Read the short case study below carefully.
Then rank each character in order of their responsibility for Reggie’s failing grade.
Give a different score to each character.
Most responsible <– 1 2 3 4 –>Least responsible
[Most responsible is #1 and least responsible is #4]
___ Professor Harrison, the teacher
___ Sally, the academic counselor
___ Reggie, the student-athlete
___ Arnie, the other student
Explain your choices.
Reggie is a student athlete. He must attend practice every day and often travels out of town for meets.
He was really upset. It was Friday and he hadn’t started a paper that was due the following Thursday. In fact he had only read about 25 pages out of the 300 he needed to read before beginning the paper. Making matters worse, he had missed class discussions because of games. The first thing Reggie did was call Sally, his academic support counselor, to see if he could work with a tutor on his paper. Sally met with him, but she told him tutoring wouldn’t help until he read more of the book. He asked her if she had read the book, and she said no. Reggie tried to read more on the weekend, but he didn’t have much time because of a game. Besides he had to prepare for exams in other classes.
By Sunday night Reggie was really stressed out and started searching the Internet to see what he could find out about the book. Finally, he found an essay on the Internet and used it to write his paper. The next day he ran into Arnie, another student in his class. Arnie said he hadn’t started on the essay and was still trying to finish the book. Reggie told Arnie about the Internet essay, but warned him against using much of it since he was already using it for his essay. On Tuesday, Reggie took his essay to Sally to have her read it over. Sally told him the essay didn’t make much sense and asked him to explain to her what he was trying to say. She soon realized he hadn’t read much more of the book and told him she really couldn’t help him. She warned him about turning in someone else’s ideas as his own. Reggie went away discouraged. On Wednesday he tried to revise the essay some more before turning it in on Thursday morning.
Meanwhile, Arnie kept trying to read the book. However, he was really upset because the book was difficult and he couldn’t read it quickly. Wednesday night in a panic, he took the Internet essay, added his own introduction and conclusion and turned it in during class on Friday.
On Sunday night when Reggie returned from his meet, he had a voice mail message from Professor Harrison asking him to come to her office on Monday morning. At the meeting, she explained that she knew he and Arnie had not written their own papers. Not only were the papers almost exactly alike, but she had found the original essay on the Internet. On top of that their papers were not about the assigned topic. She told him that they would both receive an F for their final grade in the course.
How power is maintained in Animal Farm by George Orwell?
Write an essay (with introduction and conclusion) answering the question.
Support your ideas with relevant arguments and examples. List 2-3 sources in the references. Make sure you stick to a required formatting style. Get benefits of these sources citationmachine.net and easybib.com.
MLA format – https://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/747/01/
Was the Piraeus ‘a place apart’ with regard to the rest of Athens?
Write an essay (with introduction and conclusion) answering the question.
Support your ideas with relevant arguments and examples. List 2-3 sources in the references. Make sure you stick to a required formatting style. Get benefits of these sources citationmachine.net and easybib.com.
MLA format – https://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/747/01/
SWOT/ SOAR IT
- 4 Points under each (SWOT) (Strength, Weakness, Opportunity & Threats)
- 4 Points under (SOAR) Strengths, opportunities, aspirations, results
- Paragraph mentioned the advantage and disadvantage of using SWOT & SOAR in your Information Technology Department not General.
- 3 Initiatives & the prioritization of these initiatives (MATRIX) you will work on it for the year 2018 either related to weakness or strength
| Strength | Weakness | Opportunity | Threats |
| 1. | |||
| 2. | |||
| 3. | |||
| 4. | |||
| Strength | Opportunities | Aspirations | Results |
| 1. | |||
| 2. | |||
| 3. | |||
| 4. |
SWOT Advantages / Disadvantages:
- Advantage
- Advantage
- Disadvantage
- Disadvantage
SOAR Advantages / Disadvantages:
- Advantage
- Advantage
- Disadvantage
- Disadvantage
Three Initiatives with the priority Matrix:
1.
2.
3.
Treaty of paris 1783
Post Revolution Writing Assessment
Imagine that you are a one of the leading voices of your community. People from all around your town depend on you for your perspective and insight, especially with very troubling events. Thanks to advances in printing and distribution, you and other firebrands of the era are able to circulate your thoughts and opinions to many more individuals. The events after the American revolution through the Presidency of Thomas Jefferson (1783-1808) have kept you busy as a journalist as you continue to apply your trade and provide valuable insight as to what is happening with the new United States and if you feel that the country is heading in the right direction. Your task is to report on any one of the major events that occured in the US from 1783-1808. I encourage you to use a strong persuasive voice supported with a convincing argument with supporting evidence to convince your readers that your viewpoints are correct.
