You will be expected to do the majority of the talking in the Student Led Conferences. Hence the term, 'Student Led.'
Make sure you can talk succinctly (brief and to the point) about your 'strengths' and opportunities for growth. Make sure you have practiced talking about the slides in your slide show.
1) Returning classroom books at SLC conferences that you have at home or in your locker that you have finished with. (Max. 3 plus points) 2) Starting and finishing books over the break (Max. 3 plus points e.g. - You get a plus point for every book you read over the break -started new - three books max.) Have a great break!
When we return:
Reading
Going Deeper into Reading using Interpretation Techniques
Book Clubs
Writing
Suspense Stories
Speaking in Public (see below)
Grammar
Subjects and Predicates Opening and Delayed adjectives and adverbs
H/W - All classes - You should have the majority of your slide show finished for tomorrow. (6+ slides) We will be doing practice conferences in class. Make sure your slides are not covered with writing, but instead, you use the slides as 'talking points' inspired by images.
Reading Challenge: Pay your DUES... Please honor your word with your partner and make sure you have met your commitment. Tournament ends Tuesday at 8am.
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
