Summary of our Advertisement

Paraphrase (and quote) of our advertisement (that the teacher told me would be a good idea): In this advertisement it is suggested that many gross things will go through your mouth, as implied in the phrase “what will go through your mouth today?” The product advertised -- Listerine -- will fix that.

• (All sorts of nasty things come in contact with your mouth, people should feel terrible about this, but Listerine will fix this. Ælf,)

Summary, Paraphrase, and Quote

Summary:
     "Lydia's Story" is written by Jan Brideau who narrates the story of a soft-spoken old women  after meeting her in a hospital, and formally calls her Lydia. Lydia faces terrible storms one after the other as she tries to hold on to her dear life, and keep away from the rapidly rising waters pouring in from nearly all sides. There is horror all around her, but she tries to keep her head high through it all to survive (128-131).

Paraphrase: 
     Lydia traverses through her house in waist high surging water to find high ground on a wooden desk. However she was soon met with more trouble as the water kept rising to the point where she had to move to the top of her kitchen counter, and before long that also started to get consumed by the endless surge going through her front door. She made retreated to the top of her closet where lucky she remained safe from the elements for five terrifying days without food, refreshments.
    When the storm finally calmed she escaped from the closet into the neck high water, and gravitated to the outside of her porch. She yelled for someone to help her, and after a time one of her neighbors came with a boat to assist her. (130).

Quote: 
"Terrified of drowning, she kept reminding herself to think clearly" (130).

In Class Lab: Textual Analysis Paper

1. Who published these ads? PETA, Freedom For Animals, Mercy for Animals, American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals

2. Who are these texts intended for? (Or) Who would each one seem to appeal to?

• The anti-fur ad is intended for people who wear fur, and asking them to stop. It is also intended for people who have pets to advocate for this cause to stop people from wearing furs.

• The hair advertisement is asking people who dress up their hair to consider the cost to innocent animals.
• The Walmart Cruelty ad tells the people that the company mistreats their animals, and to consider this next time they by one of there stores.
• The Humane Society ad is for people who have been possibly considering adoption in any way, and it appeals to the same group of people because it makes them seem really helpful and kind for adopting an animal.  It also emphasizes the innocence of animals with the “I hold no grudges” line, inviting us to feel sorry for them.
• All of them appeal to people who love animals as well. They are intended for people who love, or simply feel sympathy for, animals.

3. How can we tell that (or reasonably guess)?

Because they all mention animals in a light that considers cruelty done to them.

4. What is the purpose of these texts? What are their creators wanting to change or make happen?

The purpose of these texts is to help the lives of animals, and let them have a better existence. They want to change animal cruelty by ending it,or at least lower it.

5. How do they seem to be working toward that purpose(s)? What beliefs and values do they address? Think: What are their ethical, emotional, and rational beliefs?

Most of the ads work out of guilt, such as the idea that someone would wear their dog. They believe that it is immoral to do the things they are fighting against, such as wearing fur, testing chemicals on animals, and leaving animals on the streets.

6. What evidence from the texts (images, phrases, etc.) can you provide to support your answers?

The image of a pig in a cage, looking out pitifully.  The words “If you wouldn’t wear your dog…”.  The use of the verb “suffer” when referring to the lab animals used in the hair ad.

7. Can you come up with a statement that would indicate what the ads do as a group?

As a whole, I think the ads are standing up for animal rights, and trying to save animals from death and pain.

"Advertisements R Us" Summarized

         The reading “Advertisements R Us” is a typed analysis by Melissa Rubin and is formally found in the “Everyone’s an Author” textbook. The purpose of the reading is to highlight how advertisements such as the Coca-Cola ad in the 1950s can manipulate an era, and us today. The author provided details explaining how stereotypes were intertwined into the 1950s ad, so that it would appeal to a certain audience, or in this case the American culture at that time. She also describes the features of the ad such as how only white uniformed men of different varieties (military to businessmen) were dominant, with a few white women present, positive lighting, industrialized background, and the towering deity like white haired Sprite Boy hovering over a towering red Coca-Cola vending machine. Then the author explains that Coca-Cola is associated with American’s boost in winning the war (WWII), coming together as a community, and how it expanded to other countries because of a cheaper deal they offered for the military overseas. However she further examined the fact the ad did not represent equality because it excluded African Americans (unless a celebrity). Thus shedding light on the  values Coca-Cola had were just trying to appeal to mainly the white man then other ethnic groups because that was modern culture then, but now they would be seen as segregated, and the ad would be frowned upon. Still the author concludes the ad captured the American identity during the time by showing off the carefree smiling Americans holding bottles of coke, so instead of just scanning the ad forever in disbelief that a life like that is possible, they should live that life themselves with a Coca-Cola in hand!

