For February 14– FINAL DRAFT OF UNIT ONE DUE

Hey everyone, final drafts of unit one are due next Thursday, Feb 14. Remember that we do not have class on February 12. You will need to post your essay on OpenLab BEFORE class time. The category is “Education Essay” again.  Please make sure that somewhere on your paper you have clearly indicated that this is the final draft. (However, please do not title your essay “Final Draft”) Please note that titles, my name, your name, page numbers and other headings don’t count toward the word count.

Do you need exactly 850 words? No. But the shorter it is, the better it needs to be. And honestly, 500 words will not be enough. And 700 words almost certainly won’t be enough unless those are the greatest 700 words I have ever read in my life. Shoot for 850-1000. I won’t accept more than 2000. 

The guidelines for the essay are under “Unit One” which you can find in the header at the top of the webpage. I also wrote WAY too much describing this essay in my blog post below if you have more questions. If you have more questions, you can also email me.

If you would like to meet with me to discuss your essay before it’s due, I’m happy to do so, but you’ll have to come meet with me. Email me to set up an appointment.

See you next week!

Draft 1

Growing up in an immigrant family was never easy. From education to real world problems, here I will talk about the hardships and obstacles I have faced throughout my life.
Both my parents came from Ecuador for a better life. Not only for themselves but for their kids, my siblings and I. If there’s one thing I learn it’s that determination and grit can pave the way for anything you want. As long as you have the hunger within you, you will accomplish your goal. So I was taught.
English at home was never spoken. Coming from immigrants parents, this was the norm. Spanish here, Spanish there, Spanish everywhere. This made the English language even harder to perfect. I’ve always despised English class with their vague questions. “Think of a time when this happened causing this to happen.” I mean like seriously? This requires too much thinking and analyzing for me. Every assignment given are very open ended with various responses being correct. It seems that I struggle with articulating my thoughts and ideas onto paper. When we had assignments give to us in Elementary School, I struggled with completing them at home. I was surrounded with the Spanish language getting thrown at me left and right. Nobody at home was help, something I needed. I remember always getting 3’s on my ELA state test and asking myself “how?” I was NEVER able to get above a 3, whereas math, I would never get below a 4. This killed the slight passion I had left for the English language, I just gave up.
There were plenty of times in high school where were given essay assignments to complete based on books we have read. Whenever I thought I had written a piece of art, it turns out it was complete shit and I would received a 65-70 on it. Weirdly enough, whenever I thought u bombed an essay, it did pretty good, receiving an 85+. These series of events baffle and to this day it still occurs. English is complicated and I will never be able to perfect this craft or art (whatever you want to call it) no matter how much I try. Even if I do it ends up flunking.

Education narrative rough draft

Education or What?                                                                                                                     It’s going on three years that I’ve been dedicating my precious time, hard work and patience to the most crappy school known to man, New Dawn High.  If the beige prison walls weren’t enough to drive me insane my teachers definitely passed that with flying colors. As you can probably guess this was not my favorite place to be. For starters, everyone began at 7 AM and left at 4 PM which is awfully long for a school day and the fact that this didn’t bother anyone else bothered me some more. The students there were grown I’m talking early 20’s, baby- mothers, mostly baby-fathers, expecting mothers, dropouts and drop back ins, thugs and being across from tons of 400 foot projects buildings made the violence more interesting. All the kids were either sleeping or sleeping, exactly. I hated it there. For three years I felt misunderstood like no one including the teachers got what my “problem” was. They had no clue that I simply didn’t find the things they taught valuable to my life, I couldn’t focus because I didn’t want to and because I didn’t want too I had zero intent on doing so. I grew tired of what was expected of me and so I made myself more available to other areas of life, which included getting a job.                                                                      That was the beginning of my lonesomeness. After dropping out, disobeying my parent’s wishes of what I should have turned out to be and being cut off from their finances I eagerly thought to myself “you gotta make quitting school count for something” and that’s what I tried to do. Everyday at 7 in the morning I pushed myself to wake up in hopes of getting a great check every week and when I did receive that check I wonder how it would make me feel. My first Friday came around sooner than anything else and believe me the anticipation I felt to read my pay-stub was driving me insane. “New clothes, chipotle and weed” were the three things that played out continuously in my head as I cracked open the envelope with “shauntai smith” on it. I’ve never seen my name on anything regarding to money, just turning 17 I had no idea what to expect but I knew whatever came out of that envelope was mine, all mine. Not my parents or my grandparents, my own. As I opened the letter roughly and without a care for putting the paper back inside I see my pay. It wasn’t a good one. A total of $296.75, a total disappointment. I yelled to the top of my lungs “MY CHECK, somebody better fix this I’m not playing”. When my boss Mr. Bradford heard my screams he calmly sat me down and said “ Shauntai please go over the paystub” I was new to all of this work stuff so maybe I did read it wrong but turns out the paper was right. Sadly, I had only earned the amount I was looking at.

