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.
Delayed
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.