Thinking About The Text: (pg. 181, Questions #1-4)

1.) Melissa Robin's insight offers speculation on a Coca Cola ad from the 1950s, and what she learned from it. From the ad she provided evidence describing how it related to the era by highlighting certain features in the image, and what specifically is not in the image that would be today. For example she pointed out how there weren't any African Americans in the ad because of racial discrimination, and how barely any women were seen in the ad because they were treated as less of that of a white businessman. However some African Americans were able to get into Coca Cola advertisements, but they were all celebrity musicians like Louis Armstrong, or star athletes like Bill Willis. Robin carefully provides her ideas through analyzes to the reader, and does strike a persuasive point. I almost completely support her. Except for one thing- I don’t like Coca Cola, so other than that I agree with her conclusion.

2.) Melissa Robin incorporated historical context by first introducing how Coca Cola came to be in the late 1880s, and then further providing the success of it during WWII.  She explained things like how during the war the company itself would give every man in uniform, wherever he is, a Coca-Cola for 5 cents.  Then once the war had ended with the United States victorious, Coca-Cola factories spread across other countries because they were inspired that the product was a secret way of winning like Americans. Therefore this goes back to the information contributing her analysis by the cheerful white uniformed men in the front of the 1950s advertisement.

3.) Was this ad meant to be more supportive of the troops of that era, or more aimed just to sell the product? Was it all about the power of merchandise, or was it really for a good case?

4.) To be honest I don’t really watch much TV, so I’m not aware of many advertisements. The only one I can possibly recall is maybe a T-Mobile commercial involving getting connected with people around the world. From that I could say we see more collaboration among races on the same level of equality compared to the only whites in the Coca-Cola ad of the 1950s.

English 101 - "Taking Stock of Your Writing" (5 Questions on Paper #1)

1.      What was your main point (thesis)?  “The Moral of the Story”?

·         The point of my story was to explain the reasons of what I think about writing. To explain this I wanted to use an early memory to get to the root of how I ended up feeling frustrated with writing today due to poor teaching, and neglectence.

2.      Who was your audience?  What did you assume about them?  What “audience needs” did you have to consider in writing the paper?  How did you tailor your writing to them?

·         When I wrote this I considered my audience to be that of a person reading from a book. I assumed my audience (the reader/student) experienced having a bad teacher sometime in their life that caused them to feel frustrated, or out of toon with a subject.

·         I painted a picture of the scene using words followed by describing some of the tasks, and expressions to further the understanding of what was going on to the audience.

3.      What feedback or reactions did you get at various times while composing this paper, and how was this helpful?  What other kinds of input or support did you get from classmates, teacher, tutors, others?  Were you able to make use of it?  How, or why not?

·         A classmate reacted to it saying the paper had a nice voice to it as well as nice use of description, and understanding of the idea, but I needed to look over my wording in some of my sentences. To my surprise I found disturbing errors, so I was definitely able to make use of it by correcting some of my errors. I just wish I was told to do more.

4.      What did you find interesting about the process you went through in writing this paper, and what did you learn from it?

·         When I was typing out the paper I was more shocked by how smoothly I was able t recreate a past event into a story. I found it a bit stressful when I had nothing down at first, but as I started typing I learned that there was something beautiful about writing my story. The descriptions were entertaining to me, and the voice chatting in my head as I reread everything sounded pleasing to me, but I do need to work on my dialogue. Perhaps I learned that I enjoyed writing stories more than I thought.

5.      What questions do you have for me about the paper?  (What part(s) of the paper would you like me to focus on?  What do you see as the paper’s strengths, and what areas are you unsure of?)

·         Where do I start with the questions? Did you understand that I was trying to describe how when I was little I had a terrible teacher who introduced me into writing and spelling, and that in turn was the seed of my anxiety to writing now?

·         Do you believe I was able to capture the scene, so that the audience could create what’s happening in there head’s?

·         Was the dialogue I provided enough to capture what the characters were like?

·         What should I have done differently, or what I should keep expanding on?

"An Analysis of Change and Continuity in Advertising Aimed at Women" (In Class Lab)

Read the essay, and then briefly identify how it fits the criteria for an analysis paper.
Reading: "Stay Sweet As You Are"

The reading provides a clear indication of the influence advertisements involving soap can add a too-good-to-be-true out look on an analysis paper. It conveys clear examples, and images to provide reasons for the affect of these ads. Showing how the "right living" is a source of a good complexion.
The author gives his perspective on the ads, providing counterarguments with a clear idea of the audience he wants to speak out to.

Discussion of the Homework (October 20, 2015)

There are many different ways to approach an analysis paper. One of these ways is just talking about your process of analyzing a paper, and or talking about your analysis in general. Another is that the analysis itself is usually the bulk of a paper, which is also doubled as the evidence to support the point you were trying to make in the beginning. What are the motivations behind your analysis, and what is the context that made you believe what you did. We learned more about the idea of using the how you feel to get a better impact, especially since your audience is similar or exactly opposite of your stance as your beliefs will be more powerful. We learned a lot about counter arguments and better ways to write/ understand them. When we are given topics that we dislike, it’s hard sometimes to find the point you’re supposed to defend, and it’s easier at times to find the counter argument and work from there.

