1.In chapter one Rennie describes a major change in her life (the opening of the Tallgrass Japanese Internment Camp). Write about a major change that you have experienced in your life.
2. Rennie talks about Betty Joyce as her best friend (5). Describe a childhood best friend or tell a story about an event that is about you and your best friend.
3.Rennie very much respects her father and what he thinks of her. Write about a lesson learned from a parent or another respected adult (relative, coach, counselor, teacher, etc.).
4.Loyal does not usually agree with the sentiments of the rest of his community, but he is not afraid to state his mind and stand by his beliefs. Tell a story of your experience standing up for something or someone you believe in OR someone standing up for you.
5. Rennie may only be 13 years old, but she has a lot of responsibility resting on her shoulders since her older siblings are away, her grandmother suffers with memory loss and her mother seems to be more and more tired each day. Chores still need to get done and Rennie becomes aware of the fact that she has to help her family to get them done instead of spending her time reading in the haymow or exploring the farm. Write about a time where you either realized you had more responsibility than before or that you realized that you needed to step up your efforts in a group (your family, a team, a class, etc).
6. Rennie loves Granny and she is an important part of the family. Write about a memory or story of a grandparent or other elderly friend or relative who is or has been important to you.
7.Write about a time that you have made a parent -- or respected adult figure -- proud.
8. Rennie used to find solitude up in the haymow, reading or just listening to the sounds of the farm. Write about a place where you find or have found solitude and peace.
9.Rennie's family seems to be in the minority at the town meeting in the discussion of hiring Japanese people from the camp to work on their farms. Write about a time when you have been in a situation where you found yourself in the minority on an opinion or idea.
10.Rennie had a strong relationship with her sister Marthalice when she was living at home and clearly misses her while she is living in Denver. She also loves her brother Buddy and misses him too. Write about your relationship with a sibling/siblings who is/are important to you.
Prompt 6
ReplyDeleteAn elderly person that was really important to me was my grandpa, Carl. Every year during the summer my family and I used to go to my nana and grandpa's summer house on the Niagra River in Canada. We would drive eight hours, and when we got there my grandparents were always there waiting for us. I really liked to go to Canada during the summer because all of my cousins were there for the family golf tournament, and I got to see the whole family. Even though seeing my cousins was very fun, one of my favorite memories every time I went to Canada was talking to my grandfather. He was a very knowledgeable man, and seemed to know a little bit about everything. We would often go down to the dock and go swimming, kayaking, and sailing. Even though he was old, he was always up for adventure. He and I would go sailing with my uncle, Grove, and would go up and down the river for hours on end. We would always have interesting conversations, about the river, a boat that we just saw passing by, or they would teach me how to use the sailboat, and what to do with all of the knots, and how to steer the rudder of the catamaran. Sometimes we would see something like a dead fish, or a type of seaweed floating in the water, and he would know what kind of plant or species of fish it was. This is how smart my grandfather was. He knew everything. He would often ask me difficult algebra problems over dinner, like 'how long would it take for your boat to float two miles back home if it took you an hour and a half to paddle upstream with a current of ten miles per hour.' I would never know how to do a problem like that, but he always did and he would pull out a piece of paper and explain how to do the problem. I was amazed at his intelligence from a young age, and have always looked up to him. He also loved to paint, and had many excellent pieces of artwork that he had made himself. He also had painting that he had bought, and he was of Irish descent. He had a painting of the Irish fighting the British for independence, and I did not know what the painting was of. I asked him, and he told me all about the battle, and how the Irish eventually won using a flanking maneuver that left the British surprised, and unready. The Irish crippled the British with this maneuver, and the Irish won the battle. It was stories like this that made him so interesting, and so fun to listen to. That is why I loved my grandfather so much, and that is why I think that he was such a great man. He was funny, clever, smart, and always knew what to say. That is what make grandpa Carl so interesting.
I really found your story about your grandpa very interesting. I loved the part of your grandpa telling you about the Irish fighting the British. It was well written and very good story. Good job.
DeleteGreat job Josh. The story was vey well told and the detail with which you told the reader about you grandpa in almost every aspect was overly interesting and complete
DeleteNice Josh
DeleteIt sounds like you and your Grandpa are really close. You're very fortunate to have somebody who knows a little bit of everything in your life. Remember what Mrs. Piro said, you want to make connections from your essay to the text. How does this relationship remind you of the bond between Rennie and her grandma?
Ross
Prompt 2
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in elementary school, my best friend was Kevin Ladka. Although we didn't have a lot in common (he was sporty, and I was academic), we both enjoyed learning about each others interests. I wanted to understand how sports worked, and why people were so insanely supportive of their respective favorite teams. Kevin was curious about nature, and he loved to try new things in the great outdoors. We met in a pretty unusual way. In first grade, when I still had a strong Polish accent and was a newcomer to the school, the only kid in my class who I knew was a girl who lived next door to me in the condo complex where I lived. I couldn't get very far in first grade with only a girl for a friend. Once in gym class, I was partnered with Kevin for some sort of obstacle course activity. I didn't know him at all, and I think I there was even a little enmity between us back then, although I don't remember why. In an effort to show off, I improvised a limerick featuring the sailor-mouthed curse "crap". Kevin threatened to tell on me, and at the end of class he made good on his word. The gym teacher pulled us aside as we were lining up to go back to the classroom, and she explained that Kevin had told her what I had been singing. I told the teacher that I spoke Polish at home and I wasn't aware that I had been swearing (this excuse was itself a bunch of crap). She let me off the hook. Kevin and I had to walk back to class alone together, I think he was impressed that I had gotten of the hook. When we next had gym, we agreed to pull the prank again. And we did. And the teacher sent us both to the principal's office. But I'm glad she did, because that shared punishment cemented our friendship. Kevin and I were firm friends for the next five years of elementary school, in fact we were pretty isolated. Neither of us hung out with other people very often, until fifth grade, when George White joined our lunch table and made the duo a trio. I don't remember why George became our friend, he was a shy, funny kid who enjoyed making things with his hands. That's how it was up until the end of fit grade, when my family moved to Hanover. I was heartbroken. Leaving all my friends seemed like the worst thing in the world. It took me a year to get over my sadness at leaving my two good friends behind. Nowadays, I hardly ever think about Kevin and George. We've gone our separate ways for so long that we can't relate anymore. We're all friends on Facebook, but we never message each other. Even though we're not in contact much anymore, the experiences I've shared with Kevin and George are what made me who I am today.
Really nice response, you should try and relate it back to Tallgrass, but good job besides that.
