Written by J.D Salinger, The Catcher in The Rye (Blog doesn't allow me to underline) is told through the perspective of Holden Caulfield, a private school student from Pencey Prep. Recounting numerous flashbacks throughout the book, this main character gives me the impression that he is both rebellious and impatient. At the same time, he is actually very selfless and witty deep within.
From the novel's very beginning, Caulfield is noted as a sincere but rebellious student. For example, after receiving an expulsion letter from his headmaster, Caulfield visits his ill history teacher, Mr. Spencer, to say one last farewell in a weather as “cold as a witch’s teat” (p. 4). Despite his hands frozen, nose red, and ear hurting, Caulfield is determined to reach Mr. Spencer’s house. After surviving and reaching Mr. Spencer's house, Caulfield talks to his teacher about future plans and life lessons. Although the student has good intentions, he randomly complains about the smell of medicine in his teacher’s room after their conversation: “I just couldn’t hang around there any longer... [with] that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place” (p. 15). I would imagine that if Caulfield could withstand the harsh weather, he could have also tolerated the smell. Not only does this quote show impatience, it also demonstrates Caulfield's lack of respect for adults: he can't pay attention to Mr. Spencer's lecture. Perhaps Caulfield never focused on their chat! Maybe he was thinking about how he could escape from the nose drop smell as soon as possible.
In addition to impatience, Caulfield also displays a sign of mental rebellion. When he leaves the school after being expelled, he rides a train back to town; he meets one of his classmates’ moms along the way. The mother asks for Caulfield’s name to tell her son about their encounter afterwards. Caulfield replies “‘Rudolph Schmidt’... [He] didn’t feel like giving her [his] whole life history. Rudolph Schmidt was the name of the janitor of [his] dorm” (p. 55). While Caulfield may not want to ‘give her [his] whole history’, he also has another reason why he lied (p. 55). He was expelled. As a teenager, Caulfield has great pride in himself. If the mother told her son that she met Holden Caulfield, her son would laugh and explain to her that Caulfield has been kicked out. The mother would then spread this message to the entire private school mothers and Caulfield would therefore be very embarrassed.
With such rebellion and pride in him, Caulfield is a very relatable character, especially to teenagers. If someone tells him to study, he will intentionally not study to anger that person. For example, when his roommate tells him not to smoke in the room, Caulfield purposefully “ignored him. [He] really did. [He] went right on smoking like a madman” (p. 42). This quote shows how Caulfield continuously goes against tradition and other people’s will. He believes that adults are all “phonies” and that adults constantly patronize teenagers (p. 142).
This is especially true when Caulfield tries to order alcohol: waiters and bartenders refuse to serve him Scotch because he’s a minor. As a result, he stands up when he orders Scotch so adults can see how tall he is and “not think [he] was a goddam minor” (p. 142). Caulfield is always challenging tradition: why must students study, why do people like sophisticated plays...He doesn’t want to follow ‘the trend’ of going to university, get a job, and start a family. As stated above, he thinks adults, having been brainwashed in society, are “phonies” (p. 142). Caulfield simply wants to stay young and innocent. He admits his innocence by saying “my sex life is lousy” (p. 147). While many of his classmates have had multiple relationships and affairs, Caulfield has remained pure. Ironic as it may sound, Caulfield is rebelling against the norm by staying innocent. Nowadays, teenagers rebel by breaking the law. Some people drink. Some do drugs. Some shoplift. Whichever their method, teenagers are rejecting society’s expectations, much like Caulfield. Therefore, the main character in the novel connects well with teenagers: both sides want to rebel.
