<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:13:21.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Work</title><subtitle type='html'>Writings of Mrs. Perkins' 8th Grade at The Piedmont School.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108586444184519410</id><published>2004-05-29T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T14:00:41.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woo Hoo</title><content type='html'>SCHOOLS OUT !!! WOO HOO&lt;br /&gt;             &lt;br /&gt;            by, lil D dizzle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108586444184519410?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108586444184519410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108586444184519410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108586444184519410' title='Woo Hoo'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108518313888971080</id><published>2004-05-21T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T16:45:38.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Student Profile</title><content type='html'>I  learn differently from everyone else. To me, learning is fun as long as I am interested. The result of that is, I get a good grade and I am happy. When the subject is broad or I do not understand it, I do badly on the test and I get frustrated. &lt;br /&gt;	One of my strengths is math. Since  first grade I have always understood it when a lot of other kids did not. If someone teaches me how to do a problem, it sticks into my brain forever. Another good strength I have is a great memory, which is why I am good at math. I can remember important dates and every holiday. The memory helps me in  vocabulary to remember the definitions. Also, one of my strengths is writing. If I put my mind on my writings, they will make sense and will be very long. Every night last year for homework we had something called “Picture writing.” You take a random picture and write a story about it. My stories were always at least a page long each night. Self evaluating is another one of my strengths. When I do my homework I stop what I am doing and look over my work. I always know if it is good enough or not. If it is not good I correct it (sometimes) and I get a better grade. &lt;br /&gt;	Although I have strengths, I also have weaknesses. One of them is staying alert. Sometimes in class the subject will be boring or I am just not interested. So I will be thinking about things that happened the past weekend. Staying alert is especially hard for me when I am sleepy. Also, putting details into  papers I do not like. Even though I am doing a good job putting details into this paper, I usually make my writings as short as possible so it will be over sooner. Another weaknessI have is motivating myself to get out of bed and getting my school work done on time. And when I do my homework I always do it late at night. I am too sleepy to concentrate so I just guess and I get a bad grade.&lt;br /&gt;	I hope to make my weaknesses into my strengths by using strategies. Priscilla Vail, in Kids With School Problems says, “Eating breakfast every day” is a  good strategy so I will always be alert and not focusing on my stomach ache from not eating. To improve putting details into my papers I should write as much as I can and not worry about what time it is. To motivate myself I should “ Set an early bedtime around 10:00 or 10:30”says Priscilla Vail, In Kids With School Problems. I am going to try to use these strategies to overcome my weaknesses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Drew Embler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108518313888971080?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108518313888971080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108518313888971080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108518313888971080' title='Student Profile'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108447138817695903</id><published>2004-05-13T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-13T11:03:08.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My final years</title><content type='html'>This school year has been great! Hopefully the kids next year don’t have the “No Touching Policy.” When I first came to The Piedmont School, I was struggling with Math, Reading, Written Language, etc. Now being in the eighth grade, I have improved very well in all subjects. Our school would improve if we had a gym. PE next year will be more fun that way. The next step would be a cafeteria. I have had my tough times and bad times, good teachers and bad teachers. In the end, I have had a great last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108447138817695903?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108447138817695903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108447138817695903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108447138817695903' title='My final years'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108447120724303263</id><published>2004-05-13T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-13T11:00:07.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Years At The Piedmont School</title><content type='html'>	My time at The Piedmont School has meant the world to me. All of my teachers have helped me to become a better student and have taught me everything that I need to know and more! I feel that I accomplished a lot since my first day here. It has also helped me get into the High School that I have wanted to go to; and I feel I am prepared for it. Thank-you to every teacher I have had here for helping me reach my goals. You have made me a better student.&lt;br /&gt;	My advice to all the younger student is: Work hard, reach your goals and be a good person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108447120724303263?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108447120724303263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108447120724303263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108447120724303263' title='My Years At The Piedmont School'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108447093725203971</id><published>2004-05-13T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-13T11:00:06.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What The Piedmont School means to me</title><content type='html'>	I have attended The Piedmont School since I was in the third grade. It has been a good learning environment for me. I do not know how intelligent I would be if I did not go here. But I am probably better off here than any where else. I have learned things here that I can use for the rest of my life, such as Study Skills, Organization Skills and choosing a career. TPS has been a good place to prepare me for high school. I am glad my parents sent me to The Piedmont School.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;	My advice for the rising eighth graders is to get as much out of it as possible and work hard. Also, appreciate the time left you have at TPS.&lt;br /&gt;                         Drew Embler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108447093725203971?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108447093725203971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108447093725203971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108447093725203971' title='What The Piedmont School means to me'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108332601745894477</id><published>2004-04-30T04:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-30T04:57:55.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Assignment</title><content type='html'>The assignment this time was to pick a person you would very much like to interview. Then set the scene and imagine the dialogue between yourself and the other. After that, reflect on how the meeting changed you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think all the students did a very good job with this, though the offerings are very different!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108332601745894477?