What did you learn about interpreting poetry today?
"Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." Maya Angelou
Friday, December 11, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Brag Sheet - Sensory Narrative
This piece of writing truly touched me. Can you understand why?
As he held tightly to his mother's hand, tears welted in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Everybody wore black suits and dresses, but nobody cried as much as he did. Seven year old John knelt by the wooden casket every waking moment of the never ending funeral. His mother lay inside clutching a white beaded rosary. She dressed in a lacy, black dress and black shoes. Everybody did everything they could to cheer John up, but it seemed impossible. How could he ever live on without a mother? Know he would have to be passed back and forth with relatives and foster homes. He would be forced to change schools, and leave his friends behind. There was no way out of this terrible, unfair fairy tale that seemed to end now. There were no good endings, it was the end of the book. He pressed his clammy hand upon the smooth, wooden casket as the priest closed it forever. His mother already had a grave stone placed where the grave was to be, and it was beside his dad's grave. John carefully placed the red roses on the grave, sniffled, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His pale white face stared at the finished wood casket as his aunt generously rubbed his shoulder and whispered kindly in his ear that " Everything is going to be okay." Each and every friend and relative was at his side ready to face the challenges that lay ahead for him. " Maybe change is for the best" thought John as if to convince himself that everything really was going to be okay. "This unfortunate event could have happened to anyone, and out of all people it had to be me?" thought John. The cold stormy sky's rain pored down on John's neatly combed, brown hair. Each time he stepped, mud splashed up from the grass and dirtied John's black fancy pants. John wouldn't have missed this ceremony for his life. It seemed like the end of the road for him, but somehow he knew he would make it through. He knew that this was what his parents would have wanted for him. by Maddie
As he held tightly to his mother's hand, tears welted in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Everybody wore black suits and dresses, but nobody cried as much as he did. Seven year old John knelt by the wooden casket every waking moment of the never ending funeral. His mother lay inside clutching a white beaded rosary. She dressed in a lacy, black dress and black shoes. Everybody did everything they could to cheer John up, but it seemed impossible. How could he ever live on without a mother? Know he would have to be passed back and forth with relatives and foster homes. He would be forced to change schools, and leave his friends behind. There was no way out of this terrible, unfair fairy tale that seemed to end now. There were no good endings, it was the end of the book. He pressed his clammy hand upon the smooth, wooden casket as the priest closed it forever. His mother already had a grave stone placed where the grave was to be, and it was beside his dad's grave. John carefully placed the red roses on the grave, sniffled, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His pale white face stared at the finished wood casket as his aunt generously rubbed his shoulder and whispered kindly in his ear that " Everything is going to be okay." Each and every friend and relative was at his side ready to face the challenges that lay ahead for him. " Maybe change is for the best" thought John as if to convince himself that everything really was going to be okay. "This unfortunate event could have happened to anyone, and out of all people it had to be me?" thought John. The cold stormy sky's rain pored down on John's neatly combed, brown hair. Each time he stepped, mud splashed up from the grass and dirtied John's black fancy pants. John wouldn't have missed this ceremony for his life. It seemed like the end of the road for him, but somehow he knew he would make it through. He knew that this was what his parents would have wanted for him. by Maddie
Monday, December 7, 2009
Brag Sheet - Midwest Region Essay
Below is one of the few essays that scored the highest grade in the recent class writing assignment. Read this essay 'very' carefully and look how effectively it introduced a variety of 'unique' facts about the Midwest in an engaging and interesting way. Also note the use of GRAAB and SSS. I did make a few changes in red as examples of how you can all avoid repeating the name of the region continually through your essays and the word 'many'.(Hint Hint nudge Nudge...This is an excellent example of the type of answer that will be required for Thursday's Midwest Test essay!)Explain why the Midwest is referred to the "Unique region" in the US
By Ryan Ensor
As the glaciers melt away, in time the hairy buffalo slowly trot onto the plains with Nomad Indians close behind onto what will soon become one of the most distintive regions of a new country. There are a variety of reasons why the Midwest is referred to as the “Unique Region” of the US. Impressive historical monuments can be found nestled across this part of the nation. The Midwest may not be home to New York’s Statue of Liberty, or Arizona’s Grand Canyon, but Mount Rushmore is known throughout the world and has become South Dakota’s claim to fame. Mount Rushmore portrays George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, and Theodore Roosevelt. It attracts a plethora of tourists everyday to stare at the carved faces in the side of the Mountain. The Crazy Horse Memorial is as important to Indian heritage as Kitty Hawk in the Southeast is to the Wright Brothers. The Crazy Horse Memorial is a huge statue of a horse and rider, although this marvel is not yet complete. The Sand Hills, located in Nebraska, are three hundred feet tall. These monuments are just some of the many marvels in the Midwest.
Sports teams, hot air ballooning, and winter sports are all popular hobbies in the Midwest. The Minnesota Twins are as important to Minnesota as the Red Sox are to Boston. The Ohio State Buckeyes and Wisconsin Badgers are popular college teams from Ohio and Wisconsin respectively. Alternatively, multi colored hot air balloons filled the sky as they soar during a typical midwestern summer festival. Hot air ballooning is a popular pastime for residents and visitors to the area alike and is also enjoyed nation wide! In most places, hot air ballooning is scarce, and this is one of the reasons the Midwest is so unique. Additionally, ice fishing, ice hockey, and ice skating are very fun for winters in across the land areras bordering the Great Lakes. In fact, ice fishing is as uncommon for other regions as a blizzard hitting the Florida coastline would be.
