Friday, September 30, 2016

Weekend Reading

Membean Minutes

C/D Class
August minites
 September Minutes

E/F Minutes

August Practiced

September Practised

Image result for pay your debts quotesReading Challenge: Pay your DUES... Please honor your word with your partner and make sure you have met your commitment. Tournament ends Tuesday at 8am.

This is a VERY powerful piece that you MUST read.... Answer why in the comments!
The Elevator

As the doors of an elevator in Indira Gandhi Airport shut, the floor number “1” seemed to stay the same for an eternity. The elevator screech to life, feeling my stomach tossed and turned as the old, rickety lift climbed up the shaft. I’m going home, I thought jubilantly to myself. The lift lurched to a stop. As I stared at the ancient display, the floor number still read “1”. I could feel my face fall. This isn’t my stop, I thought worriedly to myself. Squashed in the corner of the elevator, the look on my face was screaming discomfort. Pushing myself into the wall, I tried to become part of it and disappear. Creaking noises snuck their way into the lift, as an ominous voice buzzed to life. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?”. The voices in the elevator started to die down. “We apologize for the…<ahem> inconvenience, there is... um… a...uh… problem, with the <cough> elevator.” Everything stopped. Everyone stopped. The long, braided hair of the caribbean man in front of me whipped my face. “We apologize, but you are all - temporarily -” I hadn’t realized up until now that my eyes were widening as I digested this new information. “What?” I asked, but the voice was long gone.

The moment the sound of the voice left, the elevator burst to life. People shouting at each other and their phones, with annoyed expressions on every single face in there - including mine. Amongst all of the chaos, however, I picked out familiar languages and accents. “The lift stuck lah!” shouted a middle aged man who looked and sounded like he was Singaporean. “No podemos mover!” exclaimed an older latino woman. “What the bloody hell are we going to do!?” cried one British man to another. Outside, I looked annoyed as can be, but inside, I was smiling slightly. These languages were all so familiar to me. It feels like home, I thought. But I brushed the thought away. No, I thought, I’m going home. This isn’t home.

“Hey!” screamed someone else on the elevator. I snapped back to reality. “Huh?” I responded, confused as to what was happening. “Get your foot off of mine!” I glanced down, turning my weary, heavy head slowly. I couldn’t see the man’s foot. Does he even have a… I cut myself of. Snap out of it! I thought. You might be tired, but that doesn’t mean you should show it! I moved my foot away from the spot, slowly. Carefully. The man did have a foot. A crushed, wrinkled, dirty shoe surrounded it. “Hey!” he screamed. “Look what you did to my shoe!” “S-s-orr-y” I stammered, frightened by the man’s large, well built body. I turned away, trying to push him out of my head. I heard a rumbling. Oh no! I thought, panicking. The elevator cables are snapping! I heard it again. Only this time, I felt it too. It wasn’t coming from the elevator. It was coming from my stomach. I was starving. I reached into my pockets, only to find that they were empty. Tiny lint pieces came out, instead of delicious food. I was starving, stuck in an elevator, and homesick. What could be worse? I thought to myself, sinking to the floor with a heavy head and an even heavier heart.

Sitting on the floor of the elevator, the growling of my stomach was driving me crazy. I saw a pack of cookies, sticking out of a woman’s purse, but I didn’t take it. I realized that I wasn’t hungry for just any food. I was hungry for my own food. Indian food. The spicy taste of curry and the tangy taste of chutney rolled around my mind, my mouth watering at the very thought of these foods. I heard another growl. Only this time, it was the ominous voice, sounding slightly less ominous and enthusiastic. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” The chaos ceased. “I’m am pleased to say that the lift is working once more.” No one let the man’s lack of enthusiasm get to them - including me. Cheers broke out. “We free lah!” exclaimed the Singaporean man. “Libertad!” shouted the latino woman. “We can finally get out of this living hell eh lad?” yelled the british man to his companion. I exhaled - relieved. I felt the elevator screech to life again, my stomach tossing and turning once more. The elevator wailed to a stop one more time. I’m finally free, I thought elatedly to myself.