Mad Men: Stillbirth of the American Dream (Questions #1-4)

1.) Havilesky’s main insight through the Mad Men series is to provide a clear view of how we’ve set the American Dream to be less attainable as we further our standards of wanting more material things. She emphasizes this on several occasions throughout her paragraphs saying “…until we couldn’t distinguish our own desires ascribed to us by professional manipulators, suggesting antidotes for every real or imagined malady, supplying escapist fantasies to circumvent the supposedly unbearable tedium of ordinary life.” (pg. 175) Describing how incredibly difficult we’ve made the American Dream as time, and media twist the nature of what that goal is supposed to encompass- a simple moment of pure joy, and content of life.

2.) Havilesky establishes her authority by clearing defining her point of view in precise detail, and it also mentions the fact that she is a television critic on page 170.

3.) Right away she appealed to my emotions because her target was specially an American audience. She uses the Mad Men series, and several of her passages to convey how we’ve derailed from the American Dream into more disappointment. This comes clear in the end of the very first paragraph saying “slowly we come to view our lives as inconsequential, grubby, even intolerable.” Havilesky furthers her striking stand point for the readers through relating the Mad Men series by saying “...underscoring the disconnect between the American and reality by distilling our deep-seated frustrations as a nation into painfully palpable vignettes.” (pg. 171) Therefore painting a clear picture that we Americans have forgotten how to enjoy the chase in living in reality instead remembering that somethings are just agonizingly wishful thinking.

          She also appeals to the readers emotions by  relating the characters off the stage of Mad Men “we see the longing in Pete Campbell’s (Vincest Kartheiser) tired face, we see the fear in Betty’s eyes as she sits down…,” and “the confused humans who straighten their shoulders and dry their eyes and take the stage day after day, dutifully mouthing lines about the thrills of work and family, all of it the invented, peppy rhetoric of laundry detergent jingles.” (pg. 174) The author gives the infamous truth that the modern American Dream today isn’t all that special as it used to be to us. Striking the reader into astonishment of the high standards society has created within ourselves.       

4.) In the past I’ve heard of the show Mad Men, but I didn’t much about it till now. I have a basic understanding of what the show encompasses now from the author’s perspective, and ideas of the “American Dream”.  Does that make me want to watch it? Yes as well as no. The entire passage especially on page 175 got me hooked, and interested on the plot this series revolves around, but the part around the “… embodied most gruesomely in the lawn mower accident,” kind of led me astray a bit, but that’s my point of view saying I’m not a fan of tragedy.  Otherwise I believe I would watch it.

Final Draft: The Written Error (Paper #1)

      A blank screen stands before me with my thoughts heavy under tense strain, and pressure. Sitting on a wooden chair by an antique desk, I stare at the computer with a look of great distress. For what seems like the hundredth time I am typing yet another essay, but this time it’s a bit personal. In basic retrospect I’ve been assigned to write how my opinion on writing, or reading was shaped by any early memory I might recall. With that in mind I over think it all as usual, and decided to start with a question to ponder. “Why can’t I enjoy writing with a clear sense of mind like I do with reading?” I said thinking out loud. Letting my mind wonder with that question, I opened one of the cabinets in the desk below me for some inspiration. Inside laid one of my first year books dating back to 2001, so I opened it up for nostalgia purposes. Looking through it the pages brought the moment of inspiration I needed, and whisked me back 14 years ago to my second month of school ever. I start to rapidly type on my keyboard.

          It’s almost as if it were a life time ago, but I remember it vividly. The sun shined a shade darker during that early autumn morning of October 2001. Colorful leaves were fluttering away with the slightly chilly breeze as I got off my plain yellow bus on Lynnhaven Road on suburban Virginia Beach, Virginia. I was an average sized 51/2 year old in dark blue sweat pants, and jacket with a rather plain haircut with the bangs cut straight across (which I would find very comical now). I was also a bit hyper but that’s beside the point. The bricked school building of old Brookwood Elemetary laid before me like a clash of two worlds in my younger mind. On one hand I was thinking with glee about playing games with my classmates, but on the other hand I felt a bit intimidated by our teacher.

          As I entered the building I passed through a tall tan hallway like I have been for the past month since I started. It was swarming with excitement like a hive of bees with the teachers guiding children to their intended classrooms, and there amongst them was my first teacher Ms. Tisk. She was perhaps a little over 5 feet in height with a slightly red toned contrasting light tanned skin, a little pouchy circumference (body), dark deep blue eyes, short dark brown hair, an unwelcoming expression, and carried a stern southern accent. Her expressions always seemed angry, mean, and full of hate to me as she gathered us around to enter the tall door leading into the classroom.

          The classroom itself was setup the same as always as I entered the room second-to-last.  Bicycles hanged from the far side of the room while the right side contained a dark green chalkboard with the poster of the alphabet stapled above it. Standing before the board was a high chair facing a wide royal blue mat where the children were sitting crisscross upon. As I came to join them, Ms. Tisk was following uncomfortably close from behind as she made her way towards the chair.

