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class writing, mentor text responses (read-world & analysis), and mentor text talk
My First crush
7 minute write up
The intrusive hum of the air conditioning set a chaotic ambiance in the courts. I began my warm up laps with a swagger that carried me over the chalky cement. With each step my hair gained momentum, pushing my ribboned ponytail into a gentle sway. The motion was consistent and fitting to my ditsy and sweet personality at the time, and the ribbon iced the look in a way that symbolized a purity and an innocence that had not yet been taken. I was four.
He wasn’t our usual coach, his name was Jorge. His skin, a rich brown tone, with muscles that protruded seducingly from his body. The shadow he cast on the court was strong, bold, and impressive. My four year old self was enthralled by this twenty-something year old man. It was then that I adopted what would be my first crush.
SCAR WARS
Rough write up written to the perpetrator
Hi, this is going to sound really random but can I have your insurance information? I was walking to moudy for class one day and the sidewalk was really busy. There was someone skating towards me so I moved barely even a whole step to the right where you were going full speed at 8am through a sidewalk of people. The inconsiderate aside, regardless of how busy the sidewalk was, I was the one who hit so hard that we both fell. You jumped up with little to no acknowledgement and then scooted off, but myself and those around me were shocked to see the rude manner in which you quite literally hit and ran me that morning. I was forced to hobble my way to class after that with blood all over my ankle, and a bruise already starting to form. From there what was supposed to be a beautiful sunny day spent with friends turned into a trip to urgent care and being forced to wear a boot for the next three months with one month on crutches. What a way to start sophomore year. Ugh.
A PLACE WHERE I FELT HEARD
I am one of 6 kids that my parents had, and even though that's a big number, I have never felt unseen or unheard by my family. Being the youngest definitely helps, because my role and position in the family is maybe a little bit more prominent than that of the children in the middle of the birthing order. But for me, it was never a question. I was always heard when I needed emotional support and would be greeted with intentional desire to help, or just listen. I’m really lucky for that. I’m sure for others, family is just a group of people you're obligated to be around, but for me family is a place, and a home where I am validated, heard, and loved.
I seriously cannot think of a time where my thoughts or feelings were not acknowledged and I didn’t get some sort of response. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I told them something really negative about myself or scary and wonder if this story would change at all. I guess I only present them with things that aren’t super major, but are talkable nonetheless, so even though they’re my safe space, I still would not want to jeopardize that because not everyone has that kind of relationship with their siblings and family.
A PLACE WHERE I FELT SPOKEN TO
Nothing instantly comes to mind besides the obvious like church, or my dreams; but I guess I’ve felt most spoken to when I chat with Jesus before bed. I think prayer has become a chore to society so just catching up and talking with Jesus is a time where I can just release, and his presence is so prevalent there, and I feel like it's the time/place where not only is he listening but he is also responding. It's a really special time, sometimes it's a little less eventful and the conversation feels one sided, but nonetheless, the Lord is definitely speaking to my heart.
A PLACE WHERE ITS COMPLICATED
Any phone call with my dad creates an unwanted environment. It can never be a sweet and innocent chat about life or a catch up, it always has to unearth problems and fill me with so much stress and angst that I avoid staying in touch with him like the plague. Most of my friends call their dad when they miss him, or just want to hear that sense of home. I call my dad only when I need to, I understand this makes me sound horrible, but the truth is... its complicated.
"Making a Fist"
naomi shihab nye
mentor text
I’m imagining an overenthusiastic child in the back of a car as they embark on a journey that isn’t quite as long as it may feel in that moment. As a child, having this perception of life is both common and frequent. When the depth and complexity of life seems to overlap with reality, and a sense of discontentment with the truth is overbearing, we are eventually forced to adopt a rose-colored glasses approach to the situation.
A Letter Home...
SCENE ONE
Hi home,
I didn’t realize the last time I would see you was over Christmas break. To think that the ominous “For Sale” sign in our yard actually worked is still a shocker to me. I’ve lived in many places, but you were really home. A place of security, love, and sanctuary. You were old and rundown, and sometimes felt unfixable, but nonetheless you were everything I needed you to be. I’ve called mom and the girls everyday to see how they're doing but the truth is, I really do it to show them how I am doing. I’m not okay with this. My home is being uprooted and emotional corruption is underway. It makes me sick. I don’t think I’ve felt so attached before. Well, I’ll miss you.
Love,
The girl that grew up within your four walls
MOM > DAD
SCENE TWO
My parents were divorced. Although divorce is a common occurrence in today’s world, the impact it has on children should not be overlooked. From the age of eight, I was asked to choose. While my friends were focusing on Barbie dream-houses and universes constructed by their imagination, I was consumed by my parent’s custody battle. Whether I had to choose where to sleep, when to call the other parent, or what address to give, it ultimately came down to choosing a parent. I was asked to pick one parent over the other. For an eight-year-old, the stress of that decision was enough to take over my entire life. It meant choosing what my life would look like without fully being able to picture the alternatives. So I made the decision. I should go into detail about how hard it was, but… it wasn't. I chose my mother.