That one thought drew both of my weary eyes to the doors of the elevator, like a baby’s eyes are drawn to its favourite toy. Those shiny metal doors. I stared at those doors, ready for them to open at any second. Ready for them to let in cool, fresh air. Ready for them to let in the sounds of a bustling airport. Ready for them to let in the sight of freedom. I stared at the doors, my gaze never wandering. And then I stopped. I glared at the doors, contemplating what I saw. I saw a reflection. My reflection. But I also saw other reflections. I saw an African man, wearing intricate tribal clothing. I saw an Indian woman, her long, black hair falling down to her waist. I saw a Thai woman, her golden neck rings gleaming like the sun. I saw myself, amongst all of these other people. These people from all over the world. I looked at the metal doors and thought to myself, Am I really going home?

As the doors opened, I exited slowly. I turned back. I turned back to look at that elevator in Indira Gandhi international airport, its doors wide open, and I peered inside. It's shiny doors and dirty floor covered in footprints made me realize : I was already home. All of these different people from different cultures, they made this place my home. They made me who I was. All of those footprints made realize : Each of them represented a part of me. The latino woman’s footprint represented a language that I spoke fluently. The Singaporean man’s footprint made me remember where I currently resided. The Indian woman’s footprint reminded me of my ethnicity. These footprints - these parts of me - made where I was standing home. Made me the person that I had become. I thought to myself, Aren’t I a diverse person? Am I not like this elevator itself, full of different people’s footprints? These thoughts made me realize : I am an elevator. I am diverse. Like an old elevator full of people’s footprints, or a dirt path marked by different feet and wheels, I am the person I have become because of the different people and cultures that I have immersed myself in. Home has become where it is because of the people surrounding me. Because of all these different people - all of these different cultures - convening in one place. Influencing me. I wasn’t going home. I was already there.

The Friday Message - BE THAT ONE PERSON.... NOW and ALWAYS - Because - you will ALWAYS hope that there is that ONE PERSON for you

Have a great weekend...

Student Conference Prep

Student Led Conference Form Link

Use a creative and engaging slide design for your presentation 

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Reading Fluency

Listen for tonight's H/W - Spend no more than 1min reading aloud (approx. one page)

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Writing Feedback - What does exemplary look like?

Look at one/some of these EXEMPLARY samples of 'WHERE I"M FROM' writing from your classmates. Compulsory: You must write a short comment about one of the pieces saying something you learned by reading it.

This piece perfectly slows down time sand uses emotions and definitions powerfully. 

I quickly searched for a free seat as I tripped over the heavy paper bag I was dragging through the bus aisle. Not to mention the other bag filled with school work that I’d never look at again, crushing my back and weighing me down. I continued until I reached the back where the only free seat was located. I slumped down in my seat still gripping my heavy bags like a lifeline to keep them from slipping onto the aisle. I peered through the front window of my bus to catch one more glance at Ella, my best friend. It’s funny how the last look I had of the happiest and silliest person I had ever met in my life, was one of her shaking with tears as she walked away. I blinked the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
Heartbroken is that feeling when you lose someone you love. It’s when your heart is a million shattered pieces on the floor that you don’t know how to pick up. All I did was stare at the cracked parts of my own heart when Ella said, “Goodbye.” In an attempt to forget the fact that I’d never see my best friend again, I started scanning through the school work stuffed inside my bags. I held several projects from the beginning of the school year until the end. Every assignment was like a little memory. It was like I was flipping through all the small moments and conversations that happened throughout the school year.
A paper from the very first peer counsel meeting of the year reminded me of when I first met Ella. “Hi! I’m Ella, I love superheroes and Pentatonix,” an excited blonde girl introduced as she stuck out her hand for me to shake. Her blue eyes sparkled with positivity.
A paper about Greek mythology brought back memories of RLA inside jokes. Mrs. Mcmullen let us use markers to fill out the paper that day. “Ummmm… Abi,” Caroline said, “Did you just draw a dot on my paper?” I held a green marker the same color as the distinct dot on her paper. Aniela snickered next to me as Caroline silently freaked out. The dot war began.
A science paper about baking powder and chalk made me remember my clumsiest and most stubborn moments. “HA! Your thumb isn’t big enough!” Jacob jumped out of his seat and laughed. Trying to prove him wrong, I shook the test tube. Half of the contents spilled on our lab sheet. Jacob’s eyes widened comically and his jaw dropped as he stared at our messed up experiment.
Honk! Honk! The the horn echoed throughout the whole bus pulling me out of my past. We were about to leave. Even though I knew they wouldn’t be there, I still desperately peered through the window in hopes of seeing any of my friends one more time. A single tear rolled down my cheek when my eyes met empty space.
I looked down at the papers in my hand and crammed them into my heavy bag. And as I let go of all my bags, I felt like I could finally move freely. My life is the same repeating pattern made up of hellos and goodbyes, always being forced to go on. But like letting go of heavy bags to easily move forward, I leave behind memories in the past to focus on the present.

