<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775</id><updated>2011-12-16T06:44:19.694-08:00</updated><category term='Poetry'/><category term='Reading'/><category term='Book Burning'/><category term='Vocabulary'/><category term='Award Winning Stories'/><category term='Lit Circles'/><category term='Historical Fiction Stories'/><category term='Parent Assignment'/><category term='Field Trip'/><category term='Student Personal Narratives'/><category term='Skill and Drill - LA Practice'/><category term='Academic Vocabulary'/><title type='text'>JHMS 6th Grade Language Arts</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>62</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-5198464295156194088</id><published>2009-08-28T18:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T17:01:49.671-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Academic Vocabulary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vocabulary'/><title type='text'>Academic Vocabulary - MAP</title><content type='html'>141-150:  ABC order, beginning sound, vowel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;151-160: advertisement, business letter, ending sound, fable, journal, legend, list, opposite, outline, rule, short story, synonym, thank-you note, title LU: list&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;161-170: atlas, bias, biography, chapter, compound word, contraction, cookbook, describe, dictionary, fairy tale, folk tale, index, main idea, note, nursery rhyme, personal narrative, prefix, problem, sign, suffix, table of contents, title page, word family LU: capital letter, comma, command, comparative, contraction, essay, exclamation, exclamation mark, exclamation point, invitation, mark, noun, period, play, punctuation, quetion mark, sentence fragment, sign, superlative, where, word order&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;171-180: announcement, antonym instructions, main character, make-believe, newspaper, nonfiction, plot, point of view, root word, schedule, science fiction, setting, syllable, tall tale, textbook LU: action verb, apostrophe, capitalize, date, edit, greeting, past tense, possessive, proofread, to describe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;181-190: acronym, advertise, almanac, American literature, anecdote, anthology, aphorism, argue, autobiography, bibliography, book review, brochure, caption, category, characteristics, conclusion, context, conversation, description, diary, drama, entertain, excerpt, fact and opinion, fiction, foreshadowing, glossary, graphic organizer, guide words, historical fiction, homonym, inform, job announcement, labels, literature, magazine, main point, manual, memoir, moral, multisyllabic, myth, narrator, news, novel, one-act play, persuade, persuasion, picture book, poet, policy, problem and solution, purpose, recipe, reference book, reference book, reference material, reports, resolution, resource, rhythm, rising action, satire, science book, speaker, stanza, summarize, syllogism, thesaurus, topic, topic sentence, Venn diagram, vocabulary LU: address, adverb, advertise, argument, audience, autobiography, bibliography, book report, book title, chronological order, closing, colon, compound sentence, creative writing, description, diary, drama, ending, exclamatory sentence, expository writing, fiction, figurative language, formal essay, friendly letter, grammar, graphic organizer, heading, hyphen, indent, introduction, literary analysis, main topic, manual, margin, memo, mystery, novel, persuasive writing, plural, proper noun, punctuate, quotation, quotation mark, review, revision, run-on sentence, salutation, semicolon, signature, singular, stanza, subject-verb agreement, supporting detail, tense, to entertain, to inform, to persuade, topic, topic sentence, verb phrase, when&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;191-200: annotated bibliography, editorial, footnote, metaphor, middle sound, summary, word root LU: abbreviation, classified ad, clause, descriptive writing, editorial, expository, formal language, format, freewrite, future tense, imperative sentence, interjection, journalism, letter closing, main clause, main heading, narrative writing, part of speech, predicate, proofreading, resume, simple sentence, slang, word choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;201-210: alliteration, assonance, assumption, British literature, characterize, chronological, conflict, consonance, coupon, debate, exaggeration, exposition, falling action, field guide, flashback, headline, instruction, irony, literary device, literary element, memorandum, narrate, order of events, parable, persuasive, present tense, primary source historical document, pun, quote, reference, research paper, scene, secondary source, speech, tale, thesis paper, word play, world and ancient literature, world literature LU: abstract, active voice, adjective clause, adjective phrase, adverb clause, alliteration, analyze, antecedent, argumentative, argumentative essay, capitalization, caret, cliche, cluster, common noun, complex sentence, compound-complex sentence, conjunction, declarative sentence, dependent clause, direct object, direct quotation, exposition, expository essay, gerund, humor, hyperbole, independent clause, infinitive phrase, informative essay, interrogative sentence, introductory sentence, irregular verb, language, linking verb, main verb, modifier, noun clause, noun phrase, onomatopoeia, parallelism, parentheses, parody, participial phrase, persona, personification, plural possessive, preposition, prepositional phrase, present tense, prewrite, prewriting, process essay, rough draft, singular noun, subordinate clause, thesis statement, tone, transition, verse, visualize&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;211-220: allusion, appendix, characterization, contrast, extended metaphor, guide letters, homophone, oxymoron, resolve, suspense LU: comma splice, contrast, documentation, fragment, journalistic, limerick, organization, paraphrase, participial, participle, present participle, to explain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;221-230: archetype, contradict, first person, iambic pentameter, metric feet, omniscient, paradox, pathetic fallacy, second person, sonnet, standard English, stereotype, supporting details, symbolism, symbolize, third person, viewpoint LU: allegory, analysis, application, colloquialism, compose, dash, diction, ellipsis, epic poem, expository paragraph, formal outline, how-to essay, infinitive, italics, literary response, persuasive argument, plagiarize, predicate noun, reflexive pronoun, symbolism, tragedy, works cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;231-240:  antithesis, metonymy, scansion, synecdoche LU:  appositive, objective pronoun, supporting evidence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need help understanding Literary Terms?  Try this &lt;a href="http://http://www.leasttern.com/LitTerms/literary_terms.htm"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; for very clear definitions.  To find any word you can imagine, use &lt;a href="http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/lit_terms.html"&gt;this link&lt;/a&gt;.  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_literary_terms"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; to find Wikipedia's list of literary terms.  Great &lt;a href="http://www.orangeusd.k12.ca.us/yorba/literary_elements.htm"&gt;site &lt;/a&gt;for Literary Elements.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-5198464295156194088?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/5198464295156194088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/08/academic-vocabulary-map.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5198464295156194088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5198464295156194088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/08/academic-vocabulary-map.html' title='Academic Vocabulary - MAP'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-49946332832789275</id><published>2009-06-14T08:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T09:40:26.224-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reading'/><title type='text'>Reading Sites</title><content type='html'>www.Bookadventure.com  - created by the Sylvan learning center.  This site's book finder matches kids with reads they'll enjoy.  (It's like match.com only with books!!)  Acing book quizzes lets them win prizes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;www.Teenreads.com - this extensive site posts lists of upcoming books and interviews with popular writers like Anthony Horowitz and Judy Blume.  it also gives tips on how to start a reading club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;www.Guysread.com - This site was launched to connect boys of all ages with literature relevant to them.  he urges guys to expand their definition of reading, pointing out that nonfiction, comics, and magazines count, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Info about books and authors: http://www.bestlibrary.org/cool/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-49946332832789275?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/49946332832789275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/06/reading-sites.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/49946332832789275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/49946332832789275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/06/reading-sites.html' title='Reading Sites'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-297366990821376372</id><published>2009-02-25T05:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T07:20:18.620-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Skill and Drill - LA Practice'/><title type='text'>Great Language Arts Practice</title><content type='html'>All Skills:&lt;br /&gt;This is a great site to practice all sorts of &lt;a href="http://www.internet4classrooms.com/tcap_lang.htm" target="_blank"&gt;Language Arts skills&lt;/a&gt;.  It provides instant feedback.  It is very helpful in a number of different topics!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vocabulary and Editing...and Saving the World:&lt;br /&gt;Also, try &lt;a href="http://www.freerice.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Free Rice&lt;/a&gt; to develop vocabulary and practice editing and grammar skills.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spelling:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Spelling Practice:  &lt;a href="http://www.spellingcity.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Spelling City&lt;/a&gt; ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think of this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spelling? Deos it rlleay mttear? I cdnuolt blveiee it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid! Aoccdrnig to a rseaerch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deson't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh?  And I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-297366990821376372?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/297366990821376372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/02/great-language-arts-practice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/297366990821376372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/297366990821376372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/02/great-language-arts-practice.html' title='Great Language Arts Practice'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-74881450312765878</id><published>2009-02-11T06:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:21:24.540-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Field Trip'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Burning'/><title type='text'>PK for Book Burning Exhbit</title><content type='html'>Prior Knowledge building for &lt;a href="http://students.discoveryeducation.com/genericStudentIndex.cfm?cdPasscode=T65B7-E2A9"&gt;Book Burning&lt;/a&gt; exhibit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNgxrGn5y-U&amp;feature=PlayList&amp;p=A36B3D95A49D8767&amp;index=2&amp;playnext=3&amp;playnext_from=PL"&gt;Germany from 1933-1939&lt;/a&gt;...building up to the Holocaust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4_j4c7Bop0&amp;feature=PlayList&amp;p=A36B3D95A49D8767&amp;index=0"&gt;Book Burning&lt;/a&gt; in English!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-74881450312765878?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/74881450312765878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/02/pk-for-book-burning-exhbit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/74881450312765878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/74881450312765878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/02/pk-for-book-burning-exhbit.html' title='PK for Book Burning Exhbit'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1036306626052679684</id><published>2009-01-11T16:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T10:38:00.066-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Historical Fiction Stories'/><title type='text'>Historical Fiction Lit Circles</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Ladder #1: &amp;nbsp;Individual Activists -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;fighting societal injustices&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Iqbal&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: A novel about a true story. &amp;nbsp;This book is set in Pakistan and shares the plight of children sold into slavery. &amp;nbsp;Read more about the nonprofit, Free the Children, that was founded after reading&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Iqbal&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;Issues and Controversies&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(jackson/hole). Type in Child labor and choose the one titled “Child Labor and Sweatshops.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Google Iqbal Masih: There are a lot of great websites dedicated to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Read Wikipedia article&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;b. There are some great links at the bottom of the article! Feel free to check them out.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://childrensworld.org/globalclassroom/page.html?pid=53" target="_blank"&gt;Children's World&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mirrorimage.com/iqbal/who/who.html"&gt;Who Was Iqbal Masih?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Check out&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.freethechildren.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Free the Children&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;Culture Grams&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(jacksonbronc/hole)– build prior knowledge about Pakistan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Find information about child labor, Iqbal Masih&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. Wondering what you can do? Visit&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.knowchildlabor.org/" target="_blank"&gt;the International Center on Child Labor and Education (ICCLE)&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;site to find out more about child labor facts and myths, and explore links between child labor, education, and poverty. You'll find true stories of child workers turned advocates - like Iqbal. There is poetry and art and a lot of students - like you - who are walking their talk!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;6. After reading chapter 4, check out&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.rugwire.com/bokhara/bokhara.html" target="_blank"&gt;Bukhara rugs&lt;/a&gt;. Consider what Iqbal's rug may have looked like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;7. Check out this&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.nde.state.ne.us/SS/CSSAP%20Modules/CSSAP%20First%20Phase%20Modules/childlabor/index.html" target="_blank"&gt;activity regarding Child Labor issues&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Breadwinner&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: &amp;nbsp;This book is set in Afghanistan during the time of the Taliban. &amp;nbsp;Learn how one young woman becomes the breadwinner despite the laws against such an act.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;Issues and Controversies&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(jackson/hole) – search Taliban, choose the first article.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Consider the first picture. What would life be from this point of view?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Go to:&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.rawa.org/rules.htm" target="_blank"&gt;Taliban Rules for Women&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;WorldBook Online&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Teton1/schools) - Taliban&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;CultureGrams&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(jacksonbronc/hole) – build prior knowledge of Afghanistan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. The Taliban is now an issue in Pakistan. Check out this article from cnn.com about a&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/02/17/pakistan.girl.poet/" target="_blank"&gt;Girl Poet who is taking on the Taliban&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;TODAY. There are also many current events links on this site.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Homeless Bird&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: This book is about a young girl who becomes a widow in India. &amp;nbsp;Learn about what this means for her life at a 15 year old and her future. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T726C-6FB1" target="_blank"&gt;&amp;nbsp;United Streaming Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://articles.cnn.com/2007-07-05/world/damon.india.widows_1_widows-vrindavan-india?_s=PM:WORLD"&gt;Article&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;about widows in India by CNN.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. &amp;nbsp;I&lt;a href="http://www.griefandrenewal.com/internat-moksha.htm"&gt;nformation about Amar Bari&lt;/a&gt;, "My Home" - a refuge for widows in India.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. &amp;nbsp;So much informatin - WOW - from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.griefandrenewal.com/widows.htm"&gt;Widows International&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. &amp;nbsp;Another non-profit that works for marginalized women and children in India: &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.guildofservice.org/index.php"&gt;The Guild of Service&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;6. &amp;nbsp;Link to the movie blog:&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://whiterainbowproject.blogspot.com/"&gt;The White Rainbow Project&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(I ordered the movie; it should be here soon!) and for more about the movie, click&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.whiterainbow.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://campaign.r20.constantcontact.com/render?llr=c7uq6geab&amp;amp;v=001Kq5KIUlW9l3YlyTw4_d52O2sThmzB64JklTYBMr5h5PI6bGEYjIQQcRYo5jvEKFeMN227XQVk8uMILMG-WMLCh5xsydHpWt3i7IGXb1tvRruibSUsha8B4x8Y3OJTDQM_6LQlGybE52qNVWSHvLi4SEp-tqDazN6IOHzKZzD3147LLG1KHpzzsupMFOD_-seRMP7U3M-vKmulg8WhMLznnUXHYSOPjLTWQCdduzMjOWhORx-8z2EyQ%3D%3D"&gt;Constant Communication from the White Rainbow Project&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(newsletter sent out regularly!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Journey to Jo’berg&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: &amp;nbsp;This book is set in South Africa during the time of Apartheid. &amp;nbsp;Learn about how a brother and sister risk their lives to simply get their mother home to her sick child. &amp;nbsp;Along their journey, they learn what apartheid really means for their family and their futures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;BrainPop&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(teton/tcsd): Social Studies – Apartheid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;WorldBook Online&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(teton1/schools) - Apartheid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Go to:&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.apartheidmuseum.org/" target="_blank"&gt;Apartheid Museum&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. Great site to understand&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/specials/1624_story_of_africa/page27.shtml" target="_blank"&gt;Apartheid&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;CultureGrams&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(jacksonbronc/hole) – build prior knowledge of South Africa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Look at timeline for information about Apartheid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;6. After reading about Grace's brother and her stories about students fighting back, watch these&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://students.discoveryeducation.com/genericStudentIndex.cfm?cdPasscode=T1EBB-3AF6"&gt;United Streaming Movies&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Ladder #2: &amp;nbsp;Survival stories - surviving man-made &amp;amp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;natural disasters. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Read&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Hiroshima&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sadako&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;: &amp;nbsp;These are stories about the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima at the end of WWII. &amp;nbsp;They also help us to understand the deadly consequences.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T88AF-5A46" target="_blank"&gt;United Streaming Assignment&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;The Bomb:&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;This is the story of a small group of islands, very isolated from the rest of the world. &amp;nbsp;The US government chose Bikini Atoll to do further testing on their nuclear bombs. &amp;nbsp;Read about how this island fights back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T71FF-FEB7" target="_blank"&gt;United Streaming Videos for The Bomb&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Under the Blood Red Sun&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: &amp;nbsp;This story is set in Hawaii and takes place in 1941 as America responds to the attack on Pearl Harbor. &amp;nbsp;Experience the fear and racism of the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;WorldBook Online&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(teton1/schools) - Pearl Harbor (good pictures and videos)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;American History&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;(jackson/hole) – search Pearl Harbor (videos)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/events/wwii-pac/pearlhbr/pearlhbr.htm" target="_blank"&gt;Navy Pictures of Pearl Harbor&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. For information about the internment camps of the Japanese-Americans, go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.bookmice.net/darkchilde/japan/camp.html" target="_blank"&gt;Japanese Internment Camps&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Toward the bottom there is information about Sand Island, Hawaii.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. Read&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;So Far From The Sea&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;by Eve Bunting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Killing Sea&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: &amp;nbsp;This story is set in Indonesia in 2004. &amp;nbsp;The story begins the day before the Tsunami hits. &amp;nbsp;It is a survival story that brings together two characters from very different cultures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;BrainPop&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(online databases (teton/TCSD)): science – Tsunami &amp;nbsp;AND &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/7533972.stm"&gt;animated explanation&lt;/a&gt; of Tsunamis from BBC. &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ac/20110313/sc_ac/8053256_free_resources_to_teach_children_about_earthquakes_and_tsunamis;_ylt=A0LEaoiwJ31Nx_UAR1fVJRIF;_ylu=X3oDMTRkdmpscm9rBGFzc2V0A2FjLzIwMTEwMzEzLzgwNTMyNTZfZnJlZV9yZXNvdXJjZXNfdG9fdGVhY2hfY2hpbGRyZW5fYWJvdXRfZWFydGhxdWFrZXNfYW5kX3RzdW5hbWlzBHBvcwMxMwRzZWMDeW5fYXJ0aWNsZV9zdW1tYXJ5X2xpc3QEc2xrA2ZyZWVyZXNvdXJjZQ--"&gt;More to understand Tsunami/Earthquakes&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;WorldBook Online&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Teton1/Schools) - Tsunami (2004), good pictures&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;CultureGrams&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Jacksonbronc/hole) – build prior knowledge of Indonesia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. Go to :&lt;a href="http://www.masternewmedia.org/news/2006/12/08/tsunami_video_key_video.htm" target="_blank"&gt;Tsunami Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. Go to :&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T8485-1A6F" target="_blank"&gt;United Steaming Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;6.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.asiantsunamivideos.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Other videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;7. &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpQe-0Qv1zI&amp;amp;feature=fvst"&gt;National Geographic video&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;- from Mr. Wiley&lt;br /&gt;8. &amp;nbsp;Japan's March 2011 Tsunami: &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/events/japan-quake-2011/beforeafter.htm"&gt;Before and After pictures&lt;/a&gt;, BBC &lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-12709598"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; &lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/search/?q=japan%20tsunami"&gt;videos&lt;/a&gt;, and more &lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-12711226"&gt;videos&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;9. &amp;nbsp;A lot of &lt;a href="http://learning.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/11/teaching-ideas-the-earthquake-and-tsunami-in-japan/?ref=education"&gt;great resources for Japan's earthquake and tsunami&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &amp;nbsp;More on Japan's March 2011 earthquake and tsunami:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Latest global earthquake, GPS, etc. data at the GEO supersite&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0000cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://pod51004.outlook.com:443/owa/redir.aspx?C=2070abaaba124a22b280693c88e5930a&amp;amp;URL=http%3a%2f%2fsupersites.earthobservations.org%2fhonshu.php" target="_blank"&gt;http://supersites.earthobservations.org/honshu.php&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The USGS web page has compiled very detailed earthquake and related information.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0000cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://pod51004.outlook.com:443/owa/redir.aspx?C=2070abaaba124a22b280693c88e5930a&amp;amp;URL=http%3a%2f%2fearthquake.usgs.gov%2fearthquakes%2feqinthenews%2f2011%2fusc0001xgp%2f" target="_blank"&gt;http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eqinthenews/2011/usc0001xgp/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"&gt;And more amazing before and after pictures of the NE coast of Japan. Note the run up from the tsunami has been reported at 6 km inland.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://pod51004.outlook.com:443/owa/redir.aspx?C=2070abaaba124a22b280693c88e5930a&amp;amp;URL=http%3a%2f%2fwww.abc.net.au%2fnews%2fevents%2fjapan-quake-2011%2fbeforeafter.htm" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0000cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"&gt;http://www.abc.net.au/news/events/japan-quake-2011/beforeafter.htm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;11. &amp;nbsp;Ways to &lt;a href="http://www.interaction.org/crisis-list/interaction-members-support-japan-earthquake-response"&gt;donate&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Ladder #3: &amp;nbsp;Individuals fighting against a government. &amp;nbsp;Understanding propaganda and oppression.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Kiss the Dust&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: &amp;nbsp;This story is set in Iraq. &amp;nbsp;It is the story of a Kurdish family that must flee to Iran due to persecution against the Kurds in Iraq. &amp;nbsp;It tells the story of refugees in a way that will break your heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T7286-5CDC" target="_blank"&gt;United Streaming Videos for Kiss the Dust&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Year of Impossible Goodbyes:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This story helps us to understand Korea's history from the end of WWII to the beginnings of the Korean war. &amp;nbsp;It's a story of a family that is forced to live in an occupied country for many years. &amp;nbsp;This story shows the power of propaganda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Red Scarf Girl&lt;/i&gt;: &amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;This is a memoir of a family living in China during Mao's Cultural Revolution. &amp;nbsp;It is a story of living with propaganda and conflicting beliefs. &amp;nbsp;It helps us to understand how difficult it is to live with fear.