          The class was in session, and my classmates quickly “shhh’d,” one another into silence. The attention for the most part was on the teacher as she took attendance with her still icy glance. Then proceeded to have us play a simple fun word game involving cards, followed by pronouncing the words through sounding them aloud to each other. I remember the words were something like ‘of, it, get, when, can, father, mother, brother, the,’ and so on. The words themselves were easy to repeat aloud. Aside from my slight speech problem that part was easy at the time. Each card had a curious number in the upper right corner ranging from 1 to 10 for each of the 10 words. It was amusing in till I heard on the lines of, “Children! Go to your assigned desk, and have a pencil in hand,” Ms. Tisk had ordered.

          The small desks were encompassing the blue mat as I took my seat with my back facing the bicycles. As everyone else made it to their seats, Ms. Tisk passed around what was to be my first spelling test, or probably my first test of any kind really. Nevertheless she explained what it was, how I had to keep my voice at a near whisper, and that I had to finish it correctly before I could join my classmates in the cafeteria for a midday meal. The test itself was labeled 1 through 10 like the cards, and like the cards I had to match that word I saw with the number.

          Slowly I was making process on the words, but there was a tad bit of trouble. I kept getting distracted by little things like the sound of Ms. Tisk’s footsteps traversing the room, and the words didn’t come out quite right in my head, so I tried to silently pronounce them to myself. “Oo-fah,” I softly muttered as I put down ‘uf’ for the word ‘of’ for number two. At that point it had seemed to Ms. Tisk that I was strictly trying to disrupt her class, or have others cheat off me because she quickly tried to silence me. She approached my desk, and scanned my paper with a look of distaste at my spelling then gave me a warning saying to “use my inside voice to properly write out the words” or else I’d be “put into the corner”. Then proceeded to highlight the ones I needed to correct, and moved on to the other children. That didn’t help much at all considering I was already struggling just trying to remember the words. I tried telling her that I needed help me by raising my hand, and when that didn’t get her attention I tried calling quietly out to her, but as soon as I tried making a sound she swiftly silenced me. Feeling neglected I continued onward.

          Eventually after stretching my mind I remembered what all the words were once, but I kept on misspelling them. About 30 minutes have passed, and most of the children already left for lunch while I was huddled in my chair, staring hopelessly in my chair. Part of me wanted to dash out of there, forget the test and join them. Of course I couldn’t though because by then Ms. Tisk was hovering right over me while I fought with the jumble of letters, and words thrashing in my head. She just kept uselessly highlighting what was misspelled on my test every time I thought it was complete.

          Again another 15 minutes pass, and then I heard “Gather your things, and go to the classroom across the hall to complete your test. Then yawl join your classmates in the cafeteria,” Ms. Tisk ordered. I gathered my things with a down casted expression, and dragged my feet as I headed towards the other room. Ms. Tisk made a sound of irritation followed by the demand “Walk correctly, and quit dragging your feet!” I picked up the pace as I entered the next room which was only slightly different (without the bicycles) then my original surrounding. I noticed there wasn’t another teacher around, but there were a few upper classmen. Maybe in there 3^rd, or 4^th grades if I were to guess.

          I awkwardly took my seat across from the other students while Ms. Tisk informed them of why I was coming in there. “He needs to finish his test with accuracy, so allow him to quietly finish,” she said earnestly as she quickly left the room. Yet again I sit there for another 20 minutes before one of the upper classmen walked over to me. I recall him only slightly, but he was a bit taller than me with black curly hair, and wearing glasses. He asked lazily “What ya stuck on?” With a defeated glance I replied with “These,” as I gloomily shared what I was spelling incorrectly. The boy looked over my paper with a curious expression, and tried pronouncing what I was trying to spell. He quickly got the gist of my attempts, and he hastily helped me correct it all. In that moment my face must have expressed bewilderment because he then explained, “I had Ms. Tisk once. She wasn’t fair with her tests, and never warned us of when she was having them, so I needed help too.” The concept of pity was new to me, but when we finished I thanked him whole-heartedly, and made haste to return my paper.

          Suddenly I’m back in the present in front of the now fully typed computer screen. In a strange twist I’m wondering, “Will the reader understand my answer?” I decided to explain that the meaning behind it all was that Ms. Tisk treated me unfairly that entire year, and from that single year had carried throughout my written education in different forms. It made me less confident, and skeptical about the words that would even follow this sentence, or any other. Ms. Tisk is the reason why whenever I hear about a test, or any assigned written work I feel a bit of anxiety, bewilderment, and eventually become astray by my strangled thoughts. I just can’t enjoy the limelight of writing without the ragging storm cloud of doubt hovering over my mind.

          Oh, and in case you were wondering; I did pass that spelling test in the end. 

In Class Lab: Pages 138 and 141

Page 138:

Decisions:	What areas of my life they affect:	Information Gathered:
What to wear?	Confidence, and style.	Depending on what I wear affects my level of confidence. While also checking the weather of the day.
What needs to be done for College?	Time management.	I am driven to get my homework researched, read, and complete.
When can I add time to run?	Fitness.	I want to incorporate time to keep my body in check.
Do I have time to socialize?	Talking with others.	The need to balance time to be around people instead of being alone.
What do should I eat today?	Diet.	A healthy appetite to satisfy myself.
Do I have enough gas in my car?	Destination.	Fuel to get me from point A to point B.
Do I have time to find a job?	Goals.	Finding ways in my schedule to add payment, and experience, so I can enjoy life.