This piece perfectly slows down time so that the events take just a few seconds

Sitting on the floor in my room in Moscow, I leaned forward picking up a golden framed photo of all the friends which I had made here. I started balling. With tears running down my eyes I carefully placed the photo into the moving box. I put my hands over my eyes and hung my head.
Stepping over all the moving boxes I managed to finally find my way to my bed. I sat down on my bed, grabbing my softest pillow. Pushing my face into the pillow just made me think of my friends even more. I felt as if I would cover this house with water from all my tears. I was so upset I didn’t even realize my mom entering my room. As she was approaching my bed I looked up and only glanced at her face.
My mom placed her arm around me to close me into a hug. “Mom can we please stay here in Moscow?” I asked in a begging voice. I lifted my head as my mom's face was blank. I was hoping for a yes of course we can stay here, I didn’t want to move, but it was clear I wasn’t going to stay in Moscow. It felt like hours before my mom finally raised her head and whispered in my ear,
“Honey it’s going to be alright. I know you will see these friends again and you will meet a lot of new friends in Singapore, I promise you.” Standing up my mom gave my hand a little squeeze, she slowly started walking out of my room and down the hallway to the kitchen. How could I ever leave my room, my home, my friends behind. Curling up in a ball on my bed, I was feeling as if I was leaving a piece of my heart here in Moscow. Placing my head on the pillow again, I drifted into my own thoughts. In my mind I was remembering the time when I first met my best friend. That feeling of happiness that I felt. …

This piece used VERY strong storytelling and imagery.

