Potomac's eighth grade English students read and discuss The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. The book is a series of short vignettes that together capture the characters, setting, and stories of a particular neighborhood in Chicago. The vignettes are written from the perspective of a fictional narrator and are based loosely on Cisneros's own experiences as well as those of her students. Some of the vignettes are humorous or action-packed; some are heart-wrenching or shocking. All are deliberate in their use of figurative language, poetic elements, grammar conventions, and pacing.

Each eighth grader composed at least one vignette for inclusion in this digital collection. They wrote in the style of Sandra Cisneros, as they interpreted it based on their notes and our class discussions, yet they set it in a time and place of their own choosing. While some of these vignettes are based on the author's personal experience, many of them are purely fiction, an imagining of characters and circumstances that seemed ripe for this assignment. Students also used this assignment to experiment with new vocabulary words and techniques involving punctuation and sentence structure.

We encourage you to leave comments below vignettes that strike you in some way. Please keep your comments positive and specific; this is not the place for critiques or suggestions. Enjoy the creativity and vibrancy of these students' literary efforts.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Home

I feel at home in my house, the place where I can always carry out a conversation or take a nap. The creaky floors have been part of home many generations before me. The library, lined with books from authors not known to the general public if you were to mention their names. My bed, a place I can always go to if I ever need to curl up. The loud furnace, bumping and screeching while it gives an effort to warm the household. The family room, is the place I go to tell jokes, chat with my parents, cheer on my favorite team, and learn how the universe was created. My house has yielded a place to live for many families before me, and now it provides a welcoming vibe to me and my family. Even though it may be over one-hundred years old, many hidden traits can be found scattered in unlikely places. No other person may understand, but I have a special connection to my Home.

Coming down the steep hill, I feel a certain warmth spreading through me. I’m home, I think to myself. I drive up my driveway and see the beige facade smiling at me in greeting. I run up the stairs, each step making a unique noise; music to my ears. Martha’s frantic barking and tail wagging welcomes me no matter how long I’ve been away. She faithfully follows me as I unload my school bag on my cluttered desk. I gaze upon the pictures on my wall, trying to recapture each moment, and never forget. 

I plop on my soft brown-leather couch and Martha hops right next to me and settled herself comfortably between me and the arm rest. I reflect on my day, the good, the bad, and the rest! I try not to be hard on myself as I navigate the memories of the day. I feel at home in my house.

~ Henry P.G.

1 comment:

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)