Analysis: So what does this tell me? This tells me as an individual I am exploring for the right balance of communication, being healthy, confident, and insightful while trying to use time wisely. It also mentions that I set goals to better myself as a person, and enjoy the little things in life, so that I may look back on my life with integrity. 

Page 141:

Sites

http://www.dell.com/us/p/alienware-17-r3/pd?oc=dkcwg01m&model_id=alienware-17-r3

http://www.laptopmag.com/reviews/laptops/alienware-17-2015

When comparing Dell, and Laptopmag websites on Aleinware laptops I found Dell to be the more informative, and visual pleasing. It provided a list of equipment, and explained what makes the product fully exceptional to purchase without straying from professionalism. It also organized topics into categories above, so that if an individual was trying to find accessories for the laptop they could click under ‘Accessories & Services’ to be directly linked to a list of options. Compared to Laptopmag where you would have to scavenge around for the products section, and waste more time accessing other sites.

Revised Paper: The Written Error (Rough Draft #1)

           A blank screen stands before me with my thoughts heavy under tense strain, and pressure. Sitting on a wooden chair by an antique desk, I stare at the computer with a look of great distress. For what seems like the hundredth time I am typing yet another essay, but this time it’s a bit personal. In basic retrospect I’ve been assigned to write how my opinion on writing, or reading was shaped by any early memory I might recall. With that in mind I over think it all as usual, and decided to start with a question to ponder. “Why can’t I enjoy writing with a clear sense of mind like I do with reading?” I said thinking out loud. Letting my mind wonder with that question, I opened one of the cabinets in the desk below me for some inspiration. Inside laid one of my first year books dating back to 2001, so I opened it up for nostalgia purposes. Looking through it the pages brought a moment of inspiration I needed, and whisked me back 14 years ago to my early second month of school ever. I start to rapidly type on my keyboard.

            It’s almost as if it were a life time ago, but I remember it vividly. The sun shined a shade darker during that early autumn morning of October 2001. Colorful leaves were fluttering away with the slightly chilly breeze as I got off my plain yellow bus on Lynnhaven Road on suburban Virginia Beach, Virginia. I was an average sized 51/2 year old in dark blue sweat pants, and jacket with a rather plain haircut with the bangs cut straight across (which I would find very comical now). I was also a bit hyper but that’s beside the point. The bricked school building of old Brookwood Elemetary laid before me like a clash of two worlds in my younger mind. On one hand I was thinking with glee about playing games with my classmates, but on the other hand I felt a bit intimidated by our teacher. Let’s just call her Ms. Tisk for the sake of foreshadowing.

            As I entered the building I passed through a tall tan hallway like I have been for the past month since I started. It was swarming with excitement like a hive of bees with the teachers guiding children to their intended classrooms, and there amongst them was my first teacher Ms. Tisk. She was perhaps a little over 5 feet in height with a slightly red toned contrasting light tanned skin, a little pouchy circumference (body), dark deep blue eyes, short dark brown hair, an unwelcoming expression, and carried a stern southern accent. Her expressions always seemed angry, mean, and full of hate to me as she gathered us around to enter the tall door leading into the classroom.

            The classroom itself was setup the same as always as I entered the room second-to-last.  Bicycles hanged from the far side of the room while the right side contained a dark green chalkboard with the poster of the alphabet stapled above it. Standing before the board was a high chair facing a wide royal blue mat where the children were sitting crisscross upon as I joined them with Ms. Tisk following closely from behind as she made her way towards the chair.

            The class was in session, and my classmates quickly “shhh’d,” one another into silence. The attention for the most part was on the teacher as she took attendance with her still icy glance. Then proceeded to have us play a simple fun word game with cards, followed by pronouncing the words through sounding them aloud to each other. I remember the words were something like ‘of, it, get, when, can, father, mother, brother, the,’ and so on. The words themselves were easy to repeat aloud. Aside from my slight speech problem that part was easy at the time. Each card had a curious number in the upper right corner ranging from 1 to 10 for each of the 10 words. It was amusing in till I heard on the lines of, “Children! Go to your assigned desk, and have a pencil in hand,” Ms. Tisk had ordered.

                        The small desks were encompassing the blue mat as I took my seat with my back facing the bicycles. As everyone else made it to their seats Ms. Tisk passed around what was to be my first spelling test, or probably my first test of any kind really. Nevertheless she explained what it was, how I had to keep my voice at a near whisper, and that I had to finish it correctly before I could join my classmates in the cafeteria for a midday meal. The test itself was labeled 1 through 10 like the cards, and like the cards I had to match that word I saw with the number.

            Slowly I was making process on the words, but there was a tad bit of trouble. I kept getting distracted by little things like the sound of Ms. Tisk’s footsteps traversing the room, and the words didn’t come out quite right in my head, so I tried to silently pronounce them to myself. “Oo-fah,” I softly muttered as I put down ‘uf’ for the word ‘of’ for number two. At that point it had seemed to Ms. Tisk that I was strictly trying to disrupt her class, or have others cheat off me because she quickly tried to silence me. She approached my desk, and scanned my paper with a look of distaste at my spelling then gave me a warning saying to “use my inside voice to properly write out the words” or else I’d be “put into the corner”. Then proceeded to highlight the ones I needed to correct, and moved on to the other children. That didn’t help much at all considering I was already struggling just trying to remember the words. I tried telling her that I needed help me, but as soon as I tried making a sound she silenced me.

