen, a Yemeni offshoot of the famous terrorist organization, though there is some curiosity as to the truth of that statement. It is also believed that the girlfriend of one of the shooters made her way to Syria several days before the attack (by way of Turkey).

Overall, the actions of these shooters have been decried by press and governments the world over, including the vast majority of Middle Eastern groups. There is also quite a lot of fear that these actions might exacerbate the already elevated levels of anti-Islamic sentiment prevalent in Europe. The Pegida movement in Germany is a good example, opposed to what it considers to be the islamization of Europe. In the wake of these shootings, leaders of many nations have joined marches for toleration and unity in an event to quell public anger or any retaliatory actions against Muslims (i.e. Angela Merkel joined an anti-Pegida protest a few days ago).

In the most recent news, there was a police standoff between suspected terrorists in Belgium; both the suspects were killed after opening fire on police. There is still an investigation as to whether they were connected to the Charlie Hebdo shootings.

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The Urban Image

By: Ben Carsley '18

Hello and welcome to The Anchor's Art column! This week's installment will be on an artist by the name of Richard Estes. Richard Estes is a photorealist (a movement of art which contains paintings so realistic they look like photos...seriously, look it up). Recently his life's work was compiled and curated into one single art exhibit at the American Museum of Art in D.C.

I attended it a couple weeks prior to this article... these are my observations.

Before I address the exhibit itself it's important for you have some background information. Richard Estes attended the Chicago Institute of Art and named some of his major influences as Edward Hopper, Thomas Eakins, and Edgar Degas. With a strong art background in realism he worked as a graphic artist in New York and painted on the side. After gaining popularity as an accomplished photorealist, he moved to Spain and began to paint full time. The American Art Museum decided to create this exhibit because of Estes' subjects. The American Art Museum is devoted to depict American society through artists' interpretations of it. Many of the museum's exhibits consist of folk art, American landscapes, or even politically based contemporary art. All of these subjects address and display America through art. Estes' subjects depict contemporary urban life. He portrays these scenes more realistically than artists ever could before. This is why Estes' work was selected for exhibition.
   
At around fifty paintings (each at least four by five feet) the collection was far from small. The pieces were arranged in chronological order so that the visitors might see Estes' developing style. While the first of his works seemed loose and almost impressionistic, his style quickly became far more detailed and tighter. Each piece contained a strong sense of motion. This illusion of motion was effectively used by harnessing his sometimes loose style to draw the viewer's eye to one point of the painting. Each image also had a mood. Depending of his choice of color, he was able to successfully communicate a sort of feeling to the painting that only increased its sense of realism. Estes paintings always depict day times scenes, filled with light and are consistently full of geometric spaces. The collection felt very personal and I left feeling as if I knew Estes through his work.

Below are some of my personal favorites and two links to the online gallery and an archive of his entire life's work.

Exhibit: http://americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/online/estes/ 

More on Richard Estes: http://www.artnet.com/usernet/awc/awc_thumbnail.asp?aid=139829&gid=139829&works_of_art=1&cid=15766

Richard Estes, Diner, 1971, oil on canvas, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Museum purchase 1977. © Richard Estes, courtesy Marlborough Gallery, New York. Photo by Lee Stalsworth opyright Richard Estes, courtesy Marlborough Gallery, New York

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 7: Puppy Problems

By: Zachary Rosen '16

         Codename Sot hears a terrible growling noise coming from the stairwell. Slowly, she opens the door and looks in. The light flickers and the growling intensifies. Steadily, she takes a step in, looking up. A figure is hunched over, tearing at a trash can. Sotiropoulos takes out her pen and clicks it; the buzzing noise of a taser pierces the room.

        “Get away from the trash can!” The creature raises its head, catching the light. Black fur shines in the fluorescence, outlining a toothy maw. Drool drips from canines sharper than knives. “You have got to be kidding me?” The beast lunges at her and she ducks, lashing out her fist and catching it on the shoulder. She plunges the taser into the center of his chest and the creature makes a whimpering noise before clawing at her shoulder. They crash into the wall and collapse, rolling around on the ground. Sot throws it off and it takes a protective stance on the stairs.