Rough Draft

Amani Nassar

English 1121

Dr. Hall

February 7, 2019

My Better Halves 

Coming from such a diverse background of being Palestinian and Puerto Rican, I often times came across the issue of learning my culture’s language. For better or worse, I never got the chance to learn Arabic as I lived at home with only my Puerto Rican family. My grandma is a fluent Spanish speaker and my mother sort of is too, both also knowing English fluently. The difference between us is that they are, of course, fully Puerto Rican where I on the other hand, have a confliction of two cultures that are more different than alike. Here and there I would learn words and phrases from them growing up and I still do to this day, but I would say my spanish is in fact, broken.

Here’s what I mean by broken; I could be having a conversation with someone like my abuela and find myself switching back and forth between English and Spanish like its the normal thing to do. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing with doing this especially if it’s with family, but it’s definitely not the correct way of speaking. But whose to truly say that this is an incorrect way of speaking? This shift of language is what many people call Spanglish which is something that has been around for quite sometime and is evolving to soon be considered a language. I also tend to throw Spanish words somewhere within my English sentences like “¿que? What are you talking about?”

I took Spanish class all 4 years of high school and even took AP Spanish during my senior year. I guess you could say I learned spanish from those long 4 years, but the reality of it is that I learned just what I needed to get by or just used my previous knowledge from the Spanish I spoke at home. Spanish class never taught me how to become a fluent speaker, it was more so a class where you would have a textbook to read, answer some questions about what you’ve read and recite a few sentences to the teacher every other class or so, there was nothing really there for me to carry outside of the class, it was quite repetitive. As a student I know it’s my duty to do more work outside of classroom, but I didn’t have the foundation or much knowledge to do so with what little I had learned.

From the very beginning of that class I noticed that textbook Spanish was very different from the Spanish I spoke at home and even the spanish I heard out in the streets. One, needless to say, was much more formal whereas the other had more of a slang twist to it.

 

 

Being that I live with my Puerto Rican side of the family, I felt as though I was missing out on the experiences my other culture could offer me and I still do feel this way. It’s hard to learn or even adapt to a culture I never grew up with.

 

Personal Breakthrough Draft

Santi Gill

2/6/19

 

I was walking to my house after work, still in my ugly green sweater, with the cool air surrounding me and the sun setting on the city. I see my mom walk out, purse on one shoulder, and ask me to come with her to the store, so I go with her. She offered to pay for whatever I get, so I got a sandwich, and she got her things. The cook there was good. Don’t know his name, but I’d guess through healthy racial profiling that he was a Mexican man. But what mattered was not his looks, but whether or not the food he makes is good, and it always is. Ordering my food, the cook forgot what was in the type of sandwich I told him. My mom got mad at that, so I had to give her the rundown that not everybody has photographic memory, and that he cant remember everything on the menu and what’s gonna be in it. At my own job it’s kind of similar, but instead of food, its balloons that are available behind the cash register. Customers usually describe what type of balloon it is rather than say the number we put on top of it, so I have to turn around and look to see what they mean instead of just putting in the three numbers.

When she had finished with what she was buying and while I was waiting on the food, my mom got tired of the lady in front of her waiting to get change and bumped into her. The lady my mom bumped into just looked at her, and continued to deal with the cashier to get her change. All the while my mom is talking under her breath at her. The lady gets her things, talks under her breath back at my mom, before screaming at her before leaving the store, which causes her to try and go after the lady, which forces me to hold my mom back. I thought the whole thing was kind of funny. Two cops had been inside the store, also waiting on food, and the main reason I hadn’t gotten mine. My mom took notice of them and tried to explain what happened, prompting the cops to explain to her that if she tried to go after the lady, she would have been arrested. She had a fit and because of this was allowed to take what she put on the counter for free. It would have been nice if that was the motivation behind it. But no, just her being her I guess. I just wanted my damn sandwich. I ended up getting the sandwich for free too, but at the end of the day, I dont think she should have been mad at the cook or the lady, it didn’t make sense. I learned from then on that going to the store with my mom might not bring about good luck to the people around us, so I choose not to, unless I get a free sandwich.

 

My Learning Experience Draft 2/7/2019

A scene from my experiences that I look back on fondly was the moment that I learned how to conquer my nervousness when performing learned skills in front of an big audience. In my school, for Black History Month, we celebrated by having performances of poems, dancing music and speeches by both students, and faculty of the school. I was one of the people performing, and I would be performing the 3 minute ragtime piece titled Maple Leaf Rag, published in 1899 by Scott Joplin, an African-American composer. What brought me to that moment was me taking the time to learn complex melodies at home with my old keyboard 61 key keyboard. Of course, with there not being enough keys, certain melodies that required a larger range of key-playing were off limits. After a while of inconsistently showing interest in playing the piano, my parents finally agreed to buying a complete 88 key digital piano, fully-weighted keys and all! With access a larger range of octaves and keys, I practiced more songs, varying in genre, and became more confident in my playing.

