Good Morning Sunshine

When my grandma would go wake up my mom up for school she would lean down and give her a kiss on the cheek and say “good morning sunshine.” My mom would wake up and have this big smile on her face. And my mom would be in a good mood all day.  

My mom said that to me and sometimes when she did I would turn over and go back to sleep. But sometimes I would get up and give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek like she did me.  I loved it. It made me feel special and happy, really happy. I wanted nothing else in this world but to have my mom by my side. I loved it when my mom woke me up and I will end up doing that to my kids one day and I hope they like it as much as I did. And I hope they will end up doing it to their kids as well as I will. And I hope they will love it to and so on and so on.

I wish my mom was here to start that again but she’s not right now, she will be soon enough though. I can’t wait till she comes home I miss her so much. It was the best feeling that I’d ever had. I miss her so much that I want to cry sometimes. I can’t wait till she gets out of jail so that maybe she will start that again. I’m really hoping they let her out early so she can come home and be with her family and so she’s not away from her family anymore then she has to been. Everyone misses her so much and they want her to come home now but they won’t let her out right now which I don’t know why.

She has never gotten in trouble there. She has a job there she’s making money she finished collage in there she’s playing sports. They should let her out on good behavior and on probation or something but no they have to be mean and keep her away from her family. And that really makes me mad. I want my mom back home where she belongs with her family not in there with people she don’t even know. She deserves to be free and be with her family. That’s my mother and I may call other people mom but nobody will ever replace her and I don’t want anyone to.

I love my mom with all my heart and that’s not going to change for nothing or nobody no matter what happens. I love her and will always love her. She is my mother and that’s all that matters to me.

--Whitney Silvey

Amazing Peace, A Christmas Poem

By Maya Angelou

Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.

Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
implore you to stay awhile with us
so we may learn by your shimmering light
how to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
On this platform of peace, we can create a language
to translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ

Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope.
All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices to celebrate the promise of
Peace.

We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace.

We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace.

We look at each other, then into ourselves,
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul

Discussion Questions:

1.       What does Christmas mean to Maya Angelou?

2.       Find three instances of personification.

3.       Is the intended audience of this poem only Christians/people who celebrate Christmas? Support your answer.

4.       What does peace mean to Maya Angelou?

5.       What does peace mean to you?

6.       What is your Christmas/New Year’s wish for the world?

Feelings about America

I came to America

I felt scared, afraid, odd

and sad.

I wanted to go back to my home!

I couldn’t speak English well.

I didn’t have any friends

At first….

I always missed my friends back in my home country

and my life there.

But I thought again and again

Now I am in America

So I think I have to improve

My English and make more friends.

But it is not easy for me.

I’m not good at English.

And many friends ignored me.

I was angry and sad.

I really missed my home country.

I wished that someone took me back.

I thought this is not the place where I should be.

I cried, cried, cried.

But after having a hard time I met good friends.

They told me

I don’t think Asians are different.

This touched my heart.

I cried, cried, cried.

The reason for the tears changed.

Now, I have friends, good friends.

Every day is happy.

Thank you so much, with

--Hyoeun Kang

Dime

Do people say you aren’t worth a dime?

Do you spend your time wondering what people say about you?

Do you sit at home and cry?

Do you sit at home and cook fried food?

To  me  you  worth  more  than  anything  in  the  world. To me you’re priceless.

--Shavonna Petty

My Dad's Time in Kosovo

My dad talks about when he was in the army. He was a medic, and when I was about 4 to 5 years old my dad left for Kosovo for about a year or two, which were the worst years of my life. Then when my dad got back we were so happy, but when me and my brothers asked him to play football he would say go do something else. He came back depressed. We just did not have as much fun as we used to. The most fun I ever had was in Fort Riley Kansas. We were having a party at our house and the party went from an ordinary water fight outside to the inside of our house. My dad brought the hose inside the house and the floors were covered in water. It was a blast. When we lived in Lincoln my dad told me and my older brother what happened when he was in Kosovo. He said he had a guy die in his hands. He said that a kid walked up to his truck and held his hand up. My dad said they used fishing line to stich his hand up. It was so infected that it was the size of a baseball mitt and he could do nothing about it. He said another kid walked up to his truck holding a grenade, and the kid says “Mister what’s this?” My dad said he grabbed the grenade and though it in a little bomb thing and it blew up. About the saddest story of all, that just made me want to cry, my grandpa died when I was six and my dad was in Florida for some army stuff and his first Sargent hates him and he wouldn’t let him leave even though his dad died.

--Wesley Chapman

One thing good about life is you control you, meaning you have control of your future. No one can change your future but you. Your haters can’t change it, your family, or your teachers. Living, loving, laughing comes from you, your happiness. If you are unhappy with you then change it. The only thing you can’t change is your past, but you should thank yourself for the knowledge because it has made you who you are ‘til this day. Every day you should set a goal for yourself.

--Tomre’l Monai Gianquinto-Miller

All of my stories have to do with memories which lines up with reality. When I write, I talk about my own life. It makes me feel confident. Talking about my own mistakes makes me a stronger person. I want positive things going on with myself.  

--Auriel Buckley

First Meeting with Poverty

            I was walking around downtown Athens, Greece with my mom and sister. We saw many stores, many people, but nothing especially caught my attention until I saw this girl, holding a baby. They were dressed in rag like clothes, and sitting on a piece of cardboard, with their hands out asking for help without words.

            Earlier that day, my dad had given me a few euros to buy gum or something at the little store down the street. Before I could get there, I ran into these people, who made me change my mind.

            I passed them, and stopped short. I turned back around, emptied my pockets, and gave the money to the woman. She smiled and said something that I couldn’t hear. My mom turned around, patted me on the back, and we kept walking.