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ReplyDeleteOne summer my family went to a good family friends house to have lunch. My older brother and younger sister were jumping on the trampoline laughing and having fun. Me and my older cousin decided we wanted to join in. We all were playing games on the trampoline seeing who could jump the highest or who could stay in a ball the longest. The games started getting out of hand so I decided to go see what my mom was doing, leaving my younger sister with the two older boys. I told my mom that they were being rough and it wasn’t fun anymore so she decided to go check out what they were doing.
ReplyDeleteWhen we got close to the trampoline we could see my sister crying on the ground holding her arm. My sister was getting off the trampoline but my brother and cousin were still jumping causing her to fly off and break her arm. When my mom saw it was broken she rushed to the hospital leaving me and my brother behind with my other younger cousin. I felt responsible because I had left her with the two older boys, I knew I had to help her with she was healing. Although I was afraid I still had to take care of my cousins and make sure they were fine. My sisters arm was in a cast so we decided it was time to go home.
We were moving to a house out in Etna, so most of our things were in boxes. My sister couldn’t help any of us move which made things a little complicated. She couldn’t play the games we were use to playing and I could tell it made her sad. I decided that I would do more work with boxes, since she couldn’t and I would try and entertain her as much as I could until her arm was healed. When she was in the cast she couldn’t go swimming or play ball with everyone else so I would always stay behind and play a game with her that she could enjoy. I decided to make things easier for my sister. She had a bunk bed and was on the top bunk. Since she couldn’t climb up it to easily we switched so that she didn’t have to climb up a ladder. Also since she was broken her right arm she couldn’t color or write as neatly as she was used to. I made up a game where we had to use our left arms even though it was harder.
Throughout the summer me and my sister got closer. We were able to talk more and have fun. She was no longer my annoying little sister and I was the mean older sister. She now looked up to me. I feel like when you help someone or make them happy that they feel a special connection with you. We had a special connection because I stuck by her side would did as much as I could to let her have fun.
Hey Tristan,
DeleteGreat prompt, as usual. Relating to Tallgrass would have really strengthened this essay.
From,
Jin
Prompt 10
ReplyDeleteMy relationship with my brother is a very complicated one. We have usually gotten along well, with a few fights in between. We have also been nice to each other and care for one another. When we were young my mom would tell me “ You wouldn’t go anywhere without your brother, and when he went to a friend’s house you’d ask to go too. I’ve looked at a lot of pictures from when I was young my brother was in a lot of them. He would always be smiling sometimes holding me. As I got older and he did to we started doing more and less with each other. We would play football in the house with my dad, kickball, basketball, and we would always have a good time. As we got older we grew apart. My brother wouldn’t play with me as often, he would hang in his room instead of downstairs, and he would get mad at me over little things. The sports we played stopped, we no longer played football, or kickball, and when we played basketball we became competitive and ended up hurting one another. When my brother was in eighth grade was when I noticed the biggest change in him. He would swear at my and get more irritated over all the little things. He would no longer let me hang out with him and his friends. Today is even worse. He constantly is calling me all sorts of names, and threatens to kill me, and gets very angry when I make jokes about what he’s doing at that moment. I know these may sound bad, but it’s how we talk, we both talk to each other like that. Throughout my entire life with all the threats my brother has made to me about beating me up, he has never laid a hand on me. Sometimes we wrestle which is how we can get some anger out, but he has never hit me. I remember this one specific time when my brother really showed how much he cared about me. It was when I was in sixth grade and he was in eighth. I was in this class called Quiz bowl. I was always in a group with a kid named Peter Rich. He was in my brother’s grade. He would constantly give me dead arms (he punched me the arm so I couldn’t feel it) everyday, about five times in the class period. I would tell him to stop and he would just keep on hitting me. I went home one day and told me brother. He told me “If he hits you again come find me and I’ll kick his butt”. It was probably one of the nicest things I have ever heard my brother say to me. He would stand up and risk getting expelled for fighting to make a kid stop picking on me. My brother and I may swear and argue with each other but we boys, that’s just how we talk to each other. I know my brother would miss me if I was gone, and I’d miss him too. Deep down I know my brother cares about me, no matter what he says he will always be there for me when I need his help.
This is really nice 'feel-good' type story. Good work! The last example really strengthens your whole story and wraps it up.
DeleteIn the book TallGrass by Sandra Dallas, Rennie has a place for her to go into solitude and read or just listen to the natural sounds. As well, I used to have a place that I went to in order to think or to get away from the rest of the world. Although I mostly don’t go there anymore, I still remember it clearly.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn’t that far from my house, being right behind the garage, but I had thought of it as a secret place no one knew about. It was a woody area, with not that much brush, probably from me tearing down branches and brush in my destructive delight. There seemed to be a full and thick border around the area, a shell that isolated me from the outside. The surroundings were all brown, other than the few leaves that protruded from the neighboring brush. There were normally allot of sticks on the ground, which I would sometimes sharpen or shave to become staffs, arrows, spears, and anything I could think of to cut out of the wood. Although Rennie had this relatively clear area, she seemed to think of it as a mostly closed off area like me. My clearing was definitely not clear, but it is still quite close to her idea of a separate place for her.
Like Rennie, I liked to sit and listen to the sounds of anything around me, most of which were of the birds. The sounds there weren't that acoustic, but I guess that's what made it protective. On the other hand, any sound I made was, in most cases, not heard outside. Unlike Rennie's ideal place for being alone, my fort was just that: and fort. It seemed to be a place for me to expel all my problems, instead of being a peaceful place for thinking.
One of the very close parts of its description to Rennie's place is its comfort-ability. The ground was mostly flat, and one could easily sit anywhere and be in one way or another, comfortable. The best place to sit and relax was at the base of a smooth and tall tree close to the back of the hideout. Likewise, the hay in Rennie's haymow was probably a very comfortable thing to lie on, and maybe even more.
Over all, I think that the private place for Rennie to be alone was quite like the one that I used to use. I think that almost everyone has a room, a place in the woods, or something somewhere where they can sit, think, read, or just be alone, but some go there more than others. Rennie's area was quite like mine was probably like other peoples too.
Good job! Great work describing your place in depth and mentioning how it felt to be there, I really felt like I would feel the same if I visited it. I also really liked how much you related it to Rennie's spot, and intertwined similarities between your place and hers throughout your response. Great job!