An eye-catching title for your Newspaper or Blog
A banner headline for your own article.
An introductory paragraph with thesis statement clearly defining your position.
A minimum total of-three well written paragraphs, free of critical spelling and grammatical errors.
Your writing will be supported with at least 3 pieces of evidence or examples. Paragraphs can be handwritten or typed on a google doc. Digital pieces need to be shared with me and also printed out and attached to your pamphlet.
This is an argumentative/persuasive writing piece so opinion and voice are important. You are trying to convince the readers of your position.
MLA Style Bibliography.
A minimum of 2 colorful illustrations.
Technical aspects of paper (20%)
News Paper and banner headline Titles
Minimum number of Paragraphs
Spelling and Grammar
MLA Bibliography
Illustrations/Images
Content (80%)
See attached Rubric on classroom.
Total score ______/100 ____/10
The negro’s speaks of rivers
This essay will be the first in which you will use some sources. While it should primarily use passages from the poem to discuss as evidence, it should also reference 1-2 scholarly sources.
The essay should be in MLA essay format (see the sample essay for an example of an MLA formatted essay).
The essay must have an MLA format works cited list that cites all sources used.
The essay grading rubric can be found here.
Do not use the same poems you used previously for your initial post in weeks three and four. I will be checking.
Avoid any and all summary sites within your essay.
Use literary present and third person in your essay, as discussed in lesson two.
How power plays a role in Macbeth with evidence from the book and Power Play article
Considering the “Power Play” article, write an essay in which you evaluate power dynamics in the play “Macbeth.”
– Consider focusing on one character, multiple characters, static vs. dynamic power plays, gender roles analysis, social class differences, “good” vs “bad” power + leadership, etc.
– Remember to incorporate textual evidence from the play + article.
^power play article
Applied Managerial Finance
Key Assignment Draft Now that the product and promotional decisions have been made for the new product, Michelle is concerned about the pricing of the new product and the distribution channels that will be used to make the product available to customers. She has asked you to write a 2-3 page memo outlining two different pricing strategies that MM should consider. Her voice mail message goes on to say, I want you to recommend which strategy you think should be used for the target market and why. The second part of the memo should outline a distribution plan that will make the product available to the target customers. You are ready for Michelle’s request and begin drafting the memo to her that same day.
metaphors from Morgan’s writings
PLEASE ANSWER THIS QUESTION. ONLY 250 WORD
1. Discuss one the metaphors from Morgan’s writings (SEE ATTACHMENT) that applies to your own organizational context. From the perspective of a leader/manager, discuss the benefit of identifying the functionality of your organization through the lens of the selected metaphor. What do you learn about your organization using that metaphor? What do you learn about your role in the organization through recognizing the metaphor at work? USE THE DEPARTMENT OF JUVENILE JUSTICE AS THE ORGANIZATION. USE #4 off the attachment as the organizational perspective.
This forum is reflective (No citations/references required). First person is acceptable.
2. PLEASE RESPOND TO THIS DISCUSSION. ONLY 100 WORDS
My organization is in line with the machine metaphor. Morgan writes “Machine organizations are modelled on the military from which it borrowed ranks and uniforms, standardized regulations, task specialization, standardized equipment, systematic training, and command language.” Oddly enough because my organizations supports United States air force operations, it must act in a manner that will allow the objective, of providing airworthy aircraft. Looking at this from a management perspective there are tremendous benefit from adhering to a pre-determined set of rules and regulations. This mitigates or minimizes the risk factor when it comes to performing work in an industrial environment. Secondly the point about dividing labor is exactly how my organization is separated. While we all work together collectively to provide air worthy aircraft, we have different sections that are responsible for special systems on the aircraft, and one section which has overall responsibility. This organization operate as a hierarchy, however not as stringent as the military in that we do not have a rank structure. While we have different levels of mechanical ability, we all are responsible for even distribution of tasks and maintenance actions. On the negative side of this coin my organization runs well if things are operating in a smooth, or normal sense. However, when those currently in control of managing the assets are threatened, or challenged by a worker, or supervisor, they become irate, and begin to make poor, or ill-tempered decisions. This fosters, the idea of us vs them, instead of lets work together, in order to adapt, and overcome.
