Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Read MG's excellent narrative. What are her best lines?

The smell of herbs and old boxes wafted through the musty air of The Old Wells General Store. The cobbled stone streets were alive with afternoon activity, the summer sun warming the faces of pedestrians. Unusual warm weather on the fall day drew children out to play among the multi colored leaves. A tinkling of bells echoed outside as a bay horse pulled up in front of a shiny wooden carriage, disposing a rosy cheeked child and her drawn-up mother. With the rustling of skirts and lavender perfume, mother and daughter tottered into the General Store. Mrs. Smith gaily picked out parchment and letter stationary for her child’s party, swatting down grubby hands with her gloved one. As she hurried to the counter, she wondered if her apple pie was burning on the coal stove. But all thoughts of apple pie left her mind when she was reminded by the clerk of the extra fee. Her face aghast, her green eyes wide as a gloved hand shook, a vein seemed to pop out of her powdered face. Placing a dainty hand upon its pair, she gave him an icy nod. “I see.” Was all she could muster. Her mouth clamped together like a clam, she dropped the materials and hurried her protesting child out, her mind turning like the worn wheels on the cobbled road.

With another sigh, James Andrews was forced out another wooden door, another bag of coins in his chapped hands. Pulling up his collar, a beautiful red leave flew into his face. Sputtering, he took in the strange warm weather. Maybe it’s a good sign… or not, he thought to himself as his deer hide boots quickened when the mob of shouting Patriot protesters came into view. Swallowing as beads of sweat appeared on his brow, the hated tax collector sprinted for his brick home. The lock clicked as a sigh of relief escaped him, the creases on his pale forehead disappearing. Thoughts of resigning filled his troubled mind as the cry of “No taxation without representation!” paraded in front of his sturdy house. A trembling hand parted the curtain as James looked out. The English flag his heart beat for so dearly wavered above his head. Thoughts of England filled his head, thoughts of the Boston before all this trouble started… “They won a war for them!” he told his tabby. “Why is it suc.h a big deal to pay a mite of pocket money for our King George III, may he reign forever.” His face a drawn out scowl, he lifted his chin and closed the curtain

For many of you, I told you that you didn't effectively describe a scene. Read Caroline's M. first  paragraph that perfectly sets the scene. She used the picture to help her. - Hint! Use pictures to  help you in future.

A blanket of snow lies over the cobblestone streets of Boston. Inside the chocolate brown house sits Mercy Otis Watson and Abigail Adams. The milky tablecloth covered the wooden table topped with crumpets and tea. Hanging on the wall are paintings of British scenery. Mercy dressed in a lovely pale blue ruffled sat chatting about the taxes with Abigail. In a light pink and white, Abigail Adams fanned herself with her ivory fan listening to Mercy chatter on about the king.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Examples of Students' Work - Brag Sheet

The Boston Massacre

Mary Goldman, a patriotic resident of Boston, was appalled by the Townshend Acts along with numerous others. Being just a child, she did not fully understand the situation. The thing she did understand though, was that her father was not bringing home any more money. Mary participated in every protest with her father that she could. She wanted the British gone.

On the other hand, James Howard was a loyalist and actually in the British army. He hated the way people called him names like bloody back and ran away from him in the street. One of his neighbors even moved away because James was a loyalist. He lived alone and desperately needed a friend, someone to talk to, to complain to.

What started out as a beautiful day for Mary Goldman, would soon turn into the worst nightmare of her life. A narrow road with many inhabitants, Glare Drive, sat in the center of Boston. A small townhouse with a worn wooden door on rusty hinges was at the very end of this road. Mary sat on her front steps, her foot started to tap and a loud sigh exhaled from her lungs, “when will father arrive home?” she thought. On any other day she wouldn’t have waited this long, but today her father promised to take her to a protest on the Townshend Acts. How could she resist such an offer? On the other side of town James was finishing up his lunch and grabbing his gear. Dread and regret filled him as he pondered on the thought of struggling with the patriots yet again. All he wanted was the chance to return to England. Little did he know that that chance might just happen later in the day.

“Father!” Mary’s high-pitched squeal echoed through the alley with excitement as her father rounded the last block to her house. He picked her up and swung her around in circles while the laughter of a child filled the air. Once down on the ground she said, “ Remember that you promised to take me to a protest today.” He replied, “ How could I not?” Hand in hand they walked down the road to where the protest would be held. A few blocks away James marched with his troop. Light filtered through the cracks in the alleyway. Muck sat on the edges of the dark road. Not a whisper was heard. Bam, bam, bam, the sound of boots hit the cobblestone road. “Attention, single file line behind me,” projected the commander of James Howard’s troop. Peering off in the distance James could already see a large group of protesters forming where they were about to arrive. A glare spread across his face as he thought of their leader, Crispus Attucks. The one thought raced through his mind, “Not another protest.”