            Eventually I remembered what all the words were, but I kept on misspelling them. About 30 minutes have passed, and most of the children already left for lunch while I was huddled in my chair, staring hopelessly in my chair. Part of me wanted to dash out of there, forget the test and join them. Of course I couldn’t though because by then Ms. Tisk was hovering right over me while I fought with the jumble of letters, and words thrashing in my head. She just kept highlighting what was misspelled on my test every time I thought it was complete.

            Again another 15 minutes pass, and then I heard “Gather your things, and go to the classroom across the hall to complete your test. Then yawl join your classmates in the cafeteria,” Ms. Tisk ordered. I gathered my things with a down casted expression, and dragged my feet as I headed towards the other room. Ms. Tisk made a sound of irritation followed by saying “Walk correctly, and quit dragging your feet!” I picked up the pace as I entered the next room which was only slightly different (without the bicycles) then my original surrounding. I noticed there wasn’t another teacher around, but there were a few upper classmen. Maybe in there 3^rd, or 4^th grades if I were to guess.

            I took my seat across from the other students while Ms. Tisk informed them of why I was in there. “He needs to finish his test with accuracy, so allow him to quietly finish,” she said as she quickly left the room after. Yet again I sit there for another 20 minutes before one of the upper classmen walked over to me. I recall him only slightly, but he was a bit taller than me with black curly hair, and wearing glasses. He asked lazily “What ya stuck on?” With a defeated glance I replied with “These,” as I proceed to share what I was spelling incorrectly. The boy looked over my paper with a curious expression, and tried pronouncing what I was trying to spell. He quickly got the gist of my attempts, and he hastily helped me correct it all. In that moment my face must have expressed bewilderment because he then explained, “I had Ms. Tisk once. She wasn’t fair with her tests, and never warned us of when she was having them, so I needed help too.” The concept of pity was new to me, but I thanked him whole-heartedly, and made haste to return my paper.

            Suddenly I’m back in the present of mid October 2015 in front of the now full computer screen. In a strange twist I’m wondering, “Will the reader understand my answer?” I decided to explain that the meaning behind it all was that Ms. Tisk treated me unfairly that entire year, and from that single year had carried throughout my written education in different forms. It made me less confident, and skeptical about the words that would even follow this sentence. Ms. Tisk is the reason why whenever I hear about a test, or any assigned written work I feel a bit of anxiety, bewilderment, and eventually become astray by my strangled thoughts. I just can’t enjoy the limelight of writing without the storm cloud hovering over my mind.

            Oh, and in case you were wondering; I did pass that spelling test in the end.

            

Rough Draft #0.9

       A blank screen stands before me with my thoughts heavily under tense strain, and pressure. Sitting on a wooden chair by an antic desk, I stare at the computer with a look of great distress. For what seems like the hundredth time I am typing yet another essay, but this time it’s a bit personal. In basic retrospect I’ve been assigned to write how my opinion on writing, or reading was shaped by any early memory I might recall. With that in mind I over think it all as usual, and decided to start with a question to ponder with. “Why can’t I enjoy writing with a clear sense of mind like I do with reading?” I said thinking out loud. Letting my mind wonder with that question, I opened one of cabinets the in the desk for some inspiration. Inside laid one of my first year books dating back to 2001, so I opened it up for nostalgia purposes. Looking through it the pages brought a moment of inspiration, and whisked me back 14 years ago to my early second month of school ever. I start to rapidly type on my keyboard.

          It’s almost as if it were a life time ago, but I remember it vividly. The sun shined a shade darker during that early autumn morning of October 2001. Colorful leaves were fluttering away with the slightly chilly breeze as I got off my plain yellow bus on Lynnhaven Road in on suburban Virginia Beach, Virginia. I was an average sized 51/2 year old in dark blue sweat pants, and jacket with a rather plain haircut with the bangs cut straight across which I would find very funny now. I was also a bit hyper but that’s beside the point. The bricked school building of old Brookwood Elemetary laid before me like a clash of two worlds in my younger mind. On one hand I was thinking with glee about playing games with my classmates, but on the other hand I felt a bit intimidated by our teacher. Let’s just call her Ms. Tisk for the sake of foreshadowing.

          As I entered the building I passed through a tall tan hallway like I have been for the past month sense I started. It was swarming with excitement like a hive of bees with the amount of teachers guiding children to their intended classrooms, and there amongst them was my first teacher Ms. Tisk. She was perhaps a little over 5 feet in height with a slightly red toned contrasting light tanned skin, a little pouchy circumference (body), dark deep blue eyes, short dark brown hair, an unwelcoming expression, and carried a stern southern accent. Her expressions always seemed angry, mean, and full of hate to me as she gathered us around to enter the tall door leading into the classroom.