DeletePrompt #9
ReplyDeleteDuring the town meeting in the book Tallgrass, Loyal was very much a minority because he wanted to hire the Japanese as beet workers.I have found myself to be in the minority on an idea many times. The most recent one that stands out in my mind is an argument about introducing weighted GPAs to Hanover High School on the Class of 2015 Facebook page. A certain freshman had posted a question asking people’s feelings about weighted GPAs. Many people had commented on this already, and the general consensus was that they should not be introduced. Some of the phrases used were “lowering self-esteem”, “brains developing at different rates”, “all kids work just as hard”, and “honors classes are meant to be challenging”. I did not agree with these comments at all. I thought back to a project that I had done on weighted GPAs back in the first quarter. I had not given much thought to the topic back then, yet I began formulating my own opinion as I was reading the comments on the post. I thought that GPAs should be weighted for reasons which I shared on the thread. These reasons were mainly about valedictory awards and academic competition. However, some people were quick to retaliate to my “radical beliefs”. More than ten of them “ganged up” on me and mercilessly retorted with the same argument in different words. In their opinion, weighted GPAs would lower the self-esteem of students in lower classes who, according to them, work just as hard as students in honors classes. This same idea was forcibly thrown at me, yet I fended it off with some of my own arguments. I felt that there was purposely a difference in the difficulty of honors classes versus regular classes. I also felt that honors students should get some rewards and satisfaction because their grades would probably decrease in a challenging course. But I knew that I could not post this because the debate would become far too heated. It had, as a matter of fact. My opposition was now in full throttle, and was charging straight at me with a one-pointed spear. They had only one point for which they could argue, while I had many. Yet with that one point they gained the support of the masses. I had only the support of the student who had originally started the post. We both changed gears to arguing about the need for academic competition at Hanover High School. I had been to many schools in the past. My father constantly had to switch his work location, which caused my family to move a lot. I had attended a competitive Indian school in Dubai, and my brother had attended really tough schools in India, Bahrain, and Dubai. This background led me to feel that classes at Hanover were not very competitive. When I posted this, though, things got really intense. One comment, although it may not be as serious as it sounds, read, “Raj if you are complaining then why are you going to Hanover?”. Such was the opposition against my ideas. After this, most of the people participating in this thread stopped posting serious comments. I realized that I did not need to get so angry, or to express my feelings to such a degree. Everyone apologised to each other, and the next day was school as usual. None of our arguments had any effect on how we behaved in class. I was really grateful for that. I realize now that weighted GPAs is a very sensitive topic that can erupt into something even larger. Hanover has decent kids, but I would probably get bullied if I was going to a different school. Although I was in the minority on this idea, and I did not have much support, I was able to spread new ideas and provide a learning experience for myself as well as others.
(((It would be very much appreciated if you could tell me how to make this more of a “personal narrative” type piece. Thank you.)))
I think this is definitely starting to become personalized, but don't be afraid to add in your own opinion. Perhaps go into more detail about why you believe in a weighted GPA, and how you felt to have your opinions attacked by your own peers. Another suggestion is to talk about how this entire debate was online, and how easy it is to become brave when posting online instead of voicing your opinions face to face (how you might have responded differently if directly confronted, or if you think many of the kids would have actually said these things directly to you).
DeletePrompt 6
ReplyDeleteWaking up to the smell of nice food is always pleasant. My grandfather always brings something good to eat, sometimes its doughnuts, sometimes its pastries, and sometimes it’s even pulled pork. He is my mom’s dad, and he has been visiting my house every week since I can remember. He comes every Saturday morning, sometimes for an hour, sometimes for the whole day. Grandpa used to be our neighbor, but now he lives in Lebanon. He has one 20 year old cat living with him, but his life is pretty quiet now, so visiting with us every week has become a routine. Even though he does not live with us or have dementia, I can see some similarities between my grandfather and the character Granny from the book Tallgrass.
Grandpa has become a third parent to me and my older brother. Sometimes when my parents have to work late, he picks me up at school. Grandpa is full of good advice and good humor. Our dog, Teko, loves him. Occasionally if the roads are too slippery my grandpa won’t come. (He has the caution that Granny now lacks because of her dementia.) Teko can tell that something is wrong when Grandpa doesn’t show up, and he will run around the house looking out the windows for him and yipping in anticipation. Like the Strouds who care for Granny, once my grandfather is no longer able to drive, I guarantee that my mom will drive up there every week, and whenever I wake up early enough, she’ll drag me up there too. Then it will become a new tradition for Teko to ride to Lebanon every week. Unless Grandpa comes and lives with us!
But my grandpa is quite stubborn about some things. I’m pretty sure that he won’t stop driving until he can’t see the speedometer well enough to make out what speed he is going. On a few occasions I have been dragged along to the hospital with mom while she donates blood. If I mention my grandfather’s name, all of the older people say, “Oh, I know him.” or “Oh, you’re his grandson!” My grandpa often takes walks in the morning; he struts down the street waving and saying hello to everyone. One time I went with him when I was little. He spent more energy saying hello than actually walking. I think since he is retired he gets bored. He frequently helps his neighbors if they have a plumbing issue or something of that nature. Grandpa is handy that way. My mom is a huge reader, and he built all of the bookshelves in our house to store them. He also helped install our hardwood flooring. When I was smaller, he and my brother built a fully functional rowboat. The list goes on. Granny from Tallgrass helps around the house, as well. She cooks and helps the family house run.
In Tallgrass, Granny is a little too far gone to be walking around the town. But she is determined. My grandfather is one of those people who even if he was paralyzed from the waist down, nothing would stop him. The thing about books is that sometimes you learn about real life from fictional characters, and even though they are not exactly alike or living in the same situations, I can see parallels between Granny and my real grandfather. It has been a privilege knowing my grandfather, and I bet the Strouds feel the same way about Granny.
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ReplyDeleteIn the book Tallgrass by Sandra Dallas, Rennie and Betty Joyce have a deep relationship. They can talk to each other about personal issues and can encourage being more confident. My friend and I had a relationship like this; he encouraged me to be more confident and active among peers.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was younger, my best friend was Chris Powell. During that time, I was uncomfortable because I had just moved into Hanover in second grade. I was awkward and did not talk to anyone until Chris introduced himself to me. The first time we met was on the swing sets, he proposed an idea to compete on who could swing higher and jump off the farthest. He won. The teachers scolded us because it was dangerous. From then on, we were close. I learned that people become closer when they experience something together, like our teacher scolding us.
Chris was confident, popular, and smart at our school. Everyone, including teachers, praised him for being a good student. During second grade, I was awkward and lacked confidence. I wanted to be good at sports but I was not coordinated. We had different interests. He liked art while I could not understand the meaning of it. I like to read books but Chris thought it was a waste of time. I did not know why we were such good friends because at that time we were polar opposites.
