Literature Group

Remember

Author's note: For literature group, we were going to try a fun way of writing, Using the words; Rose, Orange, New York, Ghostly, Kitchen, Rosalie, Chair, March, Cookie Crisp, Bike, Lightning, Tank top, Hammer, Hanukkah, Fluffy, Waterfall, Largely, Alpaca, Platypus,  and Krabby Patty, we had to create a story. Although it was not required, I incorporated every single one of the words. In this piece I worked on advanced and descriptive vocabulary. 

My grandmother, Rosalie, seems to give off a ghostly appearance now. She sits in her chair without acknowledging my existence. The cool March air blows in the kitchen window as I dish up her breakfast. Cookie Crisp cereal and orange and apple slices are nicely laid out on her tray in an attempt to help her remember how she used to make it. I fill a vase with pink roses, her favorite. Or at least, they used to be.

 I visit almost everyday. I know it won't be long, so I make the best of it. My house is a mere eight blocks away and is within biking distance. Which is convenient for me, because I do not yet have my temps. The streets in New York were empty today. Strange. 

I was daydreaming about something that lacks importance when my grandmother starts to mumble all sorts of obscurities. No later does the lightning strike across the street. I quickly close all of the windows and realize that I'm shivering. My skimpy little tank top doesn't hold well against the freezing rain.  The electricity blows out and I'm forced to light candles to give us light and some warmth. Unfortunately I can't find a candle to light and am forced to use our special Hanukah candles.

The rain comes down in a waterfall by the porch. But after a while, the hammering of the sheets of rain against the windows and roof start slacking slightly. My grandmother falls into a gentle sleep against her fluffy pillow and I soon doze off too. When we are both conscious again, my grandmother seems confused. Of course, this is not unusual, but it seems worse this time. I know I need to play "the game" with her. But I hate that game because it seems endless and I can't stand it when she gets stuck.

I get out the flash cards and attempt to get her to focus on the platypus, octopus or alpaca. The animal flash cards have always been my least favorite because they don't matter in my opinion. I know she needs to remember what they look like too, but aren't memories largely involving family and friends more important? After thirty minutes of pleading for participation in the pointless flash card game, I give up. I flip on the T.V. to Sponge Bob grilling Krabby Patties and hand her the remote to change it if she would like. I walk out the door  without another word, know she won't even remember I was there. But I will. I'll remember everything.

 

Marshmallows

Author's note: For literature group homework, we had to take a stream of consciousness and turn it into something publishable and I decided to take the one with the starting word being marshmallows.


My friends and I giggle freely around the campfire as we sing pointless, yet humorous campfire songs we learned oh so long ago. Our giggles turn into full out laughter and I fall off my stump around the fire due to the extreme expression of joy. After we calm down enough to sit up straight, we grab some marshmallows and a stick and start toasting the marshmallows every so slightly to get the perfect golden brown taste. Well, except for Cassie who insists that golden brown, and burnt are overrated- her parents sarcastically tell me this is because of being dropped on her head when she was little- but burning a marshmallow twice, not once, but twice is the correct way to serve a perfect marshmallow. We all think she's crazy, but we don't say anything as always, because the speed in which she has her s'more is so immediate, unlike ours, which still have a good five minutes to go. Not fair.

After everyone has had at least three s'mores, we decided to call a quits and burn the fire out. We hit the tents and instantly are slamming pillows into each others faces, busted out laughing once again. It's a good thing we decided to have the campsite far away from all the other local campers, because if we hadn't, we would have fifty complaints stacked up with our names on it.

Following the destruction of our fluffy pillows, comes humorous and terrifying ghost stories with flashlights illuminating our faces. Not until two in the morning do we finally consider to go to bed. The consideration didn't go far as we started yet another, glamorous pillow fight. Later on, we take a "spooky" 4am hike. We frighten each other constantly as we go further and further into the woods. We start to get tired and finally decide to go back to our tents and go to bed.