My prediction of this novel is that Caulfield, after getting kicked out of Pencey Prep, goes home to his parents. He then has a profound conversation with them. Disappointed, Caulfield’s parents send him off to another private school. On the way there, Caulfield realizes his stubbornness, accepts his responsibility and role as a student, studies hard, and enters the mainstream of society.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Real Test
Most of my friends know me as the 'dramatic one'--I pour my emotions into every word and thought. Less charitably put, I over exaggerate. I can prepare for a quiz like I do for a final exam because of my exaggerated worries. I can stay awake all night thinking about a small project because of my self-created pressure. My exaggeration is sometimes beneficial when I need to use hyperboles, but mostly detrimental when I think too much. Unfortunately, I thought too much during the day of the Gr. 7 Spectrum exam. I could not control my wild thoughts.
Leading up to the exam hour, I was sitting in my Gr. 7 classroom, sweating and worrying if I would pass the exam. I looked outside. The sun was shining and the wind was blowing. Gr. 1's were laughing but my heart was pounding. The clock struck two thirty: I was an hour away from a crisis; I had to write an exam. Out of all the afternoons that flew by in elementary, this one mattered. This one could determine whether I get into the incentive program or not. This one could change my future.
As I slowly exit the school and climbed into my father's car, I tried to calm myself. One side of my brain advised, "relax, this is just another test. Just do your best." The other side screamed, "you have prepared for this exam for a week now! Don't mess up!" The two sides bickered back and forth.
"You have studied all you could. There's no point in worrying."
"You can't shut down brain activity! Think, think, think!"
"When you are thinking of pressure, you are thinking of failure."
"But what if you do fail? What will your parents say?"
For almost the entire car ride, my mind was hosting a Civil War. One side was relaxed and the other pressured.
Eventually, the pressure side won. When I entered Steveston Secondary, the smell of sweat rushed into my nose. I sensed the tension of each and every applicant in the hallway. Although some students chatted casually, I heard the fear in their voices. I speculated that they too were nervous. I bet they wished they were watching television at home with no pressure whatsoever.
Half an hour passed and I was aimlessly scanning the crowd for the hundredth time. Bored, I looked at my watch: it read three thirty. I looked again: it did read three thirty. A few minutes later, classroom doors swung wide open. A teacher walked out, explained exam rules, and guided students into the test rooms. His speech was about ten minutes but all I heard was 'don't cheat'. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to process any of his words. My father pushed me forward, "Go, go! What are you waiting for? Didn't you hear him? Students with your last name will write the test in room 105!" Frightened like a kitten, I followed his order and made my way into my assigned room.
Once all the students neatly sat down, the examiner cleared his throat and hollered, "You are to have nothing on your desk except two pens, a whiteout, and a calculator. If you want scrap paper, raise your hand and I'll give you some. Is that clear? Any questions?" Nobody dared to put up his/her hand. The examiner responded, "Ok, then. Let's begin."
While he was handing out the test papers, he smiled little and frowned little. I thought teachers were supposed to make students feel at ease. He should have told us 'good luck' or at least smiled. As a result, I was quite scared by his emotionless expression. At the same time, though, his authoritative presence and strict demeanour calmed me down: I couldn't jump around even if I wanted to. He seemed like an adult who would force children to do push-ups or run laps if they misbehaved. That teacher, as I would later find out, was Mr. Yu. Ironically enough, he leads the high school cross country team; no wonder he gave me that kind of impression. After the exam papers were handed out, Mr. Yu told the students to flip the pages over. Off I went, like a horse sprinting out of the gates. I started to write. I wrote and I wrote. Before two hours passed, I had finished the whole test. Surprisingly, the questions weren't as tough as I expected. I had given myself too much pressure in the beginning.
In conclusion, I realize the most challenging part of the Spectrum exam was controlling my thoughts. I had convinced myself that this test would be the hardest one ever; thus, I spent more time worrying than preparing. Instead of reviewing English terminologies and math equations, I wasted a bunch of hours soaking my shirt with sweat. In truth, I was torturing myself. I allowed my emotions to over shadow my logic. Before even entering the exam room, I had already been thinking about the consequences of failing: I was both preparing and prepared to fail. If I continue with that kind of mindset, I will achieve nothing in life. I will be too absorbed in thinking about failures to remember the taste of success. Sooner or later, I will actually be failing. To correct myself, I need to think positively, to do my best, and to have faith in myself. If I had done that in Gr. 7, I could have ignored the Spectrum test result. I would have aced the real test anyway--the test with myself.