3. PLEASE RESPOND TO THIS DISCUSSION. ONLY 100 WORDS
From my perspective, the military is an organization of culture. Nearly everyone has the same entry point into the organization. Unlike a corporation it is very rare to have a leader come from the outside so the culture at the top should mirror the culture at the bottom with only slight generational differences. There are set rules for how to do almost everything. The traditions are long standing, some several hundred years old that we still utilize such as a change of command ceremony to identify who the current leader is of an organization in front of their people. The organization has it’s own set of laws, The Uniform Code of Military Justice, it’s own court system and in the case of most bases, it’s own small town complete with schools, churches, homes, gas stations, a commissary, and a mall called a base (or post) exchange.
My job in the organization is to provide constant opportunities for development to progress the individual’s performance as well as to provide guidance and stability to the families. Unlike other organizations, the family is a key part of the military culture. There is also the looser “family” term that refers to the brotherhood of service members.
Although, I believe that this is generally positive, I agree with the warning that “a cultural model can also lead to ideological control in the wrong hands” as we’ve seen in negative trends with some military units who have charismatic, but unethical leadership at the top who lead to either an allowance of or direct support of negative actions as we saw with the Abu Graib atrocities in Iraq a few years ago.
Summary of a Literary Non-Fiction Text
How It Feels to Be Colored Me
I AM COLORED but I offer nothing in the way of extenuating circumstances except the fact that I am the only Negro in the United States whose grandfather on the mother’s side was not an Indian chief.
I remember the very day that I became colored. Up to my thirteenth year I lived in the little Negro town of Eatonville l Florida. It is exclusively a colored town. The only white people I knew passed through the town going to or coming from Orlando. The native whites rode dusty horses l the Northern tourists chugged down the sandy village road in automobiles. The town knew the Southerners and never stopped cane chewing when they passed. But the Northerners were something else again. They were peered at cautiously from behind curtains by the timid. The more venturesome would come out on the porch to watch them go past and got just as much pleasure out of the tourists as the tourists got out of the village.
The front porch might seem a daring place for the rest of the town l but it was a gallery seat for me. My favorite place was atop the gate?post. Proscenium box for a born first?nighter. Not only did I enjoy the showl but I didn’t mind the actors knowing that I liked it. I usually spoke to them in passing. I’d wave at them and when they returned my salute l I would say something like this: “Howdy?do?well?I?thank?you?where?yougoin’?” Usually automobile or the horse paused at this l and after a queer exchange of compliments l I would probably “go a piece of the way” with them l as we say in farthest Florida. If one of my family happened to come to the front in time to see mel of course negotiations would be rudely broken off. But even SOl it is clear that I was the first “welcome?to? ourstate” Floridian, and I hope the Miami Chamber of Commerce will please take notice.
During this period, white people differed from colored to me only in that they rode through town and never lived there. They liked to hear me I I speak pieces” and sing and wanted to see me dance the parse?me?la, and gave me generously of their small silver for doing these things, which seemed strange to me for I wanted to do them so much that I needed bribing to stop, only they didn’t know it. The colored people gave no dimes. They deplored any joyful tendencies in me, but I was their lora nevertheless. I belonged to them, to the nearby hotelsl to the county? everybody’s lora.
But changes came in the family when I was thirteen, and I was sent to school in Jacksonville. I left Eatonville, the town of the oleanders, a lora. When I disembarked from the river?boat at Jacksonville, she was no
I AM COLORED but I offer nothing in the way of extenuating circumstances except the fact that I am the only Negro in the United States whose grandfather on the mother’s side was not an Indian chief.
I remember the very day that I became colored. Up to my thirteenth year I lived in the little Negro town of Eatonville l Florida. It is exclusively a colored town. The only white people I knew passed through the town going to or coming from Orlando. The native whites rode dusty horses l the Northern tourists chugged down the sandy village road in automobiles. The town knew the Southerners and never stopped cane chewing when they passed. But the Northerners were something else again. They were peered at cautiously from behind curtains by the timid. The more venturesome would come out on the porch to watch them go past and got just as much pleasure out of the tourists as the tourists got out of the village.
The front porch might seem a daring place for the rest of the town l but it was a gallery seat for me. My favorite place was atop the gate?post. Proscenium box for a born first?nighter. Not only did I enjoy the showl but I didn’t mind the actors knowing that I liked it. I usually spoke to them in passing. I’d wave at them and when they returned my salute l I would say something like this: “Howdy?do?well?I?thank?you?where?yougoin’?” Usually automobile or the horse paused at this l and after a queer exchange of compliments l I would probably “go a piece of the way” with them l as we say in farthest Florida. If one of my family happened to come to the front in time to see mel of course negotiations would be rudely broken off. But even SOl it is clear that I was the first “welcome?to? ourstate” Floridian, and I hope the Miami Chamber of Commerce will please take notice.