I never got in alone, always with Chris. Every time a teacher talked to us about discipline, we were both scared. We were taught to respect adults and we did not like the idea of disappointing. These fears also allowed us to laugh it off at the end. We made a lot of mistakes together. Mistakes made me learn and become who I am and experiencing these mistakes with Chris made it more memorable.
As boys of our age (third grade), we never talked about our personal issues because they were saved for our mothers. We mostly talked about plans for the weekends and the latest video games. During recess, we never got bored. We hid from others and scared them as they were walking past. We laughed together while others were demanding we stop. Personal issues were mostly about girls. It was awkward but it was another thing to laugh about in the future.
My friend was athletic and we practiced sports like kickball, soccer and basketball. After some practice we got better and I had more confidence in my abilities as an athlete. Chris also had many friends and this allowed me to meet them and spend time with other people. This helped with my awkward aura around people and later I regretted not thanking him. The experiences and the mistakes we made allowed us to become who we are and I never regretted them. The reason why we were so close was because opposites attract. This friendship closely resembles the relationship between Rennie and Betty Joyce as they motivate each other.
Most people have one place in particular that they can always go when in search of solitude. This place serves as a private getaway when the burden of chaos in life feels too heavy to bear. In Tall Grass, by Sandra Dallas, the narrator, Rennie, finds this kind of environment in the haymow, or in places that she can listen to the sounds of her family’s farm. For me, I can always count on the beaches of Cape Cod to bring me the peace and serenity I may desire.
ReplyDeleteMy grandparents have lived on Cape Cod for as long as I can remember, and along with the familiar walls of their house, the beaches they live near have left a memorable print in my mind. My family and I make an annual trek to their house every summer, and although we may grow older and have busier lives, the beaches remain the same as they always have. Because of this, there has never been any doubt in my mind that they will continue to bring a smile across my face and ease to my mind. It can be surprisingly busy with all of the last minute packing or even rushing to get everyone out the door to the beach, but once the smell of sea salt hits my senses and my feet sink into the sand, time seems to slow down and the water’s edge starts to work it’s magic.
I never get tired of the sand’s effect on me as I lie beneath an expanse of clear blue sky. Rolling my feet across the grainy texture and letting the heat it has absorbed throughout the day warm me is among the simplest of pleasures, yet is one of the things I treasure most. Even on the hottest of days, the blanket of sand burning my heals is strangely comforting. The rhythm and sound of each crashing wave settles in the back of my mind, and keeps me mesmerized. Despite the crowds of tourists that sometimes scatter around the shore, the vast open sky above me and the seemingly endless stretch of sea is like the clearing in which Rennie finds herself at peace, and provides a sense of security as well as a way to isolate oneself from the world. By simply closing my eyes, I can let the wind rushing past my face and the distant sound of gulls convince me of being alone. The salty air that blows in every direction has become another familiar and inviting aspect of Cape Cod that never fails to greet me with every visit. The boardwalk of one of my favorite beaches is immediately where I go if I’m not lying on the sand, and provides me with the same tranquility. Within walking distance from my grandparents’ house, I can easily go there by myself if I want some time alone. The long, creaky boards leading to the end give me time to think and the splintery wood railing beside them is a familiar touch. Sitting at the end of the walk and watching the sun set in a stunning array of colors is an experience I can only attempt to describe.
Places like this on Cape Cod are among the only environments that I can go to for the unique feeling of complete tranquility. Letting the sounds of nature and the sun’s heat encompass my mind, it is here that I am able to thoroughly let go and just relax. Even though I’ve tried listening to recordings of beaches to fall asleep once our vacation is over, the effect is never the same as it is in person. Even though I can’t go there every time I need time alone, I certainly look forward to any time I can get in Cape Cod, and take advantage of every moment I have by the shore. There is something entrancingly exceptional about being next to the salty sea of the Cape, and it is here that I find my solitude.
I have two siblings. I have a brother and a sister. Both are older. They are both very important to me because they have heavy impacts on my life. My sister is the smartest person I know. She is also the hardest worker I’ve ever seen, even if she doesn’t like what she’s doing. But she and I never really talk that much. She is a freshman in college and I’m a freshman in High school. Ever since I remember, I’ve looked up to her. She is my idol when it comes to academics. She had a very high GPA in high school and a high GPA in college too. She graduated high school in three years and is currently going to Dartmouth. But with high brainpower, she neglected a big part of her life... the social aspect. During high school she had a few friends and did sports for one reason: getting into college. She did crew freshman and sophomore year so she could put it on her application. When I think about it, she rarely does anything just for fun. She wants something out of the experience that isn’t just some emotion. Sure, I’d love to be like her because when she gets out of college, she is going to be making a lot of money. I really do love her, but it seems like she doesn’t want anything to do with me. She will always give a word of advice and get out. She never really reaches out to people and I’m fine with that because I’m simply used to it. But maybe that’s a good thing she isn’t an emotional person. Maybe that’s why she’s so smart. She probably planned it from the beginning of how to stay out of all the drama in order to succeed.
ReplyDeleteBut that’s only one side of the story. I have two siblings and they are almost the exact opposite of each other. Des is my older brother. He isn’t a very hard worker in things unless he enjoys the subject. He is a sophomore at Hanover and that means we talk a lot. He isn’t very strong in terms of academics but he might be the most social person I know. He will go out of his way to talk to me about something that is bothering him. He isn’t the nicest person I know, but he definitely is the most affectionate. He can put up with a lot of different kids of people and I think that tolerance is sometimes better than genius. He is also one of the most talented people I know in terms of music. Ever since he was young, he has been playing guitar. Nowadays he plays bass too. But he is probably one of the most talented musicians for his age. The thing that makes him so good is he won’t stop playing, even if you ask him to. He’ll shake his head and play some more. I think it will be really great if he can become an accomplished artist and I would be incredibly happy for him.
This relates to Tallgrass because I have sort of seen that Rennie is some sort of mix between her older brother, Buddy who is very patriotic and strong natured. But then she also has an older sister, Marthalice is more of a rebellious and left wing girl. This really relates to me because I have my sister who is a hard worker and smart, then I have my brother who is a really nice guy. I’m about 50% of each of them. I will always wonder what would happen if my parents had another child.
