An Animal's Worth

        An article in Discover Magazine asks a very compelling question.  It's entitled "Should conservationists allow some species to die out?"  It talks about the California Condor which is an endangered species of vultures.  In 1987 the population of condors was only 22.  Since then, conservationists have been devoting time and research to help the species survive.  But today, or as of March 2011, the population is only 381.  Of that number only 192 live in the wild.  The article says that a population of about 5000 will ensure the survival of a certain species.  The program devoted to helping the California Condors costs about 4 million dollars per year.
        So the article asks if whether saving the Condor is a lost cause.  Should conservationists instead focus on endangered species that are more likely to survive?  The article provides arguments for both sides the debate.
      On one side it says that the limit on resources and money must force us to identify endangered species that have the best chance of surviving.  "Some endangered species are far more likely to recover than others, so we should identify those and save as many as we can."
     On the other side, some conservationists argue that this prioritizing of species to get 'cheap wins'   can do unforeseen ecological damage.  They say that a rare species is "typically poorly studied, so the easiest to conserve might not be the most ecologically important."

     There are good points brought out on both sides of the debate.  And to be honest, I'm not sure which side to be on.   In an ideal world we should try to save all the endangered species. Who are we as a species on this earth to decide which which animal survives and which dies out?  Most of these species are endangered because of our actions; whether it's over-hunting, pollution, or destruction of their habitats.
    But we have to be practical, the world is not ideal, resources are finite.  We seem to have no choice but to pick out which endangered species is worth saving. I'm just glad I don't have to make the decision of determining an animal's worth.

Struggles with Academic Writing

Academic writing has always been a struggle for me.  Even writing this blog is a slow and painful process.  That’s what I think of writing in school; as a drawn out and long process.  I don’t think of it as a chance to freely express myself, I think of it has a chance to mess up and sound like an idiot.  I guess the reason for my struggle is because of the differences between the language required  in school and the language I use everday with my friends and family.

           The goal of any language is to help  you effectively get your point across to another person.   At home I don’t have this problem.  When you’re talking with a person in an informal setting, I feel that in addition to the words you say, you can also use other means to get your point across.  You can change the tone of your voice, use body language,  use sarcasm, and you can even curse.  All of these help me to get my point across and are part of the language I use at home.  I’m not restricted by the syntax of my spoken sentences, or merely the words I use.

         I view academic writing as restricted.  It’s restricted to the words on the paper, and the required formality.  I have to maintain a serious and academic tone, I can’t use humor to prove a point because I’m afraid that it would sound demeaning.  I feel that all the tools that are part of  language at home are missing in an academic setting.   You also have to pay attention to the audience you’re writing to.  And that can be the hardest thing to do because you can’t physically see the audience.  I mean there’s no instant feedback to know if you’re conveying the message correctly.

        Now I don’t mean to sound so negative when it comes to writing at school, because I’m still able to complete the assignments.  The way I deal with my struggles with formality is to first think about the question or prompt.  After brainstorming and getting a good idea of the structure, I begin the paper.  I always worry about my spelling and grammar, and that can limit the flow of ideas,  so I turn off the spell and grammar check on the computer.  I could also just write on paper but I’m so used to typing out my ideas.  And that’s how I’m able to deal with the struggles of writing an academic paper.       

What's it mean to be Greek?

  For the recent assignment of my English class I had to read an excerpt from "Hunger of Memory" by Richard Rodriquez.  In the story Rodriquez recounts growing in a Mexican-American household, and his initial struggles with learning English.  Spanish was his first language but as he grew older and overcame his struggles with English, English became his primary language.  He was still able to understand Spanish but he could not speak it fluently. 
    His childhood is very similar to my own.  I was born in Greece and came to the US with my family when I was about 6.  I initially spoke Greek but I'm no longer fluent, what remains of the language are bits and pieces.  There are early home videos of my brother and I speaking in Greek, and it's like watching completely different people.  Now I can recount certain words, but like the author I can't put together a coherent sentence.  If someone were to ask me "How do you say this or that in Greek?" I would not be able to tell them.  
     When I'm with my parents I can almost follow conversations in Greek between my Mom and Dad.  My Mom can ask me a question in Greek and I will respond in English. When friends are over and witness these exchanges, they thinks it's the weirdest thing.
      And it's only the Greek that my parents speak that I can understand.  I once went to the Embassy in Houston and the lady working there initially spoke to me in a kind of 'rapid fire' Greek.  To me it sounded as if she was speaking complete gibberish.  I could only shake my head in response and then see a look of disappointment in her face.  I guess my parents maybe speak a different or slower dialect of Greek.
       Such encounters often make me feel guilty.  In a blog from a fellow classmate, The Clash of Culture, it says that language often is the root of a culture.  So does my ignorance of the Greek language exclude me from being a part of Greek culture?  Or does simply my blood or inheritance qualify me as a Greek?   These questions often resurface when I see distant relatives or when friends ask me to translate something from English to Greek.
     But in his essay, Rodriquez goes on to say that though some intimacy is lost between him and his family there is some that remains.  That intimacy "is not created by a particular language; it is created by intimates."  So what I should be concerned with is not whether I identify as a Greek person but rather if I can still identify with my immediate Greek family.  That is the only culture I should be concerned with, one that is a cross between Greek and American.