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108332601745894477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108332601745894477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108332601745894477' title='The Assignment'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108320163800106904</id><published>2004-04-28T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-28T18:24:54.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grace Kelly and I</title><content type='html'>					Grace Kelly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While living in Philadelphia, someone murdered me. A sniper from across my building shot me. It was revenge from my father’s evil deeds. On my burial day, 1982, Grace Kelly was in a coma after being in a car accident. As I was floating up to heaven, I saw Miss Kelly floating up, too.&lt;br /&gt;“Well Miss Kelly, why are you dead?” I asked. No response came from her. Then a shimmering voice echoed and said, “I was in a coma after an accident, I think someone planned to kill me,” Miss Kelly said. “Grace do you like your family?” said Gracie.“Well, Hun, I loved my family very much; it’s just that they didn’t treat me equally like the others,” she said. &lt;br /&gt;“Don’t you miss your children,” I asked. “Yes, very much, I wish I could still be there for them,” she said. As we sat on a few clouds, I wondered if we had anything in common.&lt;br /&gt; “Miss Kelly, do you think that we have anything in common?” I asked. “Why yes, you and I both have blonde hair and blue eyes.” She said. “And you like to act, sing, be a mother, and a wife as well as I do,” I added. As we walked down a path I felt dizzy and then fainted.&lt;br /&gt;The next day I found myself lying in my bed. Right next to me was my husband. I had no clue what to do or if any of this was really true. I tried really hard to remember what happened. I felt some weird feeling in me, kind of like I was missing something. While at work, a strange figure was walking outside, it looked like Grace Kelly, but I knew that she was dead, just as I should be. The next day at work, my phone rang with an unknown number. It was odd to have an unknown number so I answered.“Hello! Thank you for calling. This is Grace. Who may I ask is calling?” I said. All of a sudden, a sweet sounding voice answered. “Yes, Grace, how are you?” I just want you to know that I am fine and hope your life has changed.” The voice said in return. The phone was disconnected, so I hung up. While I was sitting, puzzled, one of my co-workers called me to a meeting. Walking in the hall, I glanced out the window and kept walking. I ran back there; I swear I saw Grace Kelly. She was wearing a white dress cut just right for her. Her hair, blonde, was shimmering in the light. Miss Kelly glanced up at me and smiled. I turned around to see if anyone saw what I saw, but there was no one in sight. So I turned back to the window and she disappeared. To this day I still think about that strange little episode. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Grace &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108320163800106904?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108320163800106904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108320163800106904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108320163800106904' title='Grace Kelly and I'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108317530448586392</id><published>2004-04-28T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-30T04:56:04.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interview with Osama Bin Laden</title><content type='html'>	One day the U.S. sent me on a mission to meet Osama Bin Laden. They dropped me off in the Afghanistan Mountains. I was the perfect one for the misson because I speak fluent Arabic, I look like I am from the Middle East and I wear a turban. Al-Jazeera agreed with the U.S. to let me go interview Mr. Bin Laden with them. So Al-Jazeera and I rode up the mountain in Toyota trucks. On the way up they told me I would be interviewing him first. We got to the cave and had to walk about a mile and a half with flash lights. I finally got there. Osama was really tall, about 6'5". I introduced myself as Muhammed Otto. We shook hands and I asked him my first question.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Why are you so evil ?&lt;br /&gt;              OBL: I'm not evil Americans are. I do what Allah tells me to do.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Okay, next question.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Why do you want to kill Americans?&lt;br /&gt;OBL: After World War Two, they just took over the worldand Allah wants me to kill them so everybody has equal power.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Interesting...&lt;br /&gt; How many step moms and step dads do you have because you have a lot of brothers and sisters?&lt;br /&gt; OBL: I don't have any my dad has a lot of wives.&lt;br /&gt;DE: A large part of the world thinks you're evil, so what is your nicest quality?&lt;br /&gt;OBL: I'd have to say how caring I am for my people.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Do you ever plan to stop assasinating the Americans?&lt;br /&gt;OBL: Like I said before, I do what ever Allah tells me .&lt;br /&gt;DE: How do you make your money?&lt;br /&gt;OBL:  When I was born, I inheritated $300 million from my father. He worked in construction.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Do you like sleeping in this cave and being parrannoyed the Americans are going to find you?&lt;br /&gt;OBL: They haven't found me yet, so why should I be worried?&lt;br /&gt;DE: Another question for you is, how do you communicate with others to plan attacks?&lt;br /&gt;OBL: I have messenger boys.&lt;br /&gt;DE: Last question, how do you get a girlfriend if you're always on the run?&lt;br /&gt;OBL: I have four wives that I haven't seen in three years.&lt;br /&gt;DE: It's been nice meeting you, Mr. Bin Laden would you like to meet up again?&lt;br /&gt;OBL:That would be great.&lt;br /&gt;	While riding down the mountain I was thinking about Osama. And I&lt;br /&gt;was thinking that he is a guy who has a made a lot of mistakes in &lt;br /&gt;his life. He needs to straighten his life out by getting a lot of help.&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I got a chance to interview the most wanted man in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108317530448586392?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108317530448586392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108317530448586392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108317530448586392' title='Interview with Osama Bin Laden'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108317510044253762</id><published>2004-04-28T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-28T11:02:35.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Martha Stewart</title><content type='html'>Once my family and I arrived to the Plaza Hotel, in NYC, we walked up to the front desk and we saw Martha Stewart sitting on the couch reading a book. Since my grandmother who likes Martha was with us, we walked up to her and my grandmother said, "I'm a big fan of yours, I love to watch your shows." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then I said, "I'm not a big fan of yours but I'm interested in your trial cases because I want to know if you are going to jail." Martha said to me in a stern voice, "The way you describe it sounds like you hate me." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well," I said in an off voice, "You and I really aren't that much a like I mean you have done some pretty bad stuff like insider trading and you threatened a newscaster with a knife. And oh why did you do insider trading in the first place?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did not make any comments. By that time my whole family was behind the couch recording it all. Finally, Martha said, "In a way we are alike."  I questioned her by saying, "How?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Well, we both like to decorate and shop." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That is very true" I said quite surprised. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today must have been the day of a new filming of her show because she was all dressed up and looked "perfect." I asked her "Why are you so dressed up?" She replied, "Oh, I look like this everyday. Don't you always look dressed up or nice everyday?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ha! No, I don't always care if I look nice, some days I do but I could not stand to look like that everyday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then a question came to my head. So I asked her. I said, "Martha why do you always act so perfect I mean you are not a princess or anything? Do you think more people will like you or something?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I heard her say was, "That's my business." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fine," I said. I also asked her if she was raised to be perfect or if she just liked to be and act perfect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Martha said, "Ok I'm sick of you asking me questions and can't you see I'm trying to read?" "Geez" I said to my self. No wonder she's going to jail she obviously waits a long time to tell the truth. She should go to jail for between 10 months and to years. And she will have home confinement for 13 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my family got all checked in, they walked off to the elevator in a happy mood. But I walked off in a wired mood. I felt like I had accomplished something but at the same time all I did was talk to Martha Stewart.  Martha Stewart had not been the best part of my day but more like the worst part of my day. I mean why even bother to talk to me when all she's going to do is yell at me for asking her "too many questions." All I know is not to talk to Martha while she is busy reading or doing something else.         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was walking with my family, I turned around and said, "Hey while you're in jail do me a favor and make a magazine called "Martha Stewart Prison Living."&lt;br /&gt;By&lt;br /&gt;Haynes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108317510044253762?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108317510044253762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108317510044253762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108317510044253762' title='Martha Stewart'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-10814444570530167</id><published>2004-04-08T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-08T13:00:36.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sled Dogs</title><content type='html'>	There are many types of sled dogs, lots of ways to train them and tons of care that they need. Some types of the dogs are: northern breeds, Alaskan Malamutes, Siberian Huskies, Samoyeds, Hokkaidokens and lots of other types. Other types of breeds have been used before, like Irish Setters, Dalmatians and Golden Retrievers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sled dogs need their vitamins especially if they are doing heavy training. Vitamin B12 improves the dog’s appetite. Vitamin E helps keep good footpads and is used as a mild anti-inflammatory. Vaccinations are good to get for your dogs in October or November. However, they do cause stress. You should give them shots that prevent Canine Hepatitis and Corona virus and some other kinds. &lt;br /&gt;	&lt;br /&gt;   It’s good to start to train your dogs in the fall. If dogs are too fat or too thin, it’s harder for them to train. As it gets colder and wet the calorie requirements go up. If you decide to train your dogs to pull starting it young is good to do. Let them drag something light around. A puppy could injure its bones, spirit, and structure by doing way too much like pulling something too heavy around. So try not to make it work too hard.&lt;br /&gt;	It would be interesting but also tough to train sled dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-10814444570530167?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/10814444570530167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/10814444570530167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#10814444570530167' title='Sled Dogs'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108144416380596006</id><published>2004-04-08T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-08T10:13:12.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Levi Strauss and the Origin of blue jeans</title><content type='html'>                                                        &lt;br /&gt;Have you ever wondered who ever came up with the idea of jeans? Well as a matter of fact Levi Strauss of 1829 was the inventor. Mr. Strauss was born in Bavaria in 1829. At about sixteen he went to visit his brothers who owned a wholesale textile and tailoring business in New York. He only stayed for about two days there and then leapt to the fact of living with his Uncle Daniel Goldman in Louisville, Kentucky because he might be able to make his own business. For the next five years he spent time learning the language of this new place. Although he had plans of taking over his uncle’s ranch, he had other ideas. He had many dreams of becoming an independent businessman. For several years he walked around the country roads selling cloth and notions from his backpack. In 1853 he went back to New York when hearing about gold being discovered in California. He persuaded his brothers to lend him silk, cloth, canvases, and a few luxury items. In 1850 he took a ship to San Francisco, by the time he reached California he sold everything except the canvases because they were no use. So, while he was in San Francisco, he kept hearing that the minors kept ripping their pants. He wanted to help so he used the canvases. Levi never liked to call them jeans so instead he called them “overalls.” He made a whole business with selling “overalls”, just as he wished. He died in 1902.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Grace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108144416380596006?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108144416380596006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108144416380596006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108144416380596006' title='Levi Strauss and the Origin of blue jeans'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108086647447951721</id><published>2004-04-01T16:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-01T16:44:53.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'> Boat Wreck</title><content type='html'>Off the coast of Florida yesterday, one man died and three survived after they were forced to get into a row boat when the boat they were in sank. The men had to fight the chilly January waters and the tall waves. A man on the shore saw them. So he jumped into the water and saved the correspondent, captain, and cook. The oilier drowned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108086647447951721?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108086647447951721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108086647447951721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108086647447951721' title=' Boat Wreck'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108075795427986550</id><published>2004-03-31T10:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-31T10:36:11.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Topics of Upcoming Papers</title><content type='html'>Drew is looking into the Aurora Borealis, Haynes is focusing on dog sledding and Grace is interested in how levis came to be-- turns out they were invented during the Klondike Gold Rush. Or was that California? Stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108075795427986550?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108075795427986550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108075795427986550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108075795427986550' title='Topics of Upcoming Papers'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-108075784185152610</id><published>2004-03-31T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-31T10:34:19.