Be A Writer!

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Be an Identity Writer!

Language Turnaround by Gini Rojas,

Sometimes I remember
My first English days

In a NYC class I sat – very still


Living for the day when I could join their world

I wondered if I would ever speak those words


Those yellow-haired girls had such long sentences

Sometimes I tried …. They laughed


And I had no defense at all … guilty as I was back then

But now I am English-language Doctor


At times discomforted to use my Spanish voice

I long for the day when I find my way all the way back
That gentle compelling ‘r-rolling’ language reminding me of my past

I really can't imagine


anything better than that
_____________________________________________________________

Ralph Fletcher likes to think of this type poem as a "micro-memoir" written in


three parts:

1) The first two lines tell the reader: I am going to look back and remember an
important ‘language learning’ time in my life.
2) The next three stanzas describe the memory itself.
3) The last three stanzas tell the reader: Now that I'm back in the present, I
will reflect on why this experience was important to me.

If you like the idea behind this poem, he invites you to put on the "shirt" of this
structure and try creating your own version.

Feel free to borrow the first two lines and/ or the last two lines.

©VIRGINIA P. ROJAS Language Education Consultant [email protected]/ [email protected]/ SKYPE vprojas1


Be an Identity Writer!

MY NAME from the House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

In English, my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It


means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the
Mexican records my father plays on Sunday morning when he is shaving, songs like
sobbing.

It was my great-grandmother's name and now it’s mine. She was a horse
woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of the horse - which is supposed to be
bad luck if you're born female - but I think this is a Chinese lie because the
Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their women strong.

My great-grandmother. I would've liked to have known her, a wild horse of a


woman, so wild she wouldn't marry. Until my great-grandfather threw a sack over
her head and carried her off. Just like that, as if she were a fancy chandelier.
That's the way he did it.

And the story goes she never forgave him. She looked out the window her
whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she
made the best with what she got or was she sorry because she couldn't be all the
things she wanted to be. Esperanza, I have inherited her name, but I don't want to
inherit her place by the window.

At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin
and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer
something, like silver, not quite as thick as my sister's name - Magdalena - which is
uglier than mine. Magdalena who at least can come home and become Nenny. But I
am always Esperanza.

I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real
me, the one nobody sees. Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X.
Something like Zeze the X will do.
_____________________________________________________________
Write your full name. Then do a quickwrite in which you write about your name (or
your names in English and Chinese or Spanish or French), your feelings about your
name, whether you would change your name if you could, or whatever comes to your
mind when you think about your name.

©VIRGINIA P. ROJAS Language Education Consultant [email protected]/ [email protected]/ SKYPE vprojas1

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