Ross-
DeleteI really enjoyed reading your narrative; you did a fantastic job with it. You did a nice job contrasting your sister's diligence and your brother's social nature and then wrapping it all up by comparing yourself to them. One suggestion I have is to edit some of your repetitive word choices- such as "the most" or "the best" to just deliver your point stronger to the reader.
Kelsey
Prompt 6.
ReplyDeleteIn Tallgrass by Sandra Dallas Rennie’s grandmother lives with Rennie and her family. Because of this Rennie and her grandmother have a very close bond. An elderly person who was extremely important to me was my grandfather. His name was Francis but we always called him pop-pop, a name that was coined by my sister. He was the nicest man you could possibly imagine. I never once saw him mad and every single kid he ever met loved him. He lived in Philadelphia, in a nice old house. We would see him about every two months. Most of our vacations consisted of us visiting him and my grandmother. They came to our house every Christmas, we went to theirs in the summer. I don’t have a lot of memories of him since he died when I was only eight years old but there are a few that stick out among the rest.
Going to my grandparents house was always a treat. Their house was always so much fun, they owned and ran an event planning business in Philadelphia and because of that had a warehouse full of things for us to play with. It had costumes of Chewbacca, batman and superman, water guns, cardboard cut outs of characters from movies and tv shows, props, and masks, and anything a group of kids could possibly want and best of all we could have any of it. But among all this a simple game I played with my grandfather was the most fun I ever had at their house.
When we went to his house he would pull out this wood old box. It was no bigger than a loaf of bread and to the untrained eye it was just filled with junk, little army men, blocks of wood, marbles, but he made it this special event. He kept it in a closet on the top shelf, we couldn’t reach it but we didn’t need to because he would play with us when ever we wanted to. My brother, maybe a cousin or two, and I would gather around a pick out objects. It never mattered what you picked maybe I would pick out a playing card, my brother a bottle cap, and my cousin a toy dinosaur, and somehow my grandfather would make these small insignificant items into these amazing stories with intricate plots and characters that could go on for hours if you wanted them too. But it wasn’t just us listening to him tell us a story. We could add things in, tell him what we think should happen next, pull something else out of the box and he would miraculously include all of this logically into the story in one or two sentences. But the best part about the box was it was special to play it with him. We only got to play this game with him, and he only played it with us, it was something that I could only do with my grandfather and no one else, and that’s why I think this memory is so special to me.
Hey Jake,
DeleteThe first thing that came to my mind when I finished the story was, WOW. This story is amazing, I couldn't stop reading it because of how touching it was. I think we can all relate to having a special game with a loved one with who it can only be played, and you really put a picture in my head of you and your grandfather playing. This was a great story and i am sure will be a great essay.
Willa Kaufman
ReplyDelete4/9/12
Piro English 9
Rennie Stroud, the main character and narrator of the book Tallgrass, loves her grandmother very much and she knows that she is an important part of her life. Like Rennie, my grandmother is a very important person to me.
My grandmother has always been really important to me. Ever since I was small, she has been a major part of my life. When my parents went out and I needed a babysitter, she would volunteer. Even though, then, she lived farther away than now, we spent a lot of time together and formed a really special bond. She can always make me laugh with the stories she tells me about our family growing up, and I sometimes talk to her for hours at a time when I go over to her apartment. I even used to spend a couple of weeks at her house in the summer after school got for a number of years.
When my grandmother had a “little accident” as she called it a couple of years ago and had a heart attack, my whole family was really scared. I was too little to really know what had happened but I knew enough to know that what had happened was bad. Nothing like that had ever happened to someone I loved before and I did not really know how to react; what to do.
When my sister, my mom,and I went in to visit her in the hospital, I was scared to see her. That was the first time that I had ever felt uncomfortable and unsure of myself in front of her and I did not like it. She was lying in a bed and had tubes coming out of her arms and she was dressed in a hospital gown. I had made her a card and I gave it to her, but our visit was short and awkward. We were running out of things to say to her. Even my mom looked slightly uncomfortable. We were all scared that she would be leaving us soon.
However, she survived through it. She moved to an apartment in senior housing in the town we live in so now we get to see her more often. This event changed the way I feel about my grandmother. I suppose all things that we have in life, we take for granted until they are taken away from us. This was the way I felt about my grandmother. I could not have imagined what life would be like without her, and I still cannot. Events like this are scary and they, at least for me, change how I thought about some things. I know now that my grandmother will not be with us forever and I will have to accept that. She was and still is, one of the most important people in my life. Now I know that, with the ones you love, make the most of every day you have with them, because it may be your last.
Like Rennie, my grandmother has always been and always will be a very important part of my life. She has taught me many great lessons about life. However, the most important one she taught me is that you can never take anything you have in your life for granted, you must realize that you have something special, recognize that you will not always have that, and accept that you will eventually have to move on. Rennie is very mature to realize her grandmother is so important. She is lucky she has figured this out earlier on in her life rather than later as some people do.
In Tallgrass, by Sandra Dallas, Rennie escaped her life by climbing into the hayloft of her farm and sitting alone in the quiet. There, before the Internment Camp invaded her isolation, she could think of herself as the only person in the world. She lived momentarily in a place made up only of her books and the noises of the farm. This spot provided separation and tranquility.
ReplyDeleteLike Rennie with her farm, I find solitude in nature. I love the noise, as well as the absence of noise, that accompanies the outdoors. The rushing din of speeding cars and modern technology vanishes. Replacing it is the soft sound of animals, rustling leaves, and peaceful silence. Also like Rennie, I enjoy this almost uninterrupted quiet. I love the sharp, biting air that clears my mind and brings me down to earth. The feeling is so distinctly opposite to the stifling warmth indoors that brings drowsy boredom and restlessness. Along with this chilly temperature comes a clear scent that always reminds me of spring and fresh snow, both at the same time. More than any of the other senses, smelling nature always brings back memories of the innocent, carefree times of my past that I spent enjoying the outdoors. I love the quiet browns and greens that color the rivers and woods, which blend effortlessly into each other. In nature, I can find some peace from glaring lights and stimulating neon hues. Outside, I can escape everything that makes modern life harsh and grating; I release tension I wasn’t aware existed.
Behind my house, there’s a path leading into the woods. In this forest, under a shelter of leaves, the temperature always drops a couple degrees. Trails branch off in all directions through the trunks, winding naturally around obstacles. I walked on these paths out of obligation for years in order to exercise my dog. One day, I noticed that what appeared to be a cliff on the side of a trail actually led down to the bank of a river. Intrigued, I slid down the sharp incline to discover a small, secluded area that plunged directly into the clear water. I could tell immediately that no one had been there for a long time, if ever. It was the sort of place that would have remained unnoticed if I hadn’t been driven by a spontaneous curiosity in that particular spot. It was untouched and unknown.
