Student Led: Goal Setting Conferences

H/W - All classes - Spend 15mins collecting evidence that proves your 'learning growth' - e.g. the answers you stated about your 'strengths' in the questionnaire below
Evidence could be: Screenshots of your reader's notebook, seesaw, sections of your writing,  reading log, teacher feedback, grades, membean scores etc...

Link to SLC - Questionnaire 

Bring your Memoir to life with Adobe Spark

Celebration Monday - Use this link to fill in what you will bring

Reading Challenge - Ends Monday.

I know this is long - but it is REALLY worth reading. Why is this piece EXEMPLARY?

                                         Out of    Reach

                                           By: Sophie Baca

I guess I consider myself a pushover. Letting people walk all over me like an innocuous doormat, their footprints leaving stains and indents imprinted on me. Believe me, I don’t want to be a doormat. Who does anyway? It makes me feel like just a shell of a person. Half of who I want to be.  I’ve never really been able to stand up, for anyone and mostly for my own cowardly self. Even in the toughest of situations I am yelling and screaming inside so loud and plan the perfect words of action that I can feel tremors  rupturing my bones. But my face always lies still, unable to speak due to my vocal cords giving out on me at that precise moment. Instead I bottle it up, to stifle my anger, saving it for later I guess. Or just regret the person I am entirely. This might sound like a sob story at this point, all about how I hate myself, but I actually don’t. I only hate the person I can not be. That girl is tenacious and strong. She knows who she is. She doesn’t care about the stares of everyone else.  She’s more than herself. Not half or just a shell or her like someone I know all too well.  But for me, she’s always just out of reach. I lunge for her hand to find her, but she always runs away.   I yearn to meet her. I need to. But I guess she’s not ready to come out yet. They say that opposites attract, but then why haven’t I met her?

I darted out of the noisy lunchroom with my eyes set on the wet, sandy small soccer pitch I called home. I couldn’t wait to get the ball at my feet and be sprinting to and fro around like a cheetah.

I lived and breathed soccer. I loved the quick shove of another player and the screams of my coach from the sidelines. If I could play soccer at school, believe me I was going to.

“Sophie! Wait up!” Someone called to me in an exasperated voice from somewhere behind me. I  kept running but turned around stopping only when I reached the pitch and saw Abbey and Elise running over to me.  I had just moved to this new country called Singapore and they were my very first friends here. I waited impatiently for them to get to where I stood tapping my foot occasionally  glancing over at the pitch eager to get on it. However more kids started to file in waiting to start the game. I paced and tapped and jumped waiting for my friends to get over to me. After what seemed like ages they arrived at my feet. We got into a tiny circle formation facing not even a foot away from each other.

“What do you guys want to do?” Abbey asked swaying her feet. Around our little circle, noise erupted everywhere. The monkey bars already had tiny monkeys swinging about and pandemonium whirled out of control as kids raced around in different tag and running games. High pitch screeches banging against my ear drumes obnoxiously.

“Let’s play soccer!” I announced excitedly, stealing a peek at the pitch. It looked like most of the kids had arrived and they would be picking teams any second now.  

“No we can’t we’re not allowed.” Elise said, denouncing my idea. The piercing words rolled right off her tongue ever so easily.
“What?” I said with my eyes widened at saucer size, “How come? Look, everyone over there is about to play.” I flopped my arm in the direction of the pitch to show her.

Man she must be blind as a bat! I thought to myself. How silly Elise was being.

“They’re all boys, we can’t because we’re girls.”

I looked over with a swift turn of my head. Elise was correct. All the kids over there wore rudimentary khaki shorts and had short hair that didn’t even go over their ears. Their sketchers were all blue and black. All of them didn’t have their shirt collars buttoned at all unlike the girls who mostly buttoned both. I looked to my other two friends to see if they could verify this information, and they just nodded their heads looking straight ahead as if they didn’t even notice our conversation.The fire that had once so burned brightly keeping my passion warm and alive was being suffocated so quickly, so intensely and all I could do was stand watching and waiting to creep into the cold without my fire I’d grown so close to.  I played rapidly with the thought in my head like how I played with my soccer ball.  

