Anne Frank + Southeast Region Narrative

Check out the link below to recap the video from today's session on Anne Frank

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=um3umnwgK3k
Will your narrative poem capture the emotion of  your event?


Enjoy Nick's Southeast region narrative below

From the marble-cutting mill, to the canal-navigation plane, and my most prized accomplishment, the “Clermont,” I have certainly come a far way in life. At the age of thirty-five in 1800, I thought that accomplishing everything in life was already complete. That was true until “Clermont,” my first successful steamboat, was created. By the way, my name is my name is Robert Fulton, the inventor. In 1793, I concentrated on steam navigation. Writing books on canal navigation was my occupation in 1796. Seven years later, the idea of inventing what eventually became the steamboat came into my mind. My first attempt at launching a steamboat with the support of Chancellor Livingston was on the Seine, a very large river between two parts of France, was not entirely successful. The boat immediately collapsed and plummeted to the bottom of the river like sand through an hourglass. Red in the face, I watched the horror of the boat tumble to the floor of the river. The odor of the oil burning in the air with the rest of the ship was a sure indication of the devastating moment, and from Livingston’s panicky expression, it was obvious he felt like me at the time. Despite this horrible failure, I had to persevere.



In 1807, I decided it would be the right choice to design a new steamboat. Newer wooden planks, a better engine, and a new supply of oil were essential to the ship’s success. My speedy hands began to assemble the components of the unfinished steamboat. After a while, my hands were still, the steamboat was unfinished, and my mind was nothing but a swirl of uncomfortable confusion. There was no Chancellor Livingston to assist me this time. Ten months later, my masterpiece was finished. Looking back at the steamboat reminded me of the sweat trickling down my back as I diligently finished the ship. I thought to myself, what name would suit my steamboat the best? My sister’s name is Clara, and my dog’s name is Monty, so what if those names blended together? That was it. The name would be “Clermont.”


Two tan transferors on a barge, Jim and Charles, transferred “Clermont” all the way from Pennsylvania to the Hudson elegantly like a feather scraping the top of the water. My goal was to chug “Clermont” all the way from the Hudson to Albany, New York. It was going to take approximately thirty hours. By the time I reached the Hudson, my feet climbed onto the wooden boards of the “Clermont.” Nervously, my sweaty hands grabbed the wheel of the boat.


The “Clermont” pushed off of the dock. The paddle of the bolt jolted forward as the “Clermont” came to life in only a quick moment of time. The engine roared as the steam whistled. Proud as a peacock, my head stuck out of the window to take in the crisp, New York air and the smell of steam and oil from the “Clermont.” The crowd was encouraging me to go on right before the steamboat left the colossal river of New York.


No longer in the Hudson, “Clermont” chugged its way towards Albany. The steamboat finally reached its destination. The crowd roared with excitement, and history knew that every bit of this moment would be savored into educational textbooks for the rest of time.