The James Logan Courier

By Krystal Henderson, Courier News Editor

Yesterday, many of our homes received a letter in the mail that began: "Dear Parents: Last month, Governor Schwarzenegger declared a fiscal emergency in California..." Perhaps that was when you stopped reading and dropped the letter in the trash bin.

Be informed:
—"If the governor gets his way, the New Haven Unified School District would receive $7 million less in state funding in 2008-09."

—"We will be issuing layoff notices to employees next month and making plans to increase class sizes and cut classroom instruction and other critical services."

—"We were forced to close Cabello Elementary School last June and must close Barnard-White Middle School at the end of the current school year. Now we may be forced to accelerate consideration of closing another elementary school."

—"California already spends $2000 less than the national average, ranking 46th in the country."

By David Collins, Courier Opinion Editor

First I must say to all of my readers, no, I have not lost my intellectual marbles and no, I did not name this column after what I had for breakfast this morning. And yes, I do eat the universe for breakfast. Other than my odd diet, I wish to cover a debatably ever-present topic, reality. Now, within the feeble understandings of the numerous cogs and pistons that this existence is made from, I have come to recognize a few things as plausible. And so I pass these theoretical blue prints on to you.

By Emily Low, Courier Staff Writer

Turn on the television, flip open the newspaper, or walk down the streets without earphones in your ears, and you will inevitably see, read, or hear about the state of the American economy. Recession, you say? A new policy—why, that sounds great for them. Ah, funding for the schools? Grants? Oh no, they can’t cut the budget.

But recently, that is exactly what has happened. Educational funding has suddenly been swept away, leaving superintendents blinking at the disappearance of what was once the thinning lining of money underneath their busy feet. This sudden move has not only caused a whirlwind of problems for recent programs and activities, but also those of old—namely, previous grants that have not yet been acted upon.

By David Collins, Courier Opinion Editor

Now I hope that for my regular readers they don’t see the title of this column and turn away from my writings forever, screaming betrayal and bloody murder. In defilement of this holiday, which is the Second Place Trophy holder for the highest suicide rate in a 24-hour time span, I must say, Valentines Day is one of the worst days of the year.

Once a year, every February 14th, people all around the world buy hundreds of thousands of gifts for one another to show how much they love their spouse. Now, in essence, this is a horribly flawed idea. Just think about it this way: You show your love to another under the foundation that material objects are the representatives of love. Therefore, without a romantic dinner, or a bundle of roses, or a hot air-balloon ride over the Italian countryside, love is not present. People measure their compassion for others by how many chocolates they can give out, or how many teddy bears they receive.

By Emily Low, Courier Staff Writer

Blood red roses, their velvety petals falling open in a gentle cascade of fragrance…sparkles of confetti, littered about in glistening shapes of crimson, pink, and silver…smooth chocolates, filled with creamy insides that taste of exotic fruits and rich, deluxe confections…Little handmade cards, with curly handwriting inside inscribing x…o…x…o…

By Rebecca Soltau, Courier Entertainment Editor

Valentine's Day is the one day that I actually dread being tall.

Every year, girls shorter than I am (let's face it, that's just about every one of them) lug around mountains of flowers, piles of candy and bunches of balloons that hide almost their entire bodies from view. And I always seem to get impaled by crinkly, red, heart-shaped balloons, which gives me the intense urge to whip out a pair of scissors and impale every single balloon that comes in my path.

By Krystal Henderson, Courier News Editor

By Ashley Carter, Courier Staff Writer

February is Black History Month, when every day you should be able to learn a little more about the history of Africa, Africans and their descendents, not only their struggles but their accomplishments as well.

Even though at Logan we have the Black Student Union (BSU) and also Logan Live doing something in honor and recognition of this month, some think the school and the nation give the month short shrift.

"I really like Black History month," said eleventh grader Nate Medhane, "I don't think the school does enough to acknowledge it, and I also don't like the fact that it had to be the shortest month of all the the 12 months we have."

By Emily Low, Courier Staff Writer

With the second semester of the 2007-2008 school year now running in full gear, I count myself as one of the lucky ones who does not have to fight through scrambles of anxious, frustrated students attempting to recreate their schedules. This chaotic mess, as any student or faculty member at James Logan will know, is a semi-annual event that has come to be accepted as an inevitable hurdle in the first week of each new term. It is so widely accepted, in fact, that one can now find students and teachers preparing for it long before the new semester even begins.

At the beginning of the year, schedule-induced problems set snares for teachers, students, and counselors alike for nearly a month. Halfway through, the problems are no different. Classes are missing, courses are doubled, classrooms are wrong…
…and I want a teacher who is not an absolute jerk who hates my guts.

By Hafizullah Gardesh and Jean MacKenzie
The Institute for War & Peace Reporting (MCT)

KABUL, Afghanistan — A journalist in northern Afghanistan, Sayed Parwez Kaambakhsh, has been sentenced to death for blasphemy in a summary trial in which he had no legal representation and no opportunity to defend himself.

Sentencing took place in a closed session of the lower court of Balkh region Tuesday.

"It was about 4 p.m. when guards brought me into a room where there were three judges and an attorney sitting behind their desks. There was no one else," Kaambakhsh said. "The death sentence had already been written. I wanted to say something, but they would not let me speak," he said.