I spent endless hours in that private place, watching the mist settling over the river. The stillness was occasionally pierced by a yell from someone on the water, but I enjoyed the ability to be in such an exposed area without being noticed. I spent most of my time there similarly to Rennie; I read. I loved being able to lose track of time without anything to pull me back to reality.
Unlike Rennie, however, my secluded spot has remained untarnished and peaceful. When the Tallgrass Internment Camp appeared, Rennie was forced to permanently abandon her secluded hideout. Loud noises and glaring lights invaded the hayloft and destroyed the concept of escape from reality. Although the Internment Camp didn’t physically damage the hayloft, its tranquility was shattered. My pocket by the river avoided being physically damaged as well. However, it lost its calming affect as my worries grew over the years. I could no longer forget about the world. Although we are different in many ways, Rennie and I have that in common. We both no longer have a secluded space in which we can escape from our lives.
Rennie often talks about her childhood friend, Betty Joyce. The two grew up together, filled with the innocence of childhood, always remaining close. “I remembered thinking once that Betty Joyce and I were so close, we knew what the other thought without having talk about it” (205). I felt the same way with Aurora.
ReplyDeleteI’ve known Aurora as long as I’ve been alive. She’s known me as long as my sister has, minus the day or two I was at the hospital that my sister probably got to visit me first. But that’s just luck that Emma is my sister, and she got there first. Because of this early meeting, I’m sure Aurora and I weren’t friends at first sight, or second sight, or even for the first few years of my life. I was the little sister to her and Emma’s friendship, the one who at first was a cute thing to coo over, but then became the nuisance who wouldn’t leave them alone. Eventually, however, my persistence paid off, because by the time I was six or so, I was officially into the group. By this time, there had been a new addition, Kezar, Aurora’s little brother, so I no longer was the baby of the group. The introduction of Kezar leads to the Penny Incident, otherwise known as The Time Kezar Swallowed a Penny.
It was sometime in summer, I remember because we were down by our garden. This was back when my mom still felt the need to watch us, and stayed home, which meant our garden was only half run over with weeds, and the other half sported a variety of carrots, tomatoes and flowers we could make chains out of. We were in front of the wooden garden gate, heading up the hill from a days worth of adventures in our back fields.
The triangle chimes up at our house, a frequently used reminder from my mother that it was time to head up. I push myself to my feet, and trot quickly up the hill next to my two older companions. I start thinking up reasons that Aurora should stay a little longer, just for a glass of water, or dinner even, if my mom was in a giving mood. But for once, I was in luck, and the triangle wasn’t signaling departure. My mom informed us that Aurora was staying- for a glass of water, for dinner, for the entire night- all of it. It was going to be a sleepover. The summer grass seemed a little greener, the sky a deeper blue. I was euphoric. I wondered for a second why- why now, when we had been pleading all summer? What was the invisible change? I push these irrelevant feelings to to the back of my head. They are not important. This was the crest of our summer pleas, what we had worked for.
We set to work quickly, supervised by my father, since my mother had gone off to help somewhere, and we are too young to be productive on our own. Soft, downy blankets go onto the floor of the attic to sleep on, and pillows are transformed into a fort. Sometime during this something about a penny comes up, but of course this is disregarded as it is a small detail in our grand adventure.
Later, we sit down to have dinner and we find out the real reason Aurora was spending the night. Her brother, Kezar, in all of his three year old glory, has managed to swallow a penny, which then became lodged firmly in his throat. So, as we had been gallivanting around gloriously, Aurora’s parents and my mom had rushed to the hospital, stressing over Kezar’s capacity to breath. Yet none of this registers to me. I continue to enjoy the night that at last I have been granted, with hardly a thought to Kezar.
And that’s how it was for the longest time. Long past that night, or the next morning when we heard Kezar was alright. No matter what the situation, or who or what was in danger, we always enjoyed each moment, taking in summer day and swearing to never let it go. But then school happened, and age suddenly became important, and the summer moments were gone. The simplicity of our summers had vanished. They come back, every so often, a reminder to what we were, and still are. But the responsibility that has been given to us, of work, expectations and knowledges prevents us from ever returning completely to the carefree universe we once created.
Really nice narrative, Rebecca! I love how you use descriptive details. It really adds to the overall feel of the paper. I can totally relate! I know it can be hard to connect back to the book, but if you could figure out a way to I think it would add even more to the paper.
DeleteGreat Job!
Rennie’s grandmother is an important figure in her life, not so much because of her wise advice, or her plethora of information, but because of her presence and attitude. I feel the exact same way in regards to one of my grandmother’s.
ReplyDeleteRennie’s grandmother, throughout the book progresses in her memory loss and senility. From what can be derived from the book, Rennie really hasn’t known her grandmother in any other way. For my grandmother- who also suffers from a form of dementia (Alzheimer’s Disease), I’ve never fully known her without the association of her memory loss. True, when I was an infant or even pre-schooler, she hadn’t been diagnosed yet, but those memories fade over time, like an old stain. From what I’ve heard from stories from my older cousin’s and my father, she was a bright woman and a talented musician along with a sense of humor and wit. I don’t mean to idealize her- I’m sure she wasn’t perfect- my dad also mentioned she was as stubborn as a mule, but she would have been someone that I would have liked to meet and get to know. She came from tough times like Granny, a child growing up in the Great Depression and her influential role as head of the family displayed much of her strength. I think back now, and I would have liked to have talked to her about stories from her childhood and do all of those quintessential “grandmotherly” activites- baking cookies, watching movies etc. The saddest part of this situation for me is that I never got, and never will get a chance to actually know her- sure I know her name and a brief history of hr life, but we instead of her grandmother and granddaughter, we’ll never be anything much for than aquaintances.
I first clear memories I have of my grandmother was when I was a spritely elementary schooler and would come with my family for a week in the summer to visit my grandparent’s house within a retirement community. Most of that time was filled with playing games with my cousin and terrorizing the old folk’s community with potion making behind an old gazebo and digging up the manicured lawns to find treasure. Then, my grandmother was someone I didn’t really know (we hadn’t visited in a number of years) but was someone I was expected to call “Grammy” and treat with respect. And I did just that, but not too much more. I would rehearse my “pleases” and “thank you’s” and hold the door, but never once did I sum up the courage, or the interest to ask her to teach me to play her beloved piano, or ask what her college life was like. However, during those summers, I would find moments where I would think that I had a cool grandmother after all. On hot Pennsylvania days, she would drive me to the local pool, where she would teach me her leg exercises and fluid strokes. I could never understand how she kept her head above water for so long, or floated so easily. Another trait she helped me develop was a strong sweet tooth. Every time we visisted that house, without fail, there would always be at least three types of ice cream in the freezer. Every evening, she would offer once, then offer twice, until finally my small amount of self restraint caved in. I didn’t think so then, but I suppose those were the “good old days”, or the times that I could reminisce on. I only wish that I had known that then.