The history of the Midwest is as interesting as the history of the whole country. Glaciers, huge frozen blocks of ice, once covered the entire Interior Plains flattening mountains and trees. When the glaciers cleared away, buffaloes and Indians came on to the now settle in the Plains. Soon the French came into the Midwest exploring and looking for land to take for their own. In 1803, The US concluded the Louisiana Purchase.
To conclude, the Midwest is unique in many ways. Mount Rushmore, Minnesota Twins, and hot air ballooning are just a few resons. As the red, white, and navy blue Minnesota Twins compete in the World Series foreign tourists gape at the granite faces of Mount Rushmore. The crowd roars in triumph when the Twins win the World Series making their mark on history, and the tourists realized what a unique region the Midwest truly is.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Coming Next Week
- Midwest Region Test - Thur
Northeast Region -Research Skills Project- Reading, Writng, and Interpreting Poetry
Friday, December 4, 2009
Brag Sheet- Narrative
The way Thomas integrated the description of the scenery with his action narrative was very impressive.
A Camping Trip to Remember
By Thomas Williams
When the fading sunlight prickled through the trees onto my fellow campers walking on the forest trail, we looked almost like ants marching in a line to get back to their anthill. The trail was weathered into the woods and clear over the dense, overgrown jungle of forks in the dirt trail. The smell of the cool Appalachian summer air put me at ease. My conversation was interrupted and stopped as cheers erupted from the crowd of traveling boys. We had reached our campsite; it was green river pasture.
Surprisingly, even though it was just a two-mile trip, all of the campers seemed as tired as dogs. The sound of panting hit at my eardrums. Chris and Patrick, two boys in my cabin, toiled with tarps for a blue tent. While they were at work, I put on my Crocs and plunged into icy Green River. I felt energetic as I paddled in the stream. I found a place where the current was not very strong and picked up a rock. I pulled my arm back and let loose a hard sidearm. The rock skipped once, twice, three times. The smell of enchiladas on the cook stove made my mouth water. The yellow sun from earlier had become a golden ball above the horizon struggling to stay where it was. The ominous cloud cover soon crept over it. David, my camp counselor, called for us to come and eat. I had been ready a long time ago!
Dinner was happiness for my taste buds, but no one had enough of it. Everyone took any chance they could of getting more food even if it meant stealing off other people's plates. Five or six people only got a half serving! Five counselors can only carry so much!
When the final ray of sunlight disappeared from view, few of us had flashlights. David set to work building a campfire. It took a while before the the taste of s'more finally reached my mouth. When it did, the smell of smoke was almost better than the smell of s'mores.
It was midnight before sleep came. Sleep was what everyone needed, but no one was able to get more than an hour of it. My dreams were brought to reality by the pitter-patter of rain on the foot of my sleeping bag. The bag was taking on water rapidly while lightning flashed in the sky above. The rain stopped as fast as it had begun. All 40 campers stumbled out of the makeshift tent and onto the soft, drying, ground. I listened to the sound of shuffling cards from the pack Martin had brought along. As the sun began to peek through the clouds hours later, David and the other counselors helped us pack our backpacks, sleeping bags, and tarps. After that, I vowed never to go camping again. That promise won't last very long!
A Camping Trip to Remember
By Thomas Williams
When the fading sunlight prickled through the trees onto my fellow campers walking on the forest trail, we looked almost like ants marching in a line to get back to their anthill. The trail was weathered into the woods and clear over the dense, overgrown jungle of forks in the dirt trail. The smell of the cool Appalachian summer air put me at ease. My conversation was interrupted and stopped as cheers erupted from the crowd of traveling boys. We had reached our campsite; it was green river pasture.
Surprisingly, even though it was just a two-mile trip, all of the campers seemed as tired as dogs. The sound of panting hit at my eardrums. Chris and Patrick, two boys in my cabin, toiled with tarps for a blue tent. While they were at work, I put on my Crocs and plunged into icy Green River. I felt energetic as I paddled in the stream. I found a place where the current was not very strong and picked up a rock. I pulled my arm back and let loose a hard sidearm. The rock skipped once, twice, three times. The smell of enchiladas on the cook stove made my mouth water. The yellow sun from earlier had become a golden ball above the horizon struggling to stay where it was. The ominous cloud cover soon crept over it. David, my camp counselor, called for us to come and eat. I had been ready a long time ago!
Dinner was happiness for my taste buds, but no one had enough of it. Everyone took any chance they could of getting more food even if it meant stealing off other people's plates. Five or six people only got a half serving! Five counselors can only carry so much!
When the final ray of sunlight disappeared from view, few of us had flashlights. David set to work building a campfire. It took a while before the the taste of s'more finally reached my mouth. When it did, the smell of smoke was almost better than the smell of s'mores.
It was midnight before sleep came. Sleep was what everyone needed, but no one was able to get more than an hour of it. My dreams were brought to reality by the pitter-patter of rain on the foot of my sleeping bag. The bag was taking on water rapidly while lightning flashed in the sky above. The rain stopped as fast as it had begun. All 40 campers stumbled out of the makeshift tent and onto the soft, drying, ground. I listened to the sound of shuffling cards from the pack Martin had brought along. As the sun began to peek through the clouds hours later, David and the other counselors helped us pack our backpacks, sleeping bags, and tarps. After that, I vowed never to go camping again. That promise won't last very long!
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