My right hand gripped the handle of my carry-on suitcase while my left hand held onto my mother’s warm fingers. My dad walked beside us, ticket in one hand, checking our gate number, E32 he said. I glanced up to check the grey signs that hung above us. The bathroom to the right, lounge straight ahead, Ah, gates E30-E40 on the right. I tugged my mom’s hand and pointed to the rows and rows of seats to my right. I could see our gate a few meters ahead, as we walked people of all ages and nationalities whizzed past us. They weaved their way through the crowd, all heading to different locations.
“Mom! Look at that girl’s suitcase cover, it’s so cute” I said excitedly.
As soon as my mom turned her head, the girl had disappeared. I glanced away from the crowd and turned to the massive floor to ceiling windows. The pure white clouds almost completely covered the light blue sky and the sun seemed bigger than ever as it shone brightly, making the millions of lights in the airport look meager. Rows of airplanes stayed stationary at their gates, waiting patiently as workers that looked like ants placed suitcases them.
A woman’s voice filled the airport and echoed loudly, “Singapore Airlines flight SQ914 to Los Angeles has been delayed, sorry for the inconvenience caused.”
Suddenly, my dad halted and glanced up at the flight departure board, a few feet ahead, the word ‘DELAYED’ was plastered next to our flight number in bright red. My eyes drooped and my heart felt as if it had been shattered into a million peices.
“No this can’t be, I... I can’t believe this!” I blinked quickly so that the tears wouldn’t start pouring out like a waterfall, but they rushed down anyways.
“I’m sorry bub, we’ll see her soon...” My mom’s voice trailed off as she tried to hold back tears herself.
I glanced at my dad for support, but I could see in his eyes he wasn’t having the best time either. Everything had already been planned, meeting my aunt, uncle cousins and sister at the airport, driving to their house and eating a wonderful homemade dinner of barbecue ribs and sticky rice. How long will we have to wait here? I thought to myself. We walked over to our gate and sank into the cold, hard seats.
I glanced over to the window again and remembered always running over to windows in airports, gazing out the glass with huge eyes. My dad would pick me up and place me on his shoulders so I could have the best view when watching planes speed down the runway and soar into the air. I pointed at the logos plastered onto the back of the planes asking my dad where they were from.
“That one right there? That plane is from Korea! Do you want to go there?”
I bounced up and down and my light pink shoes lit up and made squeaky sound every time they hit the floor.
“Korea? I want to go there! Have you been there before?”
“Yes, I worked there for a few years..”
“I want to go! I want to go!”
My loud voice faded into barely a whisper as the scene changed. I was now shivering in front of a small restaurant, glancing through the menu in a language made of lines none of my family could understand. Just looking at the pictures on the menu made my mouth water. Juicy Bulgogi, fresh gimbap, and spicy bibimbap caught my eye immediately. My mom looked at me to ask if we were going to eat here.
“Let’s eat here! Mmm the food looks so yummy!” I said excitedly.
We nodded at the waiter and he gestured us to a seat. I plopped down on the wooden seat next to my sister and glanced around the restaurant as my parents pointed to pictures on the menu.
The restaurant was dark and filled with people which reminded me of a restaurant I had been to in India. The waiter just kept bringing us plates of food, from the fresh naan that went so well with the tender chicken tikka to the hot brown dhal.
The plates stacked up reminded me of the tower my family makes out of plates every time we eat japanese food. The smell of green tea filled my nose as I slurped steaming hot udon. My sister gobbled up sushi of all colors and shapes, my mom started to order more food and my dad was reaching for some mochi. We laughed and talked as we ate making one meal so much more significant.
I snapped back to reality when I heard the loudspeaker come to life, “Singapore Airlines flight SQ914 to Los Angeles is now boarding”, it announced. My parent’s heads popped up even before the woman had finished her sentence. I saw a special glint in their eyes and a smile grow on their faces. The seed was always there, but finally it had been given everything it needed to grow into the brightest smile I had ever seen. I will never forget how empty I felt when I heard that woman’s voice, like a bullet shot straight into my heart. I will never forget watching as planes landed and flew away, and I will never forget all the places I have been to and all the food I have tasted. My life is an array of different exotic dishes all being served on the same table. Without a question, the places I have been to and the food I have tasted complete me and has changed me into a unique person. Without these experiences I wouldn’t know how people from other cultures live and wouldn’t be able to add a little bit of that culture into my life.

This piece used a 'letter' structure and captured the essence of her identity though the books she reads. It's long but worth the read.