During this period, white people differed from colored to me only in that they rode through town and never lived there. They liked to hear me I I speak pieces” and sing and wanted to see me dance the parse?me?la, and gave me generously of their small silver for doing these things, which seemed strange to me for I wanted to do them so much that I needed bribing to stop, only they didn’t know it. The colored people gave no dimes. They deplored any joyful tendencies in me, but I was their lora nevertheless. I belonged to them, to the nearby hotelsl to the county? everybody’s lora.
But changes came in the family when I was thirteen, and I was sent to school in Jacksonville. I left Eatonville, the town of the oleanders, a lora. When I disembarked from the river?boat at Jacksonville, she was no
more. It seemed that I had suffered a sea change. I was not Zora of Orange County any more, I was now a little colored girl. I found it out in certain ways. In my heart as well as in the mirror, I became a fast brownwarranted not to rub nor run.
BUT I AM NOT tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all. I do not be long to the sobbing school of Negrohood who hold that nature somehow has given them a lowdown dirty deal and whose feelings are all but about it. Even in the helter?skelter skirmish that is my life, I have seer that the world is to the strong regardless of a little pigmentation more of less. No, I do not weep at the world??! am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
Someone is always at my elbow reminding me that I am the grand daughter of slaves. It fails to register depression with me. Slavery is sixty years in the past. The operation was successful and the patient is doing well, thank you. The terrible struggle that made me an American out of a potential slave said “On the line! ” The Reconstruction said “Get set! ” and the generation before said “Go! ” I am off to a flying start and I must not halt in the stretch to look behind and weep. Slavery is the price I paid for civilization, and the choice was not with me. It is a bully adventure and worthi.all that 1 have paid through my ancestors for it. No one on earth ever had a greater chance for glory. The world to be won and nothing to be lost. It is thrilling to think?to know that for any act of mine, I shall get twice as much praise or twice as much blame. It is quite exciting to hold the center of the national stage, with the spectators not knowing whether to laugh or to weep.
The position of my white neighbor is much more difficult. No brown specter pulls up a chair beside me when I sit down to eat. No dark ghost thrusts its leg against mine in bed. The game of keeping what one has is never so exciting as the game of getting.
I do not always feel colored. Even now? I often achieve the unconscious Zora of Eatonville before the Hegira. I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background.
For instance at Barnard. “Beside the waters of the Hudson” I feel my race. Among the thousand white persons, I am a dark rock surged upon, and overswept, but through it all, I remain myself. When covered by the waters, I am; and the ebb but reveals me again.
SOMETlfVlES IT IS the other way around. A white person is set down in our midst, but the contrast is just as sharp for me. For instance, when I sit in the drafty basement that is The New World Cabaret with a white person, my color comes. We enter chatting about any little nothing that we have in common and are seated by the jazz waiters. In the abrupt way that jazz orchestras have, this one plunges into a number. It loses no time in circumlocutions, but gets right down to business. It constricts the thorax
BUT I AM NOT tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all. I do not be long to the sobbing school of Negrohood who hold that nature somehow has given them a lowdown dirty deal and whose feelings are all but about it. Even in the helter?skelter skirmish that is my life, I have seer that the world is to the strong regardless of a little pigmentation more of less. No, I do not weep at the world??! am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
Someone is always at my elbow reminding me that I am the grand daughter of slaves. It fails to register depression with me. Slavery is sixty years in the past. The operation was successful and the patient is doing well, thank you. The terrible struggle that made me an American out of a potential slave said “On the line! ” The Reconstruction said “Get set! ” and the generation before said “Go! ” I am off to a flying start and I must not halt in the stretch to look behind and weep. Slavery is the price I paid for civilization, and the choice was not with me. It is a bully adventure and worthi.all that 1 have paid through my ancestors for it. No one on earth ever had a greater chance for glory. The world to be won and nothing to be lost. It is thrilling to think?to know that for any act of mine, I shall get twice as much praise or twice as much blame. It is quite exciting to hold the center of the national stage, with the spectators not knowing whether to laugh or to weep.
The position of my white neighbor is much more difficult. No brown specter pulls up a chair beside me when I sit down to eat. No dark ghost thrusts its leg against mine in bed. The game of keeping what one has is never so exciting as the game of getting.
I do not always feel colored. Even now? I often achieve the unconscious Zora of Eatonville before the Hegira. I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background.