About a year later, in my senior year of high school, even though, I didn’t take a music class I took interest in the school’s music classroom, and its mechanical upright piano. Because it was the end of the day, and the room was empty, I decided to play some music on it, both to examine the way it sounded, and for fun. Thinking no one from the other room on the other side of the hallway could really hear me, or really paid attention, I played it, and though it needed to be badly tuned, the ragtime song that I played on it still worked. After finishing the song, and being unaware of any real audience, I was surprised to hear applause from the music teacher and two other teachers from neighboring rooms. The music teacher told me that she was impressed with my performance and asked me if I wanted to perform for Black History Month on her behalf, since she wasn’t going to be able to attend and hadn’t put anything together for her students. Reluctantly, I accepted, mostly because it’d feel wrong to just sneak into her classroom to play music, and then decline when asked to perform. But, even though I was confident in my ability to retain the songs on my own, there was still some almost irrational hesitance regarding my confidence with recalling it flawlessly in front of a large audience. As the day approached, I got more and more nervous about it.

Then came the moment. After about a week and a half of practicing with the goal of making sure I couldn’t possibly mess up, the moment finally arrived. Behind me and to the left of me was an auditorium teeming with around 150 students, in front of me was the auditorium’s in tune upright piano, and underneath me were the pedals to the piano, and although they didn’t work, they weren’t really needed for the song I was playing. The air in the room was really warm, but I wouldn’t know if it was really that warm, or it was my nervousness making it feel that warm. I was still nervous, and even though I practiced the song I had already mastered every day for about 10 days, the feeling in my thoughts that I might still mess it up was still present. It felt like there was still a sizable chance that I might mess up in the middle of the song and forget what came next. But telling myself that even if I did, I would try my best to get back on track helped in a way. When the hosts of the performances introduced me, I felt the adrenaline and pressure hit me, but instead of being overly nervous, when I played, it was almost calming knowing that my nervousness, and the adrenaline was helping me stay sharp, and not messing up the piece. Getting closer to the end, I started to feel more and more content with my playing, and when I finally finished, it felt like the weight of nervousness that accumulated from this performance was lifted off me, and I felt a wave of the feeling of accomplishment. From that point, I had finally learned to trust that when I’m in the moment of applying skills that I spent time learning and refining, the sense of pressure wouldn’t always impair my ability to perform, but it can enhance it. Rather than doubting your abilities under pressure, you could look forward to it helping you stay sharp in the moment that it’s there.

Personal Breakthrough

Haider Mahmood

Dr.Carrie Hall

English 1121

February 7, 2019

 

Personal Breakthrough

 

I am in my high school auditorium having a good time with my friends. Its 1:30 because I usually skip this US government because if I go I end up falling asleep anyway. If you deeply inhale you can smell the pizza the school has been serving every Friday for the last 50 years. I feel comfortable and happy that I’m hanging with my friend but at the same time I feel guilty for not going to class. I look around and see multiple people crossing through the auditorium wearing the gym outfit trying to get to the C-Gym. Then there’s those multiple group of friends just like us who didn’t feel like going to class.

Why is class so important to me? Why would I feel guilty if I’ve been skipping classes for the last 3 years of my high school? Because this year its graduation. If I pass my classes I get to go to graduation and if I fail I would have to do another semester in high school. Even though I never was interested in going to graduation I still knew inside me that it was a once in a lifetime moment. So why was I not going to class. For two reasons one because I had a bad group of friends around me and the second being my accent.

The reason I hung out with these people is because even through they were a bad influence they were just like me. We all would be going through the something and we could count of each. We all would skip a classis and at the same time and meet and in the auditorium and talk about it. The best part is we didn’t judge each other, and we always helped each other find solutions. The reason we would have skip class is because all of us got out of school at different times and none of us had lunch senior year.

Growing up with my mom teaching me Urdu and only speaking to me in Urdu confused me in a lot in middle school a lot. When I went to school and where we spoke English transitioning from my Urdu to English I developed an accent. Even though I could perfectly understand people in English, when I tried to reply they couldn’t understand me. This limited my ability to speak a lot with my friends, I couldn’t communicate as much and couldn’t participate in activities. The reason I’m telling you this is because in high school I didn’t have a heavy accent, but the point was that even when you don’t have the accent no more it’s the fact that having it makes you uncomfortable at times.

What was the point of coming to school? What’s the best way to make money if I leave? What can I do to change my habits? What can I do to boost my confidence? Questions I would ask myself everyday.