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.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

But No One's There

I need to tell someone about this. Calm down. Deep breaths. But someone needs to know. I can’t take this any longer. Some one has to know. I’m think I might explode.

The words pour out; no one cares. I need to tell someone. I scream and shout. But no one’s there.

Someone’s bound to listen! Right? I call. I text. I email and I Sskype. I try to find someone in my life.

But no one’s there to listen. No one’s there to talk. No one’s there at all.

I can’t find someone who will let me be background noise. I can’t find someone at all.

What does it matter? Why does it matter at all?

No one’s there to condone my actions or even let me take the fall fault. No one’s there to exonerate me from the feelings I have inside.

I guess it doesn’t matter. I guess I’ll have to live without anyone knowing that my intent was good.

It it was just a joke. It was just a joke. It was just a joke.

But now I’m here wondering if, I could ever be forgiven. Now I’m here wondering if it really was just a joke.

~ Caroline S.

Labels:

10 comments:

  1. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:14 AM

    I love and hate how the story ends. I really want to know more. -HF

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:43 AM

      That's exactly the point I was trying to make!
      -C.S.

      Delete
  2. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:20 AM

    I love your use of repetition to emphasize certain ideas. I liked it a lot, and I want to know more.
    - KW

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:45 AM

      Thanks! That's exactly what I was trying to do!
      -C.S.

      Delete
  3. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:22 AM

    The repetition at the beginning of the story about needing to tell someone something is a great hook- CE

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:46 AM

      Thanks! I was trying to hook the reader fast; it's a pretty short story.

      Delete
  4. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:36 AM

    I like all of the emphasize on how he feels. The ending is so good!
    -CO

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:47 AM

      Thanks! I'm glad the ending was good!
      -C.S.

      Delete
  5. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 10:48 AM

    The way that you wrote this made it really dramatic and suspenseful. I really enjoyed it.

    SR

    ReplyDelete
  6. AnonymousJanuary 6, 2016 at 4:13 PM

    This is sad... but also amazing.

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)