It couldn’t possibly be true. I thought and both prayed at the same time, Mom promised that there was plenty of soccer in Singapore.  I yearned to play but I couldn’t leave my friends behind.

That’s not what a good friend does after all. I rationale, plus I don’t want the boys to make fun of me. maybe that’s why I couldn’t play, so the boys would be nice. I might not have friends afterwards either.  The once blue skies slowly turned to a bleak grey in my mind whilst fear and paranoia crept in so slowly while still being evident. Like standing in the ocean while waves crashed into me over and over barely giving me my chance to breath. Over and over again swallowing my small stature whole, playing an evil game where I didn’t know the rules.

“Oh. Ok” I said staring directly down at my pink shoes and little skirt. My hair fell around my face and I pulled it away quickly behind my ears like how I did 1000 times every day. The fear and paranoia screaming in my head seemed to force a duct tape strip over my mouth all the while I didn’t even struggle.

After that we played tag and didn’t play soccer. We didn’t play soccer the day after that either. Or the day after that or the day after that. Or the rest of the year. Now I regret that decision every day. Many think peer pressure happens mostly in your teen years. But for me it sprouted as young as 7. Fear was driven into me with a drill. The fact that I was scared to play at recess without my friends seems so stupid when I think about it. But if I was honest with myself now, I’d probably do the exact same thing.  It’s like I never learn. I never want to learn. Just say no! They say but even just that two letter word made so hard by just two seven year old girls who didn’t want to play soccer.

Abbey and Elise. They are characters, always have been. Elise and abbey are my best friends and I miss them everyday . They both moved about two years ago or so. Elise is animated. She is just simply funny and making the jokes. Her laugh has a ripple effect and Whenever I see her my stomach aches horribly afterwards from all the laughter.   Abbey was the opposite, she always and only laughs at the jokes and was more like the leader. Abbey is brave and and willing to do anything just to make you smile. But both did have something in common. They were intimidating. Like sharks. Even to me.  Their eyes can give the iciest death stares. I love them and they can use their power for good, but sometimes for bad. Maybe that’s why I relived my nightmare of a somewhat soccer moment five years later when the girl I can’t be ran away again.  

I propped myself gently against the railing on Elise's bunk in our  new cabin, my hair still damp from the shower. "Five minutes till lights out!" called out the camp counselors. I oriented myself with the strange new surroundings of Independent Lake Camp.

camp was something Elise and Abbey had been going to for a long time. I decided to come this year hoping I wouldn’t be a tag-a-long and viewed as a nuisance.

Our cabin was wooden from head to toe keeping the warm in and pushing away the cold mountain air trying to slip in through the windows, the floor creaked in that special place just before entering the bathroom and it felt ever so warm inside our little cabin we called home for now. My bunk sat on the bottom closest to the floor, however I'd rather hang out on Abbey and Elise's bunks. With my best friends I felt a little more comfortable in this strange new community I immersed myself into head on. The many other girls scattered about made quite some noise chitter and chattering, rushing to get their teeth brushed seconds before lights out. My thoughts were broken by the sounds of my best friend's voices. "I didn't even bother call my mom today." Abbey said sitting on top of her bunk, across from Elise and I.
"I don't ever call my mom at camp." Elise said shrugging her shoulders lightly, as she talked.

She was a veteran at this camp, who I thought should be respected.  

"Really?" I said sputtering, "But we're gone for 2 weeks!" I exclaimed with my eye beginning to widen. I couldn't imagine not calling mom, she'd probably be so worried.

"So? My mom just sends me care packages." Elise said letting out a little chuckle. Abbey laughed to. Their eyes gave me a familiar stare I knew all too well.
So I shrugged letting the subject go quickly avoiding the conversation. After all, Elise has been going to camp for 5 years now, she probably knew more about it than I ever will.