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;WorldBook Online&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(teton1/schools) - Cultural Revolution&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Check out some of the Back in Time articles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Check out these&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T7318-FAE8" target="_blank"&gt;United Streaming movies&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(follow the directions telling you which movies to watch first)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;CultureGrams&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(jacksonbronc/hole) – build prior knowledge of China&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;a. Pay attention to the time line – China under Communism&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. Explore Ji-Li's company,&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.jilijiang.com/ewe.htm" target="_blank"&gt;East West Exchange&lt;/a&gt;, to promote cultural exchanges between the United States and China. "If I can help Americans to understand China, and the Chinese to learn about the United States, even a little, I will feel very rewarded. I will have contributed something to my country, China, and my home, America (p 271)."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;~Other~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;MAROO OF THE WINTER CAVES&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=TDCAC-C37F" target="_blank"&gt;United Streaming Videos for Maroo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;BrainPop&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;(online databases (teton/TCSD)): Science-Earth System- Ice Age&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Go to ACTIVITIES--&amp;gt;Graphic Organizer--&amp;gt;Print--&amp;gt; Take notes on this activity sheet as you watch the movie--&amp;gt;Go back to movie--&amp;gt;Press CC button and read along --&amp;gt; Play the quiz--&amp;gt;Graded Quiz--&amp;gt; View your results --&amp;gt; OK --&amp;gt; Record your score --&amp;gt; Review answers --&amp;gt; If you missed more than 2, take the test again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;BrainPop&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;online databases (teton/TCSD)): Science-Earth System- Avalanches&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Go to ACTIVITIES--&amp;gt;Graphic Organizer--&amp;gt;Print--&amp;gt; Take notes on this activity sheet as you watch the movie--&amp;gt;Go back to movie--&amp;gt;Press CC button and read along --&amp;gt; Play the quiz--&amp;gt;Graded Quiz--&amp;gt; View your results --&amp;gt; OK --&amp;gt; Record your score --&amp;gt; Review answers --&amp;gt; If you missed more than 2, take the test again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. Go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://jhmsteton.sharpschool.com/cms/one.aspx?pageId=1389052" target="_blank"&gt;WorldBook Online&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Teton1/Schools).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Go to My Backpack--&amp;gt;Maroo and Wolf Brother--&amp;gt; Stone Age--&amp;gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1036306626052679684?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1036306626052679684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1036306626052679684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2009/01/prior-knowledge-building-assignments.html' title='Historical Fiction Lit Circles'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3692575671643641118</id><published>2008-12-17T06:33:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:24:48.328-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Poetry Lit Circles - Movies</title><content type='html'>Please watch the &lt;a href="http://students.discoveryeducation.com/genericStudentIndex.cfm?cdPasscode=T455D-F698" target="_blank"&gt;movie(s)&lt;/a&gt; that are connected to your Poetry Lit Circle books. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3692575671643641118?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3692575671643641118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/poetry-lit-circles-movies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3692575671643641118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3692575671643641118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/poetry-lit-circles-movies.html' title='Poetry Lit Circles - Movies'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-4200025268413490092</id><published>2008-12-03T12:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.545-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Elyssa ~ "Niagra Falls"</title><content type='html'>New York&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Two years ago my dad and I planned a vacation to go to New York. We went to New York to see my dad’s side of the family in New York. The family members were his brothers my uncles, sisters my aunts and my cousins. We went on three great trips and saw a lot of cool sites. But I had to said this was one of the best trips I have ever gone on. Beside going to Florida with my mom. We were going to Niagara Falls Canada with my dad and all my family members in New York.  When we got to New York,  I felt reunited again because we had not seen them since I was two years old.  It had been eight long years!  &lt;br /&gt; The morning we went to Niagara Falls everyone was anxious to leave the house, so they were running up and down the stairs. After that  we all dashed to the car and drove for about an hour,  my cousin Cody’s breakfast of bean soup started kicking in!  He was stinking the car up  terribly. The car ride was especially bad, too, because there was seven people in one small car.  I couldn’t move my legs and was stuck in one spot for 2 1/2 hours.  I felt trapped.&lt;br /&gt; About an hour into the car ride, my aunt and uncle started asking me question after question.  “So Elyssa how was your school year?’’ asked my aunt Dee.&lt;br /&gt; ‘’It was good.  I had a lot of  fun and we went on a lot of field trips.”  Right after that lead to the next question. But before my uncle asked me the next question, I yelled, “Niagara Falls, here we come!’’&lt;br /&gt;  This didn’t distract them, and the next few questions popped out like fireworks.  “Did you like your teacher?’’ My Uncle had to yell at me because my three cousins were singing in the back seat.  I love my cousins and I am happy they are part of my family, but they can get very crazy and out of control.  To make matters worse,  every once and a while my uncle would slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of him. It scared me a lot.&lt;br /&gt; Once my aunt, uncle, and cousin stopped asking questions, we all listened to my cousin’s music, which was  rock. I did not like that his music, but it was entertaining and distracted them from asking more questions! &lt;br /&gt; Finally, we arrived at Niagara Falls.  We all jumped out of the car, relieved because we had been in there for a long time. My uncle bought us all tickets for a boat ride.  I couldn’t wait.&lt;br /&gt; The boat was huge. It was two stories tall and the top part was full.  Additionally,  the whole bottom was so full you could not even turn around without seeing a person at your side. The boat surprised me how big it was.  Before we got on the captain said, “ Everyone who is going on the  boat please  come and get  your rain coat on.’’  &lt;br /&gt;    “ Why do we need rain coats?’’ It took him a while to reply.  When he did, his answer was, “You’re going to get wet.”&lt;br /&gt; After that my dad said,  “You need rain coats because you get really close to the waterfall and might get really really wet!’’ If I did not want to get really wet, I would just hide behind all the people. So if you want to go on the boat sometime, just know you will have to be ready to see a lot  of people and get really wet.   Besides getting soaked and being crushed, it is a beautiful view. It surprised me of how close we got to the waterfall. The water sprayed in the air and when it is was sunny, it looked like glistening snow after the first snow fall of the year. &lt;br /&gt; Once we got off the boat there was a ton of people exiting all at once and a lot of walking to be done. I had to be careful not to lose my dad and the rest of my family. So I was holding on to my dad’s sweatshirt with all my might. &lt;br /&gt; We walked for  long time just to get to lunch. Lunch tasted so good because we had not eaten for a long time. We finally had to walk back to the car and drive for another 2 1/2 hours. It was kinda light in the car because my cousins were playing their video games. Every one of us was awake until my aunt, uncle, and dad said, “All four of you kids should close your eyes because it is a two and a half hour drive and you will be very tired when we get back to New York.”  We all fell asleep even though we did not want to when we left Niagra Falls.   I still dream of going back to Niagra Falls!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-4200025268413490092?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/4200025268413490092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/elyssa-niagra-falls.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4200025268413490092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4200025268413490092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/elyssa-niagra-falls.html' title='Elyssa ~ &quot;Niagra Falls&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6554803805988038059</id><published>2008-12-03T12:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.545-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>River ~ "Middle School"</title><content type='html'>I almost sprinted to my new locker in my new school, the Jackson Hole Middle School! I nodded to my new teachers standing in the hallway.  I nodded to some of my old friends, but I had no time to talk! I was so excited about middle school! When I finally got to my locker, I spotted one of my old friends, the one I had done Jungle Book with the year before who also has the same birth-day as me.  She was my best friend.  “Cheyenne!” I yelled.&lt;br /&gt; “River,” Cheyenne responded nearly yelping. Excited was my only feeling until I found out what homeroom she was in.&lt;br /&gt;“What?” I questioned, “You are barely in any classes of mine,” I whined, and then a question occurred to me that hurt me even more. What if it was like this for all my friends? &lt;br /&gt;Panic showed up and started pacing while whispering in my ear, “Oh great! NO FRIENDS! You are on your own!”  He paced faster and faster and whispered louder and louder.&lt;br /&gt;     That’s when Worried showed up.  “Oh no, no friends that’s not good at all,” he muttered in my other ear.   Worried and Panic get along just fine.  They love these types of situations most.&lt;br /&gt;What if it was like this for all my friends?  What if I have no friends in middle school?  What if I have no one to trust? No one to be there for me? My head hurt from all of these terrible thoughts that were running though my head. Then the bell finally rang and I hurried to my new class. &lt;br /&gt;      Nervousness was just like Worried but acted like it was a horror movie going on. “Don’t do it River” “Don’t go though that door!” it was my homeroom door but Nervousness made it seem as if I was walking to the house of a killer. Happiness pushed Nervousness out of the way and pushed me though the door, there was a smile on my face with happiness at my side. There were some of my old friends I knew, Heather, Kinzel and Catlin, and some new people like Nicole, who is a great listener and Hailey, who has just about the same crazy level as me. They had gone to a different school then me, but these new people I met were my friends quickly! It was the end of 5th period and I was walking past the rather tall 8th graders… &lt;br /&gt;     That’s when one more of the emotion's friends showed up; his name is Scared.  He was hiding behind me shaking, and pointing at the 8th graders saying stuff like, “ You know some of them.”  This caused more shaking and hiding. “They could make fun of you”… Easy”. But I had my new AND old friends including Cheyenne by me.&lt;br /&gt;     “I love middle school,” I told my friends almost in a whisper. But then almost a yell at the last bell, and skipped thought the halls I thought to myself,  “Why was I even scared in the 1st place?” I was in middle school, grown up, and had awesome, outrages friends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6554803805988038059?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6554803805988038059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/river-middle-school.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6554803805988038059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6554803805988038059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/river-middle-school.html' title='River ~ &quot;Middle School&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7910078797199899387</id><published>2008-12-03T06:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.545-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Schuyler ~ "Italy"</title><content type='html'>Italy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; They ditched me. They ditched me! &lt;br /&gt;“Hey, wait up! Where the heck are you going,” I yelled. The only voice I heard was my own, echoing in the distance. At that moment my confusion was like a tsunami, washing over a beach. I sprinted down the trail Adam had taken. When I burst into the clearing where Adam should have been, it was as silent as a shadow.&lt;br /&gt; I remember the day when I got the phone call. The phone was yelling, “I have something important to share.” When I answered, I was overjoyed to hear Adam’s  offer. That is how this trip to Italy was born.&lt;br /&gt; I was in Imprunetta, Italy in a olive vineyard on  practically a square mile of land. Lush, rolling hillsides of Italian countryside surrounded me, engulfing me. Adam was one of my best friends in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. He had rented a house in Italy for a year.  I wondered if I could survive without him. I had other friends, but still it would be different without him in Jackson Hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I arrived March 12 in Rome, Italy. I had just gotten in from a eight hour trip but I was as awake as ever. I was so excited to be in Italy. I remember taking the train, staring out at the beautiful countryside. Yellow daises spotted the country side making a beautiful effect. When we arrived at our hotel we loved it. It was small, three stories, and had a tiny little elevator that could only one person could fit in. Our rooms were small so we rented two. I loved Italy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I arrived March 12, and the fun began.  Adam, his friends,  and I were walking down a beautiful passage with twelve foot tall, green perfectly manicured bushes. Ahead of me there were two neat paths, one to the left and one the right. When we were advancing up to the paths, they ditched me. Adam had gone left, and Eric, William, and Mathew had gone right. I sprinted as fast as I could down the left trail. Lost in confusion, I burst into the clearing. This is where Adam had gone. It felt like life was at a stand-still. Out of nowhere, I heard a loud rustling noise. I rotated my head to the source of the noise like a owl. Surprisingly, I saw a little manhole I hadn’t noticed earlier. I saw movement in the manhole and dashed after it like a tiger on its prey.&lt;br /&gt; “I know you’re here,” I shouted. I saw the color of his yellow shirt and grabbed. “Gotchya,” I yelled as my hand snagged his shirt, like a eagle’s talon its prey. So much for all the silence. I stopped him in  his tracks. My first question came speeding off the tip of my tongue, “Why did you ditch me?” I was panting, out of breath.&lt;br /&gt; “We had it all planned out,” he said panting, just as out of breath as I was.&lt;br /&gt; “Where was everyone else?” I asked sternly. &lt;br /&gt;“Not telling,” he said in a singsong voice.&lt;br /&gt;Just as he had said it, I said, “Yes you are.” I just realized that this was a little joke. I laughed at how uptight I was, it was all just a joke.&lt;br /&gt; Two minutes later I knew exactly where everyone was. Now that I knew this was all a joke I slowly walked to where  William and Mathew were supposed to be. They were to easy to find. They had orange shirts and were hiding in green bushes. Base point is, it was  hilarious. &lt;br /&gt;“It’s not like you’re wearing camouflage.” I shouted. I ran up to them, smirking. William was the older brother of the two. He was tall, extremely energetic and had very sharp features. Mathew was like a mini model of him but was less energetic.&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, do you guys know if Erik has moved,”  I asked.&lt;br /&gt;“No,” he answered “he hasn’t, and I have the perfect plan.”&lt;br /&gt;We had spotted Erik, and believe me it wasn’t hard. He was in the vineyard, probably not expecting anything. In my opinion the vineyard was the most beautiful place in the countryside We ran behind some leafy green trees with a peculiar all smell like fresh green grass. The beautiful nature put a gentle, settling calm in me. That was near to where he was coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We had a whole a day to be in Rome, to explore everything we could. We went to the Coliseum, the Pantheon, Palentine Hill and even Ceasers grave. Everywhere I looked I saw beautiful scenery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Boo,” we yelled as he jerked in surprise. The look on his face was so surprised, startled, and stunned.&lt;br /&gt; “Got you there,” I announced in his face, grinning.&lt;br /&gt;  “How did you find me,” he asked quizzically, still dazed.&lt;br /&gt; “It wasn’t hard,” I replied.&lt;br /&gt; “Lets go home,” I announced, all of a sudden tired of all the action. Everyone agreed.&lt;br /&gt; As every one else walked ahead, Adam and I stayed behind, walking slowly.&lt;br /&gt; “You have cool friends,” I told him, breaking the silence like a bullet.&lt;br /&gt; “I know,” he replied&lt;br /&gt; “I never realized that here, even in Italy you can easily know someone you have never known.”&lt;br /&gt; “I know” he calmly said “that is the beauty of the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7910078797199899387?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7910078797199899387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/schuyler-italy.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7910078797199899387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7910078797199899387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/schuyler-italy.html' title='Schuyler ~ &quot;Italy&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6310643526187244331</id><published>2008-12-02T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.546-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Matt ~ "My Birthday Surprise"</title><content type='html'>I ran outside school and saw something incredible: a Jeff Gordon jacket.&lt;br /&gt;        “You like Jeff Gordon I love him, he’s my favorite racecar driver.”  “Hey nice jacket I have one just like it I got it last Christmas,” I said.&lt;br /&gt;         Last Christmas, I was opening my presents and found an interesting gift from Santa. I ripped open the box and found...     “Jeff Gordon clothes!!” I screamed.  There were three things under the raping paper: a Jeff Gordon jacket, a Jeff Gordon fleece jacket, and Jeff Gordon sleep pants. I ran further and saw that it was my dad wearing my jacket.&lt;br /&gt;          Once I got over dad taking my jacket, mom said, “Trade me jackets!” She was wearing my Jimmie Johnson jacket.&lt;br /&gt;          “Why,” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;           Then she told me, “Matt, you’re going to the race.”&lt;br /&gt;           Speechless I said, “Are you I have kidding me? I’m going to a race!!” &lt;br /&gt;           They said, “Happy Birthday!”&lt;br /&gt;           Ever since I could remember I’ve been watching the Nascar race every Sunday with my dad. Every time we came home from church, we go in the media room and turn on the race. We&lt;br /&gt;sit and watch the entire race. My favorite driver in the Hendricks team is Jeff Gordon. I have been following him every weekend. Then comes Jimmie Johnson, he is my second favorite driver. He has won the Nextel cup for a few years and has been wining most of the races this year. Dale Earnhart Jr is my third favorite. He Just joined the Hendricks team last year but he was pretty famous with his colors. Casey Mears, is also a favorite he joined the team last year but he got in a big wreck at the race I went to see.&lt;br /&gt;          When I woke up the morning of the race, I was getting dressed in my Nascar wardrobe. Of my Jimmie Johnson shirt, my Jimmie Johnson jacket, and my Jimmie hat. I knew that this was going to be the best day of my life and the best birthday weekend of my life. I could feel the excitement grow stronger and stronger inside of me as we drove closer and closer to the racetrack.     &lt;br /&gt;          When I walked through the gates, I could hear the sound of the loud driers driving around the track. The racing of the pace car, (the 2008 ZO6 Corvette) testing the dryness of the track. I could smell the smell of rain; it had been raining all night. As I saw all the haulers; rows and rows of haulers lined up the sell all the souvenirs. I had to run down every row of haulers to see the entire Jeff Gordon, Jimmie Johnson, and Dale Earnhart Jr hauler to see there entire stock. There were other haulers I saw a Sprint cup series hauler, who had a big screen T.V. that showed the reporters interviewing all drivers. &lt;br /&gt;           In the FAN ZONE there were game tents. 25% of my excitement was on those games. There was a AAA tent that had two driving games but they weren’t ordinary driving games they were Nascar driving games. They made me feel like I was in the driver seat of the racecar. They shock like the shaking of a big powerful engine rumbling around the track. When I crashed, I could fell the impacted of the crash. When I spun out I could feel the shaking of the car spinning around and around (I played a lot of games a lot of times). There was a tent down a way from the other tents that was an ordinary driving game. Suprisingly it was really addicting. My dad and I played it, but he got kind tired of it. but I played it a while longer he watched me. There was a game right next to it that was a racecar split in half. It had a computer in it, and it was cool. It also felt like I was in a racecar, but it didn’t shake like the other one did. &lt;br /&gt;           At the end of the day it started to rain again, and every body left. There was no racing that day because of the rain, and the Craftsmen Truck series was delayed until the next day. While dad and I were still there, we walked into a Bose trailer. When I walked in, I could hear a videogame being played, and it was a racecar game being played on a gigantic flat screen T.V. I asked, “can I play it?” I played it for a long time. When Dad wanted to leave, I had to go.  &lt;br /&gt;           The next day the whether was good. They ran the Craftsman truck series it was so cool to see the racecars in person. It was so exiting to see the cars and hear the roar of the loud engines, louder than you hear on T.V. We had pit passes, so we went down threw the tunnel and we were in the infield. It would be cooler to watch the race from our R.V inside the infield. And so we went down to pit road and to see the command centers being set up all along the back wall of pit road.   &lt;br /&gt;                           The End&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6310643526187244331?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6310643526187244331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/matt-my-birthday-surprise.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6310643526187244331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6310643526187244331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/matt-my-birthday-surprise.html' title='Matt ~ &quot;My Birthday Surprise&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1840603692061902681</id><published>2008-12-02T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.546-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Brady ~ "Haunted Houses"</title><content type='html'>As soon as we crept in the old creaky house in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, my heart disintegrated. I didnít want to go in because I was afraid of ghosts. Even though it was a tourist attraction, I still said, ìI am not going in!î Fear was squeezing me around the neck, and suddenly I couldnít breath.  Fear wrapped himself around my ankles, so I couldnít move, and Worry bit me in the back.  There was nothing I could do about it, my teacher had bought the tickets. I now knew I had to face my fear. &lt;br /&gt; I mustered up enough courage to get inside. I shuffled through what seemed to be real snapshots of ghosts. Once I was done gazing, my eyes sneaked up and I acknowledged  two big black doors. For some reason  I got the slight suspicion it was a fun house, and you had to open the right door. Not the right door, but the right door. Then, a side door it magically emerged and it showed the way out side. I was saved, but not for long. Our tour guide was here and primed to get the tour started, and to pull me to my death.&lt;br /&gt; Now I was dawdling down the sidewalk from house to house with shivers gnawing at my back. I think I was giving off the impression that I was terrified but I was mortified. ìHere we have stopped at what used to be a shoot out,î Yelped the tour guide. We all turned to face a dark faded wood house that read Twin Sycamores. &lt;br /&gt; ìWhy did they call it that?î My friend Eli wondered aloud.&lt;br /&gt; ìBecause there were two Sycamore trees in front of the building,î barked the tour guide. Nonchalantly Eli and I peered back to come across a pair of helpless, bright, yellow eyes. Reluctantly I followed my instinct and screamed at the top of my lungs,&lt;br /&gt;  ìGHOST!î Then I heard a girlish voice, Marisol screamed.&lt;br /&gt; ìOUCH! That hurt my ears, besides Its not a ghost, they are only lightning bugs.î &lt;br /&gt; ìOHHHHHHHHHH! I knew that,î which I really didnít. A sigh of relief went up my spine for all to see. I was now officially bananas.&lt;br /&gt; After finishing the tour, we headed back. ìAHHHHHHHH,î the peaceful trip all the way back to the hotel was the best part, and getting to bed. When the blankets so soft swallowed me to the most comfortable place on earth finally drifting asleep until...Peaceful had vanished, and nightmares had arose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am white&lt;br /&gt;I am the color that blows through the windy days&lt;br /&gt;I am the feeling of being alone, fearful, and depressed&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid of what is unknown to all&lt;br /&gt;I am the color of when joy and misery collide &lt;br /&gt;How I help daily life I know not&lt;br /&gt;I am what you get when other colors fade or vanish&lt;br /&gt;I am not just a color I am a feeling&lt;br /&gt;I am taken for granted every day &lt;br /&gt;To the average mind I am a dull color&lt;br /&gt;But I am more then that...&lt;br /&gt;I am the color of thought&lt;br /&gt;I am white&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1840603692061902681?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1840603692061902681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/brady-haunted-houses.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1840603692061902681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1840603692061902681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/brady-haunted-houses.html' title='Brady ~ &quot;Haunted Houses&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-5415041496303070467</id><published>2008-12-02T12:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.546-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Ezekiel ~ "Climbing is my Passion"</title><content type='html'>Climbing is the most thrilling experience in life. It was the summer of 2008 and I was going on a backpacking journey to Jenny Lake to climb on the intimidating rocks around the vast lake. I was so charged up that I could hardly sleep the night before. Bubbling lava of excitement was trying to get out. It was like that all night, so it was easy to wake up really early for the start of my new hobby. The big day was nothing like I ever imagined it would be; it was much, much better. We had to hike, but even the hike was full of adventure and the unseen. I saw a tree so big it took seven people’s arms to wrap around its trunk. Another a huge tree bent when it fell instead of snapping. It looked like an elephant had sat on the top of it - like in the cartoons!   When we finally got to a small resting spot, we started bouldering, climbing without a harness and a rope. My friend and I always raced to get to the destinations, which, of course, was the top of the sandpaper rock. I have always loved to boulder; it is my favorite part of climbing. But this time I could hardly wait for the real on-rope action to begin.&lt;br /&gt; Once we were done with bouldering, it was time to put on our backpacks and carry our supplies.  We wrapped the ropes around our necks because it was easier carrying them that way. The ropes would be used when I actually had to strap myself into my harness and to scurry up the mountain. My friend and I acted like the crocodile hunter as we hiked because of the realistic snake-like ropes around our necks. Before, I knew it, I crashed into my friend with a thud.  In a scared whisper he said, “Dude, stop! It’s time to start real climbing now.”&lt;br /&gt; I froze with excitement and nervousness.   “Oh man, this is what I have been waiting for,” I replied.&lt;br /&gt; Then I fell into a deep daze, and my vision blurred. I remembered back to that morning when I was telling my dad, “I’m nervous.”