Dear Analyn,
    I got your letter, and I am so glad that you have a proclivity for the reader, I wasn’t exactly buoyant when I was told that I had to give away some of my most prized possessions, my books. You could say that I overreacted when my mom started running her finger across my books and pulling them out one after another. Pulling out the memories, I mean, she took out Journey to the River Sea, the book that made my need for adventure surge. Every time I look at that book, the thin, cool, breeze of Switzerland hits me, as I glided through the mountains, taking in the world before me, the adrenaline kicking in, I felt so exhilarated. Looking at the mountains, their peaks covered in a layer of white, fresh, snow, I knew then what they meant when they said, “It’ll take your breath away.” Sadly, it finished a soon as it started, and I landed on the damp, green, grass, the parachute falling around me like a blanket, under the cold, dark, night. Those were the days where I wish I could go back to, and I didn’t want to give a book that held that memory, away.    
My mom - of course - went off into a lecture of how I’m a hoarder, and that I need to give to others, “Tanisha! Think about all those kids who don’t have all these wonderful books. All these books that can take them places they never imagine. Stop being so selfish, and start thinking about other!” I processed what my mom said, with an open mind, and decided that I want others to feel the energy and spark I felt while reading those books, so I started to look at my bookshelf, choosing some of my favorite books. I started by choosing my childhood favorites, my finger brushing across the row of books, stopping at one book, which was full of possibilities and full of magic, Magic Tree House, this book helped me gain the confidence and idea that anything's possible if you put your mind to it. I hope you realize that as well, because I needed to realize that when I was sitting at the edge of a helicopter, on the brink of life or death, when I realized anything was possible, and by then I was dropping, dropping so fast, that I couldn’t breathe, until I was soaring, soaring through the clouds, my hands touching the world around me, I felt alive, I felt brave, I felt the possibilities, and you will too.    
I had only chosen a couple of books when my sister walked in moving something back and forth in her hands and dropping it in the piles of books, “She’ll love this one, I know it,” She whispered and walked out of the room, the floorboards creaking under each step. I looked down at the pile and smiled, she was right, you will love The Giver. It always remind me of all the memories I have, friendships that may have been broken but the memories that are still lighting and bursting with love. The friendships I've had over the years are now like broken glass, shattered in a million pieces, ready for a fresh start. Because, my past is already broken that if I touch it, it will leave a painful scar.
I also thought that maybe you would like to learn how to do things such as cook, so obviously, I had to put in my all-time favorite cookbook, The Classic Italian Cookbook, which takes me back to that summer in Italy. I will always remember the fresh smell of baking bread in the classic cooking stove. When taken out, it would be topped with beautifully chopped tomatoes, and a sprinkle of earthy cheese. Making a delightful bruˈsketta (bruschetta), crunchy on the outside but dense on the inside. I remember myself walking down the street, hand in hand with my padre (father), taking in the aroma of Italy in. Hearing the occasional, “Ciao!” or “Come stai?”, pass by. If you ever get a chance to cook, remember to use The Classic Italian Cookbook, it’ll always find a way to make you feel at home.
Speaking of home, I wanted you to learn the languages I speak, so maybe one day we won’t need a translator, who will take this note, and rewrite it, in your language. I had to give you my English - Chinese dictionary. Someday you can take that book, and try to learn the languages that I so fluently speak, and someday I will do the same for you. You can learn words like “你好”, “Hello”, or, “你是好,吗?”, “How are you?”, just to start off with. Maybe you can even eat the classic Chinese dish, dumplings, which are steamed or fried, and filled with chopped vegetables and smoky meat. Personally, I think you would be able to pick up these languages fast, because from what I’ve seen you definitely have the speed of leopard when it comes to learning. You have this drive and passion that I would love to have, and hopefully, someday I will.
I felt that I not only share my language with you, but also my beguiling culture, so I put The Mango Season in the pile of books. This book is the book I’ve been living in. The book where I was walking down the crowded streets, enjoying my yearly vacation in India. The sound of pakoras frying and sizzling, to create the perfect golden brown, crunchy layer of coat on the delicate and moist paneer. The book which made my mouth watering just thinking about the pakora being dipped in a tangy green chutney, bursting with flavor. The book where I was ready, to bite into the freshly cut, ripe, mango. Ready, to celebrate Diwali, by lighting every corner of the house with raspberry scented candles. Ready, to start bursting firecrackers, that spark in the daylight, making circles of light, and dancing about. Sounds like I was ebullience, right? Well, I was, and I know you will be too because I sent you a packet of firecrackers so that you can actually feel the moment. Understand the moment.    

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

My Writing Grade: Self Assessment

All Classes - Make sure you have between 10-15 screenshots of your social media accounts. 
C/D and E/F - H/W: If  you have a phone/iPad  then download the SEESAW app

Image result for seesaw app
Optional H/W: Add another post to your 'Seesaw Journal' this evening. 

Membean test is POSTPONED until THURSDAY

For Meaning, I deserve this grade
The rubric says:
My evidence proving I accomplished this 

For Craft, I deserve this grade
The rubric says:
My evidence proving I accomplished this 

For Structure, I deserve this grade
The rubric says:
My evidence proving I accomplished this 

Monday, September 26, 2016

Bias - Prejudice - Discrimination

H/W - Final version of your 'Where I'm From' piece -dropped in the RLA folder.  (C/D and E/F classes) G/H - You will have 30mins to finish your piece in class Tuesday.

You will have a 30 question Membean test on Wednesday
You should have completed 30 mins (40+for exemplary). of Membean for this week (Friday 23rd Sept -Friday 30th Sept)

Lesson Recap
Transition Techniques

You will receive a 'structure' grade on the rubric for your use of transitions. See rubric below

Lesson Recap

Comments from today's session appreciated

Friday, September 23, 2016

Ending Techniques

Thank you for all working so hard this week. Hopefully, you will be given 20mins to do the finishing touches to you 2nd writing piece in Monday's class. Those students seeking exemplary might choose to work on the piece a little over the w/end.