As Mary and her father approached the scene, people swarmed around each other. Mary could not see over the numerous tall men, so her father put her up onto his shoulders to be taller than the rest. People shouted and held signs that read, “NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION!” The soldiers were approaching fast. In about a minute’s time they would be straight in front of the crowd. About a half-mile ahead, the soldiers marched on. Eventually they reached to the crowd. People shouted and screamed. A churning rose from deep inside James’s gut. Dirty snowballs whizzed through the air as far as the eye could see. A scream ringed through the air and James saw a man beating one of the soldiers with a club. More people advanced, gunshots fired. James’s finger brought the brown musket trigger back, but right before he did, his eyes caught the face of a terrified little girl on her father’s shoulders in the back of the crowd. Mary heard the gunshots and instinctively her head shot down with her hands over it in a defensive position. When she lifted her head, all the smoke had cleared and five figures lay on the ground lifeless and not moving. Mary screamed and nearly fainted. Being an agile man, her father turned and caught her. Running away with Mary in his arms, he looked back to see the soldiers marching away.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Propaganda - Revisited

This movie recaps what we discussed on propaganda this week. It also introduces a 6th form of propaganda that is also very common in the media 'FRAMING'

F- BOTT Revisited
Faulty Cause and Effect: This technique suggests that because B follows A, A must cause B. Remember, just because two events or two sets of data are related does not necessarily mean that one caused the other to happen. It is important to evaluate data carefully before jumping to a wrong conclusion.

Bandwagon: The "bandwagon" approach encourages you to think that because everyone else is doing something, you should do it too, or you'll be left out. The technique embodies a "keeping up with the Joneses" philosophy.

Over Generalizations: This technique uses important-sounding "glad words" that have little or no real meaning. These words are used in general statements that cannot be proved or disproved. Words like "good," "honest," "fair," and "best" are examples of "glad" words.

Testimonial: This technique is easy to understand. It is when "big name" personalities are used to endorse a product. Whenever you see someone famous endorsing a product, ask yourself how much that person knows about the product, and what he or she stands to gain by promoting it.

Transfer: In this technique, an attempt is made to transfer the prestige of a positive symbol to a person or an idea. For example, using the American flag as a backdrop for a political event makes the implication that the event is patriotic in the best interest of the U.S.


Excellent work on the narratives...I'm enjoying reading them... Kudos to all! I will post some next week to share.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Patrick Henry Speech

Not the best, but this at least gives an idea of what the speech delivery might sound like...

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Omniscient-v-Limited The differences?

Read these two passages. Can you tell which narrative is omniscient –v- limited. What words/phrases create the omniscient voice?

     She noticed them immediately. Old habits died hard, and her eyes tracked the movement on the road even before her mind registered approaching danger five men striding with the swagger of warriors. The only outward sign of her alarm was the tightening of her grip on the knife as she stripped a dead twig from the branch of the olive tree. There was no point in running. The men had seen her, and if she was their target they would catch her sooner or later. Sooner, she thought ruefully, remembering that her legs were not so limber as they once had been. Drawing a deep breath, she spoke as calmly as she could.    
     "Lyceus, I want you to take those olives to your mother, now." The young boy at her side looked down at the basket he carried and hefted its weight. He could tell it was more than half empty. "But Aunt Gabrielle, we've barely begun."
      "It's enough," she said, more curtly than she had intended. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the warriors step off the road and enter the far edge of the orchard. Softening her tone of voice, she spoke again, "I'm too tired to do any more work today. Run along now, before I change my mind."
     With a grin of delight, Lyceus turned to dash away, then froze.    
     "Auntie...those men..." He was young, but no fool, and his instincts were sharp, if less experienced than hers.
     "Lyceus," she commanded softly. "Do as I say. Don't look back at them. Run."

As you can see, the reader is privy to the opnions/feelings of both Gabrielle and her nephew. As the cast of characters grows, the omniscient viewpoint allows the reader some glimpses into their thoughts as well. Anything that happens in this world can be described because the narrator is all-knowing, all-seeing. The disadvantage to this point of view is that the reader may feel emotionally removed from the storyline — the narrator reveals a little about every character, so it becomes harder to strongly identify with any one person. In fact, if the writer isn't careful, the shifts in viewpoint from one character to another can leave the reader dizzy.

     Xena drove the head of the shovel deep into the loose dirt, then heaved the load up and over, dropping it into the pit by her feet. She steeled herself for the soft thudding sounds the dirt and clumps of grass made when they fell on the heaps below. Another stab with the shovel and she could feel sweat break out on her brow. That was a bad sign. The morning air was cool and she hadn't been digging that long.
     "I wish you'd let me help," came a voice from over her shoulder.
     "Gabrielle, I told you to stay back." She couldn't spare enough breath to adequately convey her anger. Another bad sign. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, then went back to her task. The next load of dirt seemed a lot heavier than the others.
      Time passed, marked only by the steady rise and fall of her shovel.
     "Xena..." Gabrielle's voice sounded closer than it had before. "It's got to be safe for me by now. These are the last of the dead and they're nearly buried."
    "Stay away!" snapped the warrior, careful to keep her back turned to her friend. A sudden wave of heat swept through Xena's limbs. Its passage robbed her of the strength to hold the shovel. She could feel her body sway, as if buffeted by the fire that raged inside her.
     "Stay...back," she cried out, but her voice was parched to a dry whisper.

The reader is aware of everything Xena is thinking and feeling, but Gabrielle's actions remain a mystery because Xena is not even looking at her. Using this perspective allows a writer to keep their own prose style, and to interpret and comment on the character's behavior, while still offering depth of emotion. The same restricted perspective should be used consistently throughout a scene, but new scenes or chapters can start with a different character's restricted viewpoint.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Coming Next Week

Monday, March 8, 2010

MI Students' Work - Examples coming soon...

MI - Background Info.

Watch and learn a little more about MI theory and how it is applied in the classroom. Don't ever accept that anybody is 'smarter' than you ever again!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

MI Verb Application Example

Application of Verbs

These are examples of how students applied their natural intellegence last year. How will you do yours?
There are 1000's of possibilities. Choose one that  best fits your natural intelligence

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

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