When we arrive at the campsite, we find that our tent is gone. So are the parents and their tents. We check to see if we are at the correct campsite and we definitely are. "Am I dreaming?" my friend Sydney asks in a puzzled tone. "Cuz it kinda feels like I am, cuz this like weird like in those movies you know"

"I was just gonna ask the same thing….."

Imagination


Author's note: For literature group, we read a chapter from the famous book, Tom Sawyer. In my response I felt like writing about the innocence of youth in an imaginative, creative way. In this piece I made sure I had a thesis statement which I've been lacking in.

Imagination is a key part in one's childhood. If a child lacks imagination, they don't experience the creativity of normal child. There would never have been imaginary castles, or dragons that breathed fire. Honestly, life would be very plain if imagination had never been a big part in growing up.

Think of life without princesses, pirates, and talking frogs. The creative world we know would be dull and boring. There wouldn't be most kid games that we all know and love. Also imagine how lack of creativity could affect your writing. Let's just say that your creative writing page wouldn't exist.

In the "Glorious Whitewasher", nobody is worried about what other people think. What kind of person gets away with pretending to be on a steamboat? Not anyone at that age level, I can tell you that. In this story, nothing seems to be holding anybody back from truly being themselves. Their character is so free, unlike in everyday life.

Look back at your favorite childhood memory. Does it involve you looking like a total fool because of your innocence in youth? Probably. Does it show how much you enjoyed the creativity you shared with your best friend? Most likely.

"I'm Spiderman!" the little boy dreams of becoming his role model when he gets older. "I'm Cinderella" the little girl feels like a princess. Imagination isn't just to goof off. It can truly give you hope, inspiration, a dream.

 The Circuit

Author's note: After literature group last Tuesday we were told to write a resonse to the Circuit. I decided to focus on a life with a lack of education. I really tried to make my introduction stronger by using a fictional narrative. Also I worked on my word choice.

Pack your bags and hit the road. You wonder if your new home will be just as awful as your old house. Your life changes with every new season of picking, and you're being forced to work at the age of twelve when you should be going to school and receiving an education.

Imagine not going to school everyday to learn what is necessary in our lives. Not having the experience of a normal twelve year old who has friends that he or she sees every day. Living a life where your family is the only consistent part of your life.

In "The Circuit", Papá is a strange character who clearly does not care much about his children's lives. He's not a typical father. What father says, "Run, hide!"? From the school bus? That's not even close to normal for a parent. Most parents would be yelling, "Go catch the school bus. You're late!".

Overall the story gave me a feeling that it wasn't right. I thought the ending was depressing and concluded in a strange way. Without an education, the boys will be just like their father. Living in a shack with their family, who will one day be just like them.



All Summer in a Day

Author's note: For literature group, we had an assignment to write a literary analysis on the piece "All Summer in a Day". I decided to write about taking daily luxuries for granted.

I look outside and all I see is rain. The pitter- patter on the roof, the pouring sound against my window, it's all I've been hearing for the past seven years. I just barely remember a time when the glowing ball of fire once set upon my planet of Venus. I was two at the time, the only slight recollection of this is the rosy warm feeling I felt in my cheeks. But even that memory is most likely my imagination.  I envy a girl in my class named Margot, who used to live on Earth. She remembers the sun much better than I do, but she seems depressed. Most likely her fragile appearance is proof that the sun is much more important to her than to me.

Sun, the symbol in this story being life. In this piece, the sun is vital for a nine year old girl named Margot. She longs for the feeling she knew all too well back on Earth. The rain has sucked life from her, and isolated her. The sun is so important to her, that after she misses it, it could be thought that she commits suicide. 

We take certain normal tasks or daily luxuries for granted.  In Margot's case, the sun. However, it's not just the sun that we are spoiled with.  The first thought that comes to mind right now is my laptop which I'm currently typing up my homework on. Just that little task of writing a paper is made so much simpler by having this tablet given to me. Another simple concept, but highly important luxury we have is health.  Not thought about unless it's gone, health is an extremely overlooked part of our life.

The rays of fire we know so well, the warmth, the light, the comfort. The sun is a vital part of everybody's life. Don't take it for granted.