For instance at Barnard. “Beside the waters of the Hudson” I feel my race. Among the thousand white persons, I am a dark rock surged upon, and overswept, but through it all, I remain myself. When covered by the waters, I am; and the ebb but reveals me again.
SOMETlfVlES IT IS the other way around. A white person is set down in our midst, but the contrast is just as sharp for me. For instance, when I sit in the drafty basement that is The New World Cabaret with a white person, my color comes. We enter chatting about any little nothing that we have in common and are seated by the jazz waiters. In the abrupt way that jazz orchestras have, this one plunges into a number. It loses no time in circumlocutions, but gets right down to business. It constricts the thorax
and splits the heart with its tempo and narcotic harmonies. This orchestra grows rambunctious, rears on its hind legs and attacks the tonal veil with primitive fury, rending it, clawing it until it breaks through to the jungle beyond. I follow those heathen?follow them exultingly. I dance wildly inside myself; I yell within, I whoop; I shake my assegai above my head, I hurl it true to the mark yeeeeooww! I am in the jungle and living in the jungle way. My face is painted red and yellow and my body is painted blue, My pulse is throbbing like a war drum. I want to slaughter something?give pain, give death to what, I do not know. But the piece ends. The men of the orchestra wipe their lips and rest their fingers. I creep back slowly to the veneer we call civilization with the last tone and find the white friend sitting motionless in his seat, smoking calmly.
“Good music they have here,” he remarks, drumming the table with his fingertips.
Music. The great blobs of purple and red emotion have not touched him. He has only heard what I felt. He is far away and I see him but dimly across the ocean and the continent that have fallen between us. He is so pale with his whiteness then and I am so colored.
AT CERTAIN TIMES I have no race, I am me. When I set my hat at a certain angle and saunter down Seventh Avenue, Harlem City, feeling as snooty as the lions in front of the Forty?Second Street Library, for instance. So far as my feelings are concerned, Peggy Hopkins Joyce on the Boule Mich with her gorgeous raiment, stately carriage, knees knocking together in a most aristocratic manner, has nothing on me. The cosmic Zora emerges. I belong to no race nor time. I am the eternal feminine with its string of beads.
I have no separate feeling about being an American citizen and colored. I am merely a fragment of the Great Soul that surges within the boundaries. My country, right or wrong.
Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It’s beyond me.
But in the main, I feel like a brown bag of miscellany propped against a wall. Against a wall In company with other bags, white, red and yellow. Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a jumble of small, things priceless and worthless. A first?water diamond, an empty spool bits of broken glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since crumbled away, a rusty knife?blade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, a dried flower or two still a little fragrant. in your hand is the brown bag. On the ground before you is the jumble it held?so much like the jumble in the bags could they be emptied that all might be dumped in a single heap and the bags refilled without altering the content of any greatly. A bit of
“Good music they have here,” he remarks, drumming the table with his fingertips.
Music. The great blobs of purple and red emotion have not touched him. He has only heard what I felt. He is far away and I see him but dimly across the ocean and the continent that have fallen between us. He is so pale with his whiteness then and I am so colored.
AT CERTAIN TIMES I have no race, I am me. When I set my hat at a certain angle and saunter down Seventh Avenue, Harlem City, feeling as snooty as the lions in front of the Forty?Second Street Library, for instance. So far as my feelings are concerned, Peggy Hopkins Joyce on the Boule Mich with her gorgeous raiment, stately carriage, knees knocking together in a most aristocratic manner, has nothing on me. The cosmic Zora emerges. I belong to no race nor time. I am the eternal feminine with its string of beads.
I have no separate feeling about being an American citizen and colored. I am merely a fragment of the Great Soul that surges within the boundaries. My country, right or wrong.
Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It’s beyond me.
But in the main, I feel like a brown bag of miscellany propped against a wall. Against a wall In company with other bags, white, red and yellow. Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a jumble of small, things priceless and worthless. A first?water diamond, an empty spool bits of broken glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since crumbled away, a rusty knife?blade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, a dried flower or two still a little fragrant. in your hand is the brown bag. On the ground before you is the jumble it held?so much like the jumble in the bags could they be emptied that all might be dumped in a single heap and the bags refilled without altering the content of any greatly. A bit of
colored glass more or less would not matter. Perhaps that is how the Great Stuffer of Bags filled them in the first place?who knows?
Mules and Men: Ways of Seeing
Introduction I AnthropologV i Autobiography I Performance I Other Frame~ p aiign=”center”>
Mules and Men: Ways of Seeing
Introduction I AnthropologV i Autobiography I Performance I Other Frame~ p aiign=”center”>