          The classroom itself was setup the same as always as I entered the room second-to-last.  Bicycles hanged from the far side of the room while the right side contained a dark green chalkboard with the poster of the alphabet stapled above it. Standing before the board was a high chair facing a wide royal blue mat where the children were sitting crisscross upon as I joined them with Ms. Tisk following closely from behind as she made her way towards the chair.

          The class was in session, and my classmates quickly “shhh’d,” one another into silence. The attention for the most part was on the teacher as she took attendance with her still icy glance. Then proceeded to have us play a simple fun word game with cards, followed by pronouncing the words through sounding them out aloud to each other. I remember the words were something like ‘of, it, get, when, can, father, mother, brother, the,’ and so on. The words themselves were easy to repeat aloud aside from my slight speech problem that part was easy at the time. Each card had a curious number in the upper right corner ranging from 1 to 10 for each of the 10 words. It was enjoyable in till I heard on the lines of, “Children! Go to your assigned desk, and have a pencil in hand,” Ms. Tisk had ordered. I neglected to mention that her personality was a bit authoritarian which is another way of saying she expect obedience.

          Why was she a kindergarten teacher? To this day I still don’t know, but continuing.

          The small desks were encompassing the blue mat as I took my seat with my back facing the bicycles. As everyone else made it to their seats Ms. Tisk passed around what was to be my first spelling test, or probably my first test of any kind really. Nevertheless she explained what it was, how I had to keep my voice at a near whisper, and that I had to finish it correctly before I could join my classmates in the cafeteria for a midday meal. The test itself was labeled 1 through 10 like the cards, and like the cards I had to match that word I saw with the number.

          Slowly I was making process on the words, but there was a tad bit of trouble. I kept getting distracted by little things like the sound of Ms. Tisk’s footsteps traversing the room, and the words didn’t come out quite right in my head, so I tried to silently pronounce them to myself. “Oo-fah,” I softly muttered as I put down ‘uf’ for the word ‘of’ for number two. At that point it had seemed to Ms. Tisk that I was strictly trying to disrupt her class, or have others cheat off me because she quickly tried to silence me. She approached my desk, and scanned my paper with a look of disgust at my spelling then gave me a warning saying to “use my inside voice to properly write out the words” or else I’d be “put into the corner”. That didn’t help much at all considering I was already struggling just trying to remember the words.

          

          

Five Characteristic Features

1.) A Clearly Identified Event: What happened? Who was involved?
Teachers are the door ways to certain forms of education. They are the ones who will either make us find a passion in a subject, or make the subdject something to dread about. What happened was that one of my earliest teachers disturbed a part of writing for me, and ever since that moment I've always looked at written work with relentless doubt. What happened was a woman by the name of Ms. Roberson somewhat of an english, or perhaps spelling teacher for me. For you see at the time writing out sentences was slightly difficult, but somehow reading numbers was easy. Continuing, I was practicing my spelling one day, and I was having a difficult time trying to spell words from memory. I tried to seek help from Ms. Robinson, but she snapped at me instead, and told me to do it till I got it all right. Not to tell the entire story, but what had happened had crushed my confidence in my abilities to write.
2.) A Clearly Described Setting: When and where did it happen?
I want to say it happened in early September of 2002. The sun was beatingly bright upon Brookwood Elementary in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The school itself was one-story, composed of bricks, a parking lot, and faced the outlet mall across Lynnhaven Rd.
The events however took place in a pale shampan colored like portalible surrounded by the structure.
Inside the walls were painted the color of wheat with desks scattered around to form the shape of a lope-sided circle, and a larger desk in the far right corner of the room.
3.)Vivid, Descriptive Details: What makes the story come alive?
I'll be describing what atmosphere the room carried with the teacher, and students. Providing details on my thoughts at the time, the teachers somewhat cruel directness that day, and what the toll was from that moment on.
4.) A Consistent Point of View: Who's telling the story?
The story will be told by what I experienced, and how I am able to remember it.
5.) A Clear Point: Why does the story matter?
I can't provide a clear answer for this, but I want to say it's to make clear of something to myself, and to others. Truth is I have a love/hate sort of relationship when it comes to writing. It's just in this particular time in my life when I was being introduced to the concept of it I was shattered. It was the first time I really felt like I failed myself, and had had felt shame for being useless at that moment. This story matters to me because reveals my harsh beginnings with the forming of words into sentences, and how some of those events still have an effect on writing with me today.

In Class Lab: Literacy Narrative

1.)    “The water continued to rise quickly, and the water pressure was so strong that water spurted out of the kitchen sink like a fountain.” (Page 130, Paragraph 1)

2.)    “I have no idea what to make of that ominous ‘if’ in the last sentence.” (Page 119, Paragraph 5)

3.)    “Greater by far than the responsibility to comrades in arms is responsibility to friends, family, and self, responsibility to the one life of us gets to live.” (Page 121, Paragraph 2)

“…she woke to find that her feet and the sleeping bag were soaking wet, and there was standing

water throughout her house.” (Page 129, Paragraph 2)

4.)    A List of Possible Topics:

·         How my first English destroyed my joy of writing at the beginning.

