C/D Class
August minites
E/F Minutes
August Practiced
September Practised
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, but...er... 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 - ...er...stuck.” 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
14 comments:
This indeed is a very powerful piece, it show strong imagery, but it also shows heart. It takes place in a number of minutes, but it shows how one person with a certain mindset, changed it just by being in a certain situation. A situation where they can observe and think, and ask questions. This person shows that each individual person makes you who you are, and those are what have made you you. This person did an amazing job with the metaphor of the elevator, everything took place in this metaphor, so the story was like one big metaphor, which is an amazing craft move, and one I will be using in the future. Good job to whoever wrote this it was really good, and got the message through really clearly.
This is called an extended metaphor scene. I will teach you that. There is a poster in the classroom.
Great comment by the way
Thank you, last year our teacher, Ms. Ramani, gave us a very short lesson on an extended metaphor scene, so I kind of have an idea, but not a complete picture.
I think that this piece is very powerful because it shows that in a fixed mindset you are not open to the world and to excepting different things than you originally thought, but in a growth mindset you are open and notice more of what is going on around you.
On the membean minutes for C/D class, you wrote 'membean minites' instead.
I agree with Charlotte why this piece is powerful. Having a fixed mindset you do expect different things then if you have a growth mindset. Also this piece has really good storytelling.
This piece is powerful because it uses really great metaphors and similes that relate back to the claim. Also, it is very entertaining to read because the author did a great job of slowing down time by using dialogue, inner thinking, and how they were feeling.
I think that this piece is powerful because the author uses imagery and storytelling- you can see everything that's going on with the dialogue, sentence structure, transitions through emotions, etc , even though it only lasted a few minutes. Also there is symbolism in the elevator and how it represents the author.
This is a really powerful piece because the whole entire piece fits together, all making sense. It uses really good imagery, to create a mini-movie in my mind. The author also shows us what is happening and not telling. This also makes me think that, just because you are told something, doesn't mean it is right. Sometimes it is one experiencing that tells you more about yourself than you thought possible. The structure of this piece makes it flow easily, making it easy to read. The author uses great transitional moves such as dialogue, time change, and action change. This is why I think that this piece is amazing.
I think this is a really powerful piece because the author used a lot of imagery to show the sticky situation the author was in. The author was not telling us what happened, like how the author was stuck in an elevator and desperately wanted to go home but actually describing the author's mind and surroundings. The author did a really good job on using craft moves and elaborating the story with small details even though the event was quite a short period of time. The author providing lots of metaphors and similes that hint to a claim; You'll always find home even if you're lost.
I think this piece was very powerful and showed a lot of meaning because, every little imagery and feeling all fit in together as one big puzzle. The author clearly explained the situation and what he got himself into, but with the powerful imagery, it really helped explode the piece. After reading the ending and the solution, it was clear to the reader what the author was trying to hint to us, that where every you are, you'll always find of piece of it that reminds you-you are home. The way the author left us feeling was almost like a feeling with pleasure.
I think this piece was very powerful and showed a lot of meaning. I think this because the techniques used fit together into one big puzzle.
Thank for your comments.
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