            It was an injustice for her to have to live in such poverty. It was so sad to see their thin faces, and empty hands. I am glad that I could be a little help that day.

--Yorgo Kalaitzandonakes

Memories of Harry Potter

As I see teen girls laughing and imagining over Twilight, I gag. It is nothing compared to the series I grew up with. Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling, is the single greatest teenage novel series of all time.

            My mother used to read them aloud to my sister and me. She would create voices for the characters and even attempt a lame British accent. We would gather every evening and listen to the book. When we were learning how to read my mom would trick us into reading a page and then she would read a chapter.

            I liked it because it was such a colorful and descriptive book. It put me in the story and made me almost feel as if I knew the characters myself.

            Reading these chapters was how we ended the day. When other kids wound down with TV, we read Harry Potter. My family only had five channels on the television and so we turned to other methods of entertainment. From this book my sister and I even played “quiddich” with brooms and rubber balls.

            Eventually, we got the books on tape and listened to them in the car on the way to school. It was a really good way to start the morning. The magical tale really lifted up your spirit, and put you in a good mood. Sitting in the blue BMW, listening to the cool and calming British accented guy speaking throughout the car, made it seem all the more real.

I still go back and read these stories, but it will never be the same as being read to as a child.

--Yorgo Kalaitzandonakes

Excerpts from Jasman’s Sydnor’s Portfolio on Doubt

Some people used to think that I wasn’t capable of being a nurse or an E.R. surgeon, to prove them and myself wrong I’m going to show them, that not just me but anybody, can pursue what they want to do in life. I not going to lie I did doubt that I could do anything because I was in special ED classes but now I believe in myself and after reading this paper you will too.

One of my best memories with my grandma was when she used to take me to the hospital where she worked. She always took me to work with her because I’m the only girl in my family on my mom’s side of the family. I was shy back then (we’re talking about 9-14  years old). I didn’t like talking to people so my grandma didn’t think I could talk to this older women and help her get out of her bed.  It was a struggle, but I helped her (and she gave me candy afterwards). You should have seen the look on my grandma’s face. That day I was so happy because that was the first time I ever went to work with my granny.

What I learned from this writing about doubt is that it was a bad thing to doubt myself. Doubting yourself does not solve anything. Hopefully I can get good grades throughout these next two years and graduate with a 3.5 GPA because I really want to get into a good college.

Left

You left without a blink

You disappeared in a fire

I need you now more than ever

And you left me here with desire

I would of gone with you

Standing at your side

Going through the pain

And seeing why you died

Making sure you’re okay

When you lead the way

So why did you leave me

Without a good bye

Why did you go and die?

--Amber Light

Listen to an audio recording of A Chrismas Carol

Listen to an audio recording of A Chrismas Carol

Stave 1

Stave 3

Stave 4

Stave 5

First Semester Writing Portfolio

TASK: Revisit your journal and written assignments from first semester.

Select 3-5 pieces that you feel have the greatest potential, strongest voice, and/or most creativity.

Using these pieces as a springboard, consider what statement you want to make as a writer. What issue or theme do you want to tackle? What story do you want to tell? What genre do you want to explore?

Once you have a focus, spend some time revising your original pieces to shape them under this theme.

For each piece, consider its purpose (what point are you trying to make), your use of voice (tone, mood, language, etc.), and your use of sensory details.

Make sure all of your pieces are polished and free of errors. Comb over your sentences and words to make sure everything on the page is intentional.

Peer conference and conference with Mrs. Weaver about your choices. 

Your whole portfolio needs to be between 5-10 pages typed double spaced (minimum of 1500 words).

As always, written pieces can be any style including: poems, essays, letters, raps, narratives. Creativity is encouraged.

I recommend including an introductory paragraph to introduce the themes, style, or main questions your portfolio addresses.

Turn in both a hard copy and electronic copy of your portfolio to Mrs. Weaver (kfishman@columbia.k12.mo.us) no later than, Monday, December 19^th, 2011

Scoring Rubric:

40-35 All written pieces are polished and free of errors. Writing is purposeful. Writing includes strong sensory details. Writer has established a distinct voice. Pieces are creative. The portfolio is intentionally put together thematically and/or stylistically. Writing meets all of the guidelines in terms of number of submissions and length.

35-30 Written pieces are polished and nearly free of errors. Writing is purposeful. Writing includes strong sensory details. Writer has a voice. Pieces are creative. The portfolio seems to go together. Writing meets all of the guidelines in terms of number of submissions and length.

30-20 Written pieces contain a few errors, but they are not distracting. Writing includes sensory details. Writer has a voice. Pieces are creative. The portfolio seems to be put together randomly. Writing meets most of the guidelines in terms of number of submissions and length.

20-15 Written pieces contain errors that may distract from the meaning. Writing includes few sensory details. Pieces are generic. The portfolio seems to be put together randomly. Writing does not meet the guidelines in terms of number of submissions and length.

15-10 Written pieces contain errors that distract from the meaning. Writing includes few sensory details. Pieces are generic. The portfolio is put together haphazardly. Writing does not meet the guidelines in terms of number of submissions and length.

The Gift of the Magi

 Click here for the text AND an audio recording of the story.

Questions:

1.    There was clearly nothing left to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

What statement about life is O’Henry making here?

2.    White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

Rewrite this paragraph in your own words:

3.    What are the couples’ most cherished possessions?

4.    What is the central problem in this story?

5.    Is that problem resolved? If so, how? If not, why not?

6.    The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men-who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

What is O’Henry saying in his conclusion?

7.    Were Jim and Dell’s presents good presents? Why or why not?

Challenge Questions:

1.    What did the magi bring “to the Babe in the manger”?

2.    Identify four instances of patriarchal language in the story.