Imitation of Chief Seattle

1. About Me Project Description The Objective My Process Chief Seattle's Letter Home Imitation of Chief Seattle

2. About Me Project Description The Objective My Process Chief Seattle's Letter Home Hello! My name is Katelyn Sessions. I’m from the lovely town of Oviedo, Florida. I am an Elon College Fellow and I intend to major in digital art.

3. About Me Project Description The Objective My Process Chief Seattle's Letter Home In this assignment, we were told to read Chief Seattle’s letter to President Pierce, then write a persuasive piece using the same style (tone, structure, language, etc.). I adopted Chief Seattle’s structure and language in my essay to persuade parents not to rely on medication to “cure” children with ADD or ADHD.

4. About Me Project Description The Objective My Process Chief Seattle's Letter Home The course objective this project fit the most was “enhancing appreciation for the capacity of writing to change oneself and the world.” I am not a terribly serious person, but this project forced me to adopt a serious topic and talk about it in a non-humorous manner. This opened up many persuasive possibilities that I had not been aware of before. I was shocked when my finished paper ended up being so effective that my aunt told me she wanted to cry after reading it. I had never seen how powerful my writing could be. This project helped me realize how just changing my tone and the way I looked at writing could make an essay change minds.

5. About Me Project Description The Objective My Process Chief Seattle's Letter Home This project was indeed very challenging. In my roughest rough draft, I concentrated so hard on imitating Chief Seattle’s tone and structure that in the end there was no discernable argument. When I went back later and molded it into the persuasive piece that it was supposed to be, my super-long sentences and unnecessary sarcasm had crept their way in, and it no longer resembled Chief Seattle’s style. It wasn’t until several revisions later that I managed to balance the imitation and the persuasion into a piece that fulfilled both parts of the assignment.

6. About Me Project Description The Objective My Process Chief Seattle's Letter Home We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's graves and his children's birthright is forgotten. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the redman. But perhaps it is because the redman is a savage and does not understand. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to listen to the leaves of spring or the rustle of insect wings. But perhaps because I am a savage and do not understand - the clatter only seems to insult the ears. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind itself cleansed by a mid-day rain, or scented by a pinõn pine: The air is precious to the redman. For all things share the same breath - the beasts, the trees, and the man. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench. What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, men would die from great loneliness of spirit, for whatever happens to the beast also happens to the man. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. It matters little where we pass the rest of our days - they are not many. A few more hours, a few more winters, and none of the children of the great tribes that once lived on this earth, or that roamed in small bands in the woods will remain to mourn the graves of the people once as powerful and hopeful as yours. The whites, too, shall pass - perhaps sooner than other tribes. Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. When the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses all tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by the talking wires, where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. And what is it to say goodbye to the swift and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival. We might understand if we knew what it was the white man dreams, what hopes he describes to his children on long winter nights, what visions he burns into their minds, so they will wish for tomorrow. But we are savages. The white man's dreams are hidden from us.