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>News Stories</title><content type='html'>Look for lead paragraphs for "news stories" describing the fateful events of a cold January off the coast of Florida, coming soon to the class blog. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-108075784185152610?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108075784185152610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/108075784185152610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108075784185152610' title='News Stories'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107754112646426500</id><published>2004-02-23T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-23T05:01:32.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool Dictionary</title><content type='html'>Here is the &lt;a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; to a really good dictionary site. Not only do you get the definition of the word, but quotations in literature where the word has been used. Spend some time playing with this. Vocabulary is the foundation of being able to say what you think and feel. Some say it is the foundation of being ABLE to think and feel. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107754112646426500?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107754112646426500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107754112646426500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107754112646426500' title='Cool Dictionary'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107651803628094038</id><published>2004-02-11T08:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-11T08:49:45.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Sawyer Project</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Here's the Assignment for the Tom Sawyer Project, Class. In case you just need to check the date or can't find the handout.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Deciding on a project&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Read over all the possible projects and star four that look interesting.&lt;br /&gt;	Make a pro/con chart for each possible project.&lt;br /&gt;	Choose one to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Planning the project: See Sheet "Project Prospectus" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Write or Tape:&lt;br /&gt;		Purpose&lt;br /&gt;		Audience&lt;br /&gt;	Write or Tape:&lt;br /&gt;		Project Description&lt;br /&gt;		Materials/resources needed&lt;br /&gt;	Write or Tape:&lt;br /&gt;		Points to consider in project evaluation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. List the Milestones or Steps to Finishing your Project.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Make a timeline for each major step, ending Feb. 23. You have five days to complete a project with the presentation on Day 6. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Example of a Play project:&lt;br /&gt;		1. Choose a scene from the book (Day 1)&lt;br /&gt;		2. Write the script (Day 1 and 2)&lt;br /&gt;		3. Collect the costumes (Day 3)&lt;br /&gt;		4.  Collect props/do background (Day 3)&lt;br /&gt;		5. Learn lines (Day 4)&lt;br /&gt;		6. Rehearse play (Day 5)&lt;br /&gt;		7. Present play (Final deadline)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Signoffs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have finished one step, get your parents or Mrs. Perkins to sign your proposal timeline for that step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Presentation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Present your final project to the class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Important DUE dates:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February 12: Read over the projects and star FOUR. &lt;br /&gt;		In class: Pro/Con sheets. Make a decision. Discussion of planning steps. &lt;br /&gt;February 17:  First draft of project plans due, with timelines.&lt;br /&gt;		In class: Discussion of plans, timelines&lt;br /&gt;February 18: Finished plans due, signed by parents/students/teacher&lt;br /&gt;		In class: Start work on your projects &lt;br /&gt;Feb 18, 19, 20: We will take class time to work on projects. &lt;br /&gt;February 23: Presentations&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107651803628094038?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107651803628094038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107651803628094038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107651803628094038' title='Tom Sawyer Project'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107609149770506697</id><published>2004-02-06T10:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T10:24:14.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ohio Memories...</title><content type='html'>Gracie &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember living in Ohio. My big blue and white house looked so plain right next to a cornfield. The front porch was where I used to carve pumpkins. It was a nice brick porch with leaves crumpled all over, making a potato chip sound. The front door was normal, although the stairs to upstairs were right in front of the door. When you entered, to the right, there was a long narrow hall way with wood flooring I always played with my kitchen set there. The first door on the right was the living room. It had the piano, a computer, and the couch. There was not much in this room, but we did have a Christmas tree at Christmas time.  We would walk down to the other hall which had a bathroom. It was just a simple one, a toilet, sink, and what was strange to me, a closet full of games that was really messy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, the big room with a gorgeous rug that would extend from one side of the room to the other. The piano was then placed in that room, for there was nothing in it except my toys. My sister use to play the piano all the time, it was a sweet serine sound that flowed about the room. Then the screened in back porch was right in the next room. It had a hot tub and more toys in it. Birthdays would usually be held in this room. The kitchen was next. It was not very cool, just a fridge, table, appliances and a door to the garage. The garage could fit two cars and had a fridge that sat out there. In the summer I would get this really good canned drink from there and drink it with my neighbor. Back in, through the kitchen, and the big room, behold my favorite room, the TV room. There was a recliner chair that I would always sit in while watching “The Little Rascals.” This room had a nice fireplace made out of brick. I would always play with Fisher Price toys on the fireplace top. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, upstairs. There were four bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. My older sister’s room was on the left side of the stairs. She had a normal room with Barbies in it I would always ask, “Jenny, can I play Barbies with you?” She was so fun to play Barbies with. Nick, second oldest, had a cool room. He had a bunk bed with a Gumball Machine in it, juicy flavors like sweet apple and luscious cherry. We would never pay for the gum, we would take it out from the top. I have a vague memory of his room because I didn’t go in it much. This one time I went in there and I got my tongue stuck on the window sill because it was snowy outside; It scared me so much and I felt a painful rip from the sill and my tongue. &lt;br /&gt;Next to his room was the bathroom. The window in it was very small so I could barely see out into the yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The best room of all, of course, my younger brother’s room and mine. We, unfortunately, had to share a room. The carpet was an Emerald green color. We had bunk beds, too, and I always slept on the top. There was a white rocking chair that was always placed in the middle of the room. Right next to my bed was a wall that had a vent in it. I could look into it and look at what my parents were watching on TV or doing. They never found out about it until a few years ago. My parent’s room… They had this blue bed frame and a matching blue dresser. The closet was a walk in closet and a bathroom was next to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I had some good thoughts with my memories. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107609149770506697?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107609149770506697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107609149770506697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107609149770506697' title='My Ohio Memories...'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107609151801033066</id><published>2004-02-06T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T10:21:01.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SNOW</title><content type='html'>I love snow days! They are a lot of fun because I get to miss school. When I miss school, I get really happy because I don’t have to sit in a room all day. Snow is also fun because you get to play with your friends. I love seeing friends, especially on a snow day because we can play in the snow and drink hot chocolate. Snow is soothing because it’s so quiet and peaceful, unlike a thunderstorm which is loud. To walk outside and not hear the snow falling, just feel it fall on my face, makes my face feels cold and tingly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my cousins live so close to us, they sled up to our house in their plastic yellow sled. When they get to our house, we play in the snow and then come in and eat lunch. I love walking inside and feeling all the heat blast on to my face. My mom will usually make us grilled cheese sandwiches. It always tastes so buttery and crispy. That night we will go to my cousin’s house and eat dinner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my dad gets home from work, he will play with my sister and me outside. It’s so much fun playing in the snow with him because he will just randomly throw a snowball at us.  He always has good snowballs and mine are always terrible. His are better than mine because they are thicker and he always makes them the perfect size.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that is fun to do outside with my dad is make a snow angel. Of course mine are really bad because I step where the snow angel is going to be. But what you are really supposed to do is lie down in the snow and move your arms and legs up and down. So my dad tells me how to make one and that is my perfect one of the year. When I walk outside I love smelling of fires. They smell so smoky and bitter. It smells really good to me. Snow is the prettiest thing to see because it is so white and shiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haynes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107609151801033066?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107609151801033066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107609151801033066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107609151801033066' title='SNOW'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107609105915870690</id><published>2004-02-06T10:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T10:25:46.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>College Basketball Games</title><content type='html'>	One of my favorite activities is going to a college basketball game. As I walk into the coliseum and take a whiff of that place, it gets me excited because it smells like basketball. Basketball can be smelled every time you walk into a gym. I know I’m at the game when I walk through the tunnel and see the basketball players warming up. If you are sitting in the upper level, the players warming up look like ants because you are so far away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       They tip the ball off, I hear the fans cheering and the shoes making squeaking sounds. The last basketball game I went to was this past weekend; I saw High Point University play Radford. My favorite game was UNC verses Illnois this past December at the Greensboro Coliseum. UNC is my favorite team and at the time, UNC was ranked tenth and Illinois was ranked eleventh, so it was a really good game. My team won. The food is good at the basketball game. I get popcorn, nachos, soda and favorite is the cheese on the nachos which is hot, creamy, and it doesn’t taste like normal cheese. When I am sitting in my seat I feel the hard back chair hurting my back, but I don’t care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I’m just glad I get to go to a college game every once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Drew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107609105915870690?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107609105915870690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107609105915870690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107609105915870690' title='College Basketball Games'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107479843032560948</id><published>2004-01-22T11:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T14:37:32.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Carolina Panthers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href= "http://www.nfl.com/index"&gt; Carolina Panthers&lt;/a&gt; The Carolina Panthers are the best team ever because they are going to the Superbowl!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107479843032560948?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107479843032560948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107479843032560948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107479843032560948' title='Carolina Panthers'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107479843892116676</id><published>2004-01-22T11:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T11:09:21.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hottest Carolina Panther Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.carolinapanthers.com/team/teamRosterDetails.jsp?id=1016"&gt;The hottest team member in the Carolina Panthers.&lt;la&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gracie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107479843892116676?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107479843892116676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107479843892116676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107479843892116676' title='Hottest Carolina Panther Guy'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107479835398912925</id><published>2004-01-22T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T11:07:56.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The history of skateboarding.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.interlog.com/~mbrooke/history.htm"&gt;Read about the history of skateboarding.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107479835398912925?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107479835398912925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107479835398912925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107479835398912925' title='The history of skateboarding.'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107455087077765412</id><published>2004-01-19T14:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T11:03:59.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YWCA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.worldywca.org/"&gt;YWCA&lt;/a&gt; is a fun christian place for women. This is just like a regular Y, except for a different name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gracie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107455087077765412?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107455087077765412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107455087077765412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107455087077765412' title='YWCA'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107426380485044233</id><published>2004-01-16T06:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-19T14:28:20.