       “This is why I told my wife we can’t get a dog...,” Sot whispers under her breath. It slowly starts to creep forward and Sot backs up. She pulls at the door handle but the frame broke in the struggle; she needs to find a new way out. “I can’t outrun this thing...” she thinks to herself. 

       An earsplitting whistle pierces the air. Sot covers her ears and the furry mongrel goes running down the stairwell. She stands up, applying pressure to her bleeding arm. She hears someone stepping down the stairwell and looks up. Mr. Klein is standing up there holding a giant whistle.                “What the hell was that?!” Sot asks.

       Klein shakes his head. “Victor Martinez.”

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 6: A Murder of Crows

By: Zachary Rosen '16

       Sot and Kaberline run as fast as they can towards the source of the chaos, which happens to be the cafeteria/nuclear bunker. Standing on a blood red table in the center of the space is a spectral figure, surrounded in a tornado of black feathers. The cawing is so loud it's deafening.

       “Hey!” Sot shouts, sliding her stapler/sub-machine gun out of her back pocket. “Release the birds!” The figure turns to reveal the smiling face of Julian Bartholomee. His shadowed face outlines the evil curl of his lips. He flips his wrist and a way word fowl goes careening into Sot, stealing the weapon before she can fire a shot. Kaberline lifts his hands as if in prayer and begins whispering some of the collected works of Lord Byron he had committed to memory. Another black missile goes careening into his head, shattering his glasses/scrying-lenses and he collapses onto the ground, unconscious. 

       “Welcome, Sotiropoulos. So glad you could come to see me. Don’t you think the students look much more fashionable this way?” He begins laughing maniacally.

       “How are you doing this?! This is much more power then any member of the society of crows possess. Kaberline said he never taught any of you transformation magic!”

       “He didn’t, the fool.” Julian glances down at Kaberline’s unconscious body with scorn in his eyes. “He was weak. We would have never risen to prominence if he was allowed to continue with his dull instruction. We would have been nothing.” Julian slips something out of the inside of his robe. He raises it in the air, a deep black obsidian stone that sparkles in the sunlight. The crows begin to caw more loudly, flying faster. “I found an instrument of grand power, one of a half dozen transformation tools on the planet!”

       “How! Where could you find something like that?!”

       “On my trip to Antarctica! I sold my soul to a man who was also a polar bear!” Julian lifts the stone towards Sot and suddenly she feels a terrible pain. Her skin begins to bubble and she sees her life flash before her eyes. She begins to pray to Poseidon when she notices something out of the corner of her eye. 

       A new crow, but three feet tall, flies into the room and lands at her feet. The figure twists and elongates like candle wax until it reveals the figure of Michael Burns, clothed in a boa of black feathers. “YOU!” Julian screams, “YOU ABANDONED US! WHY DO YOU RETURN!” 

      “I heard the pained screams of my brothers and sisters and I had to fly back.” Michael’s voice is calm, even, but tinged with sadness and remorse.

      “You left us the moment you graduated. You were our king!”

      “I went to the black forest to study the true art of the crow. I’m so sorry, my old friend. But it was always my intention to return, to lead us into the light. Stop this madness. Please, Julian. It isn’t too late to turn back from this path.”

      “I will never stop! I will not rest until the entire planet is one with the great Crow!” Julian flings his hands forward. The crows amass into a great column, a spear of darkness. Burns raises his hand and they stop in midair. 

      “You have an instrument of great power, but you are too young and too ignorant to know how to use it. I’m sorry, my child. But I did warn you.” He bends his ring finger and the crows leap backwards, descending on Julian. He lets out a guttural scream before he disappears from view. A few seconds pass and they scatter, revealing nothing left but a torn uniform.

---

      Sot and Burns walk across the beach along the Severn. “Thank you.”

      “Do not thank me,” Burns whispers, “I am only sorry we couldn’t have saved him.” He hands Sot the stone, glowing and pulsing with a cold warmth. “You must throw it into the river. It is too great a power for any man to have.”

      “You can stay with us. Guard it. Teach them the art of the Crow.”

