Identity Project - Claims - Drop your claims in here once they are completed. Highlight the KEY ideas in your claim that you will develop in your piece. (see example)

Optional - Watch this video as a very strong example from last year.



DUE DATE for IDENTITY PROJECT is FRIDAY Oct 2nd

Identity Project - Summative Assessment

Planning template: 

• “Generating Ideas for Identity Unit Claims”

Fin

H/W

You need your CLAIM for Monday - You are welcome to start thinking out your outline if you choose.

Online Identity

My Online Identity

Can you maintain a growth mindset across all your work?

H/W

• Copy the link to your 'Unseen Influences' (Where I'm From poem) here under your name. Where I'm From -Link
• Spend 15-20mins working on your 'online identity' artwork. e.g.

All Classes
Compulsory H/W Read Michelle's VERY powerful piece.  Write a comment about a line or phrase that stood out to you.

Maybe the question is not who we are, but who we are meant to be.

          I stared all the blank screen, my mind silenced as if there was a wad of cotton stuck there. It muted everything, the bright lights of the classroom, the already almost-inaudible whisper of my classmates, even my own thoughts seemed far away, as if I was suddenly trapped in a imperceptible, yet indestructible glass box.

          Unfortunately, it was also not helping me get my work done. My eyes bore into the page, but I couldn’t stay that way for long - my vision became unfocused, like a camera zooming in for the perfect shot.

          NO IDEAS.

          NO IDEAS.

          NO IDEAS.

          I kept gawking at the screen, but my mind had travelled far already, three years, to be exact. My eyes stayed on the blank page, but if anyone had asked, I was seeing China, I was in China, in 2012, meeting the gaze of an unknown stranger on the street. I already knew what was going to happen, but I could tear my eyes away, couldn’t not see what was about to occur. Two words replayed themselves, writing themselves all over my mind, like a blackboard overcrowded with the same two words over and over again. They burnt themselves into my skin, etched themselves into my heart.

          混血儿. Mixed blood.

          It wasn’t even the words. It was the way she spat them at me, like something poisonous she wanted to get off her tongue before it infected her. Like I was something poisonous that would infect her.

          Yes, I was definitely mixed, my eyes, my nose, my mouth, all not quite Asian, but not quite European either.

          Sometimes, the Chinese part of me shows. The part that likes to have steaming hot dumplings on a cold winter’s day, the steam a white mist billowing out, a heavenly scent enveloping me like a warm blanket. The part that focuses on studying, furiously scribbling away at math homework, determined to understand. The part that speaks chinese in China, and ignores it when people stare at me strangely. After all, I don’t look Chinese.

          Sometimes, the European part of me shows. The part that loves to eat lasagne so hot it burns my mouth, and top it off with a creamy panna cotta that melts on the tip of my tongue, all the while watching a rich summer sunset from my porch, the kind that has so many colors that it’s almost too bright to look at - the crimsons, scarlets, tangerines, lavenders, violets, and golds blending to make a strange new color, maybe one with an exotic name like rêve, or speranza, or merveille, or maybe langueur. The part that isn’t afraid to be different, to wear strange mismatched socks or a sweater in summer. The part that can’t speak German, and ignores it when people stare at me strangely - like I’m an outsider. After all, I don’t look Swiss.

         Sometimes, the American part of me shows. The part that craves sizzling bacon from right off the pan, and a sunny-side-up egg as well, with a extra large Sprite and a cookie to wash it all down in the busy mornings when I rush to get ready for school, and sprinting for the bus when I’m late, backpack thumping against my back. The part that covets music, and always has her earphones with her, be it in her pocket or in her backpack, ever ready to pull them out in times of need. The part that people ask where she is from, and she isn’t sure whether to say American, Chinese, or European.

         After all, I don’t look like any of them.

        But sometimes, things aren’t what they seem, like a slightly bruised apple - the inside is just as whole as a unmarked one.

Can I Change?

Lesson Recap:

H/W

Are you doing 5-10mins of Membean two - three nights per week?

Reminder: At least 3 verses of your poem needed for Tuesday. 

Really worth watching!!!

Coming in tomorrow's lesson

For Wednesday: Set your 'Can I Change' in motion  (Bring a printed copy of your share with your goal listed.)

Enjoy Mark's beautiful piece of imagery writing. How does yours compare?

Flying over the sea on my way back home I look out the window and look at the clouds and their shapes. I look down to see the dark blue sea as it brings back memories of the salty smell and the crash of the waves rolling in Hawaii. The thought drifts me into thinking about my life and how my life is like a surfer, always picking a different wave. However I always find myself going home, but what I am looking for is not really there. Like when I traveled back to where once was home and expect everything to feel the same. But all my new experiences changed my interests and my opinions about different things. What used to be *Cool* was now just another building in the city. Sometimes my life still can feel like a lost toy under a bed and other times it can be like a fish out of water running out of hope. Particularly when we moved and I had to give up all my friends for a new experience.  I didn’t know what that experience would be like.   Depressing?  Miserable? Saddened?

But that never stopped me because I know on the inside everyone is like a handmade clay pot all attempted to be a vase but unique in their own special way. I am the only me and my layers add up. My shell might be different but my yoke is still the same.  In truth I have learned my home is the sky traveling from place to place. All the countries I have been to and all the places I want to go.  The fish out of water can have help to go back in. For Example my troubles in school or friends that move away while I am still here. I can make new ones and I can get help. My lost life can always be found. Time will show how the layers won’t be the same. But they will still line up to show layer after layer you’re not common you have, different moods and actions. Everyone has their own dents in the clay but everyone will find their sparkle along the way.  I will always remember the time back in first grade when I learned how to swim and tried to be great. When I was about to give up I pulled what was left in me to make it great, and this will stick with me for the rest of my life because it's my talent and even if it's just a hobby It's still meaningful to me. When tasks get difficult like I have never seen, I know I will solve them in the same way.  Even in the future I will make it through. Traveling is normal. Staying in one place is for long is unusual to me. One day however, I will find a place to be and stay, a place I can call home.

Membean - Trained Minutes

How does your Membean practice time compare with your classmates?  What goals could you set for yourself?