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kenny Chesney</title><content type='html'>	Country music is one of my favorite types of music. One of my favorite country singers is &lt;a href="http://www.kchesney.com/"&gt;Kenny Chesney &lt;/a&gt;. I love hearing him on the radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haynes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107426380485044233?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107426380485044233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107426380485044233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107426380485044233' title='Kenny Chesney'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107426381621727955</id><published>2004-01-16T06:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T06:38:50.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bobmarley.com/"&gt;Bob Marley&lt;/a&gt; is the greatest reggae artist of all time.Whenever I don't feel good the music puts me in a better mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107426381621727955?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107426381621727955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107426381621727955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107426381621727955' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107425495601664397</id><published>2004-01-16T04:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T04:11:10.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning Links</title><content type='html'>The class is learning to make hyperlinks. We'll be checking out some interesting web sites in the next few days and posting our links here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107425495601664397?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107425495601664397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107425495601664397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107425495601664397' title='Learning Links'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107419081775728729</id><published>2004-01-15T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T10:22:10.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeping in airports</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.sleepinginairports.net/airports.htm"&gt;The Budget Traveller's Guide to Slepping in Airports&lt;/a&gt; is a great way to learn how to save money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107419081775728729?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419081775728729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419081775728729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107419081775728729' title='Sleeping in airports'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107419074496644747</id><published>2004-01-15T10:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T10:20:57.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Working At Chick-Fil-A</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.chickfila.com/Home.asp"&gt;Chick-Fil-A&lt;/a&gt; is wonderful environment to work in because it is safe and they teach you how to work at an early age.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107419074496644747?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419074496644747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419074496644747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107419074496644747' title='I Love Working At Chick-Fil-A'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107419025701687607</id><published>2004-01-15T10:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T10:12:50.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Basketball</title><content type='html'>Basketball is a great sport played by more than 300 million people.&lt;a href="http://www.all-sports-posters.com/historyofbasketball.html"&gt;The history of basketball &lt;/a&gt; is fun to learn about the sport.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107419025701687607?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419025701687607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419025701687607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107419025701687607' title='Basketball'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107419019290656428</id><published>2004-01-15T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T10:11:45.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Roses are Red</title><content type='html'>Here's a site on roses. This site is fast and easy to order any kind of roses. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nextag.com/serv/main/buyer/OutPDir.jsp?nxtg=64d86_0AF5D6CF4ED73183&amp;node=2700024&amp;page"&gt;Shopping for roses online&lt;/a&gt; is helpful for late anniversaries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107419019290656428?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419019290656428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107419019290656428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107419019290656428' title='Roses are Red'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107152458443376487</id><published>2003-12-15T13:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T04:10:07.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Martin Luther King Jr.</title><content type='html'>by Drew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;	Martin Luther King Jr. was born to a minister in Atlanta, Georgia. He was a very smart student ; he went to college at age fifteen. Martin helped to found Southern Christian Leadership Conference, an organazation of black churches to cut out black segregation. He really didn’t have to do with that much on slavery, just discrimination. In 1963 he dilivered his famous “ I have a dream” speech. It inspired the Civil Rights Act in 1964. Martin died four years later when he was assasinated .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/refpages/RefArticle.aspx?refid=761557424"&gt;King, Martin Luther, Jr. &lt;/a&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107152458443376487?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107152458443376487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107152458443376487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107152458443376487' title='Martin Luther King Jr.'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-107037538818957898</id><published>2003-12-02T06:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-02T06:29:58.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Punctuation Test</title><content type='html'>Have fun with this one, class. Your teacher missed THREE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/3256388.stm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-107037538818957898?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107037538818957898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/107037538818957898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107037538818957898' title='Punctuation Test'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106936308455028940</id><published>2003-11-20T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-20T13:18:11.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Try the vocabulary words here</title><content type='html'>Class, click on the link here and find an online thesaurus. Take the list of your vocabulary words one by one and see what the free thesaurus does with them. It's really cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.visualthesaurus.com/online/index.html"&gt;The Online Thesaurus.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you really like it, you might ask for the full version for Christmas. But I think the online version will work for everything we need it for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106936308455028940?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106936308455028940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106936308455028940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106936308455028940' title='Try the vocabulary words here'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106926477321497252</id><published>2003-11-19T09:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T09:59:39.