&lt;br /&gt;  But he wouldn’t let me say a word; he just kept saying, “Don’t worry, son! I know you will have a great time.”  He said that over and over again until he got it into my head.  At the time, I was annoyed with him for repeating himself, but it was a bit comforting.  Now, I realized that he had won and I had lost, he had officially gotten it into my head. &lt;br /&gt; I was back to reality and I found my self tying figure eight knots in the ropes and one person in my group had already crept up the steep mountain side. As my turn grew closer with each reach and step for a hand hold I got more and more scared and I wanted to throw up. Finally, I was face to face with the mountain and felt the cold wind brush my face. I felt peace full, but still scared. I reach up to cling onto a crack in the Earths wall, but my friends voice stopped me. He called out, “Good luck!”&lt;br /&gt; Right then I realized how good of a friend I had to get my through this, thrilling and miserable day. I rounded up my courage and started the climb. Each hand hold I grabbed I got more comfortable with the thought of what I was doing. The feeling of the ruff rocks on my hands and the sun on my back was really comforting. When I finally got to what I thought was the top, my teacher was waiting there.To my surprise, she told me it was not the top, so with a groan, up I went, climbing to go to the final resting stop. I got to the top with the friend following close behind. We all sat on a cliff for a picnic.I tried to settle all my buzzing thoughts in my head. This was the most thrilling thing I have ever done; it wasn’t scary at all and I was ready for more. &lt;br /&gt; When I heard my teachers say that it was time to repeal off the hundred and twenty foot cliff, I felt my hands sake and my legs wobble. I wasn’t very excited anymore. I thought of the last time I took a climbing class in the middle of the summer. It was at The Enclosure and we learned to repeal. I remembered how scared I was even though there was pads at the bottom and it was a indoor climbing gym. now because this time there was no pads it was all razor sharp rocks and trees. Repealing even sounds hard! I attached the rope to my harness and slowly lower myself down the cliff, and if I let go I would be in big,big trouble. One by one I saw each person from my group, their scared faces lowering below the cliff. Then like lightning it was my turn, and I heard my teachers strong voice call out, “Come on, Zeke, it is your turn now. Come on up hear.”&lt;br /&gt; Just like that danger shot into my mind. I even asked the teacher if there was a chance I’d die. I got the answer I most feared. The answer was yes. Then I remembered all the things I had been scared of that day and how it all turned out fine. I realized that fear was like a troll who wanted everyone to fear him, he made us feel like he was the the sun and we were his shadows. I could visualize the troll’s mad face in my head as my fear grew worse as my teacher finished strapping me in, and as I walked over to the cliff and looked over the 120 foot edge at the sharp rocks at the bottom.  I noticed the small landing area, at this point I was freaking out.  As I lowered down over the edge,after about two minutes of freaking, a feeling deep in my body came to me.  Excitement and fear collided. Just as the ride was getting really fun, it was over in a flash.  After all of that worry, I actually loved it more than anything.  I wanted to do it again.&lt;br /&gt; I would have never guessed that I would climb on a real mountain and repel off a 120 foot cliff.  Even though I was scared, I want to go again!  Now that I know that  I love to climb and repeal, I am going to try to do it every year and make it one of my hobbies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-5415041496303070467?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/5415041496303070467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/ezekiel-climbing-is-my-passion.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5415041496303070467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5415041496303070467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/ezekiel-climbing-is-my-passion.html' title='Ezekiel ~ &quot;Climbing is my Passion&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7567143674099409036</id><published>2008-12-02T12:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.546-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Claire F ~ "My Decision"</title><content type='html'>As I was sitting in my yard with my family’s new three month old puppy in my lap, I was on a mission. This Bernese Mountain Dog was going to be my companion, so I had to decide what his name was going to be. That was my task. It might not seem very hard, but this was one of those tasks that was unusually hard.&lt;br /&gt;   The dog was getting older, and he had just got him from the breeder, so he obviously had to have a name. The difficulty of this decision gave frustration a chance to burn through me. There were so many names out there. Which one would fit? I knew it had to be a unique name, and of course a male one to. It also had to match his looks. What name would match this big, black, white chested figure? I asked myself. His tail looked like it had been dipped in white paint,a cute little white stripe ran down his forehead, and his big, bushy, brown eyebrows lined his eyes.&lt;br /&gt; Underneath this simple task, was really a complex, frustrating one. My dad really wanted the dog’s name to be Yogi, but I disagreed, that name was just too bizarre. I was thinking that George might work as a name because it wasn’t too quirky. With that name in my head, I stood up and stepped back, ready to give it a try. “George, come here,” I called. He looked up, but it wasn’t enough. The dog knew it was boring, and I agreed with him. George was too common of a name. For a dog it wasn’t special or unique. After I gave up on George, I ambled inside and towards the warm, welcoming kitchen only to find my mom.  She was a petite woman, and on her head she carried thick, short, black hair. Sewn through her body were tiny, dark freckles. “Hey Mom?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt; “Yes,” she replied.&lt;br /&gt; “What do you think our dog’s name should be?” I asked geared up for a great answer.&lt;br /&gt; “I don’t know.” This answer gave me a desolate look. “Maybe it could be Charlie.”&lt;br /&gt; I had to disagree, “That’s too much of a human name. I’ll go ask dad.” True to my word, I sauntered out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the family room. “Dad, do you know what our dog’s name should be?” I asked, “Other than Yogi, George, and Charlie.”&lt;br /&gt; “What’s wrong with Yogi?”&lt;br /&gt; “Well, it’s a bit weird,” I admitted, “and a bit random, too.”&lt;br /&gt; “Are you kidding?” my dad declared, “Yogi is the best name ever! My favorite T.V. show character’s name is Yogi Bear. He’s famous!”&lt;br /&gt; How could I forget? The memory of watching Yogi Bear and his sidekick BooBoo on T.V. suddenly flooded into my mind. I was flipping through the channels thinking there was nothing good on when I heard a very queer voice. “Hey, hey BooBoo,” said the deep accent. When I looked at the screen I saw that the source of the sound was a unusual looking black bear. Right next to him was a smaller black bear with a funky red baseball cap on. The laughter that bubbled up from my throat was a sign that this was an awesome show.  I watched it until the end. They finally had enough courage to travel through the mysterious cave. The show was filled with a whole bunch of that little kid humor. And that was just what the dog was filled with.&lt;br /&gt; I decided to share this bit of information with my dad, “I do know who Yogi is. I’ve seen him on T.V. before. That name matches our dog perfectly. Yogi isn’t common or human-like. It’s unique!” I felt like dancing around in circles, I was so thrilled. “See ya Dad,” I yelled as I bolted outside. Once I saw the adorable little puppy, I called out, “Yogi, come here!” He popped up and started charging towards me. I knew that Yogi was the name. “Good boy, Yogi, good boy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yogi&lt;br /&gt;Yogi&lt;br /&gt;couldn’t be better&lt;br /&gt;Yogi&lt;br /&gt;a name like no other&lt;br /&gt;Yogi&lt;br /&gt;don’t steal it&lt;br /&gt;Yogi&lt;br /&gt;it’s perfect&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7567143674099409036?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7567143674099409036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/claire-f-my-decision.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7567143674099409036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7567143674099409036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/claire-f-my-decision.html' title='Claire F ~ &quot;My Decision&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-5315971316738834717</id><published>2008-12-02T12:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.546-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Gideon ~ "Broken"</title><content type='html'>Broken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew I was going to get in trouble when I broke my Mom’s window. It was the end of fall and my dad was taking out the screens and putting in the panes of glass. Meanwhile, I was on my trampoline playing soccer, which is right in front of my porch. When I kicked the ball, it soared ricocheted off the edge of the porch and came right back to me. I kicked it again this time I was unlucky I completely shattered the window. It flashed back into my mind what my dad told the time before I broke the window “next time you brake this window your paying for it” I really didn’t want to pay. I was in complete shock and fear at the fact that one pain of glass was now hundreds of tiny pieces. Fear’s BFF (best friend forever) is negativity he doesn’t like imagination or people to have fun fear is a bully. I was mortified at the remainders. I broke the window again!!! I tried to act like I didn’t do any thing but I am terrible liar whenever I lied my parents figure it out within seconds,   they say I am horrid liar. But still I lied it wasn’t very useful because they knew I broke it. I think they the figured it out because there was a soccer ball next to the glass and I was the only person out side. In the end had I had to pay for a new window, which really wasn’t that bad because it was a small window  which made it not too expensive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-5315971316738834717?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/5315971316738834717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/gideon-broken.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5315971316738834717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5315971316738834717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/gideon-broken.html' title='Gideon ~ &quot;Broken&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6481903919929948070</id><published>2008-12-02T12:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Ben ~ "Weight Lifting"</title><content type='html'>My sister and I were dashing down the sidewalk at the high school trying to beat our dad to the weight-room where he had to get some paperwork. It was the first time he let me come. Right when we made it there right when my demanded, “Don’t play with the weights!”&lt;br /&gt; “O.K. daddy,” I said as I walked over to the large circular black weight on a pole. I was playing with the weights (despite my dad’s warning). Quickly, I figured out why he told me not to. The 45-pound weight fell on my foot (I was wearing rubber boots). I was going to die, I thought as my foot was turning a dark purple. My dad leaped up, sprinted over to me, and put me on the counter. He was so shocked he was speechless.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I was crying when he did. He took off my shoe. Was he trying to kill me? I thought, as pain chewed at my foot. “Don’t cry.” He said as he hugged me close to his chest. I thought he would be mad at me for not listening. He picked me up and took me to the greenish-blue van. He started driving, slightly speeding. I wondered where we were going. Then, despite the pain, I dozed off.&lt;br /&gt; I woke up in the hospital, my foot was still hurting. I looked around and a white-coated doctor came in. “Where am I?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt; “You’re in the hospital!” he said. “ We’re going to check your bones,” he said as he brought me into a dark, green-lighted room. I was terrified. Back then I thought that when you broke a bone it fell off. The doctor guided this strange machine over my foot. There was an ear-splitting beep. “Everything is fine. It’s a good thing you were wearing those rubber boots.” Said the doctor. I felt relieved. Back then I thought that when a bone broke it fell completely off. So I was frightened. He took me back into the room I woke up in.&lt;br /&gt; “I like it here.” I said. It was true I did like it there. I got to watch movies, and eat ice cream. But while I was there I couldn’t stop thinking of those words: “Don’t touch the weights!” I wouldn’t have been here if I had listened to them. Oops! At six years old I learned an important lesson: listen to your elders!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6481903919929948070?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6481903919929948070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/ben-weight-lifting.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6481903919929948070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6481903919929948070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/ben-weight-lifting.html' title='Ben ~ &quot;Weight Lifting&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-722015115675004518</id><published>2008-12-02T12:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Jamee ~ "Basketball is MY Sport"</title><content type='html'>Basketball is the sport that gets my adrenaline pumping.  When my family and I put our basketball shoes on, our excitement takes us on a ride. My mom and especially NOT my dog, don’t play basketball.  At the beginning of a game, we start pumping up outside, then we start to scrimmage (a short basketball game) or play lightning. My mom watches and cheers us on while saying, “Come on guys! You can do it!  You can make it.” If I shoot and miss, she shouts, “Awww...so close!” She makes our hard work look perfect with the videotape. &lt;br /&gt; Our dad  plays, too. He is so hard to beat; he is like a piece of metal impossible to break through.  I don’t think that anyone in my family will be able to beat him. He is also the best coach. When my older sister and I play, she makes me better.  &lt;br /&gt; I still remember when I was in kindergarten and just learning how to play.  I was trying to dribble and learn how to shoot.  I was holding the ball and staring up to the basket when my dad said, “Come on, Jamee, you can do it!”  &lt;br /&gt; “But, Daddy, the basket is too high!” I complained.  I thought that I wasn’t going to make that shot.  I pushed the ball with both hands and it flew into the sky.  To my surprise, it went in!  &lt;br /&gt; He cried out, “Good job!”   That was my first basket. Now, I can make all kinds of shots and my dad is always proud.  On Monday, November 17, 2008, I won an award for being the best basketball player in the whole sixth grade!&lt;br /&gt; When my dad yells from the crowd, “Stay between your girl and the basket!  Jamee, guard your girl!”  I can always hear him.  I listen for his voice even more than my coach’s words.  My sister does this, too.  I know that I will have a lot of coaches, none will be as good as Dad. &lt;br /&gt; I keep getting better every year.   Since Kindergarten I have gone from thinking the basket it too high to making most of my shots.   Middle school and high school will be my time to play on the teams and score points when everyone is cheering.  I will always hear my dad yelling, “Come on, Jamee, you can do it!”   I can’t get enough of this game.   That is why basketball is for ME!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-722015115675004518?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/722015115675004518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/jamee-basketball-is-my-sport.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/722015115675004518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/722015115675004518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/jamee-basketball-is-my-sport.html' title='Jamee ~ &quot;Basketball is MY Sport&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6931050879859571459</id><published>2008-12-02T12:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Alex ~ "Best Friends"</title><content type='html'>aanew school.  Suddenly, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind.  My dad said encouragingly, “Just get in there, Sweetie!”  He gave me a push, and I stumbled  into the room. It felt dark and scary, as if there were a thousand little eyes staring at me. Then, I saw the beautiful, exciting eyes and the warm, welcoming smile that changed my life forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard, “Come sit next to me.” I dashed over to the empty seat next to my soon-to-be best friend. Her name was Nina, and her eyes sparkled like the stars that shine above. Her hair was a beautiful chocolate brown. I could have sworn she was my angle sent from Heaven. Whenever I was around her, she made me feel like the sun that warms me on a cold day. When we started talking, we could not be stopped.  We talked the whole day, including during the lessons; unfortunately, we got in a little trouble for that one. The teacher told us, “You should talk at recess, not in class!”  It was embarrassing. I quietly chuckled and got back to work. &lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the bell rang, and we walked onto the brightly colored sidewalk. I notice a face...a face of pure evil.  Her hair was like deadly rattlesnakes, and her eyes were like blood-sucking leeches. Fear struck me like a lightning bolt. She stomped by where we were standing; danger squeezed my stomach and warned me to be careful.  As the bully walked by, I was relived she hadn’t stopped. She mumbled a few words under her breath as she passed.  I wasn’t sure, but I knew I didn’t want to find out.  Nina said, “It’s OK!  We didn’t want to be her friend anyway.”&lt;br /&gt;I  would spend much of that year avoiding the bully.  Nina would spend much of the year comforting me.  Her friendship assured me there was hope. I’ve always been secure and independent, but Nina helped me realize I can’t live alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6931050879859571459?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6931050879859571459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/alex-best-friends.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6931050879859571459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6931050879859571459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/alex-best-friends.html' title='Alex ~ &quot;Best Friends&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7330265802720661933</id><published>2008-12-02T12:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Nicole ~ "Moved"</title><content type='html'>Moved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I was nothing but confused when my dad explained he was considering moving us to a newer and smaller house. I stared blankly as my mind raced with uncertainty.&lt;br /&gt; He’s joking! I thought at first. But as my mom and dad discussed it more and more, it became a serious matter. &lt;br /&gt; “Up in Moose,” my dad would say. I’d be bursting with questions, but I didn’t know which one to start with. “Moving to a new house will bring us closer to work, but Danielle and you transferred to a new school,” they would say.  I was eight, and my sister was twelve.&lt;br /&gt; I’m fine where we are NOW! I would think repeatedly. My sister, Danielle didn’t want to move any more than I did. Then when I least expected, all the warm and friendly memories of the house invited themselves into my brain and wouldn’t come out. &lt;br /&gt; Tickle Monster was a game my dad, Danielle and I would play when I was about four. We’d scamper throughout the house, giggling and dodging the Tickle Monster (my dad). Holding shields and nets (pillows and blankets), we would search , trying to capture him, but he was out of sight. Popping out at us from what seemed like nowhere, he would tickle us until we squealed and burst with laughter. “Catch him! Catch him!” we’d scream.&lt;br /&gt; When reality returned, the sensational memories slowly drifted away. Or was I abandoning these memories for a new house? Sure, the house we were living in was a manmade shelter, but my family and I transformed it into a house of joy, flooded with our fondest memories. From my first day of kindergarten, to my first loose tooth.  What would happen to the memories if we left? Could we make the new house just as fun, or would living there be a disaster?&lt;br /&gt; The next few months, we’d visit the new house every two to three weeks. Danielle and I slid on the hard wood floor in our socks. We didn’t have hardwood floors in the house we were living in. To my surprise, I was actually excited. We inspected all the rooms, finally reaching the one placed at the end of the hallway. &lt;br /&gt; “This is going to be your room,” my mom announced to me. It took one glance for me to fall in love. Sunshine tore through the windows and reflected of the floors, illuminating the dull walls I was eager to paint. I still wasn’t ready for moving into a new house, and I really didn’t want to go to the Kelly school. I was at Moran Elementary, and it seemed as if I belonged there. I loved how I seemed so important, because I was in second grade. My friends from Moran knew all about the move, and they were just as sad. My best friend handed gave me a going away card.&lt;br /&gt; “Switching to Kelly won’t be fun at all,”  Danielle and I would always whine. We heard students there were rude and self-centered, and we believed it. Our mom and dad cared and listened to what we had to say, but also didn’t mind. The move was after all more convenient for my parents because it was closer to their work.&lt;br /&gt; Each visit got more and more serious. From the sliding on the floors to moving in or wooden furniture. My family and I were actually moving to Moose, and I still couldn’t believe it. &lt;br /&gt; After five months of talking, we moved. Just like that. We were new to the neighborhood, receiving occasional cupcakes or brownies. ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ or ‘We’re delighted to have you here’, neighbors would say as they handed over treats. My mom accepted them gratefully.&lt;br /&gt; Danielle and I didn’t want to start Kelly school. We would complain “Nobody’s friendly there.” &lt;br /&gt;Our parents would respond as if our complaints were nothing. “Oh, it’ll be fine.” They were trying to be convincing. &lt;br /&gt;They don’t understand, and no, it won’t be fine.  Saying that it would just wasn’t good enough. I wanted to hear “Oh, you don’t have to go to Kelly.” But two weeks later, we had our first day of school at Kelly. Just like that. A huge part in my life was beginning right before my eyes, I wanted it to slow down. I was on my first bus ride to Kelly... tension building. My insides were flipping, and my mind was racing with negative thoughts. They’ll all be mean. Negative. The teachers will be really strict. Negative. The kids will think we‘re weird. The school will be too big. It won’t be fun at all. Negative, negative, negative. Once we arrived, my thoughts multiplied. I was strolled uncomfortably next to Danielle, wondering if she was panicking too. My eyes were flitting over the school, which surprisingly was about the same size as Moran. I began to understand the murmur.  “Who are they?” and “Look, new kids!” There were cheery kids and casual-looking teachers.  We, on the other hand, probably didn’t look casual or relaxed. &lt;br /&gt;People were kind to me throughout the day, and I enjoyed it. From beginning to end, Kelly was fine. Just like our new house. Sometimes I look through family photo albums catch a glimpse of the old house, and then I mourn it. &lt;br /&gt;We went back a year later to go on a hike and stopped in to visit the neighborhood. Nobody lived in our house, so we got the keys from an other park ranger, went inside,  and had a look around. Sauntering into my old room, I saw the nail polish stain on the floor. On the wall I saw the dent I made during a tantrum when I threw my plastic pony at the wall. I giggled. I was actually okay with not living there. My family and I already had moved into the new house, and there was no turning back. Why would we even want to? We  were finally settled in and everything had turned out better than I expected. The move taught me an important lesson: think positive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7330265802720661933?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7330265802720661933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/nicole-moved.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7330265802720661933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7330265802720661933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/nicole-moved.html' title='Nicole ~ &quot;Moved&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6205643065915725974</id><published>2008-12-02T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:56.297-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Award Winning Stories'/><title type='text'>Adam ~ "Nathaniel"</title><content type='html'>Nathaniel&lt;br /&gt; My family and I burst through the doors of the synagogue, and walked down the aisle to a row of empty seats. The synagogue's huge bulk swallowed me into a world of stained glass windows and wooden pews. Outside, the tall oak trees stood defiantly in the breeze and whispered heavy heartedly among themselves. Tears graced the eyes of many mourners and red eyes hinted at ones already shed. I had already let my grief flow through my tears. I wondered how such a beautiful place came of such sorrow.&lt;br /&gt; My thoughts were interrupted by the rabbi as the service began, "A moment of silence to remember the recently deceased Nathaniel Silberberg..." I couldn't stop the flow of salty tears seeping into my eyes this time. I quietly wept for the great-grandfather I had barely known.&lt;br /&gt; The services ended and I realized I had been absorbed in my own thoughts. Everyone filed down the rows to glance at Nathaniel's physical form, though his laughter and merry spirit had died on his lips. I gazed into his electric blue eyes, as clear in death as in life.&lt;br /&gt; Within minutes, my family and I climbed into a rented Land Rover. As my father drove away, I stared back  towards were my beloved father of my grandfather now lay. Still staring in that direction, I fell into the world of memories, a realm of dreams.&lt;br /&gt; As I toddled by our apartment's sitting  room , Nathaniel's voice echoed wheezily throughout the halls. "Adam, how was school today?" and as I came into view, “ Where did you get that haircut?”&lt;br /&gt; When I appeared over the threshold he beckoned me fondly with a wave like that of a New Yorker hailing their favorite taxicab driver. “Come sit by me, and tell me about your day.”&lt;br /&gt; I alighted upon the burgundy colored, velvet couch and spoke in the unsure voice of a two year old, “Nothin’ happened at school today, an’ I got my haircut at the butcher’s.” Nat roared with laughter at the reply he had taught me, a circus trainer with their star seal. I snuggled up beside him...&lt;br /&gt; The scene changed, nobody was beside me. I walked down a cobble paved street, with the limp and cane of an old man. I turned left into the alley as it started to rain. The steel lamp’s shivering light slightly warmed the corpse of my body. I turned a right toward a door with a seemingly out of place bronze door knocker and address plate. Death101. Instinct made me place my hand on the door knocker. I knocked. A face shrouded in the darkness of a hood opened the door. His white knuckles and bony fingers clutching a t the door frame. Primal thoughts forced me to stagger over the doorstep and into the dark sitting room. I held my bony frame by the meager heat of the weak fire. A blur of silver flashed towards me, caressing me...&lt;br /&gt;  My eyelids fluttered open. I was inside the car, entering Manhattan, home of the past four generations of my family. Except us. I felt a strange calm settling over me, like a mist. Slowly and deliberately I spoke, “I’ve realized that death is inevitable, and while loved ones fade, their memory lives on.” My father looked back, and smiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6205643065915725974?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6205643065915725974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/adam-nathaniel.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6205643065915725974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6205643065915725974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/adam-nathaniel.html' title='Adam ~ &quot;Nathaniel&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-5414026676361950682</id><published>2008-12-02T12:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Heather ~ "The Day of 9/11"</title><content type='html'>Yep, I was 5 years old. Sitting in my living room on a Tuesday morning around 11:00 am, I was at home sick. My dad was sitting on our couch and I was in a huge bundle of blankets on our big blue chair. I was pretending that it was my chair and my chair ONLY, so I was busy naming it Big Blue while drinking some warm milk. Dad watched the news every morning, so it wasn’t unusual or new to me that I wasn’t able to watch my morning shows like Barney or the Teletubbies. Then, my dad screamed out in shock. His eyes and reaction caught my attention. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He quickly turned up the volume and that was the beginning of a new surprising story. Right away I knew that my dad was surprised by something because his scream was no ordinary scream. I jumped out of Big Blue (my chair) and into his lap like I had jumped straight from a trampoline. Once I was in his lap I stared into the TV with just like he was, but I didn’t understand what was going on. I watched the TV intently trying to understand. I always asked my dad why he would watch Fox News every morning, and every time he had the same response, “So I have an update to know what is going on in the world we live in.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;It was a bright and beautiful morning in New York City, and most people were either on their morning jog, heading to work or going to school. People had no idea what was coming their way. &lt;br /&gt;Not too many airplanes that came shooting through that area, so when they heard the plane, most of the people there were thinking, “What the heck is going on?” I know I was. All of a sudden, that insufferable moment. Hundreds even thousands easily say that they heard the “crash heard around the world,” but these who heard the roaring noise, their lives changed forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;When daddy was trying to explain it to me, he took one look at me and he knew that I was confused. Then I asked him, “Daddy, what is wrong?” He didn’t move for a while, but then it was like I squeezed it out of him. He replied out of nowhere, “Honey, these two towers called the Twin Towers had been hit by two airplanes...” I didn’t think that he finish the rest because his eyes were glued to the t.v. Just from looking at his face, I could tell that fear was wrapped around his heart, not ready to let go.&lt;br /&gt; All I said was, ”What? Daddy???” I felt like he was talking to me in a whole different language. I remember those exact words, I kept asking and asking him. Some how, I quickly caught onto the whole subject. &lt;br /&gt; As I have gotten older, I now know more about them. Now when I hear a loud boom, I suddenly think about the Twin Towers now called Ground Zero or something else people had thought of. I am now 11 years old and I am in the 6th grade. So I am always interested in learning more about that day, the families that had lost someone, or those who had their hearts broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The World Trade Centers were penetrated! Citizens of the U.S. were devastated, they had disbelief and they started to loose faith and trust in the way they thought about other people. Soon, New York City was a mess. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; After the horrible incident happened, thousands got together and really started to think about the airport security, and wanted some rules to change. Once America got their wish and started to have things how they wanted, everyone knew that the crash had happened and that people were still in pain. Sooner or later, everything would be O.K. I am still trying to figure out why Osama bin Ladin would do something like that to an innocent country. &lt;br /&gt;I believe that the next time something like that happens, America will redeem our confidence and not only try to be better, but we could change the world for a lifetime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-5414026676361950682?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/5414026676361950682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/heather-day-of-911.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5414026676361950682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5414026676361950682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/heather-day-of-911.html' title='Heather ~ &quot;The Day of 9/11&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1656503860237084346</id><published>2008-12-02T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.548-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Kinzel ~ "A String Lake Summer Day"</title><content type='html'>Today is the day!  This is the day I will learn how to kayak!  I will have fun, I just know I will.   This is what I kept telling myself, but I was only trying to hide my fear! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I was sitting on the ground next to String Lake when my dad’s voice broke into my spaced out existence.  “Get in!” he yelled. &lt;br /&gt; “Oh...Yeah...Sure.” I hopped into my kayak and snapped my life jacket shut. We were going kayaking. &lt;br /&gt; “Ready?” mom asked.  &lt;br /&gt; “Me?  Sure,” I responded. Before I could even blink, I was floating in my kayak for the first time! I felt so good inside!  I knew I could do it on my own. It felt like I won the lottery!&lt;br /&gt; I started playing around with my balance.  I leaned to the left.  I leaned to the right.  It felt weird, like I was going to fall in.  It was scary, but I was good at balancing.  I had not fallen in...yet.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Anika, my friend, finally got out onto the water with me.  “Kinz, let’s go!” she hollered to me.&lt;br /&gt;  “Ok! Coming!” I yelled back. &lt;br /&gt; “What I meant is, I will meet you at the lilly pads,” Anika responded.&lt;br /&gt; “I will meet you there!” I shouted. I decided to stop and rest a while. Thinking about my new fun sport, I realized everything was wonderful. Clouds, as puffy as fluffy marshmallows, danced in the sky. The Tetons were bold, bright, and shining in the sun.  And, my kayak with its neon orange made everything look brighter. The water pretty  turquoise that calls out to me “come on in, the water is great, swim with me!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The the first thing I realized when I looked down was that I was alone. At first I was scared.  What will I do if something happens?  I Watched the fish playing, sand swirling, plants dancing, and twigs swimming up and down all below me!!!   I took a deep breath and continued paddling to Anika.  “Left, right, left, right, left,” I said to myself. &lt;br /&gt; When I got to the lilly pads, Anika showed me some tips. The first tip she gave me was how to hold the paddle in the right position.  I was holding it like a canoe paddle.  I was supposed to have one hand turned under and the other turned over.  It felt very awkward.  She gave me another tip for adjusting my foot pedals.  “Grab the handles and pull up and toward you.  Push it down then when you are ready to adjust them.”  It worked.  I brought them closer to me so it was easier to control the kayak.  She is still my best coach!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; After my lessons, we focused on the lilly pads.  Their bottoms were slimy and gross, but they begged them to reach out and touched them. “YUCKY!”  I said. then their voices blasted our ears! ”hey we are not yucky, don’t touch me!” they called to us    We started laughing for no reason! Then I heard screaming, and all I said was, “Uh oh ........................” It turned out  to be  just my mom yelling out to us.&lt;br /&gt; “KINZ!  ANIKA!  IT’S TIME FOR LUNCH! COME ON!” &lt;br /&gt; So I paddled over, jumped out of my kayak, and grabbed my lunch.  As I opened it, I sarcastically said, “Oh goodie!” I hopped up and grabbed my life jacket so I could sit on it, but, instead, into the water I fell. I’d fallen into the freezing, cold water! the water was my friend he wouldn't hurt me! until, the annoying voice interrupted my thoughts with laughter, “ha ha i got ya, swish swish swish!” i jumped up “WOW!  That’s cold!” I screamed.  Good thing I was wearing my swimming suit! It was the coldest way to end my first kayaking experience.&lt;br /&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KAYAKING&lt;br /&gt;Kayaking&lt;br /&gt;Always wear sunscreen&lt;br /&gt;“Yippee!” you scream after jumping in the water&lt;br /&gt;Always bring a life jacket&lt;br /&gt;Kayak with your friends&lt;br /&gt;In the water, your boat floats&lt;br /&gt;Next to your friends you paddle&lt;br /&gt;Go, paddle faster and faster until your gone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1656503860237084346?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1656503860237084346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/kinzel-string-lake-summer-day.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1656503860237084346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1656503860237084346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/kinzel-string-lake-summer-day.html' title='Kinzel ~ &quot;A String Lake Summer Day&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-2019958081678858687</id><published>2008-12-02T12:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:24:08.548-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Tanner ~ "Flashback"</title><content type='html'>My Flashback&lt;br /&gt;By Tanner Coffman&lt;br /&gt;I was 7 yrs. old when I got my first sparkling silver, gear-shifting bike. The next morning, I went for a ride.&lt;br /&gt; While I was riding with my friend Carter, and we were talking about multi-player online games when suddenly I hit a small green car. When I slammed into the car.  Instantly, I let go of the handlebars. The pain arrived. It was like a bee rapidly stinging me, laughing every time. I said, “Ow!” &lt;br /&gt; I didn’t exactly know what was going on, but I knew I was flying through the air. I blacked out when I hit a trash can head first. Then, pain started throwing punches, and didn’t stop.&lt;br /&gt;  The grouchy, dirty looking owner of the car stumbled out and started yelling at me, “ YOU DENTED MY CAR, YOU LITTLE BRAT! I’M CALLING THE POLICE!” I was terrified that I hoped back on my bike and rode out of there faster than a cheetah. When I got home, I was really still scared. I sprinted to my room, slammed the door shut, and locked myself inside. I stayed in there all day. Then around 6:00, my mom shouted, “Tanner it’s time for dinner!” My head was still aching, but I came out. It took me a second realized that the police had not arrived.&lt;br /&gt; I went to the dinner table. Right when I sat down, she asked, “So, did you do anything interesting today?”&lt;br /&gt; “No,” I answered, ignoring the pain and pretending nothing out of the ordinary had happened.&lt;br /&gt;  I still didn’t understand why that guy cared more about his car than a child getting hurt, and I don’t think I’ll be figuring that out soon.&lt;br /&gt;     END&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-2019958081678858687?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/2019958081678858687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/tanner-flashback.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2019958081678858687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2019958081678858687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/tanner-flashback.html' title='Tanner ~ &quot;Flashback&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1063955469154574941</id><published>2008-12-02T12:02:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:52.231-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>SEAN ~ "MRI"</title><content type='html'>The MRI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading The Phantom Tollbooth in the waiting &lt;br /&gt;room before my MRI.  I was totally out of this world, lost in a magical wonderland.  My dangerous journey to save the world from peril was reaching the end, when my mom asked, “Hey, Sean ready for your MRI?” &lt;br /&gt; “Yeah,” I said, while I was really thinking BE QUIET. I wanted to stay engulfed in my book. &lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, the doctor with his white coat and stethoscope meandered in, saw my book, and said,“ If any kid can read before an MRI, he can do it awake.” Oh my gosh, this saying just continued my bravery line. The start was when the doctor diagnosed me with a rare kind of cancer the needles the surgeries it was all part of a line of bravery that would continue my whole life.  Still I was left thinking what’s going to happen? Is it going to hurt? What are my parents thinking? I am so scared. All this rushed through my mind as the doctor left the room.&lt;br /&gt;He left the room to tell the nurse to get me ready. Wondering what that meant she came in stuck an I.V. in my arm. Then she laid me on a board in front of the giant machine. It looked like I was a delicacy being served to a giant, white, monster. After an eternity, the nurse finished wrapping giant belts around me. she asked me one final question, “What kind of music would you like?” &lt;br /&gt; “Rock and roll,” I said. So she put some headphones on me and left the room to go to her control center. I was stuck in a bare, quiet, ugly room. Suddenly the giant machine starts moaning and sucking me into what seemed like a vortex of nothingness. My mind started to scream and quake in fear. It was like a boxing match. It was me against the machine and I was on the ground, in tears but wasn’t knocked out. The stupid machine couldn’t knock me out because I wouldn’t let him.  As the machine slowed and came to a halt, my rock and roll music started to play. It would have been pretty relaxing had I not been stuck in the middle of a man eating MRI machine. Finally, as I was relaxing with the rock and roll music soothing my nerves, when the nurse’s voice suddenly blared into my headphones and asks, “Okay, Sean, ready for your first set of pictures?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In that moment, I was like, what are you talking about? I thought she was taking pictures this whole time! But before I could finish pondering this question, a horrible noise erupted from the machine.   Now, as a 6 year old, I was starting to believe this evil, horrid machine actually was trying to eat me. As soon as this thought, came fear returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stood taunting me, a demonic aura surrounded him. His eyes were a fiery red and his heart was ice cold.  I tried and tried again to hit him or just brush him away yet the belts restrained me. After what seemed like an eternity of torture, the machine ceased to moan. As soon as it ceased, fear vanished into nothing. I sat their relived. Relived fear had left, I was alone once again. Again the headphones explode on and the nurse’s voice hollered “Sorry, Sean, you moved on the set of pictures. We are going to have to retake them.” I was so angry I could have screamed what are you talking about you said I had to lay here; you didn’t say anything about doing it frozen. Instead I realized that the dreadful machine was going to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The machine aroused moaning, the sound shattered my eardrums yet fear couldn’t penetrate me because I had music. I tried to focus on my music but couldn’t. It was like it wasn’t there. Wait a minute it wasn’t my music wasn’t there! Those stupid pranksters I thought while anger engulfed me. I waited still until the pictures were taken to ask the nurse, “Why aren’t you playing my music.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; She replied in a sassy tone “I am! What the heck are you talking about?”   Then and there I heard a very faint guitar solo entering into my ears. After straining to listen for a couple of seconds, my brain activated and said to me in a little squeaky voice “This machine is blocking out your music.” So as I sat there bored out of my mind I recalled the time passed and dreadful things this disease has made me do. First the dreaded needles every month I was in the I.V. room with a bag of liquids of who knows what. Second the surgeries I would ride in my little wagon to go to the surgeries Who would have known this will continue until I was seven and beyond.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1063955469154574941?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1063955469154574941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/sean-mri.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1063955469154574941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1063955469154574941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/sean-mri.html' title='SEAN ~ &quot;MRI&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3400732831848652342</id><published>2008-12-02T12:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:52.231-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Hailey ~ "When my house almost burned down"</title><content type='html'>In the fall of 2005, I learned to  never litter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  One day when I was in third grade, I was riding the bus to the library where my mom said she would pick me and bring me home for the day. On the ride, I saw a black snake of smoke slithering off the hill where I live. Fear bit me in the back; it stomped on my feet and kicked me until I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Even then, it did not stop. I thought to myself, what is on fire?  What is going on?  What is happening to my house?  Is it on fire?  Where will I live?   I couldn’t wait to arrive at the library and ask my mom.&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the library, I waited until 4:10.  I was petrified sitting on the rick outside because it was ten minutes after my mom promised one of them would pick me up.  I worried that my home was burning down. So I began calling my mom and dad; I had to use the stinky public phone because I did not have a cell phone.  They were not answering.  All I heard was the recording of their voice taunting me. Then I really started to worry. Fear bit me again but this time harder. I sat in the couch mortified. After five minutes, I tried to call my mom again. She did not answer. Then I to called my dad.  When I heard his voice, happiness gave me a big, warm hug.   I blurted out all my questions at once, “What happened to Mom? The pets?” I was screaming in a very panicked voice.&lt;br /&gt;  “Hailey!  Hailey, relax!!  Nothing happened to mom, the pets, or the house.  The only thing that got burned was the hillside.  It was close to our house, though,” he said calmly.&lt;br /&gt; “What happened?” I asked calming down.&lt;br /&gt; “There was a fire on the hill, but it didn’t get any houses.  I will come pick you up,” he said with a definite voice.&lt;br /&gt; “OK!” I said strangely relieved.&lt;br /&gt; When my dad got to the library, I was so delighted to see him I could have screamed, but I was so scared that I was numb.  The ride home was quiet except for the humming of the engine.  It felt like forever, but we finally drove up to my hill.  There were two big fire trucks and one noisy helicopter overhead disposing life saving buckets of water and then racing off to get more.   We watched them until they put the fire completely out.&lt;br /&gt; When the fire was out, we wondered what started the fire in the first place. My dad said jokingly, “Maybe a deer was cold!  Maybe he started a fire to get warm, but he did not build a fire pit!”  &lt;br /&gt;We laughed!  “Ya, sure, Dad,” I said.&lt;br /&gt;  We never found out what caused the fire that almost burned down the neighborhood.  We probably never will find out, but my mom and I think it was a cigarette.  The fire started from the bike path and spread up the hill.  That is how I learned to never litter…or smoke&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3400732831848652342?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3400732831848652342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/hailey-when-my-house-almost-burned-down.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3400732831848652342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3400732831848652342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/hailey-when-my-house-almost-burned-down.html' title='Hailey ~ &quot;When my house almost burned down&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-5952466131575835788</id><published>2008-12-02T12:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:52.231-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Dylan ~ "Kayaking Chaos"</title><content type='html'>Kayaking Chaos &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; As I bounced over the last wave, I gasped. There was Kings a giant rapid in the Snake River. I remember trying to go left in my cramped kayak, but the current was too strong. I had one thought before I felt cold water rushing up my back. “Will I make it?”&lt;br /&gt; I was in the summer Kayak Club; it was amazingly fun. The greatness of it hung on to me and swallowed me up like nothing else was happening that summer. This trip we were going down a section in the Snake River. We were going to start at the end of the Hoback River and end at a bridge in the Snake River. I pulled my kayak’s bow, the front of the boat, down a steep hill, towards the river. It felt like it was pushing me. I thought, Why does this kayak have to be so heavy?  Then, I squished into my kayak.&lt;br /&gt; “I won’t be surprised if all of you flip today,” my coach chuckled in an exited tone. Right then I panicked, it felt like my kayak was to small for me. What had I gotten my self into. (I thought about the time I signed up.)&lt;br /&gt; “Do you want to do Kayak Club this summer?” my dad had asked.&lt;br /&gt; “Yeah,” I shouted in a positive tone.&lt;br /&gt; “Okay,” he said. When he was signing me up, I went around playing in kayaks imagining what it would be like in Kayak Club. Never did I imagine flipping into a roaring river.&lt;br /&gt;   We lowered our boats into the water. Everyone was exited, but if I looked closely, I could see fear in their eyes. We floated off into the river full of rapids. Even as we floated over small rapids, my panic grew because I had never flipped before. The water was very cold. We all had little conversations like, “That wave was swirly,” or, “That wave was fun.” We kept talking like that, especially me, because it helped me keep my fears away. We finally got to the rapid called Kings.&lt;br /&gt; My instructor yelled, “Keep to the left,” but I couldn’t. The current was very strong. I noticed he was trying to follow me. He wanted me to get out of the rapids. It was pulling me to the right. It was amazingly powerful. After a while, I gave up. I still paddled in fear of flipping. The waves were like wallowing elk because they were very rolly. I stopped paddling over the next wave. I was scared. I felt like crying. Before me was a big five foot swirling wave. It would take a miracle to make it though. I tried to go to the left one more time, but it was already to late. Fear rumbled towards me with a menacing roar. It taunted me and chuckled with hatred. I knew I wouldn’t make it. The kid in front of me flipped. Oh No! I had a bigger chance of flipping. The wave was breaking every second. I felt helpless, as if being attacked by a lion. I felt myself in breathing air then under water the water. All of a sudden, I breathed in air again. It took me a while to realize I had done a backflip, one eighty. I was stunned. I didn’t drown! I dropped behind a big yellowish rock into an eddie with my friends. They clapped and cheered to me. They thought that I was going to die. (Sooner or later they started being normal again. They didn’t cheer much any more.) This didn’t stop me from bragging. &lt;br /&gt; “I just did a backflip!” announced.&lt;br /&gt; The other kid that flipped said, “I did one too.” That was totally true but the rest of the group said, “You flipped over as soon as you were up.” I had such a high adrenaline rush on the way back I felt like a person that had fallen in a frozen pond. I had so much pride that I could have been a millionaire.&lt;br /&gt; After that experience, I realized miracles can happen. They’ve happened to me more than once. Before flipping in a kayak I didn’t believe in them but if you don’t then you’re wrong. They’re a big part of life. It’s not just planning that your life runs by, it’s also luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-5952466131575835788?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/5952466131575835788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/dylan-kayaking-chaos.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5952466131575835788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/5952466131575835788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/dylan-kayaking-chaos.html' title='Dylan ~ &quot;Kayaking Chaos&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-8445098688572993292</id><published>2008-12-02T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.403-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Justin ~ "BVI's"</title><content type='html'>It was a beautiful, humid night in the British Virgin Islands. Dark blue, cloud free skies made it ideal for lounging outside. I was laying on the trampoline on the front of the 48 ft long Catamaran we rented complete with a great captain and fabulous cook. We had just eaten a fantastic dinner. We could chose steak or fish with mashed potatoes and gravy; for some odd reason everyone chose fish. Well, let me explain:  it was fresh fish that we caught and cooked just minutes before. After dinner, we had a lot of left over steak. &lt;br /&gt; “I have a surprise for you,’’  said captain Michael. &lt;br /&gt; I was really nervous he was going to tell us to go in the water, like we had last night.  It was dark and creepy, and I was sure something from the depths would come out and bite me.  We went straight to the bow. “Are we going to go sit in the front sail?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt; His wife, who was also our cook, turned on the flood lights lighting up a vast amount of water. At this point I had exhausted all my ideas. The lit up water looked like a hole to heaven.  It was a perfectly round bright circle with a dark halo surrounding it.  Michael took the steak off the plate and chucked it all in the calm water.  It looked like a big mud ball until it hit the water. The steak split up into hundreds of smaller pieces and the water instantly looked like a  bucket of brown paint was just pored in. In a few seconds, small fish were cautiously coming toward their treat.  Once they got closer, they would dart forward and grab a piece, and then dart back into the dark halo.  They got to feast on a few bites before the bigger fish came. &lt;br /&gt; “Wow that was really fast!” I exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt; “Not really...Fish cover this whole ocean; you’d be surprised.” As soon as the bigger fish appeared out of the surrounding darkness, the smaller fish faded into the shadows. Some not so satisfied...or smart... fish, such as a few gold fish, were still eating when the barracuda came. Unfortunately, those few gold fish were eaten.&lt;br /&gt; We felt bad, but I finally said, “That’s what happens when you’re at the bottom of the food chain. My brother and I started laughing. I saw some big barracudas swimming in the rim of light. I could see the reflection of their gigantic, sharp, white teeth. I had never been REALLY afraid of going in the ocean at night. I had done it the night before. But now I’ve got to be honest, I'm completely terrified of the ocean now. &lt;br /&gt; More and more fish varying from dollar-sized to baseball-bat-sized came for dinner.  However, it seemed as if they were eating each other more than the steak. Almost every kind of fish in the book were darting in and out of the surrounding darkness to feast on anything they can get their teeth into. The only fish that we didn't see was the biggest fish in the book... the tarpon. It was long and blue-silver in color. &lt;br /&gt;  After five minutes of watching all the same fish i thought i had seen all the fish that would come join the brawl. So i got up and stared toward the stern of the boat. Then a high pitched shriek tore through the silent night. Panic rising in me I turned to see my mom skidding backwards, landing softly on the trampoline. I rushed forward to look see what frightened my mom. I looked over the edge to see a group giant fish... barracuda’s!&lt;br /&gt; “They’re HUGE” i gasped. “And there going so... slow?” i was confused. “How come they’re so big and move so slow” I asked.&lt;br /&gt; “actually they can swim up to 45 mph” said  Michael in his “matter-o-fact voice.”&lt;br /&gt; “What! thats as fast as we can drive on Highway 22 in Jackson Hole!&lt;br /&gt; “Yea its impressive” said Michael. I wanted to see how fast they could accelerate so i went to the stern of the boat. And if you have no clue of what bow, stern, starboard and port is than pay attention to the following sentence cause it might help you a little. Starboard is the right side of the boat and port is obviously the left. I wanted to see how fast they could accelerate so i went too my cabin too get one of the rocks that i collected earlier. my plan was too drop it in the water near the fish. When I gave it too Michael he dropped it in and like a flash of lightning they were gone. When everyone got over the spectacular event i finely i gathered up enough courage too break the silence and said&lt;br /&gt;“they should be called the underwater cheetahs.” that name apparently stuck because thats what we called them for the rest of the trip. That night was the most astonishing and educational night of that night of that year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                      By~Justin Harris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-8445098688572993292?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/8445098688572993292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/justin-bvis.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8445098688572993292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8445098688572993292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/justin-bvis.html' title='Justin ~ &quot;BVI&apos;s&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7524551645816900922</id><published>2008-12-02T11:58:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.403-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Tenzing ~ "Winning State"</title><content type='html'>Winning State&lt;br /&gt;By~ Tenzing Coburn&lt;br /&gt;All Wyoming hockey teams try as hard as they can to win state. The Jackson Hole Moose had somehow won all 22 games from November to March before the championship game in Rock Springs, Wyoming. After finding out we were going to play the Casper Oilers, our worst rival, we remembered how we had lost every game to them by at least five goals.  &lt;br /&gt; In the locker room we sat motionless, all of us had loads of butterflies in our stomachs. We skated out on the ice; the fans were screaming with excitement.  The roar of the crowd chased some of the butterflies away!  We take a look at our opponents.  They were huge, the smallest guy was at least five feet tall. After our warm up, our coach gathered us in and said, ‘’Ok guys, we made it this far. We’ve worked all this time; now let’s win and finish the season with glory! This is the last game of the season, so work as hard as you can possibly can!’’&lt;br /&gt;My stomach cramped up again. My heart was racing a trillion miles per hour, and I was already dripping in sweat and the game hadn’t even started yet! The buzzer rang for the beginning of the first period. Casper skated onto the ice in red and black jerseys; they just as nervous. The puck is dropped.Casper gained immediate possession and there was shot after shot. For the whole period our goalie was amazing, he did everything to try stop the puck from rolling over the line. He stopped everything except one-shot, top shelf. The period ended 1-0 Casper. The coach was not disappointed at all, and screaming over the roaring crowd he told us, ‘’You guys are playing great, but you can push yourselves to play amazing!”&lt;br /&gt; The buzzer rang 5 minutes after that for the beginning of the period. Even though we were behind, we knew that if we pushed ourselves, we could come back and win! The ref skated up and dropped the puck. Finally, we won a faceoff. Nothing happened that period except the puck rolling back and forth between both teams until with 15 minutes left we got a shot at the net. ‘’Goal!!!!’’ The fans went insane, except the Casper fans who ended up booing us after we tied it up 1-1. Again the buzzer rang. Our coach yelled excitedly, ” We have one more period to show them who we are!’’ We put our hands in and screamed ‘’1,2,3 Jackson’’. We return to the game 1-1 the crowed up in there seats watching very carfully. The puck is dropped. We the face off again with huge momentum we came in on the goalie and shoot Ding!!!! Off the post. Casper picked it up in our zone they pass it back and forth and then finally a Casper kid winds up and rips the puck in the back of the net. Goal really disappointed we lost an opportunity of winning every one on and of the ice dripping with sweat and panting just how dogs would as if they were dying for water. Ten minutes left we are racing down the ice then shoot Goal! We tie it up 2-2. Again another fantastic goal. Quickly another one 4-2, Jackson the Casper fans eyes drooped down from us gaining the lead. We all knew we could still lose. This was by far the most difficult time in my life shot after shot, the crowd screaming up in there seats the clock racing down 10,9,8…. Yes! The buzzer rings. We slide on the slippery ice raising our hands with triumphant glory.&lt;br /&gt; Music blasted the shimmering trophy was awaiting us. &lt;br /&gt;I Could just imagine feeling the soft smooth trophy in my grasp. I always remembered watching T.V seeing the Stanley cup getting passed around by the players who showed the NHL who they were.  My dream is to be in the in the glory winning the cup.  Every time we win, my dreams creep closer, moving slowly toward me until they come true. I took a quick glance at our opponents water welling up in there eyes then I remembered its not about winning its having fun. We were motioned to the trophy every one burst out and hugged and kissed it. We lifted it up with happiness. That day we triumphed over the toughest team in Wyoming. The whole year are coach worked us like slaves which actually payed off later. After the game, I was sitting in the locker with every one chanting with excitement in the locker room. Thinking to my self.‘‘ I guess hard work actually pays off’’.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7524551645816900922?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7524551645816900922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/tenzing-winning-state.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7524551645816900922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7524551645816900922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/tenzing-winning-state.html' title='Tenzing ~ &quot;Winning State&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-2933449593173490445</id><published>2008-12-02T11:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Cassie ~ "Cancer"</title><content type='html'>Cancer isn’t what it seems. When I found out a old friend of my family had cancer, my stomach cramped on the spot I felt sick and couldn’t breath. Daniel was diagnosed with lung cancer two days ago. My mom said in a slow, sad voice, “Cassie, the doctors are only giving him two months to live.” It was very hard to hear. That day Cancer came into my life and brought with him his friends Pain and Misery. They were bullies and I was the victim. Cancer made me feel like life was not worth living if you were going to get sick and pass on.&lt;br /&gt; Three months later, one month past the date the doctors has said he would die, Daniel  was eating his breakfast at Bubba’s.  He was just going in for a cat scan the next morning and so was having a nice breakfast the day before.  Suddenly, a lady in a long coat sluggishly came up and said, “You’re the one.” Daniel not knowing who she was was as friendly as ever.  She asked if she could pray for him.  She then asked, “Are you right or left handed?’ He was so astound at was happing answered all of her questions without hesitation. She moved to the right side of his booth and said another prayer, Then she left him alone with his breakfast.  He started to laugh to himself, “What a crackpot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The very next day he had his cat scan.  Strangely, he felt confident.  He felt that his antibiotics was working and he was getting better.  The news, though, surprised him.  “There is NO CANCER! his doctor said with an incredulous voice still looking at Daniel like he shouldn’t be here. He was astound and stunned he said he was speechless  I could feel his joy.&lt;br /&gt; Now Daniel is in Virginia and calls often although he has his lung cancer is back,he is as happy as ever. As we continue to pray for him, his health is not getting any better but with a little luck and hope it will. Now I understand how horrible cancer is and what it can do to your body.&lt;br /&gt;     By~Cassie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-2933449593173490445?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/2933449593173490445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/cassie-cancer.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2933449593173490445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2933449593173490445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/cassie-cancer.html' title='Cassie ~ &quot;Cancer&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-2234566000276555697</id><published>2008-12-02T11:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Anna ~ "The Perfect Day"</title><content type='html'>The Perfect Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By ~Anna Bowdler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Last winter, Mackenzie and I were racing down the mountain from the top of the Gondola. My dad yelled up to us, “Do you girls want to go down the trail or through the trees?”  That day he taught my friend and I how to dive downhill.&lt;br /&gt; The sky was crystal clear. It was beautiful! The sun was sparkling, and the snow was as white as I had ever seen it. Simultaneously, we yelled, “Trees!!!” So we skied through the trees laughing, and at some points screaming, all the way down to the bottom of Thunder. At that point, we continued going straight down the mountain.&lt;br /&gt; At a small clearing, Dad told Mackenzie and me, “Since you girls have improved, you will be able to go down harder runs this year, and you will need to be able to get out of any situation. So I’ll show you how!” He then explained to us that all we had to do was jump head first down the hill, land on our backs, and then swing our legs downward. Obviously, we tried it!&lt;br /&gt; For the next ten minutes, we dove downhill. Each time excitement ran up to me, pushed me down, and sent me into a fit of hysterical laughter. &lt;br /&gt; Later in the day, we skied down Rendezvous Bowl.  We were coming down a steep section of the run and MacKenzie and I were having problems. My dad’s solution, “Do what we just learned!”&lt;br /&gt; As I watched MacKenzie dive, I thought back through my entire life. I don’t think I have ever seen my dad have problems on the ski hill unless he wanted to show me how to do something. Then again, he had been a ski race coach at Snow King for twenty YEARS!!&lt;br /&gt; Back in reality, it was my turn to jump. I’ll admit it; I was a little bit scared.  It was definitely a steeper hill, and the ground was much harder and packed in. Help me!!!! I thought, a silent plea. However, I knew I was stuck. For another, MacKenzie had just done it and she was fine! I had no choice. Fear gripped my heart as I closed my eyes and dove. In an instant, I on my back and swinging my legs over my body. I stood up and realized I was O.K!!!  Then I skied on down the hill in the direction of my friend and personal coach.&lt;br /&gt; You can tell when you’ve had a perfect day, a day you never forget. That day was a perfect example for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-2234566000276555697?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/2234566000276555697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/anna-perfect-day.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2234566000276555697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2234566000276555697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/anna-perfect-day.html' title='Anna ~ &quot;The Perfect Day&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-2168150404860692480</id><published>2008-12-02T11:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Caitlin ~ "Creamies"</title><content type='html'>Creamies&lt;br /&gt;By: Caitlin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; *Before you read this, Creamies are popsicles that are ice cream. So they’re ice cream in the shape of a popsicle. Got it?*&lt;br /&gt; “Ah!” Our screams leapt into the air and shattered the world’s glassy, pure silence. We pushed open the door leading into the garage. The tall, plastic Oak tree that was waiting to be taken to Browse and Buy was knocked off balance by the door. It almost plunged down onto our bodies with enough force to squash us to our deaths. I imagined ending up in the hospital for months and months, with nurses watching me day and night and my body covered in casts.  This was not my idea of the best way to spend my summer. &lt;br /&gt; Instead of tragedy, Sadie and I hastily scampered out into the yard.  Both of my hands gripped my pink, strawberry Creamie; I couldn’t let go. My knuckles turned white, and my hands started to freeze because of the icy wrapper that sheltered the Creamie. Sadie and I made it outside just before we heard the tree slam down onto the garage floor.  “Wow! That was a close call. Act normal when Mom finds that mess!” We were glad the car didn’t get smashed or we would have been dead.&lt;br /&gt; We bounded over to the trampoline. All of a sudden, I felt myself fly up into the air.  My whole body smashed down onto the tramp, and I looked up.  Sadie’s face was bright red and her mouth released laughter.  “Gosh, Caitie!” she managed to say, slipping each word between loud and happy laughter. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that I had tripped.  Then we started to jump up and down, releasing our wishes and let them float away into the universe.&lt;br /&gt; The night before appeared again, and darkness closed in around me and I saw Sadie and I laying in the two big and brown love sacs in the basement. The shiver of cold crawled up my spine. A fuzzy baby blue blanket lay on me and stretched across the room. It was 1:00 in the morning and we just had finished our movie.&lt;br /&gt; “Caitie, If you had four wishes, what would they be?” Sadie had asked.&lt;br /&gt; “A dance studio, world peace, two huge wall size dry erase whiteboards with mountains of expo on the shelf below and...” my voice trailed off into the night. “Nine hundred more wishes. What would you wish for?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt; “I would wish for nine hundred more wishes, too summer all of the time, a maid for my room, and Tara to let us sleep in her room,” Sadie replied. After a long time of silence, Sadie’s voice fractured the quiet. “I might not be able to dance in the morning.”&lt;br /&gt;  I sat up, “Why not?” I asked confused.&lt;br /&gt; Sadie sat up too and said, “My neck already has cramps.” Laughter jumped from our mouths. Then, we heard steps coming down the stairs. &lt;br /&gt; “Hurry! Pretend to be asleep.” Sadie barely spoke. Mom came in and we totally fooled her. Our eyes were closed and our mouths were hiding under the blanket to muffle our laughter. She left and we slithered out of the blankets still giggling. The red clock numbers read 1:10. It was pitch black outside. Slowly our eyes began to really close. &lt;br /&gt;   *   *   *   *   *&lt;br /&gt; The afternoon sun came back and shone in my eyes. After a billion jumps, we sat down. My eyes darted over to the creamies resting on the blue step stool, and my mouth began to water. My small and quick fingers rapidly opened the creamie’s wrapper and tried to shove them into our special spot under the mat. The ice shield had melted off the wrapper from sitting in the sun creating water spots on the tramp where it fell.&lt;br /&gt; “Hide them!” I squealed. Our hands together plunged under the trampoline mat and released the crinkled plastic wrapper. &lt;br /&gt; “Mom’s looking!” Sadie yelped. Two eyes peered of the two small kitchen windows.&lt;br /&gt; “What are you girls doing?” Mom asked.&lt;br /&gt; “Nothing,” we yelled, “Just laying on the tramp.”  Quickly, we began to gulp down the soft pink creamie. Black and small dots moved around on the side of the house. Our eyes shot up and watched millions of ants creep everywhere on the side of the house. As we slurped, we watched the ants. Slowly we were hypnotized into staring at the insects and sucking the pink popsicles we held. &lt;br /&gt; “Dumb ants. They’ve gone the same way like seven times! Where are they even trying to go?” Sadie asked. Plop! Creamie dripped down our face and onto the green grass leaving two pink eyes on the Earth’s surface.&lt;br /&gt; “They’re probably going to Paris.” I said.&lt;br /&gt; “They’d better hurry if they want to get there by daylight. But I’d rather be there at night to see the Eiffel tower all lit up. I want to do that before I die. You should come with me!” Sadie dreamed.&lt;br /&gt; “You pay for everything!” I replied. Creamie stick tops poke up, barely visible through the pink gush.&lt;br /&gt; Being friends with Sadie causes the unexpected.  She allows me to be funny, goofy, and silly.  Funny words spill from my mouth, tingling my teeth when I am with her.  Silliness leaps into my brain and messes with my body until I am doing crazy dance moves.  And goofiness crawls into my legs, making me dance in new and bizarre ways. This only happens when I’m with Sadie.&lt;br /&gt; Ants still looped on the side of the house trying to find the secret passage to Paris.  Quickly, we were at the middle of the creamie popsicle. Our eyes were still hypnotized into looking at the ants. Minutes later, the last bits of creamie that were on the stick minutes ago, were slurped up and into our mouths and down our throats. Sadie and I sat up and traded sticks, reading each other’s because that is what they always did. Usually the stick says, Why not, have another creamie. Not this time. It said, Life is great. Have another creamie. We gave each other’s sticks back. Together, we hopped off the tramp and walked inside to get another. Avoiding the garage as much as possible.&lt;br /&gt;*   *   *   *   *   *&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, Kate walked over to the stereo as the music started. The class danced smoothly and together to the loud music. Swirling and jumping. Twirling and swinging. After the dance, Sadie waltzed over to me.  “Caitie, my back hurts...,” she whispered. We laughed but got back to dancing.  Laughter stayed in my head and friendship hugged my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship is a big hug that wraps around your heart and never releases unless something bad or sad happens to you. Then it’s hands let go and friendship floats on. Scheduling new friend appointments for you, she’s like your own private secretary. Everyone calls her an angel because that’s what she is. Her short black hair waves down to her shoulders and small brown freckles spot her white face. She is funny, fun and spunky. Happy, ocean-blue eyes and her pink-lipped smile pulls you in and makes you want to be her best and favorite friend. But you already know she likes you the best. Have you met her yet? She already knows you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tall Oak tree falls,&lt;br /&gt;I  accsidentaly trip and &lt;br /&gt;Sadie laughs. Our wishes&lt;br /&gt;float away into the hot and&lt;br /&gt;humid summer afternoon air.&lt;br /&gt;Jumping and jumping. My mouth&lt;br /&gt;wants a creamie. Quickly hiding &lt;br /&gt;the crinkled wrappers in our spot.&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to have mom find our&lt;br /&gt;stash of wrappers.Mom talks &lt;br /&gt;and we try not to respon. Ants&lt;br /&gt;emerge from nowhere and try&lt;br /&gt;to find a secret passage to &lt;br /&gt;Paris. Located in a hole in &lt;br /&gt;the side of our house.Funny, &lt;br /&gt;Goofy and Silly take a visit &lt;br /&gt;with you. Then Sadie and I&lt;br /&gt;read each other’s sticks.&lt;br /&gt;Suprised by what they&lt;br /&gt;say. We go inside and&lt;br /&gt;get another Creamie. &lt;br /&gt;Sadie and I go to dance&lt;br /&gt;and her back hurts. We&lt;br /&gt;can’t help but laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Friendship and Angel&lt;br /&gt;come to meet you.&lt;br /&gt;Then&lt;br /&gt;you&lt;br /&gt;read &lt;br /&gt;this&lt;br /&gt;poem&lt;br /&gt;Life’s&lt;br /&gt;great,&lt;br /&gt;have&lt;br /&gt;another.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-2168150404860692480?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/2168150404860692480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/caitlin-creamies.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2168150404860692480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2168150404860692480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/caitlin-creamies.html' title='Caitlin ~ &quot;Creamies&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-2101548329214776071</id><published>2008-12-02T07:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Cassie - "My First Luau"</title><content type='html'>My first Luau!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ring, Ding, Dong!  The extraordinary bell rang through my small little ears, announcing my freedom. “You’re dismissed you little rascals,” muttered the exhausted preschool teacher.  In my excitement, I grabbed my reading books but desperately dropped them.  This wasn’t just a regular Monday night there was something different to do tonight.  This was going to be the best night of my life!  I couldn’t wait to be out of the school building.  Like a pronghorn, I dashed down the hall pretending I was being chased. Suddenly, a door that was as big as a dinosaur blocked my escape. I pushed the door to open it, but it didn’t move.  I tried again; it still wouldn’t open. I tried one more time.  &lt;br /&gt;“Arggg!” I grumbled.  At last, the big door finally opened.  I felt like the strongest four-year-old in town.&lt;br /&gt;Finally free of the Riverton Wyoming preschool building, I stomped my feet on the grass. I slammed the door shut and sniffed the air.  It was good to be out of school.   Excited, I ran like a tiger souring through the willows chasing my prey. Minutes later, I looked back to find my older brother Chandler.  He thought he ruled the school and so he thinks he can do whatever he wants in and out of the school. He was just coming out of the scary huge door. He irritated me because I had told him to be on time.  He never leaves school on time; so I stammered and yelled, “Hurry!  Hurry up!” &lt;br /&gt;Chandler angrily yelled back,  “I’m coming!  Don’t rush me!” &lt;br /&gt;As he caught up to me, I whispered, “Shhh.”  I wanted to hear the music that the DJ was playing.  Jamie’s my best friend and her party was about to begin.&lt;br /&gt;He looked terribly puzzled when I told him to be quite. We were getting closer to the party I just know it. “ BOOM, snap, flash, cazam” we got there at last.&lt;br /&gt;We stopped, looked around.  The decorations were amazing.   “Wow!” I said, bewildered. I felt like I was in Hawaiian heaven, which would be a cool type of heaven. What I saw was a big stage, little grass houses that we could eat and sit in, sand, and so I saw many amazing prizes we could win after the spectacular games. This I knew was going to be the best day ever. After a drink or two of apple juice, we looked to the side and saw other people coming through the fence. &lt;br /&gt;The cool Hawaiian DJ was from Hawaii but came to do this for Jamie because he’s the uncle. He got on stage and said “Lets get started, to get going we need a nice young lady to come up here and do something for us.” &lt;br /&gt;Suddenly my courageous brother shoved me into the bright spotlight, it burned my eyes. As I heard him say, “go on you can do it.” &lt;br /&gt;I felt frightened because I didn’t know what I was going to do, until the DJ gave me a grass skirt and a pink flower for my hair. I put the clothing on and stood on stage. He went to his Cd case and stuck a CD in. It started, and he yelled, “Dance girl dance.”&lt;br /&gt;The song he was playing was from the album Margarita Ville. I had to do what I had to do. So I started to dance and felt so weird when I was Hula dancing. So I got used to dancing like that and felt better. The music had to stop sometime and so I stopped that’s when I had a flashback, It was hot in the afternoon at the California beach and I was dancing with my dad, When I was a little girl and I didn’t know what I was doing and that’s how I knew I could dance. So I flickered and snapped out of it and walked off stage. Many people went after me to dance. Then the DJ said&lt;br /&gt;“We have a winner” ever body really wanted to know who it was going to be, “and that winner is, Cassandra Campbell.” &lt;br /&gt;I got so happy and carried off on to the stage. When I got up there, there was a giant stuffed animal as a panda bear. No one told me there was a prize and it was a contest. &lt;br /&gt;I paused “is that for me” the entire crowd nodded their head yes. I sprang up to my prize and took it like a robber. When I was walking down the stairs I looked at the time “wow” it was 9:00pm and the party started at 5:00pm, and then my brother and me saw my mom waiting in the car. I howled goodbye and left with a big smile and a happy sunshiny face.&lt;br /&gt;~Cassandra&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-2101548329214776071?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/2101548329214776071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/cassie-my-first-luau.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2101548329214776071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2101548329214776071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/cassie-my-first-luau.html' title='Cassie - &quot;My First Luau&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-807281713137240966</id><published>2008-12-02T07:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Taylor - "Kim with Mud"</title><content type='html'>Kim with Mud!!!&lt;br /&gt;We approached the puddle. The loud roaring from the four wheelers had stopped because Kim, my loving stepmom, had shut off her machine to speak to dad and me.  I sat behind my dad, hugging him to stay on! But it is hard to hang on when he stands up! Especially when we go up a hill! Bugs, my four-wheeler, had to stay at home because of his flat tire. You could now hear the birds singing their favorite song and the wind whistling through the lovely mountains of Idaho. I have never been here before! And I never knew that Idaho was just across the road! &lt;br /&gt;“Can I do it? Please!” Kim whispered, staring at the enormous mud puddle.  Her short and soft pigtails and bright blue four-wheeler seemed to scream, “Not the mud puddle! No!”  She obviously ignored their opinions. &lt;br /&gt; I couldn’t believe she wanted to do that! I can remember how shiny and beautiful the four-wheelers were when we got them!  All that was now going to change! &lt;br /&gt; Dad nodded his head and said, “That’s my girl” He snatched Sammy, my one year old sister, off the back of Kim’s machine and said, “Go for it!” &lt;br /&gt;             Kim thrust on the gas. I was waiting to see her get dirty! Excitement slithered through the trees! A smile emerged from my mind onto my face! Suspense built as she got closer and closer to the mud! &lt;br /&gt;            Twigs cracked and rocks shuffled as she crawled over them, the tires were slowly turning. She was excited. I could tell by the way she was standing up and the way she would look back at us, her knees locked and her smile big. When I looked into her eyes, I could read her excited, anxious thoughts. &lt;br /&gt;            “Woo Hoo!” she screamed as she hit the puddle like a punching bag! &lt;br /&gt;            “Go Kim!” I yelled from dad’s four-wheeler.&lt;br /&gt;           “You can do it, honey!” dad yelled. He smiled at me and asked, “Are you having a great time or what?” &lt;br /&gt;           “No!” I said sarcastically, ”Of course I am, Dad!”&lt;br /&gt;           Kim had disappeared in the trees. Her laugh echoed throughout the landscape! When she stormed out of the trees, her face was brown and drippy.  Surprisingly, the chocolate covered blueberry headed for the puddle once again! Little dimples appeared, and fourteen teeth glistened!  &lt;br /&gt;           The puddle caught Kim like she was falling off a thousand foot cliff.  It seemed as if it cared for her, loved her. Millions of Aspens surrounded us like we were in a stadium in the wild and they were enjoying the show as well. &lt;br /&gt;           She smashed into the puddle and mud splashed all over her once again! Droplets of the chocolaty brown liquid flew everywhere like little airplanes.  The Aspens were no longer green and you could no longer see Kim’s eyes through her goggles!  The dust from the dirt trail was still soaring in the bright, blue sky.&lt;br /&gt;           Mud smothered her four-wheeler. She gradually drove back to us and screamed “That…was…sooooo much…FUN!!!!” Never had I seen her so dirty and joyful at the same time!!! Now, it was my turn to ride through the wonderful pool of… MUD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By~ Taylor Seghetti&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-807281713137240966?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/807281713137240966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/taylor-kim-with-mud.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/807281713137240966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/807281713137240966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/taylor-kim-with-mud.html' title='Taylor - &quot;Kim with Mud&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1699367189720004967</id><published>2008-12-02T07:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Danicia - "The Beach"</title><content type='html'>The Beach&lt;br /&gt;  It was a normal day in the morning when I heard my aunt and grandparents calling my name, “Lizeth!”&lt;br /&gt; “What?” I answered. &lt;br /&gt;“Come here,” they said. First, when they called me all together, I thought I was in trouble.  They sounded mad. But when I ran into the room, they all yelled at once, “We are going to the beach!”&lt;br /&gt;“Why are we going to the beach?” I asked. &lt;br /&gt;There was a long silence.  It was kind of creepy, but then my grandparents said, “We are going to meet your dad, Sweetie.” &lt;br /&gt;I was really excited because I didn’t even know my dad. He was in the United States working hard so he could buy me clothes, toys and, send money for the family. I always wondered about my dad. What did he look like?  Did he love me?  Would he be fun to play with?  Why did he have to go?  Would we ever be a family?  In my five years, I had never known him. Excited and nervous, I packed for our vacation. When I stepped out of the car I felt a warm air come toward my face, hot brown sand under my feet, the blue fresh water, and a ton of people playing different games and building castles beside the blue salty ocean. The strong, blue waves breaking toward the big sand castles. In the ocean were a lot of children playing with their parents, splashing the water everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I saw a tall man. At first I thought he was going to help us with our bags, but then I heard my aunt say, “That’s your dad, Sweetheart.”&lt;br /&gt;“Really?” I asked. Right at that moment I felt like my heart was going to jump off my chest and run away from me. My dad look just like me he was tall, skinny, and handsome.&lt;br /&gt; I ran toward him and hugged him as hard as I could. At that moment I knew that was the best day of my life.&lt;br /&gt;By: Danicia Quezada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1699367189720004967?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1699367189720004967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/danicia-beach.