"I haven't called my mom either, I can't even remember her phone number." I chimed in adding a little chuckle to strategically make it seem as though I didn’t care at all. I hoped to not sound like I wasn't a Mama's girl. Even though I secretly had a pit in my stomach because I promised my mom I would call her today. I just hadn't gotten around to it. Today was much to exciting to drop everything for a phone call. Plus there was such a long line for the phone and I wanted to play gaga. What was I supposed to do? But what if she's worried I'll be homesick. I really hope I won't be. That'd be so embarrassing.As I wrestled with this reasoning a thought emerged of Elise and Abbey making fun of me for the next two weeks for wanting my mommy. It almost made my face go red and I chased the frightful image out of my racing mind.

"Lights out!" The words echoed from the tired councilors voice  and through my ears and I swiftly leaped down like a kangaroo, so light on my feet from their top bunks down to my own. "I think I'm gonna read before I sleep." I called up to Abbey and Elise before I got ready to tuck in to bed. I looked down at my sleeping place and a yawn crawled its way from my mouth. Just looking at this temptation was enough for me to readily pull away my fuzzy blankets and jump in. As I did so, my achy muscles thanked the heavens as I lie down. I yanked my cozy blankets up to my chin and eagerly flopped my head on my cloud of a pillow. The lights flickered off and the thought of reading fluttered out my mind the second my eyelids began to droop out of my control. I was so utterly exhausted and Elise's huge blankets flopping out of her bunk was like a curtain blocking out my bunkmates reading lights, whispers, and the rest of the world, leaving me alone with my last thoughts, moments before sleep would be victorious and take over my heavily fatigued body. I'll call mom tomorrow. I reassured myself whilst fumbling wearily with my wrist band. it was only my third day after all, and I'll have time tomorrow. I had trouble keeping these thoughts alive. My brain was behaving like a flickering light bulb, only half working while sleep continued to overtake like thunder storm clouds rolling over mountain tops. It's a new day tomorrow, I can call her tomorrow.

My final lasting thought before everything went black and my head fell to the side. I didn't call my mom that day or the day after that, or the day after. It took me a long time to even bring myself to the phone. The procrastination was relentless and I only called because the guilt was eating away at me like my conscious was trailing after me.  

I wonder if after all these times I’ve given in, could I actually stand up for myself? Be who I say that I am? Get some backbone?  If I couldn’t what kind of person does that make me? A coward? A pushover? So many unwanted traits in one neatly tied trojan horse like gift. I hope I could actually try some time because right now is one of those times that I’m screaming inside for the girl who is simply out of reach.

“Click”. Only half awake, I slammed my locker shut, like a zombie. Without any friends at school yet in the morning, I decided to just wander around school aimlessly.

I usually got to school early so this was normal. I did this a lot to be honest.

I got up and headed in the direction of the stairs. But I snapped to attention and quickly dodged out of the way when a boy lunging for what seemed like just air. I quickly whipped around to see who and what had almost just tackled me. To give just a suitable dirty look. I expected to see a few knucklehead boys wrestling or just messing around like usual, but instead I saw a backpack swinging around in the air in a humorous yet taunting manner. I took a few steps back not wanting to get hit by the crazy flying backpack and instead looked at the arm it was attached to.   

“HAHAHA” The snickers and laughter filled the almost empty hallway. I groaned, it was too early for excitement today.

Of course the one and only Ben held the backpack above his head. He wasn’t exactly the nicest and most polite kid in our grade. I shifted my gaze to a smaller kid jumping and grasping and lunging while Ben barely moved. The small kid wore glasses and was probably at Ben’s shoulders, not even. I knew his face, his hair, the glasses, but the name wouldn’t come to me. Couldn’t come to my mind. All the while my gaze fluctuated. From Ben to the boy.