      Burns smiles. “I still have much training to undergo. The stone shall corrupt me.”

      Shaking her head, Sot throws the cursed object into the water. They walk away.

---

      A bald head wearing a pink and green snorkeling mask erupts from the murky, midnight waters. A pale hand rises with it, holding a stone, sparkling in the moonlight. Gvozden chuckles.

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The Adventures of Agent Sot; Chapter 5: Yelling At Kaberline

By: Zachary Rosen '16

         Sotiropoulos storms into Mage Kaberline’s room without even knocking on the door. The councilor/level three sorcerer looks up with shock to see the history teacher carrying a crow. “Are you here to join our sacred society?” he asks, a smile breaking out over his face.

         “This is William Fung.” 

         Kaberline twists his head and then reaches his hand out, making a vaguely "Y" shaped formation with his fingers. He closes his eyes and speaks a few words of Aramaic. He opens his eyes and opens his mouth in awe. “You’re right. I can sense his presence.”

         Sotiropoulos’ foot shoots out and reaches behind Kaberline’s head, pulling him forward and down onto the desk. Disturbed, William flies across the room to roost on a gaggle of Victorian Spy novels/classified government memos. With Kaberline incapacitated, Sot’s foot prepared to snap his neck in a moment, the angry woman shouts, “How can you be teaching your students transformation magic?! This is far beyond anything Lagarde allows and anything I will tolerate. Now turn him back this instant!”

         “I didn’t do this!” Kaberline replies, breath taxed, hands held on his desk, “I teach them various telekinetic and physical abilities. Poetic magic, derived from the works of Poe and the dark transcendentalists. Occasionally a little necromancy. Never anything like this. I can’t even do any transformation spells myself.”

           Sot relaxes her held and the man sits up at his desk, gasping. “Then who could be doing this? Spiegel?”

           Kaberline shakes his head. “He’s in the gym trying to turn lead into gold and feeding the Speagle. No. This has to be a student.”

           “Could you speak to William? Ask him who did it? You speak crow, correct”

           “I do. But he doesn’t. He’ll just be stuck trying to make human sounds, which he can’t. I could bond with him telepathically, but since he is now a bird I might end up just erasing his soul from existence.”

            Suddenly, there is a horrible screaming sound, and a collection of students begins to run across the hall and outside as fast as they can. A few crows begin to follow, equally hysterical.

Agent Sot points. “Or we could just go that way?”

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The Adventures of Agent Sot; Chapter 4: A Fowl Development

By: Zachary Rosen '16

       There were black feathers scattered along the pavement, caught in the folds of a white oxford, red tie, and blue backpack. Sotiropoulos came upon the seemingly abandoned clothing and tapped it with her foot. It was cold outside, the winter chill making the hair on her arms rise. The last thing any student needed was to be walking around naked. Think of the paperwork.

        She felt eyes on her and looked up, examining each of the windows of the Creeden facade. Somewhere, on the third floor, there was someone looking. But the figure moved as soon as she began to look, and she could only make out a shock of black hair. English?

        Suddenly, the mess of clothing moved and a small, black creature squirmed out. It ruffled its feathers and looked around. “What are you doing here?” Sot asked. The crow looked at her with eyes clouded by doubt, uncertainty, fear, and confusion.

        “Caw!” it shouted. It turned its head, as if listening to itself. “CAW! CAW! CAW!” The crow seemed incredibly distressed by now, flapping and dancing as if in a seizure. Sot knew it might be rabid or attack a student. She tried to shoe it away with her foot, but then it stopped. It went back to the pile of clothing and began to rifle through the pants it had just climbed out of. With its long beak, it reached into a pocket and pulled out a wallet. Carefully, the crow slipped the maroon card of a Severn ID, and held it up to Sotiropoulos. She examined the card. It had the name William Fung on it, with the picture of the pasty Asian boy plastered underneath. 

        Sot looked at the creature at her feet and sighed. “This is not my department.” She reached her arm out and the bird flew gracefully onto her outstretched wrist. She walked into Creeden, looking for the only person she knew could deal with this. And then she'd yell at him.

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