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1699367189720004967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1699367189720004967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/danicia-beach.html' title='Danicia - &quot;The Beach&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-4628812684821716909</id><published>2008-12-02T07:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Tomi - "The Most Unlikely Travels at the Age of 8"</title><content type='html'>The most unlikely travels at an age of eight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I looked back and saw a trail chopped through the thick underbrush. I looked forward and saw a car. I realized that we were going to crash if we kept on speeding toward each other. My heart was beating as fast as a drummer who has drank endless amounts of coffee. An ear piercing noise woke me out of my trance as I ran over the car. When I saw shredded bits of steel, I was relieved.  I had expected to crash and burn.  &lt;br /&gt;     “Whew,” I stuttered. My heartbeat was returning to the normal rate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I slid off the beast when I looked back and saw a giant coming closer and closer. Every muscle in my body was screaming at me to run, but fear slinked down through my legs like weights. I was starting to become woozy when in the corner of my eye I saw the giant waving at me. &lt;br /&gt;     “You must be crazy if you think I’m coming closer!” I yelled at the giant. &lt;br /&gt;     The giant replied back saying “Good job Tomi, but I’m afraid you have to tell your brother that you ran over and shredded your brother's car.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~By: Tomi ~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-4628812684821716909?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/4628812684821716909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/tomi-most-unlikely-travels-at-age-of-8.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4628812684821716909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4628812684821716909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/tomi-most-unlikely-travels-at-age-of-8.html' title='Tomi - &quot;The Most Unlikely Travels at the Age of 8&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6496447699891581002</id><published>2008-12-02T07:00:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Columbia - "The Swirly Twirly Water Slide</title><content type='html'>THE SWIRLY TWIRLY WATER SLIDE&lt;br /&gt;As we were going up what seemed like a million flights of stairs, a bright blue Texan sky above, made me feel joyful. I was on the biggest water slide I had ever seen. My whole body was jumping with happiness. &lt;br /&gt;“Yay!” I shouted. Finally, we had made it to the top. “One more person to go,” I said to my brother Tug. “Then it will be our turn.” &lt;br /&gt;We jumped into the tube where we waited and waited.  I felt anxious and nervous. Then, I got a little bored. It seemed like hours, but surely it was only minutes. Finally, it was our turn to go. Was I ready? &lt;br /&gt;We went into a little dip, then there was a blast of water pressure that shot Tug and I like a bullet. The water was so strong. There was no turning back. We flew up the steep hill while shouting, “AWWW!” It made me feel like I was going to fly into the sky. “Are we going to fall out?” I asked Tug, fear in my voice. &lt;br /&gt;“No, of course not.” To keep us safe, there was a giant cage holding us in the tube. It was promising, “I will keep you safe – just have fun!”&lt;br /&gt;At the top I could see how far we were going to go down. We went so fast; the water splashed on our faces.  “Burr!” I yelled, “It’s freezing!” It was like swimming in the freezing lake at Freemont when I was five. &lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden we were zooming into the bottom of the deep blue pool. Excitement wanted to pull me out and force me up the stairway.&lt;br /&gt;“Did you have fun?” Tug exclaimed&lt;br /&gt; “Yes!” I assured him.&lt;br /&gt;“Want to go again?” he replied.&lt;br /&gt; “Of course!” I explained as we darted to the giant stairs.&lt;br /&gt; By ~ Columbia Eiden&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6496447699891581002?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6496447699891581002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/columbia-swirly-twirly-water-slide.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6496447699891581002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6496447699891581002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/columbia-swirly-twirly-water-slide.html' title='Columbia - &quot;The Swirly Twirly Water Slide'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-8453227717017899952</id><published>2008-12-02T07:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Jose - "The Last Ride"</title><content type='html'>THE LAST RIDE&lt;br /&gt;                                                                             &lt;br /&gt; The time finally came when I would go with my uncle motorcycle riding. I was so excited that I ran all around the house. My uncle finally came to pick me up, and I rushed to the car before he stopped. My uncle asked, “Are you ready?” &lt;br /&gt; I told him, “Yes!” We were on the way to where thousands of people ride motorcycles in Idaho Falls. I imagined myself four-wheeling on a motorcycle the entire ride.  I imagined all the rumbling noises, the dusty road, the muddy puddles, and winning every race.  I was going to be awesome. &lt;br /&gt; Unfortunately, we were lost. There were different places to ride, but we were going to the best place of all.  But we had never been there before, and we didn’t know where it was.   I felt that we were going in circles.  My uncle was driving fast and the road was bumpy.   I started to feel dizzy.  I felt like I was in a space simulation, going in circles very fast.  Suddenly I yelled, “Stop the car!” I rushed out the car and puked!   I thing it was the ice cream I was eating on the way that made me so sick. My vomit was brown with little red dots and it was gooey!   I decided not to eat in the car on the way to Idaho Falls ever again. &lt;br /&gt; That was when I heard the rumbling noises of the motorcycle motors. We followed the noise and found the place. It looked so cool, just how I had imagined in my head.  There was dust in the road, but a lot more puddles than I imagined.  The rumbling noises, VROOM, were the same.  My uncle said, “ You like this place?” &lt;br /&gt; I responded, “It’s so cool!”&lt;br /&gt;  When it was my turn to ride alone I was so excited. I didn’t know how to ride; it was my first time. I got on the motorcycle; the seat felt so comfortable I didn’t want to get off.   My uncle yelled to me, “Go slow!” &lt;br /&gt; I couldn’t hear him because of the motor.  I went as fast as a bullet.  I crashed into a big green bush.  I flew into a little puddle, and finally, the most horrible thing happened, I crashed into another motorcycle.  I jumped super high into the sky.  It felt like someone was pushing me very hard.  I flew about five feet.   That wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was when I hurt my knee.  It felt like a dog biting me with big, yellow teeth.  It felt like nails were being pounded into my leg because the rocks I landed on were sharp. My knee started to bleed, leaving blood on the rocks. My uncle rushed to me to put something  on my knee. I was in pane but not that much, I had an accident but the good part is that I steel had lots of fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-8453227717017899952?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/8453227717017899952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/jose-last-ride.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8453227717017899952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8453227717017899952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/jose-last-ride.html' title='Jose - &quot;The Last Ride&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-2285836100980813744</id><published>2008-12-02T06:58:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Clay - "The First Day"</title><content type='html'>The first day that I can remember...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        My head shot off the pillow as fast as my muscles could take it. Bad move. My head hit the bunk above me. That low bunk had gotten me once again. I felt the throbbing pain as I wobbled into the living room, to calm myself with a toy car. Being only three, that little plastic model of a corvette calmed my nerves. I ran it in to the wall as fast as I could.&lt;br /&gt; “Morning,” my mom called from the kitchen. A pancake flipped through the air and back into the pan as she spoke. Still woozy, my only reply was a disgruntled moan. She chuckled, “Hit your head again?” &lt;br /&gt; I nodded&lt;br /&gt;        Right then there was a knock on the door. I sprinted for it, opened it, and saw my grandma and grandpa! This ordinary day got a little more exciting! In Grandpa’s hand was a little white ball of puff. No… it was a puppy! It was Shag, their West Highland White Terrier. He wasn’t a new puppy, maybe three or four years old. I knew at that moment that my day was changing. &lt;br /&gt;        Grandpa broke the greetings with “Hey! Well, we just figured we’d stop by and say that since you’re with our dog more than we are, we want you to have him.”  I hadn’t been alive the last time we’d had a dog, so I was ecstatic.&lt;br /&gt;        “Well, thank you, grandpa!” My mom took the dog and his leash, saying no more then that. I don’t think she saw this coming.&lt;br /&gt;         My grandparents were often on trips, and every time they went away, we took care of their dog, Shag. &lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day was spent with grandma and grandpa. And our new dog, of course. Grandma and grandpa told my mom all about the kind of food to get him and that his bad stomach meant no food from our table.  “He needs this food, get the puppy size bites for another year and…” that went on while I played with Shag. He nibbled at me until I picked him up and ran him around in my arms. &lt;br /&gt;     “WEEE!” I exclaimed as I ran with him. His bark was still only the squeak of a puppy, but it was cute.  &lt;br /&gt;     “Hey, settle down!” snapped my mom. I stopped and put him down gently.&lt;br /&gt;     “Mom, how come I have put him down?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;     “Because it’s your bedtime,” she countered.&lt;br /&gt;     “Oh… right,” I went into my room, and Shag chased me in. It was “in bed by 8:30 or else” in my house, but time flies when you’re having fun. My mom wasn’t too thrilled about it, but Shag slept at the foot of my bed. &lt;br /&gt;I woke the next morning and hit the bunk again, waking Shag with my yelp.  Even though it started the same, today was going to be a lot different. I picked up Shag, who only weighed about 6 pounds, and carried him into the kitchen to put him by his new dog bowl. He sniffed the food and licked at it hungrily. It slid down his gullet after he chewed and he ran out the back door to our fenced in backyard. I was happy to see him enjoying himself. I was so overjoyed that I ran out into the backyard to sit on the swing. Every time I got near the ground he bit at my bare feet. It was warm out and the sun was shining on my back. It was great to be in that position at that time on that day. I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;     This feeling would persist for the next eight years.  The friendship of no two people could compare to that of my dog and me. It was bold and complicated, strong and fearless. It did not care how others felt about it. &lt;br /&gt;But when my dog died, and the sickness finally took its toll, it did not die with him! It waltzed around, clueless as to what to do. That friendship lives on to this day, the only memory remaining of my beloved pet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-2285836100980813744?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/2285836100980813744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/clay-first-day.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2285836100980813744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/2285836100980813744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/clay-first-day.html' title='Clay - &quot;The First Day&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1484003191359955242</id><published>2008-12-02T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:35.142-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Award Winning Stories'/><title type='text'>Julio - "Uruapan"</title><content type='html'>Uruapan &lt;br /&gt;As the smell of gasoline fills the air, the bland walls tell no story. The cobbled streets of the central square   are packed with people minding their own business and street marketers trying to make a living.&lt;br /&gt; People sit with melancholy waiting for a miracle.  Some people think that poverty is a sad, terrible thing but I see it as a good thing not because people are poor but because poverty is one who slowly and secretly brings people together. Aside from poverty it’s not all sad. People smile and laugh with the people at their side.&lt;br /&gt; There are also places to escape the crowded streets; you just have to find the empty ones that are filled with rich, inviting air. They are the peaceful ones, they are the ones that help you relax. These streets are not so rare, for they are everywhere.&lt;br /&gt; As days go by the memory fades. My heart sinks deeper and deeper into a pool of sadness due to our lack of visits.  Despite my parents fears over the economy and violence. My mind has frequent thoughts about going back and staying there.&lt;br /&gt;And me you ask? I’m full of different emotions, constant flash backs and dreams of what it would be like to go back to my hometown of Uruapan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  By Julio Vazquez&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1484003191359955242?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1484003191359955242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/julio-uruapan.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1484003191359955242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1484003191359955242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/julio-uruapan.html' title='Julio - &quot;Uruapan&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-933298027938165924</id><published>2008-12-02T06:57:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.406-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Kam - "Moroneso Family"</title><content type='html'>☺☹:| Moroneso Family☺☹:|&lt;br /&gt;When my mom called me, I asked, “What?” I dashed down the stairs yelling, “What?”&lt;br /&gt; She said in a soft voice, “Sit down.” &lt;br /&gt; I wondered what she wanted.  She was just sitting there taking deep breaths.  This was not normal.  I said, “What do you need?” I was feeling scared and worried because she just kept sitting there, staring at me.  Worry whispered about death.  I was sure my mom was going to tell me someone in our family had died.  Who could have died, I wondered.&lt;br /&gt; “You have another dad in South Carolina,” she finally blurted.  Hurriedly, she went on, “You also have another sister and two brothers.”&lt;br /&gt; I was so shocked. I had absolutely nothing to say because my seven-year-old mind couldn’t handle this news.  I blurted, “WHAT!” Shocked and confused, I sat there silently.  I stared so hard at the ground my head began to ache.  I ran to my room and laid on my bed.  Paralyzed, I didn’t know what to do.   My DAD is my stepdad? I realized. What does this mean about Josie?  Is she my STEP-sister?  This couldn’t be true.  &lt;br /&gt; Later, I felt like I couldn’t think about anything else but my “dad”.   I couldn’t think of anything else.  I was trapped in that one thought.  I felt like I was in jail.  &lt;br /&gt;After that week no one spoke about my dad.  Everyone was shocked and stuck in their own thoughts.  My mom did hook me up on e-mail with him. I was worried that he would have expectations about me that were unrealistic.  I was worried that he wouldn’t want to be in contact with me.  I was worried that he wouldn’t care about his son, the one he had never known.  In spite of this, I sent him e-mail almost every week. We shared about our weeks, and I asked him about my brothers and sisters. Every time my inbox held an email from him, worry would erupt.  I didn’t want him to write something I didn’t want to read.  &lt;br /&gt;Every once and a while I would get a phone call from him. When my mom would say, “Your dad wants to talk to you,” questions would fill my head.  The first time I heard his voice, it seemed unreal.  Imagine a voice you had never heard before being the voice of your father.  It took me a while to recognize this stranger’s voice as my father’s.  Often while talking to him, I heard my mom speaking in a way that I knew she didn’t want me to hear.  I wondered what was going on. It would take a long time to find out.&lt;br /&gt; Three years later, when I was 10 years old, my mom called me back down the stairs. On my way down I yelled, “What.” In my head I was thinking, “Dejavu!” I was thinking about the last time I had been called down these stairs to sit on the couch and have my mom spill the truth about my dad and siblings in South Carolina. &lt;br /&gt; She said, “This summer you’re going to see your dad in South Carolina by yourself.” Then I knew what my mom was keeping away from me. That day my life transformed once again.  I was finally going to meet the dad I had never known. &lt;br /&gt;BY: ~KAMERON MORONESO~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-933298027938165924?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/933298027938165924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/kam-moroneso-family.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/933298027938165924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/933298027938165924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/kam-moroneso-family.html' title='Kam - &quot;Moroneso Family&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7141592401192328629</id><published>2008-12-02T06:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:35.142-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Award Winning Stories'/><title type='text'>Paul - "What Cancer Teaches"</title><content type='html'>What Cancer Teaches&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What It was just another beautiful day in June- a normal day- a boring day. Until it happened; I was pulled into the house and to the living room and everybody was sitting down on the bulky couches and my mom was blabbing on about the tests the doctors had done on her. My brother yelled, “Cut to the chase, mom!” &lt;br /&gt;I was sitting on the couch waiting impatiently for her answer and then finally she said it, “I have a tumor. It might be cancer.”&lt;br /&gt;Right there my heart stopped. The world went into slow motion. Her sentence penetrated my reality.  I tried to fight it off, but instead tears welled up in my eyes, and they spilled down my cheeks.   Persistent tears ran down my face. We all sat on the couch and cried together. &lt;br /&gt;Before that sad and fearful day, I thought other families got the bad news.  Our family was invincible.   Now, I know that’s not the case.   I see my mom differently. She has been bald and tired all the time.  But she has also become my hero.   Despite her chemotherapy that gives her sorrow, nausea, and insomnia, she refuses to give up.   When other people stop their treatments early because they are so miserable, she decided to do more!  She has proven that cancer is limited.  She has proven she is invincible.&lt;br /&gt;And when cancer came, it brought me two new friends. They were Strength and Worry. Strength is a mystery. Sometimes he would be with me, but other times he would be far from sight. I really couldn’t count on him. The worst part is that when I needed him most he would be gone.  And Worry, well, Worry was a persistent guy. He would jab at me, and jab at me, talk to me, what ever he could do to make me not fall asleep.  And when I did sleep, he would always be whispering in my ear, “This could make your mom really sad… You should be worried too.”  &lt;br /&gt;After eighteen months, we are all very anxious to get the chemo done.  We are anxious for her hair to grow back.  We are anxious for her to start playing with my brother, Teague, and me again. Plus, once the chemo is over, normalcy will finally return to our lives. Normal is a lot better than I ever thought it could be. I will always feel appreciative when I am bored because bored means that I’m safe and nothing is wrong. Cancer teaches that.  &lt;br /&gt;By Paul C. Gudemann&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7141592401192328629?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7141592401192328629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/paul-what-cancer-teaches.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7141592401192328629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7141592401192328629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/paul-what-cancer-teaches.html' title='Paul - &quot;What Cancer Teaches&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-8989609897053259130</id><published>2008-12-02T06:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.406-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Anders - "My Rafting Trip"</title><content type='html'>My Rafting Trip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The water was the Devil, haunting me every second I was on the river. Fear shook my entire body as the Devil pulled me into the untamed waters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went white water rafting while I was at Wind River Ranch in Estes Park, Colorado.  It was a Christian Ranch that my family stayed at for a week.  I can remember my grandma sending an email inviting us to go.  My dad checks email every night and told us one night at bedtime.  “We are going on a trip with your cousins.”&lt;br /&gt;My sister freaked out!  “I can’t believe we get to go!  When are we leaving?”&lt;br /&gt;Dad laughed and said, “We are going in a week!”  I couldn’t sleep that night due to the excitement of what was to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whitewater rafting in class four rapids was more exciting than I could have ever dreamed.  After three hours, Ben, the guide, said, “We are getting to the end!  Here comes the last big rapid!” I was prepared and ready to go. Then it happened.  The raft spun.  We were coming in backwards. A huge rock rose out of the river, standing as tall as a giant.  It was called Highside Rock, and rafters had to push off of it to continue down the river. It was there that Jake and I fell out into the water. &lt;br /&gt;The water was cold.  I couldn’t breathe.  There was so much water.  Then, I hit the rock.  Blackness took over my body and shut down my senses.  I was knocked out in the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom roared, “WHERE is ANDERS?? WHERE is ANDERS???”  Panic took over.  Her voice was showing her fear.&lt;br /&gt;“There he is.  He is over there,” my dad said pointing at me floating unconscious in the water.  I was getting tossed around in the water. I looked like a rag doll.&lt;br /&gt;Mom relaxed a bit at the site of me.  “Get him in the boat!” she pleaded to the guide.  He jumped into the water and grabbed me.  He put me up onto the other raft and instructed them to pull me in before the next set of rapids.&lt;br /&gt; That’s when I regained consciousness.   I felt a big tug and realized Ben, was pulling me up into the raft. I was dizzy and really scared.  I was relieved to be out of the water.  Awestruck, my cousins said, “Are you OK?  That was awesome!”&lt;br /&gt;The best part of the day was that photographers covered every inch of the bank. The flashes almost blinded me. It felt like I was famous.  Picture after picture after picture showed my experience.  Pictures showed me falling into the water, getting tossed around, and finally getting rescued.  &lt;br /&gt;  When we finally finished the ride, my mom hugged me really tightly.  My dad patted me on the back; he thought it was really cool. While my cousins continued to play in the water, I watched from the safety of land.  Even though it was a trip I will never remember, I plan to stay on the safer side until the memory fades!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Anders Olson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-8989609897053259130?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/8989609897053259130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/anders-my-rafting-trip.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8989609897053259130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8989609897053259130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/anders-my-rafting-trip.html' title='Anders - &quot;My Rafting Trip&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1653151136752405009</id><published>2008-12-02T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.406-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Cameron - "Florida Story"</title><content type='html'>"Florida Story"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was dark. “BUMP” My eyes shot wide open. We had landed. I was so excited I almost jumped out of my seat, but luckily I didn’t. It was my first time to go to Florida, and I knew it was going to be the best time of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were getting off the plane, I looked out the door; the only thing I saw was the best spring brake of my life. “Wait” I just realized that it was even harder to breathe out hear then on the plane, I asked my dad and he explained, “It is more humid here then at home”. I said “wow that’s strange”. Then I went back to my thoughts. I could not wait to see our new house. I have only seen pictures of the house so I really wanted to see it for real. When we got out of the airport, we got a taxi and were driven to our storage area. When we got there. We got our car and boat then we drove for an hour to Everglades City. I loved looking out the car window and feeling the warm night air on my face compared to the Jackson Hole chill. When we got to Everglades city, it was around ten o’clock. We got out of the car and I was wondering where our house was. I asked my parents and they said, “It is on that island in the middle of the river”. I was so amazed by how cool it was, I could not speak. After we got onto the island, I saw that there was a circle of houses. In the middle there was a swimming pool. I could not believe it. It was like I could never imagine. The next morning I woke up. I jumped out of bed and quietly without waking my sister ran out the door, down the stairs, and onto the dock were my dad was fishing. When I got to my dad, I saw instantly in the water was a stingray. It jumped out of the water and then disappeared. I said to my dad, “did you see that? My dad said, “what?”&lt;br /&gt; “Nothing” I said. After my mom and sister woke up, we got into the boat and we went down the calm river. We got into the key and went to a little beach. We hung out there. When we left. It was getting late so we zoomed back to the house. On the last day of our awesome spring brake we went swimming in the pool on the island, we went fishing, we looked at alligators, and I swear I saw about eighty of them. Then we went to reptile place. I got to hold baby alligators and snakes. I even got to hold an anaconda. The baby alligators were very calm compared to the adult alligators. That surprised me. The next morning we packed up and went back home. On the plane I was very bummed, but I still thought about all the exciting things we experienced.&lt;br /&gt;   ~By: Cameron~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1653151136752405009?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1653151136752405009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/cameron-florida-story.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1653151136752405009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1653151136752405009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/cameron-florida-story.html' title='Cameron - &quot;Florida Story&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-4570396644443730942</id><published>2008-12-02T06:54:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Braxton - "You Should have Been There!"</title><content type='html'>You Should Have Been There&lt;br /&gt;By Braxton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we skipped up to get tickets for the Alpine Slide, we noticed there was no line! “I’ve never been here when there’s no line,” I shouted excitedly to my cousin Ethan.&lt;br /&gt; Running up to the stand, I thought back to the time when Ethan and I went to Disneyland, California together. I remember when we went on Space Mountain together, it was pitch black and not to mention the flashing lights all around us, and we were going rocket speed in the dark, which was awesome! Oh ya, that was the day.&lt;br /&gt;“Could you stop deciding and buy the tickets already,” my other cousin’s voices penetrated into my reminiscent mind.&lt;br /&gt; Finally, after many minutes of waiting, we got the tickets for the slide, not just one but two each! Sprinting down to the gate, my cousin and I were first from our family to get in line. We impatiently waited at the gate, until the guy manning it swung it open. We both thought, finally we get to go, as we leaped onto the footprints. Hitting the back of my knees, the chair forced me down onto the seat.  We began our ascent. &lt;br /&gt;We flew off the chair lift at the top. My cousin and I ran to our carts, grabbed them, galloped down to the slide, and sat down. Finally the attendant announced, “ You can go!” Both of us forced the throttle down.  My cousin and I began to hurtle down to the bottom.  