Lesson Recap

The Friday Message


Win +3 if you watch this with a parent (decide which one needs to see it the most!) Comments appreciated.

Ending Techniques

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Summative: Where I'm From

H/W - Spend 15-20minutes on your summative piece.  (Students who wish to reach exemplary might choose to work longer on their writing.) You should be able to finish your piece with an hour of class time on Friday.  Read for 10-15mins tonight

Today's Lesson Recap

Mentor Text

Getting Started

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Do you want to be a writer...

I will do a session on SUMMARY writing -v- Storytelling writing this THURSDAY 22nd. The first 16 people that contact me (in person or via email) can attend. BRING Reader's notebook and a reading book

Make a copy of this file Jennifer Wang - Orientation Day

Today's Lesson Recap

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Writng Craft and Structure

I will do a session on SUMMARY writing -v- Storytelling writing this THURSDAY 22nd. The first 16 people that contact me (in person or via email) can attend. BRING Reader's notebook and a reading book

H/W - Drop your poetry slides in this slideshow (DUE WED)
C/D Class - Where I'm From 
E/F Class - Where I'm From

Today's Lesson Recap
Make a copy of this file Jennifer Wang - Orientation Day

Today we defined 'structure' in terms of  the different scene choices a writer makes and how the writer moves from scene to scene.

Monday, September 19, 2016

Where I'm From

Today's lesson 
Surface Culture
Which specific foods do you commonly eat?
Fashion trends do you follow?
Which languages do you speak?
What type of music and  books can be found in your house?
What are some of the traditions you keep? What festivals do you celebrate?
How do you spend your winter and summer holidays?
What advertising slogans do you connect with? What are advice/critique are your parents always  saying?
What national sports teams do you follow? Who are your heros?
What national flags do you connect with?

H/W - Finish the first 8 lines of your  'Where I'm From' Poem - ALL CLASSES - Due Tue
The final poem will be a minimum 16 lines which will be due Wed.

You will be grade on the 'specificity of your idea' 
e.g. I like pizza NO
e.g. Domino's and Pizza's Hawaiian special. Fried ham and pineapple covered in sour cream YES


Where I'm From

Today's lesson 
Surface Culture
Which specific foods do you commonly eat?
Fashion trends do you follow?
Which languages do you speak?
What type of music and  books can be found in your house?
What are some of the traditions you keep? What festivals do you celebrate?
How do you spend your winter and summer holidays?
What advertising slogans do you connect with? What are advice/critique are your parents always  saying?
What national sports teams do you follow? Who are your heros?
What national flags do you connect with?

H/W - Finish the first 8 lines of your  'Where I'm From' Poem - C/D and E/F classes only - Due Tue
The final poem will be a mminimum 16 lines which will be due Wed.

You will be grade on the 'specificity of your idea' 
e.g. I like pizza NO
e.g. Domino's and Pizza's Hawaiian special. Fried ham and pineapple covered in sour cream YES


Saturday, September 17, 2016

"Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." Maya Angelou

Comments appreciated...

Your summative grades will start to appear in PowerSchool for your first piece 'Who Am I' It is easy to say, "I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I don't know why I didn't get a higher grade." Instead, use a growth mindset and look at ways your work differs from the piece that is attached below. 

Sample 1- From Michael K.
Notice in this short piece, it is clear that Micheal is using 'reflection' writing to comment on how an event taught him (and hence us) something significant about him.

When I think of him felt so sad and heartbroken. But also this taught me how to deal with loss as I grieved and cried for him for days I finally figured out that I lost him and I need to move forward with the world and myself.

Sample 2 - From Anika

“So now that we’ve settled what we’re doing for the project, I think we should make an interactive display and,” her voice started becoming more and more distant by the second. The thing is that I wasn’t listening. My friend, Alice and I decided to finally agree on a project, she was ready to spend the whole night on the project. I ignored her though as I texted a cousin. “So when are you coming back here?” She texted. “Maybe next summer” I texted back. Suddenly, I snapped back into reality. “Got it?” Alice asked. I hesitantly nodded my head.
The next day she started working on the project, “Anika, you have to do the research,” she pointed out. Then I realized how I paid no attention to her, I didn’t want to ask her what to do because she’d either, lash out on me or just assume I forgot what to do and tell me. I felt extremely bad as I slowly walked up to her and asked her to explain what to do again. Thankfully, she explained exactly what to do again with a smile on her face. I never know, she could have lashed out on me as well if she wanted to, but instead, she was an amazing friend and helped me.