“Ben give it back!” The small boy laughed while jumping for the bag which was too high up for him. This only amused Ben more.

The scene was so textbook, exactly like a movie scene. The small kid being teased by the big kid while his friends just laughed close by.  

I wondered what to do. No teacher in sight, just a few kids putting away their bags, and myself. I had been trained on how to handle this moment so many times. It’d been jammed into my head with a hammer since grade school. Every peer council meeting, every peer support meeting. But my voice refused to work. My feet were glued to the floor now. I watched from afar. Then I did it. I turned my head and did it. With a quick eye roll I took down the stairs. A hundred at a time.

It was nothing. I told myself. They probably were just messing around in a playful way. I didn’t want to overreact. But the laughing and ruffle of the backpack still lingered in my ears. But I just kept walking away. Faster and faster with each pacing step.

Being blind to the situation, I didn’t see it happen again. The boy being “teased”.  But I knew it was happening. Maybe because of me even. Playing the victim far too often even if I don’t intend too. Playing the victim so well I guess because it became a part of me. Like an extension of my shell. Maybe it’s time to start to change. Begin the transition into filling my shell of a person. Playing the victim when I let that happen to someone else. Perhaps I’ve changed. Not in myself, but who I want to be. Maybe there isn’t a person I want to be. Maybe that’s the girl who I can be. I could make a few tweaks here and there, and my shell is hardly full, but I can be that girl. I do have  a voice. I do not play the victim. I won’t play the victim. Even though it took 12 years and a memoir to figure it out, maybe it’s not too late too late to grab that girl’s hand and meet her.

Author’s Note

My meaning I’m trying to convey in my memoir is that if you’re living life to please someone else you’re not living a life at all.   Because I believe life is what you make of yourself. In my memoir I was constantly trying to reach my idolized “girl” in the story, but I just now realized another “girl” will appear and I’ll start chasing her. I wanted this theme to let out the bottle in myself. Sometimes I think people think that I’m stronger than I actually am. I wanted to come clean and release that weight on my shoulders. I made subtle moves like in my title I put three spaces between “of” and “reach” to convey as early as I could about me never really reaching the ultimate satisfaction in myself and accepting that at the end. I also used the girl I am trying so hard to reach as symbolism for always having self doubt and never getting full satisfaction because throughout the story I often say how she is out of reach to keep pounding in the idea. I also added in my “trojan horse gift” idea because I wanted to relate myself to that. The trojan horse looked like something good when really inside it was all destruction and malice. I wanted to show how I think about all these bad ideas and traits of myself but on the outside you can’t see that. I used the skies turning to a bleak gray to show my starting of realization from myself to something I wasn’t but chose to become. I used waves crashing over me to show how I was really feeling inside like I didn’t have a chance to breath anymore and with every coming wave I lost a part of myself at sea.

I used dialogue to enhance my piece. In my first anecdote I used back and forth dialogue to convey the first hints at my theme and how I was being shaped into different person. Then I used reflection as well at the end of each anecdote to add a so what factor to it and show why it’s important for example in my second anecdote I talked about asking myself if I really had the courage to take my words into actions, this was important to show my own realization of my disposition throughout the story. The last thing I used was figurative language to enhance my story. Like I said before I used the trojan horse, doormat, and waves to indicate the theme to the reader. And also the girl was a constant symbol through the whole memoir.

I used different types of structures that were effective to my memoir. I used the before and after structure about how I changed from being myself, to being a people pleaser. But also reflected on how I could change that as well. I also used inner thinking so readers would feel in the moment. Like when I was contemplating about soccer in my first anecdote. And I used the item structure by bringing up my idolized girl in the story throughout, this was to get my theme fully across.  

I think this memoir helped me grow really evidently as a writer. I feel now that I’m not afraid to put myself out there and really be honest about myself and my experiences. I also think that now I can use figurative language and symbolism better to really convey the theme to help the reader think. I could still use work on paragraphing and general structure so I can be effective as possible.