It was a race, and we were neck and neck. I knew the straightaway was ahead, and I forced the throttle even further down. &lt;br /&gt;Speeding past my cousin, I yelled, “ See you at the finish line!” Then I soared off the drop, landing back on the track with a thud. Being so excited I forgot about my cousin, I glanced back at Ethan and I could tell he was gaining on me, and fast. &lt;br /&gt;Bending around the last stretch at full speed, excitement was rushing through my veins, grabbing at my mind, and screaming, “We’re going to win.” &lt;br /&gt;Buckling under the fast speeds of the carts, the snaking slide straightened out with a hiss.  I told myself, “There’s no way he’s going to beat me!” Totally ignoring the slow down sign.&lt;br /&gt; Crossing the finish line, I stopped, pulling back on the throttle as hard as I could. Getting out, I looked back for my cousin. He then crossed the finish line, but he forgot to brake and slammed into the tire. This caused him to jerk forward with his car in tow. The car then crashed back to the track.  Doubling over laughing we couldn’t contain our thoughts . . . or our laughter.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After the second run, our minds were full of the pleads the slide kept echoing, “One more run! Just one more.” &lt;br /&gt;Our anxious thoughts built up causing us to beg to our parents, knowing they were probably going to say no. We still questioned them anyway, “The slide is calling us!  Please Mom, just one more run!”  Usually my mom says yes, this time though was different.&lt;br /&gt; “Nope, sorry,” my mom declined.&lt;br /&gt; “Pretty please with a cherry on top,” we asked again.&lt;br /&gt; “I’ve already said no, and if you ask me again, you’ll never get to go again.” &lt;br /&gt; “Fine,” we sighed.&lt;br /&gt; Looking over at my grandma, I told my cousin, “Grandma’s even covering her mouth trying not to laugh.” (Because my grandma saw and video taped the whole thing.)&lt;br /&gt; “Ya,” he chuckled. &lt;br /&gt; “That was the best and funniest day two cousins could possibly have had together… other than Disneyland!” We both declared in unison.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-4570396644443730942?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/4570396644443730942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/braxton-you-should-have-been-there.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4570396644443730942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4570396644443730942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/braxton-you-should-have-been-there.html' title='Braxton - &quot;You Should have Been There!&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1138230909874514154</id><published>2008-12-02T06:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Claire - "Venizia"</title><content type='html'>Venezia&lt;br /&gt;By~ Claire Andrews&lt;br /&gt;So many questions tore at my mind.  Why were they there? Where did they come from? Was there a purpose to them?&lt;br /&gt; “Geez,” my best friend Emm blurted, interrupting my personnel thoughts, “these cobblestones are loud.”&lt;br /&gt; “Mmmhmm,” I muttered, returning my thoughts back to the vines that decorated the walls. A pungent smell wafted in the air.&lt;br /&gt; “Ugh!” Emma gagged, interrupting my thoughts once again. Iwas getting really anno was never going to stop interrupting me.   The smell was horrible, it was a mix of rotten eggs and, you don’t want to know what else.&lt;br /&gt; “Deal with it,” I shot back. “Can you get any more annoying, this smell is going to follow us the whole trip.”  &lt;br /&gt; “Fine,” she yelled, taking off and leaving me in the dust.&lt;br /&gt; “Wait for me,” I wailed, “You know I’m not a fast runner.” I ran for what seemed like forever. She knew that our parents wanted us to stick together; she knew perfectly well, I couldn’t believe it. Finally, the alley’s dark passage ran out and sunlight filled my eyes. I blinked a couple of times and realized Emma was standing next to me.  Her mouth was gaping open.&lt;br /&gt; “Ya know - there’s an easier way to catch flies,” I joked.&lt;br /&gt;She gave me a hard look.  She was pretty mad at me, I thought that was the last straw.&lt;br /&gt; “So,” I said trying to change the subject. &lt;br /&gt;She stuck her hand in my face as if trying to say, “Talk to the hand.” &lt;br /&gt;Then we just couldn’t take it anymore, we both started to giggle.  Soon it turned into booming laughter. We turned back to the square and only saw one thing.  “Pigeons!” we both screamed in unison. My feet were screaming, “come on, come on let’s go chase em, come on it’ll be fun.” My feet had persuaded me, so I spoke up.  &lt;br /&gt; “Let’s go chase em!” &lt;br /&gt; “You got it.” Emma replied her grin widening. We both took off running as fast as we could go, “Wahoo!” my feet screeched as I ran.  Pigeons scattered left and right, avoiding our thundering feet. We finally finished our run through the field of pigeons, we both looked at each other and giggled, “Wow, that was a ton of fun”&lt;br /&gt; “Tell me about it.” Emma added, I was sure here mouth was going to tear in half because she was smiling so hard. I giggled.&lt;br /&gt; “What?”&lt;br /&gt; “ Your mouth is to big for your face,” I said giggling.&lt;br /&gt; The fun along stayed with us through the whole trip but that was probably the best time we had the whole trip, that one memory is permanently branded into my mind so it is impossible to forget. But since that’s all that I have to say I’ll teach you a little bit of Italian so “Ciao.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1138230909874514154?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1138230909874514154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/claire-venizia.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1138230909874514154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1138230909874514154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/claire-venizia.html' title='Claire - &quot;Venizia&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6117165893370012845</id><published>2008-12-02T06:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Yesenia - "The Phone Call"</title><content type='html'>The Phone Call&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad passed away when I was five. The same night my mom remembers feeling something weird. She knew something was wrong. It was like someone was dying. I don’t know how she knew, but she was right. Someone was dying, and that someone was my dad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was in New York City while the rest of us were in Tlaxcala, Mexico.  Every night after work he would call us.  The telephone reminded me nightly that my dad cared about me and my family, loved me, and was still alive.  It was our only connection to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, however, was different.  The phone didn’t ring.  My mom started to worry about my dad.  Once she had returned from market, she kept asking us over and over if my dad had already called.  She called over to my aunt and uncle’s house to see if he had called there.  He hadn’t.  She started to panic, but reassuringly she said, “He’s OK.”  Everyone except Perla went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes my uncle called our house. My sister Perla was studying for a test she had the next day. The phone wouldn’t stop until we answered it. It was like it was screaming,  “Answer me!  Answer me! I have something that is going to change your life forever.”&lt;br /&gt; My mom woke up and yelled, “Who died? Who died?”  She was pounding on the wall.&lt;br /&gt; “Daddy died, Mom,” Perla yelled, crying.  She was screaming into the night, “Daaaddddyyy!”&lt;br /&gt; It was like the sky was falling. Laura, my other sister, and my brother Gonzalo ran to Perla’s room. “Who died?” Laura asked.&lt;br /&gt;“Your daddy,” mom answered.  My mom ran like the wind to my uncle’s house, no one could stop her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was died in New York City. He had came home from work, his last night on earth. After dinner, my dad went to bed. His sleeping had gotten really weird. My uncle went to dad’s room, and my dad had the blanket over his head. My uncle uncovered his head and there were bubbles pouring out of his mouth. No one knows why there were bubbles coming out of his mouth, not even the doctor. My dad had died.&lt;br /&gt;Before my dad left Mexico, he told my mom,  “When I die, I’m not going to be sick. I’m going to die because God wants me to. ” That is what happened.  My dad predicted his own death. By the time my mom came back, the whole house was full of people. After a few hours, a limo was at the front door. That limo had dad’s coffin inside. They took the coffin inside the house. &lt;br /&gt;My dad wasn’t too tall, and he was a little fat, but the best thing about him was that he was nice to everyone. He wasn’t just nice to me or my sisters, he was nice to everyone. Whenever any family member needed something, they would ask my dad. If he could give them what they needed he would give it. Every one liked him no one would say bad things about him because he was loved by so many people.&lt;br /&gt;When he died, everyone gave something to my mom as a symbol that they were sorry for us and they missed him very much. Perla, Laura, Gonzalo, and my mom gave my dad a kiss. My mom told me to give my dad a kiss, but I didn’t want to. Laura ask me, “Why won’t you kiss dad?” I didn’t know. Gonzalo, my brother, tell me, “You were to little. You were scared.” I think he is right. I was to little, I wish I could go back to the night and give my dad a kiss. Now, I’m 11 years old and I’m not scared to give a kiss to someone. That is because I learned that people who are dead are not in this world anymore. If you gave them a kiss they’re not going to come to life but if you do they will always have a special place in your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By~ Yesenia Rodriguez&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6117165893370012845?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6117165893370012845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/yesenia-phone-call.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6117165893370012845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6117165893370012845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/yesenia-phone-call.html' title='Yesenia - &quot;The Phone Call&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3542096054243752169</id><published>2008-12-02T06:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Sandra - "Teton Science School"</title><content type='html'>*Teton Science School*&lt;br /&gt;                             Sandra Tzompa- Sosa&lt;br /&gt;We had arrived after a long boring drive.  It had been thirty minutes of being on a school bus with nothing to do but sit.  It was a relief to be getting off of the bus and breathing fresh air. It had been along way, but we had finally arrived at the Teton Science School. &lt;br /&gt;My classmates and I started jumping in excitement knowing that we would be taking a two night, three day field trip to the outdoors. And the best part was that it was substituting for school.  We were going to learn and have fun at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;“Welcome to Teton Science School!” we heard a far out voice say.  It was Peppi; she was one of the helpers at T.S.S. As we came closer, she looked us in the eyes. And then she introduced herself and told us a little bit about herself .  After a couple of minutes, she said, “Let’s get you guys settled in.”&lt;br /&gt;Peppi was a lady who had orange hair that curled like twirls of flames. She would dress as if she were a ranger out in the forest. She wore black high boots that came up to her knees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; She might have crazy hair and boots that were big, yet she is she has a great personality. We walked on little pebbles that produced little crunches with each step. We arrived at the cabin. The cabin we would be where we would sleep in and socialize.  &lt;br /&gt;   The door said, “ZING” as Peppi opened it. Girls rushed in.  They split apart and ran their own ways, running and jumping like crazy grasshoppers! Looking for a bunk-bed that that wasn’t spoken with  personal items at the top of the bed. I was one of the girls with only no hurry. I didn’t really care if I got the top of a bed . Despite the fact that I was in no hurry I was one of the girls who got luck! I found a bed that was just screaming my name It was is as if it wanted me to clime up and lay on top of it. So I didn’t feel like taking any chances and did what my instincts told me. I blinked once and when I opened them again I had reached the top of the bed. I looked below me and saw my friends Darlene, Nancy, Ana- Laura, and Sarian gathered together. I looked above and then back down again I took one last look around the bed that I was going to be using for thoughts next days and the nights that I would be at Teton Science School. &lt;br /&gt;“Okay! First, you should never touch or go near a wild animal. Because they could hurt and you could get serious injured. You would have to be at least 100 yards. Julia said as she handed my classmate and I green back- packs that would be holding our thing that we would have to be caring like a water bottle, a little peace of rug, that would be sitting on if we got tired and even possibly a sweeter in case there was bad weather. &lt;br /&gt;They had divided us into six groups of eight.  As we took off on our first hike, the first stop was located in a little place that had a lot of Aspen trees. The first game they introduced us to kind of like hide and go seek. But more mature, of course.     &lt;br /&gt;When we were all done, we started playing this other game that we needed a partner.  Our partner would blindfold us and take us to a specific tree.  Then, they would take us back to where they had blindfolded us. Once we could see again, our goal was to figure out which tree our partner had taken us too.   I was able to do it!&lt;br /&gt;It had been a glorious day.  The seconds had turned to minutes and the minutes had turned to hours. The hours had gone by fast – too fast!&lt;br /&gt;Before I knew it, it was time to go back to the cabin. As we walked back we heard the sound of an owl and an elk. Strange noises far beyond trees were heard. I felt scared but also amazed to be in the wilderness.  We had finally arrived at the cabin. And all of us were jumping in excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The lights go out at nine thirty and you guys have to be sleeping by ten o’clock. We have to be awake early tomorrow morning - at eight,” said our teachers.  “Okay?” asked Ms. Neff and Ms. Miller.&lt;br /&gt;“OK,” we replied.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moon turned into the sun of the next day. I was laughing because I woke up filled with life. “Hi girls! It’s eight fifteen!  Everybody wake up!” Ms. Neff yelled.  &lt;br /&gt;We said, “We are awake!  We’ve been up since 8:00 – just like you told us to!”  &lt;br /&gt;She laughed and thanked me for laughing so hard.  It’s what had caused her to wake up. I couldn’t wait for day two at Teton Science School to begin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3542096054243752169?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3542096054243752169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/sandra-teton-science-school.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3542096054243752169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3542096054243752169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/sandra-teton-science-school.html' title='Sandra - &quot;Teton Science School&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3787726054024509086</id><published>2008-12-02T06:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.408-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Fuller - "Cobra"</title><content type='html'>COBRA&lt;br /&gt;Fuller Ross&lt;br /&gt;Just looking at those magnificent scales, grey and vanilla belly, coal colored back with khaki camouflaging, and the arched neck, I knew I was staring at a spitting cobra.  Even in my shaken state, I knew his venom could blind me for life…if not kill me. I was on my knees staring into the cobra’s eyes. Fear told me to run for safety, but hoping for death, the diabolical stare of the cobra ordered me to stay. The cobra was like the candy shop coaxing me to stay, swaying slowly back and forth.  My response was what he most wanted.&lt;br /&gt;Then it came back to me.  My dad had warned, “Now that we are in Africa, never looks a cobra in the eye…or any snake for that matter. As a kid, your mother lost most of her dogs to snakes. These aren’t garter snakes anymore, OK.” &lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, yeah.  OK,” I mumbled, thinking it would never happen. &lt;br /&gt; Now, I was doing the opposite of what my dad had instructed.  I was looking the wicked stare directly in the eye.  I realized that I was helpless. &lt;br /&gt; Suddenly a stick landed in front of me, breaking the trance.  Rocks begin pummeling down.  They continue to land between the snake and me, but never hitting the snake.  While I am distracted by the falling debris, the snake holds its stare.  He was focused on me…on my death.&lt;br /&gt; I felt the swoop of arms suddenly grab me.  I’m jerked into the air, carried away from the scene.  I am confused and in shock by what has just happened.&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the man who was throwing sticks and stones came in and confronted us and said. “The snake is gone.”&lt;br /&gt;The people there had herd about it and cheered until one man said. “Where is it now.”&lt;br /&gt;The man answered in a chuckle, “Not on this earth that’s for sure.”&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I recover and this one man keeps on checking my eyes. Normaly I would yell I am fine. But I realize it’s for my own good.&lt;br /&gt;After all the chaos had ended my mom told me. “The man who saved you was blind from a Cobra and you should thank him he didn’t have to do it.” &lt;br /&gt;Later that night I wondered  was he ever scared of  snakes and if so today had he faced his fear? And maybe, had I faced mine?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3787726054024509086?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3787726054024509086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/fuller-cobra.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3787726054024509086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3787726054024509086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/fuller-cobra.html' title='Fuller - &quot;Cobra&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-4678156430124381239</id><published>2008-12-02T06:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.408-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Melissa - "The Tea Party"</title><content type='html'>Tea and Twinkies with Someone I Love&lt;br /&gt;By Melissa Elliott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was absolutely perfect; the cups and saucers all lined up, the excited teapot was squealing with tea, and the flowers were showing off their new beautiful vibrant colors. The year before, my Aunt Char and I had had our first tea party at my house.  I was so anxious for our second one.  This year it was being held at her house in Buffalo, Wyoming.  A small table with two chairs was waiting for our arrival in a never-ending hallway full of windows facing the courtyard. Before Aunt Char and I sat down, we hugged and air kissed. We carefully began to pour tea into teacups, stir in the right amount of sugar and cream, and allow words to spill out of our mouths.&lt;br /&gt; “So, how are your vineyards back in Jackson?” teased Aunt Char in an English accent. &lt;br /&gt;I swallowed my tea almost choking with laughter and replied with the same accent as hers, “ Great! We have had wonderful wines this year.” Both of us giggled. My Aunt Char always knows how to make me laugh. The golden boxed dessert that I remember like as if it was in front of me right now was three Twinkies: three soft, spongy, creamy Twinkies.  Those Twinkies sat eagerly on a plate, each one called to me in a high voice saying, “Eat me! Eat me!” Gently, I picked up one of the Twinkies and examined it. The spongy, soft, yellow cake probably thought that I was going to give it a hug before sinking my teeth into it. Of course, I was the one who ate two, and Aunt Char ate one. &lt;br /&gt;“Nothing is left in the pot,” I examined as I poured the last of the tea into my cup and drank it. All of the Twinkies were gone, too. Aunt Char looked at me and said, “Ok, well, that was a fun tea.” &lt;br /&gt;”Ya, it was so, so… fabulous!” I replied with a giant grin across my face. &lt;br /&gt; My Aunt Char is always happy, positive, and nice to everyone she meets. I have known my Aunt Char ever since I was born, and loved her ever since. Her curly blonde hair is beautiful, and I adore her best accessory, her toy poodle Daisy. She gives us gifts every time she comes or we go to visit her, but my favorite gift of all is her warm, welcoming hugs. Aunt Char isn’t my aunt by blood, but she has been my mom’s best friend for more then twenty years. With my Aunt Char, the spirit of a tea party is one of peace, comfort, and refinement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-4678156430124381239?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/4678156430124381239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/melissa-tea-party.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4678156430124381239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4678156430124381239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/melissa-tea-party.html' title='Melissa - &quot;The Tea Party&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-6341118480871468519</id><published>2008-12-02T06:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.408-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Juan - "My Little Bro!"</title><content type='html'>My Little Bro!&lt;br /&gt;by Juan &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my dad told me I was going to have a little brother, I stood frozen.  How was I going to react?  My head was heavy, filled with questions. My heart was pounding; my body was an ice cube in a freezer.  I knew this was going to be a long day.  I worried that my 10 years of being loved would soon be blown away.  His birth would ruin my life. “Erg!” I yelled. &lt;br /&gt;March 22, 2004 I saw my little brother’s face. All my worries disintegrated.  I thought I was in heaven. His face was so chubby.  He was dressed in all white.  He looked like an angel.  “He’s so cute,” I said. How could I not love him?&lt;br /&gt;Eventually he got older and well… my worried turned out to be founded.  He always got more attention than me. Jealousy burst into my body, flowing in my blood through my veins. Once when I had a soccer practice, I told my parents I needed to go.  They didn’t respond. Was I talking to myself? I wondered.  I got so mad my face was flaming hot like a burrito just out of a microwave.  I just left. &lt;br /&gt;When I got home, I opened the door gently. My parents were there. “Oh no! I’m toast,” I whispered. I remembered the last time I got in trouble and my parents yelled at me.  I was six years old.  They yelled at me for being late getting home from my friend’s house.  They had to come and pick me up, but I didn’t show up.  They looked and looked for me and finally left.  My friend Fernando’s mom drove me home.  Their anger rushed at me as soon as I opened the door.  They were scared, but they acted angry.  It had been so scary I promised myself to never get in trouble again. Until now.&lt;br /&gt;My parents got mad at me for not telling them I was going to my soccer practice. “I tried,” I told them, “so I just left.” I told my mom how I felt, and she understood.  She promised to stop paying more attention to my little brother. My mom did keep her promise with my brother but she had another baby – a little sister!&lt;br /&gt;“My anger at my little brother has lessened,” I said, playing Batman and Robin is pretty fun. My little brother always has to be the leader, even though he is smaller and younger than me. Sometimes I’m nice to Henry, but I can’t always be that way. If I am he will start bugging me.  But, I understand his plight.  He’s the youngest boy, so he probably feels lonely.  He needs me – I’m his only brother. We need to stick together even if he bothers me! And just wait until I tell you about my little sister “now that’s a disaster.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-6341118480871468519?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/6341118480871468519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/juan-my-little-bro.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6341118480871468519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/6341118480871468519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/juan-my-little-bro.html' title='Juan - &quot;My Little Bro!&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-8920176333764396998</id><published>2008-12-02T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:26:05.408-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Amelia - "A Stroke in the Family"</title><content type='html'>Amelia Adams&lt;br /&gt;  A Stroke In the Family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It was a great day, or what I like to call a lucky day. It’s so strange how a fantastic day can turn into a nightmare in a flash.&lt;br /&gt; I was not a popular person in Wilson Elementary School, so having someone stay with me the whole day was a miracle. Lucky me, that’s what happened on this lucky day.&lt;br /&gt; “Amelia.” All of a sudden a voice entered my day dreaming head. “Amelia!” I sat there trying to figure out what was going on. Then I understood it was my teacher, Mrs. Epstein. “Amelia, your Dad is here,” she told me with a bit of irritation in her voice. I stood up wondering where and why I was going. My whole class watched as I walked out towards my Dad. Did I have an orthodontist appointment? I wondered.  At that moment I was standing in the hall, watching as my little brother Curler looked around nervously. “Why,” I asked my self. “Why would Cuyler come to my orthodontist appointment?” Something was wrong, I thought as shook with fear. Worry was creeping around me, making me want to fall into a deep sleep and forget my own existence. Every time it poked me in the back I felt an ice cold chill. When would it go away? &lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Epstein stepped into the hallway and waked towards Dad. I was collecting my stuff when I over heard my Dad talking to Mrs. Epstein. ”What’s going on?” she asked. ”Amelia an Cuyler’s Mom has had a stroke,” my Dad answered. I stood there trying to take in what I had just heard. I was scared really scared; I’d seen commercials about stroke. I new it was Bad&lt;br /&gt;Later I would learn that a stroke is when a clot blocks the blood flow to the brain or heart. Then, boom, the blood vessel explodes. It’s a bad sickness. At that moment sad and afraid entered my head. They don’t go any where without each other, so now they were both interrogating me, I was their victim.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After four months of transient living, my family reunited.  The changes were dramatic.  My Mom was bald, holidays were spent in hospitals, and I took on a role that no third grader should have. I had to deal with it. My Mom needed help and I was the one to help her. This was my new responsibility; my Moms stroke would follow me for the rest of my life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-8920176333764396998?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/8920176333764396998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/amelia-stroke-in-family.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8920176333764396998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/8920176333764396998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/amelia-stroke-in-family.html' title='Amelia - &quot;A Stroke in the Family&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7136458197585327172</id><published>2008-12-01T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:27:17.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Aidan Greene ~ "The Dog"</title><content type='html'>I am just going to say when you are gone for three to four hours, keep your dog in a fenced in area... just incase he might cause some sort of mischief. You never know what might happen.&lt;br /&gt; One morning my family and I were sitting on the couch when Ding-Dong. The door bell rang. My mom said, “I’ll get it.” When my mom opened the door, it was one of her friends from work. She said, “ Can you watch my dog for a day I am on vacation?” My mom said excitedly “Sure we would all love to.” My sister and I cheered, “YIPPEE!”&lt;br /&gt; After a good hour of play with the dog Max, we decided to go to the Wave Water Park which is radical by the way. We all gobbled our lunch, slipped on our bathing suits, snatched our towels and bolted out the door. But we made one terrible mistake. We left the crazy dog all alone in the house.&lt;br /&gt; When we got home the dog was no where to be found. We checked in the guest room, no dog. We checked in the bathroom, no dog. Wy sister and I checked in our rooms, still no dog. Then I checked in my parent’s room and I was staring at a giant gaping hole in my parents screen door. After about five minutes, the dog came through the huge hole. I felt a little guilty. We all looked at him and he twitched his head to the side. Then after a couple of seconds he walked back outside.&lt;br /&gt;If you do not want this to happen to your screen door then keep your dog in a fenced in area. Unless you want a hole in your screen door. Like I said you never know what might happen. P.S the owner was shocked by the news.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7136458197585327172?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7136458197585327172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/aidan-greene-dog.