Slowly, these good times progressed from days in the pool to questioning and cleanliness. The healthy balance my grandmother once had between sweet and savory was diminishing. Her dinner would sometimes consist of a big bowl of ice cream doused in chocolate sauce. She would sometimes forget to take the dog out, resulting in an unpleasant incident of my bare foot squishing into some droppings from her dog, Sally. Further growing concern and health issues with my grandfather resulted in my grandmother moving into an assisted living apartment. By that time, I was well aware of her memory issues. Even though she was still in the early stages of the disease, I still felt a responsibility to look after her. When my parents stepped out of the apartment, I would have a weight put onto my shoulders for the protection of her. By that time, I had taken on the mindset that she was now this forgetful invalid which now I realize is completely incorrect. From then on, the disease defined my grandmother for me. As she moved from one apartment to another, my impression of her condition became worse and worse. These ideas were strengthed by the sometimes out of place comments, or odd events caused by my grandmother. She once took a coat from a restaurant coat rack, much to our surprise, saying that she would just borrow it for a bit. Or, she would say something about how she wished women could have the same rights as men- like voting and driving. My dad and I would laugh at these odd remarks, especially as her filter disappeared. These times were obvious when she blatantly told a waiter that he could lose some weight, or a surprised gasp that women were allowed to wear skirts above the knee. After a final incident where my grandmother thought that one of the staff in the retirement community stole her wallet (to later find that it was in her pocket) convinced my father and his siblings to move my grandmother into a locked down facility especially meant for dementia patients. A locked down facility… that phrase still sounds all too similar to a prison to me. Of course this was not the case, she was given a little apartment laden with pictures of her friends and family to remind her and a quaint outdoor garden with blooming daffodils in the spring. However, it was like a prison with the fact that this retirement home was a place where people lost their freedom and independence.
ReplyDeleteTo be continued (and edited drastically...)
Prompt 2
ReplyDeleteFinding solitude is extremely difficult and there are few places where I am truly at peace. Solitude for me is not only complete silence and stillness, but mental peace as well. When I am on a baseball field on a windy April afternoon I have nearly found solace, I would except for the adrenaline, which pumps through me allowing me to go faster than I ever have before in a moments notice. Complete solitude comes for me very few times in the year but I when I find it I am completely at peace. My place of Solitude is fishing in the morning, with my dad, on our boat in Massachusetts. It is a place where nothing can touch me, mentally or physically.
My father and I wake up early every morning when we are at our cabin in Massachusetts. The cabin is located on a marsh only accesable by boat and it leads directly into a bay formed by plum Island. The early morning is cold and the boat has a mist of dew from the previous night, I wipe down the white cushioned bench and slump down with my hands tucked deep inside the pockets of my sweatshirt. As we start the boat and pull away from the dock, I begin setting up the poles with lures that are meant to mimick the shape and movement of a sand eel, each is painted white with a large hook half way down the body. They’re only a four inch long flexible rubber worm essentially however a skilled angler can make one dance and jig so that any fish can’t help but take a bite.
As the boat picks up speed I begin to wake up more and more. The fresh morning air rushes past my face and the sun peaks above a mountain miles away, casting warm orange rays on the boat and the water. I glance at my father and he grins excitedly back at me. The fishing is supposed to be good and we are both excited at the prospect of multiple fish. We have been unlucky in the past and have caught a few fish but not enough to really consider ourselves experienced anglers. We fish for two kinds of fish on Plumb Island, the Blue fish and the Striped Bass or Stripa’s as they are called by the locals. Striped bass are extremely large and are usually about thirty inches but can grow up to sixty inches, Blue Fish are typically twenty inches and can grow to about forty inches. these fish are essentially alter egos, Striped bass are sometimes lethargic and have no teeth while blue fish are always fast moving and can cut extremely far into human flesh. Larger ones on occasion take off unaware fisherman’s fingers.
We finally reach the spot where we are going to fish and the engine slows and are wake catches up with us. I pull out my pole and begin to cast. as the waves from the wake of our boat begin to die down, things on the water become completely quiet. The water is flat and reflects the harron’s image perfectly. As I begin to cast all the tension in my body begins to melt away. The constant motion of casting and reeling lulls my body into a state of relaxation. I pull and real the lure irratically to make it seem like a something a fish would want to eat. I am unsuccesful at first but I am not discouraged there are still hours more fishing to be had, that is one of the things that I most like about fishing in the morning, the whole day is ahead of me and all that I can do is fish. I am occasionally disapointed after a day of fishing with nothing to show for it, but to me the fishing is fun in itself. The beauty of the Ocean’s blue, the salty cool wind and the possibility that at any moment I could get a fish. It is the most relaxing thing in the world for me.
Fishing has always been a fulfilling and peaceful pastime for me and I am sure it will continue to be throughout the rest of my life. Just like in Tallgrass my place of solitude is outside like Rennie’s. I believe that Rennie and I have a lot in common, we are both from the country and we both enjoy the outdoor aspects of life. My place of solitude is very special as I’m sure Rennie’s is to her.
As a teenager and a an adventurous boy I have always found my right to a dark lonely place one of the greatest advantages of having my freedom to move about my world. There have been many times when after a trying day or week I just leave my world and step out into the inner peach of the night. I find that even in a snowstorm the whipping snow has a collected peaceful path which always reminds me there is nothing I can do to change my own. These times serve as a place and time for me to clear my mind of the most internally quarrelsome and often insignificant thoughts and topics.