Leading up to the exam hour, I was sitting in my Gr. 7 classroom, sweating and worrying if I would pass the exam. I looked outside. The sun was shining and the wind was blowing. Gr. 1's were laughing but my heart was pounding. The clock struck two thirty: I was an hour away from a crisis; I had to write an exam. Out of all the afternoons that flew by in elementary, this one mattered. This one could determine whether I get into the incentive program or not. This one could change my future.
As I slowly exit the school and climbed into my father's car, I tried to calm myself. One side of my brain advised, "relax, this is just another test. Just do your best." The other side screamed, "you have prepared for this exam for a week now! Don't mess up!" The two sides bickered back and forth.
"You have studied all you could. There's no point in worrying."
"You can't shut down brain activity! Think, think, think!"
"When you are thinking of pressure, you are thinking of failure."
"But what if you do fail? What will your parents say?"
For almost the entire car ride, my mind was hosting a Civil War. One side was relaxed and the other pressured.
Eventually, the pressure side won. When I entered Steveston Secondary, the smell of sweat rushed into my nose. I sensed the tension of each and every applicant in the hallway. Although some students chatted casually, I heard the fear in their voices. I speculated that they too were nervous. I bet they wished they were watching television at home with no pressure whatsoever.
Half an hour passed and I was aimlessly scanning the crowd for the hundredth time. Bored, I looked at my watch: it read three thirty. I looked again: it did read three thirty. A few minutes later, classroom doors swung wide open. A teacher walked out, explained exam rules, and guided students into the test rooms. His speech was about ten minutes but all I heard was 'don't cheat'. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to process any of his words. My father pushed me forward, "Go, go! What are you waiting for? Didn't you hear him? Students with your last name will write the test in room 105!" Frightened like a kitten, I followed his order and made my way into my assigned room.
Once all the students neatly sat down, the examiner cleared his throat and hollered, "You are to have nothing on your desk except two pens, a whiteout, and a calculator. If you want scrap paper, raise your hand and I'll give you some. Is that clear? Any questions?" Nobody dared to put up his/her hand. The examiner responded, "Ok, then. Let's begin."
While he was handing out the test papers, he smiled little and frowned little. I thought teachers were supposed to make students feel at ease. He should have told us 'good luck' or at least smiled. As a result, I was quite scared by his emotionless expression. At the same time, though, his authoritative presence and strict demeanour calmed me down: I couldn't jump around even if I wanted to. He seemed like an adult who would force children to do push-ups or run laps if they misbehaved. That teacher, as I would later find out, was Mr. Yu. Ironically enough, he leads the high school cross country team; no wonder he gave me that kind of impression. After the exam papers were handed out, Mr. Yu told the students to flip the pages over. Off I went, like a horse sprinting out of the gates. I started to write. I wrote and I wrote. Before two hours passed, I had finished the whole test. Surprisingly, the questions weren't as tough as I expected. I had given myself too much pressure in the beginning.
In conclusion, I realize the most challenging part of the Spectrum exam was controlling my thoughts. I had convinced myself that this test would be the hardest one ever; thus, I spent more time worrying than preparing. Instead of reviewing English terminologies and math equations, I wasted a bunch of hours soaking my shirt with sweat. In truth, I was torturing myself. I allowed my emotions to over shadow my logic. Before even entering the exam room, I had already been thinking about the consequences of failing: I was both preparing and prepared to fail. If I continue with that kind of mindset, I will achieve nothing in life. I will be too absorbed in thinking about failures to remember the taste of success. Sooner or later, I will actually be failing. To correct myself, I need to think positively, to do my best, and to have faith in myself. If I had done that in Gr. 7, I could have ignored the Spectrum test result. I would have aced the real test anyway--the test with myself.
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