I learnt that disrespect happens when you offend a person, not when you decide it’s disrespect. I feel I did offend her in a way, by not listening to her.

In the future, I will pay more respect to people, but I’ve learnt that respecting makes you a better friend/family member/acquaintance ext. Respecting makes you instantly a better person in my opinion.

Respect, I feel this core value is super important and applies to everyone, including me. Respect is giving regard or concern to someone, it can also be simply listening to them while they talk instead of cutting them off. Someone you would want to give respect to is maybe a family member, teacher, friend or basically anyone. Everyone deserves respect.

Looking back, I’ve learnt that being disrespected and disrespecting someone both affect me as a person. “You don’t have to disrespect and insult others simply to hold ground. If you do, that shows how shaky your own position is,” (Red Harrison).

What moves is this writing making that you didn't? If you know the answer to this question - you know how to improve your grade.

SAMPLE 3 - Caroline

My Second Grade Story
       By Caroline Meredith E/F

         The classroom was quiet. All you could hear were second graders scribbling down words onto a clean sheet of white paper. I was one of those second grade students, determined to spell every single word correct because if I did, I wouldn’t have to take the real test next week. I was used to spelling every single word correct. I was proud of my great reputation as a speller, and I didn’t want that taken away from me. “That was the last word. Please bring your paper to the front,” my teacher announced, breaking the silence in the room. I pushed my seat back, walking to the front with confidence. My teacher looked at my paper, and then quickly wrote something down and held it in front of me.
         When I saw what was written, I panicked. There was a big “-1” circled in ink in the top right corner of my test. “Oh no!” I thought. I scrambled back to my desk to find my pencil. I hesitated but then decided in my head, “It’s only one letter.” I was glad that I realised my classmate’s paper was right beside me, so I looked to see how the word was spelled. I quickly erased the wrong letter and wrote down the right one. I ran up to the front and waved the paper in front of my teacher. “I looked back at my paper and I didn’t actually get this wrong,” I said as naturally as I could. I think she was rightfully questioning me in her head. “So isn’t this a one hundred, and I won’t have to take the test next week?” I asked. “Alright,” she said as she crossed out the big “-1” in the top right corner that I was so ashamed of. She handed it back to me. Who knew that that moment would be one that I would remember for the rest of my life? That moment built my character so much more than I could have imagined. “That was close!” I thought to myself as I walked back to my desk.
         Later that day a classmate walked up to me. “Did you get a one hundred on the pre-spelling test?” “Yes,” I said proudly and with a smile. “Did you?” I asked. “No.”
         As the days turned into nights and the nights turned into days, guilt washed over me. A dispute went on between my head and my heart, and both wanted control over the other. “What do I do?” I had a moment alone with my mom to discuss what had happened days earlier. “Mom, I have something to tell you,” I said as my face blushed red with embarrassment. “You know how we do pre-spelling tests at school?” My mom said, “Yes,” and I went on. “Well,” I paused. “I cheated on it because I didn’t want to take the test next week and I wanted everyone to think I was a good speller and now I feel really bad,” I said quickly as I could. “Have you talked to your teacher about it?” my mom asked in a comforting voice. “No. Can you? I’m scared to.” We discussed it and decided to email her.
           “Caroline, can you come here please?” my teacher asked in class later that week. My face turned red as a tomato again as I got out of my seat and headed toward the desk. “I got the email your mom sent.” The conversation continued. “I wish this day would be over. I’m so embarrassed,” I thought. “Just don’t do it again,” my teacher said as I stood up. I hurried to my desk, relieved that it was over. All the guilt, gone.
         As I look back to that day, I am glad that I had that experience. It made me better. I was able to learn when I was young that when we make mistakes, we can always find a way to fix them. When I do fix them, I feel so much better! Honesty is so important in our daily lives. By being honest we build trust, friendships, character, and relationships. Imagine what would the world be like without honest people. After all, mistakes may hold or tear us down in the beginning of the story, but in the end, they just build us up and let us fly.

Imagery Inner Thinking Reflection Figurative Language

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