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I'm From</title><content type='html'>By Haynes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from hip hop dances, from Target and cookie dough ice cream and pop music.&lt;br /&gt;I am from the dark-colored-city-like-pretty-in-the-snow house.&lt;br /&gt;I am from dogwoods, the beautiful flower.&lt;br /&gt;I am from Christmas Eve poppers and brown hair.&lt;br /&gt;From Mom and Dad and sister.&lt;br /&gt;I am from always saying jokes and shopping all the time.&lt;br /&gt;From behave, have nice manners and never ever cheat on a test.&lt;br /&gt;I am from Thanks Be to God, Prayers of the People&lt;br /&gt;and lots of hymnals.&lt;br /&gt;I am from a sometimes quiet, sometimes busy town&lt;br /&gt;that lots of people have never heard of &lt;br /&gt;and from pasta and salmon.&lt;br /&gt;From the Christmas Day fire at my Aunt and Uncle’s house&lt;br /&gt;and the nice and funny family members with stories of an old babysitter&lt;br /&gt;I am from photo albums&lt;br /&gt;Crazy dances to entertain my grandma&lt;br /&gt;From hugs, kisses and I love you from Granddaddy and Papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106926477321497252?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926477321497252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926477321497252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106926477321497252' title='Where I&apos;m From'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106926460711792389</id><published>2003-11-19T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T09:56:53.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I'm From</title><content type='html'>By Grace &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from bubble gum, from LEI Jeans, and French vanilla cappuccinos in the red box, pickles and ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the new, high city life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the rose blossoming bush, the quiet rose petals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from cake we stick our fingers into and lovely gorgeous blue eyes from Mom, Dad, and Grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from eating and a skinny family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Rock-a-bye-baby and sweet lullabies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from country time churches with the smell of old wood polish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m from Ohio, potatoes and ethnic foods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the scary man in Mom’s closet with yellow boots, the airplanes above our house, and the cows that got out of our neighbor’s yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from pictures in the dining room, shoes boxes and girl’s fairy tale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106926460711792389?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926460711792389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926460711792389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106926460711792389' title='Where I&apos;m From'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106926432027730054</id><published>2003-11-19T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T09:54:24.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I'm From</title><content type='html'>By Drew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from stereos, from Billabong and Pizza Hut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the half brick half side paneling house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the white sandy beaches, the shining sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from eating at Granny’s on Thanksgiving, and quiet evenings at my house, from Bucky and Linda Embler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from watching too much TV, and procrastinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From watermelon seeds growing in my stomach and my teeth rotting out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the Quakers, known as “the peacemakers.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the Dutch, my Dad’s pancakes and steaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the stubbornness in my Dad, the comedy in my family and the fights with my brothers and sisters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the portraits in my den that remind me of all of my family members.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106926432027730054?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926432027730054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926432027730054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106926432027730054' title='Where I&apos;m From'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106926413663526327</id><published>2003-11-19T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T09:49:03.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I'm From</title><content type='html'>by Patricia Perkins, class teacher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: I believe in meeting the challenges I set for my students, so I've done the assignment about where I'm from, too. Here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from backpacks, shoulder bags and carryons, from LLBean and boarding passes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the precise, rolled bundles of everything I will own that fits into a cube two feet square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the chicory and goldenrod on the side of the road, the hayfields and copses, the riverbanks where I might sleep tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from moving every coupla years and a wild certainty of a new life just ahead, from Ruthie, who at 91 thinks China and the Yangsee River aren't too far away and Willard, who never stopped doing a deal and Mary, who went along because that's what southern girls do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the sashay into a roomful of strangers, the new kid, the conquerer and good china and embroidered tablecloths, the silver pitcher, the good head for figures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From your face will freeze like that and no, you DON'T have to be like other kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from checking out the Presbyterians to see if we like their pastor. Checking into the Unitarians because they're the most interesting people and the most open in a new place. From meditation, spotty, and yoga, faithful, and getting your head straight every now and then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm from South and North, attracting, never meeting, from the Scottish borderers driven from their land and the British debtors shipped out, from meat loaf and &lt;em&gt;The Joy of Cooking.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the long ride in a Lincoln filled with carbon monoxide, the chant it's-not-the-way-he-wants-to-be;-it's-the-way-he-has-to-be, and the poison ivy that can teach you about the complications of being beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from the long row of albums on the living room wall, the boxes filled with an acute awareness of immortality, and the questions I never seem to answer about who I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106926413663526327?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926413663526327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106926413663526327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106926413663526327' title='Where I&apos;m From'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106856660023023401</id><published>2003-11-11T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-11T08:05:48.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poem Challenge!</title><content type='html'>My blogging friend Fred has challenged his readers to write a poem about where they come from. Let's take him up on it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Go to Fred's entry about his challenge.  &lt;a href="http://www.fragmentsfromfloyd.com/archives/001681.html "&gt;Click here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Go see the poem he's talking about. &lt;a href="http://www.carts.org/staff_poem2.html "&gt;Click here for that.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Print the poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Print Fred's challenge and poem model.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Write your own poem, using Fred's model.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. After we have edited and proofread your poems, post yours on this site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106856660023023401?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106856660023023401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106856660023023401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106856660023023401' title='Poem Challenge!'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106762298481090444</id><published>2003-10-31T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-31T09:56:26.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hawthorne Site</title><content type='html'>Hey class, here's a site I found about Hawthorne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://endeavor.med.nyu.edu/lit-med/lit-med-db/webdocs/webdescrips/hawthorne754-des-.html&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106762298481090444?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106762298481090444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106762298481090444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106762298481090444' title='Hawthorne Site'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106745175194437851</id><published>2003-10-29T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T11:29:57.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day I Moved</title><content type='html'>When I was seven years old, I moved out of the country and into a whole new place where I met lots of friends and wasn’t so shy anymore. The day I moved away from Ohio we left in a red van. I barely remember anything. I know I was waving goodbye to my best friend. Daddy was driving and Mommy sat in the passenger seat, while my two brothers were in the middle seat and my sister and I were the way back. I didn’t have any thoughts or feelings about moving to North Carolina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember living in Ohio, out in the country, before we moved. The country was beautiful with fields of flowers, grassy smells, and gorgeous stars at night. We had a barn filled with lots of chickens and horses. We had a tire swing. My older brother would swing me on the tire swing a lot. Our house was two stories and painted blue. We had about seven acres of land. In the winter we would get up to five feet of snow and in the summer it was really hot. The leaves were really colorful in the fall and I would rake them up and jump into them and even hide in them. In the winter I would ice skate on the pond that our neighbors had. It sure was fun living in Ohio, and some day I will return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got into that red van that day, I had no clue I wasn’t going back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106745175194437851?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106745175194437851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106745175194437851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106745175194437851' title='The Day I Moved'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106745161787254549</id><published>2003-10-29T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T11:31:26.963-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Old Summer Days</title><content type='html'>I remember when summer used to seem like an eternity. Maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep or because I was bored. Bored was still better than going to school. I don’t know; I just remember those endless summer days, swimming in the pool and following my brothers around everywhere. Every morning, I woke up happy around 10:00 a.m. I was happy knowing I could do whatever I felt like. At night it was fun trying to catch lightning bugs, and playing hide-and-go-seek with all of the kids around the neighborhood. My favorite part of the summer was going to the beach even though the car ride down there took forever. Also I liked wearing my PJ’s until 5 p.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, I remember those long summer days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106745161787254549?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106745161787254549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106745161787254549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106745161787254549' title='The Old Summer Days'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106745142850231288</id><published>2003-10-29T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T11:32:18.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>September 11, 2001</title><content type='html'>September 11th  was  a very sad day. I was at school when it all happened. The day started off like a normal day until 9:00 when my science teacher was called out into the hall. Then everything turned very strange. She kept leaving the class and coming back in. When she came back in, she said with an upset face, “The Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon in Washington D.C. have been attacked.” For the rest of the day I was very worried because my aunt works right across from the White House and I was hoping that she would be okay. All day, questions were running through my head. Like, who did these horrible things and why did they do them? But the question I wanted to know  the most was, will my aunt be okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home, all my questions were answered and my feelings soon went from confused to very sad. I found out that my aunt was okay. Even though I did not know anyone who had died, I was still sad. I just stood there watching the TV in shock. Tears started to roll down my face and I felt I knew everyone who had died. Then after I stopped watching TV because I had to go to tennis, I felt a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was until my dad came home. Then I just got very sad again. I gave him a big hug and cried. He said that it would be okay but that did not help me. My whole family was very sad and we just watched replays all night. It really scared my sister and me. My parents kept on saying, “Why are you scared? It will be fine?” I said, “I am scared that Bin Laden will come back and attack my family.” All I could think about was that there would be a big war and my life would change forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haynes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106745142850231288?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106745142850231288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106745142850231288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106745142850231288' title='September 11, 2001'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6007280.post-106744265741294701</id><published>2003-10-29T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T11:33:41.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Our Work!</title><content type='html'>Welcome to our new Web site! We are Mrs. Perkins' very creative and talented 8th grade class at the Piedmont School in High Point, NC. We will be posting all our best writing right here, so come back often and check us out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6007280-106744265741294701?l=perkinsclass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106744265741294701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6007280/posts/default/106744265741294701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perkinsclass.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106744265741294701' title='Welcome to Our Work!'/><author><name>The Class</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15028610269242303445</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