·         The difficulty of creating a historical story in U.S. History.

·         How I’ve managed to make my essays flow.

·         How my 11^th grade teacher helped me process, and make clear of what I am trying to say.

5.)    PURPOSE: I think I’ll choose my first topic as my story. Why? I feel there is something that I deeply need to remember of why it is that writing has always been a struggle, and from who generated these problems from the start. I want to share why it that writing has me so torn, and full of doubt whenever I use a word, or phrase. Why it is that events in my early childhood prevent me from truly enjoying to write out paragraphs in essays, or into stories.

6.)    AUDIENCE: I doubt they would have similar stories. I would need to fully express the reason why writing has always been a curse for me, and why it is I’m so torn with it. I’ll need them to try to understand my perspective through what was happening in that timeline.

 7.)    STANCE: I want to express a serious attitude, and wish to be a bit self-critical. I want the reader to see me as driven, but deprived of some enjoyment.

 8.)    MEDIA/DESIGN: My narrative will be in print, and for others to read on my blog if they wish.

 9.)    What do I see? I see a pale shampan portable out in the open surrounded by the elementary school’s (Brookewood Elementary in Virginia) bricked maroon structure from all sides on a rather bright sunny day. Inside is a room full of small desks with a larger desk in the corner for the teacher. The teacher was strong with authority, rather impatient, and submissive from what I recall.

10.) What do you hear? I hear a fan blowing in cool air into the mildly warm room. The teacher is telling me to stay in till I finish all my spelling work, and only then can I proceed to eat lunch with my other classmates. As an hour passed I recall upper classmen entering the room as I continued to work. After a while one of them helped me while the teacher left the room.

11.) What do you smell? The air contained a stale chemical odor from when the janitors might have cleanse the floor, and the smell of food from the cafeteria.

12.) How and what do you feel? I feel a sense of dread, and constant ADD/ADHD. I want to move, and ran, but am slightly terrified by my teachers constant barking commands without much assistance. I am confused, lost, and struggling with the current assignment in front of me. My writing is very well done for a 1^st grader, but my mind was always racing onto something else.

13.) What do you taste? I don’t taste anything. I am however very hungry at this point.

14.) Describe each person? 
Ms. Robinson- As far as background goes she was my teacher for a short while. She was lean, had dark skin, almost no hair, and carried a kind of confidence, or authority about her. Her voice made candy bitter when she is losing her patience on something, or someone. She had a southern accent mixed witha hint of something I couldn't put my finger on... French perhaps? Anyway I remember her eyes always seeming black to me as a child because she seemed kind of rough on me.
Child Me- Thinking back I use to be way different. I was a small 6 year old boy with a few teeth missing, and a straight-cut across the bang hairstyle. I was very hyper, and my mind was always dancing carelessly, but I was always respectful. The majority of what I wore was meant for comfort, so it was either sweat pants, or shorts with a T-shirt, and shoes.
15.) Recall
Me: *sounding out words* "Oovef! Of! U. F. Of!"
Ms. Robinson: Shhhhh! You're disturbing the rest of your classmates."
Me: *raises hand, and immediately talks* "Ms. Robinson can you help me? I'm not really sure if my spellings right, or if this makes much sense."
Ms. Robinson: "I've already helped you with spelling a word, but now you need to figure this one out on your own. The world doesn't revolve around you."
Me: "But Ms. Roberson-"
Ms. Robinson: "No buts, and don't talk back to your teachers!"
*entire class is watching, and I feel a slight twinge of embarrassment*
Me: "Ms. Roberson I really don't understand-"
Ms. Roberson: "Jacob, in till you can completely finish your work correctly you may not eat lunch with your fellow classmates."
16.) Summarize the action: Before I would come into class I would be carelessly wandering the halls, and my eyes always scanning walls on other classmates work. I walked in a rather speedy, but with a little hop out of habit. I firmly held a pencil in my hand, and a backpack on my back as I.

Comparing Definitions of Rhetorical

         As I was reading other people’s definitions on what they believed rhetoric thinking, and acting is I realized we all had a similar idea of what it encompassed. However I came across ideas I neglected to use in my own definition. Upon reading another’s definition I discovered that they described using rhetoric is somewhat on an ‘art style’ in communicating in a thought out perspective with others. Never once did I even think of describing this type of writing as an art, but when I think about it, it does hold a sense of beauty in words for the audience a person is trying to reach out to. Among other things I didn’t mention clearly that one needs to know what the genre is, what context is necessary, the purpose of it, and what medium or design is sufficient. In this way it corresponds to what I’ve already said about knowing ones audience, and then listening or learning what the view point of that audience has on that given subject. Then after by understanding the opposing sides you could mold your own effective answer to communicate, and possibly winning over those sides with your arguments.

            In the end I realized if I had a bit more time trying to figure out rhetorical thinking, and acting I would have provided more detail on my own definition, but nevertheless I learned a great deal through others perspective. In a way of its own it was rhetorical thinking by viewing others ideas on what it meant compared to my own!