ReplyDeleteThere are times when I am done dealing with the world, and usually a video game would suffice, but sometimes I found that like Rennie, it is better to be alone with your thoughts. At a time like this I will end up in one of two places. After leaving in my house with total intent to go climb a tree or walk into town, I find myself walking across the crisp grass of a soccer field or the damn leaves at the bottom of a creek and eventually sitting on a cool rocky outcrop on a small hill. This is the most common place for me to finish my walks, lying on a rock, overlooking the river and the countryside, staring into the blank darkness. One day after one of those math classes where it appears as though no matter what you do the numbers do not equal each other and the equation are most definitely not balanced, I left my house and slowly walked into the blustery darkness. It was warm enough that I did not mind not having a coat to wear or sit on when I got to the hill. On my way across the field, slightly crunchy from frost and smelling of pesticides and mud, I had an epiphany. I realized I was not only unirritated about my coat I was no longer irritated by my math. It no longer bothered me that my teacher was not explaining, I could always ask a friend or my brother, it was no longer vexing that the hardest problem on the HOME WORK was unsolvable by any normal being. In the grand scheme of my life I was far better off looking at the shimmering moon through the groaning pines, and thinking about how I could better use my time than school in general. That phase passed by the time I walked out onto the open moonlit circle of frosty granite. I spent about half an hour breathing in the sharp fluorescent air, just thinking. Thinking and all the time coming to realize I had fewer problems than I thought. I finally got up and walked back the the rustling wood and crinkling field to my room where I settled into a chair and was happy. It was a great time to be alone and happy.
This was very similar to the times Rennie spent in the barn alone thinking. However unlike Rennie I do not have any of the similar deep life altering events and people around me. I am just a normal teenageer getting through life and learning how to deal with it, she was dealing with the same problems but she is also dealing with war and many other family problems I don’t have to deal with.
My brother Mark is twelve years old, almost thirteen. He's crazy about sports, and the only reason I know about anything but soccer. Because there are five of us, my parents put a cap on how many sports we could play, for time commitment reasons. For me soccer has always won out, but Mark can never seem to make up his mind. One year it's soccer, the next baseball. Then basketball switches to snowboarding, and now he's into football. Whenever I'm just sitting around the house, he drags me outside to have someone to practice with, because we live miles away from any of his friends. He's the reason I know how to play lacrosse with guys' sticks, throw a football, and pitch a submarine. He's always updating me on his favorite sports teams and players, whether I want to hear it or not. There's a lot more to our relationship than sports though. When one of us is feeling bored or lonely, we'll seek the other out and just talk. It's quite random, really. One moment it's dealing with this middle school teacher, the next; fantasizing about Google's next invention. I'd love to say we get along with each other perfectly, but that would be a pretty big lie. Little brothers have a tendency to nose into their sister's business, and Mark is no exception. I must admit though, he's not the only one doing some nosing. But you can't blame an older sister for wanting to know about his social life, can you? Sometimes these “stolen” secrets can lead to aggravating conflicts, along with other problems. All things considered though, we get along pretty well.
ReplyDeleteI've always had a special relationship with Rachel, partially because we're the two girls. It's fun because she's ten, and I'm almost fifteen. If she was any older I think there would be more conflict between us, and if she was younger I don't think we'd be as good friends. She's not really into sports, so one of our favorite things to do together is just talk. I know it seems kind of lame, but besides being fun I think both of us really need it. As a fifth grader, she's going through that strange part of childhood where friends are doing different things, peer groups are changing, and new ideas are being introduced. She comes home from school some days feeling lonely and dejected, confused with the actions of people she though were her friends. We don't just talk about depressing things though. She'll tell me about who she thinks is cute, or what just happened in the book she's reading. Our parents are nice and listen to us, but sometimes there are things you'd rather discuss with a sibling. It's not just her talking to me though. I'll come into our room and start ranting about a research essay, soccer game, or whatever else is on my mind and she'll just sit there. It makes me feel better, whether she actually understands it not. Unlike with Mark, we actually don't get in fights. If we do, they're hilarious because we're both being sarcastic and know the other person's joking. If we get sincerely mad at each other, which literally happens a few times a year, we both feel so guilty that it never lasts more than ten minutes.
more to come......
..the rest
ReplyDeleteWhenever I feel something around my waist and look down to find a small pair of hands digging into my stomach, I realize two things: I'm wearing my fuzzy sweatshirt, and Jared's found me. Jared is my seven year old brother, and I haven't quite figured out if he's addicted to fuzzy things, or if he just uses it as an excuse to give me extra hugs. Either way, I'm not complaining. He's almost like my shadow, popping up when I least expect it to say hi, give me a hug, or ask me to come play with him. His favorite game is Risk, which for a first grader is pretty impressive. The only problem with this is that I only get to play it with him occasionally, because it takes so long. He was greatly disappointed by this until I showed him that he could play it against a “computer player” on my mom's ipod. Rather than talking, the two of us prefer to do things when we're together. Some of the things we do most often are play soccer, draw pictures, race each other on Mario Kart, or have lightsaber fights. I taught myself to play the piano, and recently he's become interested in learning to play a few of his favorite songs (one hand only). Sometimes it's hard to sit there and try to help him, but when he finally gets it, the smile and hg make up for all the work. As with all siblings, we get mad at each other sometimes. I've found it's mainly when he's tired, because kids seem to have shorter tempers when they aren't wide awake. But the next day if I'm still feeling mad at him, it all goes away when I feel his innocent little hands wrap around my waist.
Scott turns five next month, and is the youngest of my siblings. Even though we're far apart in age, we have a lot of fun together. Just talking with him doesn't work very well, nor does anything that involves sitting still (unless you are reading him his favorite book). He loves to run around, and if he's not playing a game of some sort, he's either jumping up and down or moving around randomly in place while you're talking to him. He is a bundle of enthusiastic energy, and sugar does not help him become any calmer. He also loves to make up jokes, most of which make even less sense than Jared's. He loves to be random and turn normal things into extraordinary things. For example, one time the two of us started out just playing 1 v 1 soccer. After a while, it slowly started to evolve until it no longer looked like soccer at all. There was still a ball, but there was also a person called the super-ninja-monkey-with the-blue-banana-sword. Both of us were laughing hysterically when my mom finally came down and told Scott it was time for bed. Besides being active, funny and creative, there's a lot more to his personality and our relationship. He has a surprising amount of compassion for someone so young. He's usually cheerful, but will immediately look sad if you tell him something bad happened. If I feel down, all I have to do is go to him and say I need a hug. Because he's so young, we don't get in fights. If I think he's being annoying, all I have to do is watch him for a while, and his cheerful innocence will absolve him of all guilt.
(I definitely need to work this more, but it's a good enough start for a rough draft. Yes, I will also figure out how to have and intro and conclusion.)
Great job Wendy! I love how you describe each of your siblings separately, and you make them seem so sweet. I can tell how you feel about them just from your writing. Like you said, you probably want an introduction and conclusion, but other than that I like it a lot.
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