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7136458197585327172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7136458197585327172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/aidan-greene-dog.html' title='Aidan Greene ~ &quot;The Dog&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1574603023976230704</id><published>2008-12-01T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:27:17.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Danny Morales - "OWW!!"</title><content type='html'>OWW!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when I did a front flip with my Mongoose bike. I went to the top of the steep hill near the hospital in Jackson.  I was half way up Snow King mountain. I was nervous. My intuition was saying, “Don’t do it, man.” &lt;br /&gt;I ignored it because they sometimes it lies to me. Once when I was driving to Salt Lake with my family, my intuition told me there was going to be an accident.  I felt scared and nervous.  There wasn’t.  I was surprised and relieved to get there without harm.    &lt;br /&gt;Back on the hill, I wished my friends were with me.  When I did dangerous tricks, they always call me Evil Caneval; he was the famous stunt man from the 80s! I waited to see if there were any cars coming. When I felt the coast was clear, I rapidly raced down the steep hill. My intuition worried that a car was going to be around the corner. I kept going, and when I turned the corner, there were no cars.  “You liar!” I whispered to my intuition.  &lt;br /&gt;I entered a dirt road and there were  jumps. I remember my uncle telling me the story of the time he took a jump.  He had fallen and something happened to his leg.  He still can’t walk.  His story scared me, but the jumps screamed, “Come and jump!  We’re safe!  We’re sooooo much fun!”  The memory of my uncle disappeared.  &lt;br /&gt;There were three jumps. The first one was big.  The second one was small. The last one was medium.  I skipped the first two and went for the medium one.  I flew into the sky.  It felt like I was floating, and I thought it was awesome.  I was speechless.&lt;br /&gt;As I landed, my front wheel turned to the right.  The bike flew to the left.  I landed on my arm. It hurt a lot. My intuition screamed,  “I told you this was a bad idea!  This is what happens when you disobey.”  I knew I had broken my arm. &lt;br /&gt;Tears streamed down my cheeks, slamming onto the road.  I ran to my house, screaming, “Mom! Mom!”&lt;br /&gt;She said, “What?”&lt;br /&gt;I said, “I broke my arm again!”  I had broken my arm before, and I felt the same pain.  I felt like my bone was going to pop out of my skin.&lt;br /&gt;“How?” Fear made her voice loud and high-pitched.  &lt;br /&gt;As I told her the story, she rushed me to her car and took me to the hospital.  On the way, she was so worried that she ran a stop sign.  &lt;br /&gt;When we got to the hospital, the doctor told my mom and me, “He has broken his arm.”  I followed him into a room and he put twenty-six stitches into my arm.  It sort of tickled in a sickening way.  Then, he gave me a really awesome cast with Power Rangers on it.&lt;br /&gt;That day I learned that my intuition deserved to be listened to.  I promised myself to never disobey again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1574603023976230704?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1574603023976230704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/danny-morales-oww.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1574603023976230704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1574603023976230704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/danny-morales-oww.html' title='Danny Morales - &quot;OWW!!&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-241614673052021281</id><published>2008-12-01T13:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:27:17.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Stefani Cervantes ~ "Stefani's Busted"</title><content type='html'>Zamantha, Elyssa, Erika, and I asked our moms, "Can we go to K-mart after school?”&lt;br /&gt; My mom said, “Yes, Just be home by 5:30.”&lt;br /&gt; My sister and I replied, “Okay.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When the school bell rang, I met with my friends and went to the Maverick station. “How about if we get Stride gum?” Elyssa shouted. &lt;br /&gt; Then Zamantha argued, “No! Let’s get hot chocolate.”&lt;br /&gt;I asked my sister, “Do you want something?”&lt;br /&gt; She said, “I will have whatever you guys want.”&lt;br /&gt; Elyssa asks, “Well then, who wants frozen yogurt?”&lt;br /&gt;     We all yelled, “I do!” Even my sister agreed! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Calmly, we ate the frozen yogurt as we walked to the Start Bus stop. At the bus stop I thought, “Oh no! It’s that boy that my mom doesn’t like?” He came over to us and started to talk to Zamantha. I couldn’t believe that he was talking to her! Her mom doesn’t let her talk to him, either. Our moms don’t want him to hang around with us because he is rude and he swears. I looked over at Erika, she had seen him, too.  I nodded at her to let her know that I remembered that we weren’t to hang around him.   Then, I whispered to Elyssa, “Can this get any worse?”&lt;br /&gt;Elyssa added, “Yes! Because here comes your mom!”&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt; My mom passed by us in a car and I could see her angry look. I felt hot shivers and got a stomachache.  That’s how trouble comes, stampeding through the door.  I knew I was going to be in trouble when I got home.  &lt;br /&gt; Suddenly, Erika yelled, "The bus!" We run to it as fast as we could.  We got to the start bus and the door sounded as if it was talking to me, “Quick! Get in!” I jumped onto the bus and off we went to K-mart to buy candy again.  We bought juicy, colorful, circle-shaped gummy lifesavers and cheesy, orange, curved Cheetos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; After shopping, we all went to our houses except for Zamantha. She came with my sister and me to our house. We ran up the stairs to see my room.  I was relieved that she was there because it delayed the trouble a little while longer.  We looked out the window and got distracted by a red van that was yelling up to Zamantha, “Hurry, up you have to go to your house! Plus, I don’t have any gas left! Hurry!”  Zamantha went running to her amazing van and that is  when my mom came into my room.&lt;br /&gt;She was angry.  Her face was red and her words were like steaming lava.  “Why were you with him?  Why were you at Maverick when I only gave you permission to go to K-Mart?” she yelled.&lt;br /&gt; “I’m sorry!  We missed the bus…,” we replied.&lt;br /&gt; Still angry, she said, “I won’t talk about this to you’re dad; I will let it go for today.”  She knew my dad would be frustrated and angry.  She likes to keep the peace.&lt;br /&gt;We were relieved, but still nervous that she would tell him.  “Okay mom,” Erika and I agreed together.&lt;br /&gt;She stormed out of our room and went to make dinner for us.  While we ate, my dad looked at mom in a suspicious way.  It looked like he was thinking that my mom has hiding something from him.  If he was thinking that, he was right.  This made me very nervous.  I sat like a statue, hoping that my mom would keep her promise and not tell him what we did.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, it was time for bed.   We all went to sleep…or tired to.  Suddenly, I heard voices.  It was my mom and dad. I heard my mom arguing with him.  Had she told him?  Did he know?  Had he seen us, too?   My mind was filled with questions and my stomach hurt.  My mattress felt like a rock, making sleep impossible.  &lt;br /&gt; The next morning I told Erika what I heard.  She hadn’t heard anything.  This made her nervous and she refused to wake up.  My dad woke up.  My heart pounded… hard and fast.  When he went to work, my mom sat next to me said, “I am sorry I yelled at you.  I believe you.  I made that decision to not tell your father because I love you.”   I hugged my mom.   This was my lesson to only go where my mom gives me permission to go!   I will never forget that powerful lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Stefani Cervantes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-241614673052021281?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/241614673052021281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/stefani-cervantes-stefanis-busted.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/241614673052021281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/241614673052021281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/stefani-cervantes-stefanis-busted.html' title='Stefani Cervantes ~ &quot;Stefani&apos;s Busted&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-4623077277451149544</id><published>2008-12-01T13:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:27:17.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Student Personal Narratives'/><title type='text'>Ruben Parra ~ "One of the Best Day of my Life"</title><content type='html'>One of the best days of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        As we were heading down the road of the canyon, a little bit outside of Afton’s city limits, I looked out the window and saw it was a winter wonderland. The trees were frosty white. When we got to the hill, as soon as the truck stopped, I got out and went straight for the snow. I plunged my head in the snow. The only real reason I do that is because it cools me down and it’s just fun. I heard ice hit metal I pulled my head out of the snow my dad started the motor and backed out of the trailer and came by me I could see the marks on the ice the blades had made, I couldn’t believe it, I was going my on first snowmobile ride.&lt;br /&gt; “Well come on,” my dad said happily.&lt;br /&gt; “Were we going?” I asked curiously.&lt;br /&gt; “To the top of that hill”. he said I looked up in amazement that hill was at least a 50% grade there was no way we could make It, I knew we were not going to make it. I kept on thinking that, just standing there looking up when my dad startled me by saying&lt;br /&gt; “Well, are we just going to sit here and waste gas or we going up”?&lt;br /&gt; “Lets get going” I answered. I jumped on and off we went. The trees were beautiful. Some had so much snow they were slouching.  They looked sad, as if they heard an army of a million lumberjacks were coming. When I looked at the snow covered ground the snow was like itsy-bitsy little crystals, shinning in the sun like a new piece of gold. Suddenly, I was sliding off the back seat. I hit the ice, cold snow with a loud thump. My dad just kept on going like nothing happened. Once he realized I was gone he looked back and I was rolling head over heels. Fear covered my dad. He was thinking maybe I was going to hit a tree or a rock or something hard. Fear hadn’t only visited my dad it had visited my too, and it was staying. I hit a bump, went flying at least two feet in the air and hit the ground with a thump again. But this thump was louder. My dad was relieved when I stopped rolling.  He headed back down the hill to my position. Fear left my body and all the other things came back in. Zoom, my dad passed me coming down the hill. He turned around to come back and I got on.&lt;br /&gt; “How was your fall?” my dad said trying to be funny but not succeeding.&lt;br /&gt; “It was good besides the lung crushing part,” I sarcastically said. We started up the hill again.  We were almost to the top I couldn’t believe that we were actually only about three feet away. Then I heard a sputter. My dad realized what was happening, but I didn’t. He pushed the throttle as hard as he could but it did no good. The snowmobile sank deeper and deeper and the finally my dad stopped. We tried to dig it out but it only made it worse. It took us two hours to get it out by then it was time to go home so we went back down the hill loaded up the snowmobile. As we got in the truck I felt good to be leaving after rolling down the hill and trying to dig the snowmobile for two hours and then finally leaving I got in the truck and we went. I always wonder if they’ll be any more days like that since the divorce. When divorce came in and ruined everything it all just went away like dust in the wind&lt;br /&gt;By ~ Ruben A. Parra&lt;br /&gt;One of the woerkthsitalkjoejr&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-4623077277451149544?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/4623077277451149544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/ruben-parra-one-of-best-day-of-my-life.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4623077277451149544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/4623077277451149544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/12/ruben-parra-one-of-best-day-of-my-life.html' title='Ruben Parra ~ &quot;One of the Best Day of my Life&quot;'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-1149240326260399615</id><published>2008-03-06T06:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:27:18.263-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><title type='text'>The Killing Sea</title><content type='html'>Go to the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;United Streaming Videos about Tsunamis:  http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T8485-1A6F&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another cool site (though the downloads are slow) with actual footage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.asiantsunamivideos.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-1149240326260399615?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/1149240326260399615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/killing-sea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1149240326260399615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/1149240326260399615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/killing-sea.html' title='The Killing Sea'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-7283672226589543446</id><published>2008-03-02T21:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T06:44:19.765-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><title type='text'>Red Scarf Girl - Lit Circle</title><content type='html'>Please use with your discussion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T7318-FAE8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Facing History - Check out this downloadable Learning &lt;a href="http://www.facinghistory.org/resources/publications/teaching-red-scarf-girl/"&gt;Guide&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and other links!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-7283672226589543446?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/7283672226589543446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/red-scarf-girl-lit-circle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7283672226589543446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/7283672226589543446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/red-scarf-girl-lit-circle.html' title='Red Scarf Girl - Lit Circle'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-294572294811261012</id><published>2008-03-02T18:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:28:13.191-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><title type='text'>Kiss the Dust - Lit Circle</title><content type='html'>To help with your discussion, go to  &lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T7286-5CDC" target="_blank"&gt;United Streaming Videos for Kiss the Dust&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-294572294811261012?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/294572294811261012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/kiss-dust-lit-circle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/294572294811261012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/294572294811261012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/kiss-dust-lit-circle.html' title='Kiss the Dust - Lit Circle'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-9164672193237144936</id><published>2008-03-02T18:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T07:31:26.878-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><title type='text'>Homeless Bird - Lit Circle</title><content type='html'>To help with your discussion, go to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;1. Go to&lt;a href="http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T726C-6FB1" target="_blank"&gt;&amp;nbsp;United Streaming Videos&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;(http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T726C-6FB1)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;2.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://articles.cnn.com/2007-07-05/world/damon.india.widows_1_widows-vrindavan-india?_s=PM:WORLD"&gt;Article&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;about widows in India by CNN.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;3. &amp;nbsp;I&lt;a href="http://www.griefandrenewal.com/internat-moksha.htm"&gt;nformation about Amar Bari&lt;/a&gt;, "My Home" - a refuge for widows in India.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;4. &amp;nbsp;So much informatin - WOW - from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.griefandrenewal.com/widows.htm"&gt;Widows International&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;5. &amp;nbsp;Another non-profit that works for marginalized women and children in India: &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.guildofservice.org/index.php"&gt;The Guild of Service&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;6. &amp;nbsp;Link to the movie blog:&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://whiterainbowproject.blogspot.com/"&gt;The White Rainbow Project&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(I ordered the movie; it should be here soon!) and for more about the movie, click&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.whiterainbow.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://campaign.r20.constantcontact.com/render?llr=c7uq6geab&amp;amp;v=001Kq5KIUlW9l3YlyTw4_d52O2sThmzB64JklTYBMr5h5PI6bGEYjIQQcRYo5jvEKFeMN227XQVk8uMILMG-WMLCh5xsydHpWt3i7IGXb1tvRruibSUsha8B4x8Y3OJTDQM_6LQlGybE52qNVWSHvLi4SEp-tqDazN6IOHzKZzD3147LLG1KHpzzsupMFOD_-seRMP7U3M-vKmulg8WhMLznnUXHYSOPjLTWQCdduzMjOWhORx-8z2EyQ%3D%3D"&gt;Constant Communication from the White Rainbow Project&lt;/a&gt; (newsletter sent out regularly!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-9164672193237144936?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/9164672193237144936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/homeless-bird-lit-circle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/9164672193237144936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/9164672193237144936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/homeless-bird-lit-circle.html' title='Homeless Bird - Lit Circle'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3483142915996981135</id><published>2008-03-02T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T08:02:42.005-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lit Circles'/><title type='text'>The Bomb - Lit Circle</title><content type='html'>To help with your discussion, go to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://streaming.discoveryeducation.com/studentCenter/index.cfm?cdCode=T71FF-FEB7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this documentary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.farfilm.com/web/title_tmc.htm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3483142915996981135?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3483142915996981135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/bomb-lit-circle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3483142915996981135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3483142915996981135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2008/03/bomb-lit-circle.html' title='The Bomb - Lit Circle'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3054491528459225316</id><published>2007-09-12T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T05:28:47.368-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Found Poetry from 9/11</title><content type='html'>Our oems were created using words and phrases from "portraits" written about victims of 9/11.  Mychal Judge and Kevin Pfeifer were featured in the 9/11 documentary we watched in class.  Please ask your student to explain more about these two great men!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st Period's first poem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mychal Judge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never shut his door&lt;br /&gt; or his attentive ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could speak and sing&lt;br /&gt;He had movie star looks.&lt;br /&gt;and his pantamime&lt;br /&gt;  Made the people laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comforting others&lt;br /&gt; He was the first one there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consistent devotion&lt;br /&gt; He went where he was needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He faced the inferno…&lt;br /&gt;   With the firefighters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mychal Judge.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5th period's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mychal Judge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was always where he was needed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never shut his&lt;br /&gt; door to&lt;br /&gt;  anybody with the slightest need&lt;br /&gt;   for the contents inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Judge &lt;br /&gt; comforted firefighters&lt;br /&gt;  and drove hell-bent to emergencies.&lt;br /&gt; He handed out blankets&lt;br /&gt;  and coffee&lt;br /&gt;   and jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had movie star looks&lt;br /&gt; and a tremendous ability to speak&lt;br /&gt;  and sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Judge was devotes to&lt;br /&gt; being a priest.&lt;br /&gt;  He went to&lt;br /&gt;   soup kitchens,&lt;br /&gt;   Gracie mansions,&lt;br /&gt;   the White House,&lt;br /&gt;   baptisms and&lt;br /&gt;    funerals.&lt;br /&gt; His cashmere - and other physical things - &lt;br /&gt;  went to the poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Judge listened intently&lt;br /&gt; to troubled souls&lt;br /&gt;  for as long as it took.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On September 11,&lt;br /&gt; Father Judge faced the &lt;br /&gt;  INFERNO&lt;br /&gt; with the firefighters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A true hero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st Period's 2nd poem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin Pfeifer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quiet, thoughtful&lt;br /&gt; Yet loved adventure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He shouted with his life…&lt;br /&gt;   Not his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a close circle of friend&lt;br /&gt; and organized a legendary bash.&lt;br /&gt;He loved to&lt;br /&gt; Fly…&lt;br /&gt;  Sail…&lt;br /&gt;   Drive….&lt;br /&gt;FAST.&lt;br /&gt;  He loved to race.&lt;br /&gt;   He loved adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He quietly brought out the best in people&lt;br /&gt; and knew that fun was where you made it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He and his brother&lt;br /&gt; Exchanged a quick word&lt;br /&gt;  and glance…&lt;br /&gt;in the lobby of Tower 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin Pfeifer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5th Period's 2nd poem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin Pfeifer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quiet&lt;br /&gt; Thoughtful&lt;br /&gt;Yet...&lt;br /&gt; He loved adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He enjoyed &lt;br /&gt; flying...&lt;br /&gt;  sailing...&lt;br /&gt;   and driving...&lt;br /&gt;    FAST.&lt;br /&gt;Kevin shouted with his life - &lt;br /&gt; not through his words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a close circle of friends.&lt;br /&gt; And he quietly brought out the best in people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was a NYC paramedic and&lt;br /&gt; later a fire fighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On September 11,&lt;br /&gt; In the lobby of Tower 1,&lt;br /&gt;  he spotted his brother.&lt;br /&gt;They said a quick word&lt;br /&gt; and exchanged glances&lt;br /&gt;   before they parted&lt;br /&gt;    for the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin Pfeifer...&lt;br /&gt;A true hero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3054491528459225316?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3054491528459225316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2007/09/found-poetry-from-911.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3054491528459225316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3054491528459225316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2007/09/found-poetry-from-911.html' title='Found Poetry from 9/11'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-3194428746623268275</id><published>2007-09-11T13:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:41:11.780-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parent Assignment'/><title type='text'>Parent Survey/questions</title><content type='html'>In effort to build an email list, I need email addresses from all parents.  Please email me (mrooks@teton1.k12.wy.us)  with the answers to the following questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  What you need to know about my child in school:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  What I'd like you to know about my child outside of school:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  My hopes for my child this year (either academic or social or other...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  My fears for my child this year (either academic or social or other...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Skills and/or experiences (ex: any traveling in the Eastern Hemisphere!)  I would like to share with the class or JHMS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Other comments or information&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Thank you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-3194428746623268275?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/3194428746623268275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2007/09/weekly-update.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3194428746623268275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/3194428746623268275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2007/09/weekly-update.html' title='Parent Survey/questions'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866393052311363775.post-550289310676427451</id><published>2007-09-07T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:42:07.794-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parent Assignment'/><title type='text'>9/11 Interview</title><content type='html'>The Interview is due  September 11th!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name: __________________________________     Period:  1 or  5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homework:    Interview (follow instructions below)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INTERVIEW:  September 11, 2001 was a day to remember.  Part of history is to understand the different perspectives of people who were alive at the time historical events took place (Primary Sources).  Please complete the following questions.  Then, use the questions on the back to interview at least TWO (2) adults (high school age and above!).  The goal is to use direct quotes when possible.  Take careful notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.    Where were you when you heard about the events of 9/11/01?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.    What was your immediate response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.    How did you react to the events?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.    How do you feel about the events now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.    In 50 years, what do you think 6th grade students will be learning about this historical event?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interview #1:&lt;br /&gt;1.    Where were you when you heard about the events of 9/11/01?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.    What was your immediate response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.    How did you react to the events?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.    How do you feel about the events now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.    In 50 years, what do you think 6th grade students will be learning about this historical event?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interview #2:&lt;br /&gt;1.     Where were you when you heard about the events of 9/11/01?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  What was your immediate response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.     How did you react to the events?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.    How do you feel about the events now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.    In 50 years, what do you think 6th grade students will be learning about this historical event?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866393052311363775-550289310676427451?l=jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/feeds/550289310676427451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2007/09/911-interview.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/550289310676427451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6866393052311363775/posts/default/550289310676427451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jhms6thgrade.blogspot.com/2007/09/911-interview.html' title='9/11 Interview'/><author><name>M. Rooks</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
