How my writing has changed throughout this course This course has tuned my critical thinking and my appreciation of narrative strategy. This course required a daily journal regarding one or more short stories or excerpts. These daily journals have refined my analysis skills and my understand of how powerful narrative strategy can effect my perspective of stories and the charterers in the stories. “The reader has a powerful view of the world. In “Bullet to the Brain” the reader views the events as a person that was there in the middle of the action and had an omniscient view of the main characters mind.” This excerpt is from one of the first journals that I wrote in class. It was about “Bullet to the Brain” and it was the first in my many steps in to critical thinking about stories and what narrative strategy can do. This journal was not …show more content…
In this journal I combine my knowledge of characters, themes and narrative strategy. I mention that the character that cheats on his wife knows that what he did is unforgivable. He tries in vain to undo the pain he caused but he gives up and is left miserable. This in conjunction with the fact that the narration is in the second person makes it so the character, who I believe is a cheating scumbag, more likeable. In other words the author has made an unlikeable character likeable by show casing his constant misery after the break up with his fiance. Not only that but the tone of the story made it seem as if the narrator was not scolding but showcasing how his actions in the past made him miserable in the present. Like a friend telling you how you messed up. Not lecturing you, but illustrating the bad decisions you made. This allows the reader a unique understanding of the character and this is due to the narrative
Prior to this lesson students have completed the writing process to create their very first personal narrative piece. Mini-lesson topics covered story starters, transition words, incorporating dialogue, and using a storytelling vs. reporting voice when writing. After reading students’ first published pieces, I came to the conclusion that students would benefit from reviewing storytelling vs. writing a summary. I then reviewed the upcoming sections of the Lucy Calkins program which emphasized this point in great detail. I decided to move forward in the program to see how it shaped students’ writing throughout their second personal narrative piece.
This explains the why the narrator initially refers only to himself. The reader is then
Reluctantly, today I am sharing this in hopes of getting a better grade in English. Have you ever put substantial amounts of work into something and yet it wasn’t working? Or something was good but it was the wrong time for it? Narratives are meant to capture emotions and time.
I discovered my place in January of 2015. I was competing in a boys twelve and under single gender Junior Team Tennis tournament. It took place in an indoor tennis facility called Folkes/Stevens tennis center in Old Dominion University. I was representing Green Spring Racket Club of Maryland for sectionals, playing against the rest of the Mid-Atlantic region. Once I step on the court, I realized I have found what truly makes me happy.
Ever since I was a child, I had always taken pleasure in bettering the lives of others. I distinctly remember an instance of this when I was in second grade. My mother had hurt her foot, and I immediately went to work. I examined her foot and deduced that it was hurt. I remember feeling like a genius after my diagnosis.
It was a hot summer day in Atlanta, unlike no other, but it was the day that my life changed. My childish screams of pain occupied the air of every house in the neighborhood while my blood flowed out of my head into a kiddie pool. I had jumped headfirst from a blue porch railing into the kiddie pool sitting in my driveway and after passing out, I awoke in my mothers lap with a towel pressed against my head and I was immediately filled with disappointment. Lying there covered in blood, tears, and shock, I realized that I could no longer be a Power Ranger.
Since as long as I can remember I have always wanted to do one single thing, fly! It didn’t matter whether I was a commercial pilot or a bush pilot or even just a weekend aviator. If I was in the air then I would be happy. It had always been that way, until one day when I went to my uncles ranch for the first time. As soon as I was on that ranch I knew I wanted one when I was older.
I felt tears coming down my face as I could hear the voices in my head. I felt my body terribling as I just stood there in complete silence knowing what was going to be said. Growing up I was the child of the family who always shined like a star. I had more expectations since no one ever finsihed school in my family other than my brother. I knew what I was acapable of, and my limits.
It was not an average day. Sure, the sky was overcast, the traffic on the way to school moved at a turtle’s pace, and my locker struggled to open, but today was the day that I had the privilege of going on a field trip to see a human cadaver. That morning, my classes seemed to drag on forever as I waited for third period when I would meet my teacher in the cafeteria along with the rest of my class and head outside to the bus stop. Finally, the time came.
Oblivious Growing up, it wasn’t an issue to me. I was unaware to it all because of age and now I fully understand how important it was. This issue, unlike others that were surfacing recently, was a matter of life and death. I had also seen it happen before but it was much later that I decided to act upon the issue. It happened to one of my friends because of this difference.
Children are completely and utterly dependent on their parents, and it isn’t until they begin relying on themselves that they receive a taste of adulthood. For me, this transition was no accomplishment, but rather an event that shaped, and continues to shape, who I am as a person. When I was fourteen, just a few days after Christmas, my father collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. There, doctors discovered that he had a brain tumor which had been pressing on his brain stem, ultimately leading to his seizure. They determined that radiation would shrink the tumor and hopefully, no more major issues would occur.
When I was nine my mother passed away from a long battle with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Diagnosed at stage 3, when I was two and given roughly a year to live, my mother did what only a mother would do, spend time with her child. We traveled to white sandy beaches and tall blue glaciers attempting to compress a lifetime of memories into a vacation package. Thankfully, after a barrage of treatments and hospital visits the cancer went into remission. I always remember the days where my mom would look at me and say “Do what makes you happy in life, because thats all that matters”.
Last year school and family became a conflict with each other. Yelling and fighting would happen at home and it would put me in a bad mood at school. Most of the yelling would be done at me by my parents or my sister. So I started talking to my counselor about once a week and I still do now.
was invincible. I wanted to leave a legacy. I tried to accomplish the extra-ordinary but sloppily weighed the pros and cons of my decisions. I focused my energy on superficial goals -- becoming team captain of my school’s baseball team, playing a vital role in winning the playoffs, winning a school-wide election, creating a much talked about stage set and acting in our school play, and winning an award in a mock trial competition. I took my loved ones for granted and felt that we all were immortal.
No one should ever have to go through the pain I have been through. It was August 10, 2002, My mother had to have an emergency c-section. I had died right before, but came back. Over a course of 2 weeks I had died 4 times, but that’s not what this is about. This is about how I hurt my arm.