HOME
Scene Three
It sits on a slant, with oxidation compromising its appearance, but its foundation is strong. The dark worn wood that consumes it presents an omnios front, sheltered by expansive pines and a decaying cobblestone porch. What most people don’t know is this seemingly unwelcoming refuge is my home in more ways than one. Eighteen years of life has initiated continuous change, but the one thing that hasn't changed its essence is The 259 Club. The outside is trapped in a time warp as it resembles its exact appearance from 1851. A sight of dark amber wood with splotches of varying colors that were once tested, but never painted to fruition. Although the interior was updated, the exterior would be recognized by both colonial pedestrians, and those sporting foreign cars, using airpods, and wearing designer heels.
"Exploring the Roots of Chicago's Queer South Asian Community"
Based on NBC Asian America
mentor text
This mentor text shines light on the communities that essentially have the odds stacked up against them. Being a straight white girl living in America I am grateful to say that compared to others, the struggles I face are minimal and rather localized compared to the ones addressed in this video. The drag characters at hand are of South Asian decent and apart of the LGBTQ community, and essentially had to establish their own group of allies: "Sangat". This is not only where they are from, but also who they are.
"What Happens When Deaf People go to the Movies"
mentor text
As a hearing person, I'm embarrassed to admit that it really hasn't crossed my mind to consider the accessibility of a movie theater for someone who is HOH or deaf. It's something that we take so easily of granted, to multitask by seeing and hearing without even trying.
The video showcased just a single situation that represents a world of injustice for deaf people. The tools Nyle and Chella needed in order to be able to enjoy the movie were not functional, clean, or prepared. It made me think about how a theater would never let their speakers break, or go uncared for, because then no one who get the full experience of the movie... why doesn't the same apply for the deaf. Sure their experience is different, but its still happening just as much as a hearing person's experience. Heartbreaking in conclusion.
Scene Four
As I grew the feeling didn’t change, but the affiliation did. The home had grown to give refuge to my single mother who had become ill. As she grew sicker my fear of losing her brought the fear of losing the one tangible thing that drew me closer to my mother: our shared home. When I was in the house I was being embraced. It was more than just a place that my mother occupied, it was my mother. The intrinsic value of the house radiated from each well-loved wall.
Scene Five
The windows were dusted with the finest layer of milky white snow, and the crisp smell of winter permeated through the air. Not much had changed. The house, my house, sat sturdy, isolated from the neighborhoods that were beyond it. The shutters had dropped since I last saw them. They appeared weighted; from the stress of life; the stress of weather maybe, I wasn’t quite sure. Yet, the thick crest on the door remained prominent. It was lonely, and so was I, yet I stood there, hesitant to proceed. The security, the familiarity I had been longing for was right in front of me, and I couldn't bring myself to quench it.
Scene Six
Inside I was emotionally a collection of debris that were burnt-out, shattered, destroyed, (and just about every other adjective in reference to demolition). The once spunky, charismatic, determined girl I pride myself in being evaporated among the toxic rain that was the boy who I gave my heart to. He took a malleable idea like love and dissolved it completely. He defied the laws of physics, the organ that was once sat like a constant beating reminder of hope now left an empty void. It's not just that my heart forgot what to do, or needed a break from its duties, my heart was no longer existent, taking every aspect of my emotional capacities with it.
Scene Seven
It was in the moment I turned it in that I made the decision it would be my last accomplishment in life. When a strobe of green lit my room, following the pop-up submission confirmation I was gone. The emotional debris that filled me had withered away, and any physical sense of myself was no longer felt. So, I left. Left my regrets, my brokenness, and my defeat all in a place where it would be concealed and my spirit could move on. I left my body on earth distressed and entered an eternity of refuge. From then on, I had no opportunity to be broken anymore.
Above and Beyoncé
By: Lisa Robinson
menor text
"...in just 17 years in show business, absorbed a lifetime’s worth of focus, determination, and discipline".
"I just was determined".
its so strange that there is so much going on in this world, politically, economically, emotionally, physically, and so much more, yet we feel the need to write fluff for teenage girls or bored adults to read and romanticize. It just rubs me the wrong way that determination; a word so powerful and meaningful; a word that people spend their whole life trying to embody is used as nothing more than a somewhat applicable adjective to describe Beyonce's stardom. Granted, I understand her accomplishments are no easy feat, but between the opening line that compared her determination to that of a veteran, I am just a little mislead by the values of the writer. Yes, it was a powerful use of words and phrasing, but also a bit ignorant and unnecessary.
scene eight
It's where I go after the fact.
Sitting still prior to this, engulfed, consumed, and deteriorating.
The place that remains wall-less in my mind.
It’s not even mine anymore, but it still belongs to me in some unexplainable way.
I hope that makes sense… I know it doesn’t.
It's my place.
My escape.
When I’m a carbonated drink and the world shakes me
I fizz up,
I bubble over,
And I leave a mess.
I go to my place and I am still again. Not stagnant, but still.
Calm and collected.
"On or Off"
Mentor Text
By: Astrid Utting, 15
The resignation I hold with the mentor text is deep rooted and valued. In a time where I am now learning in person with my friends, it's easy to look back at the struggle, yet blissful reality of learning during the peak of covid. The unsureness, yet security of hiding behind my camera was something I couldn’t hold a grudge against even if I tried.
My millennial brain instantly relates the experience to the show “Love is Blind."
