Some work on Essay 1

So I thought that the redraft of our "I" essays was due sooner, and I've already started on it. that's probably a good thing.
I chose to redo Essay 1 because I put a lot more effort into that one originally, and I think it needed less work to help it out.
Some changes I made:
- I added narrative bits with some dialogue throughout
- I removed my references to learning the subjunctive tense within my emails. (Yes, shock and horror, I have and am tampering with those emails. So they are not truly 100% original. There is my disclaimer) Professor had mentioned that my reference to the verb tenses took away from my "point" which is that language learning is natural and usually happens without our notice.
- I tried to show how much language I had during the various phases of my story, gradually increasing
- I changed my "point" a little bit.
       before: I was trying to say that language learning is natural and happens within the context of relationships
       now: I am trying to say that learning (language or otherwise) is a natural process that happens while we live life. Many of life's greatest lessons aren't going to be things that we set out to learn. They'll happen along the way, with all of life's quirks, relationships, oddities, and experiences mixed in.

My questions for you:
How do you think the Spanish words work in my document? Should I use italics, put definitions within the text or in footnotes, or write everything in English?

I'll include a little of the narrative I added, and you'll see what I mean, (note: by underlining I was trying to suggest tonal emphasis)

“Tienes que aprender, Alisia[1]” (You have to learn, Alisia) Cesia's mom exhorted me. She demonstrated how to flip a tortilla correctly.

“Um, sí,” I responded while rubbing the smoke from my eyes.

She continued, “Because if not, you'll never know how to cook! And what will you do when you go to other countries where there aren't microwaves like in your country?”

I smiled a little. This Spanish phrase was embedded in my memory long before I learned what it meant. Cesia's mom said it to me constantly, with the exact same emphasis each time. She was convinced it was her sovereign duty to prepare me to be a housewife one day. It was her who taught me to cook, embroider, and crochet.

“Asi?” (Like this?) I tried to flip another tortilla on the hot komal (clay griddle). Cesia rescued the ruined lump of dough.

“Asi,” she turned one over easily. Cesia also helped with my tutelage. From her I learned to wash my clothes by hand, keep a dirt floor clean, and collect the best pine cones for kindling.

  Soon, I found it necessary to step outside again to catch my breath from the smoke. I rubbed my arms then stared in shock as my singed arm hairs brushed away.

---

[1]    Alisia “uh – lee – see – uh”

brainstorming

So I'm not really sure of what I want to write for the next paper. At first I expected that all of the papers for this class would be personal stories. Now my understanding of Creative Nonfiction has been expanded, leaving open many possibilities for the "eye" essay.
One of my classmates had a good suggestion, and it's probably what I will do. I could talk about some aspect of Mexican culture or Hong Kong culture. I love talking about these things anyways, so that would be pretty fun. I could explain the concept of confianza (trust in relationships) in Mexican culture. Or how language and culture overlapped. Or some of the superstitious beliefs I learned about. For Hong Kong I could talk about the materialism and the effect this is having on youth there today. Although, to be honest, I'd have to really think about that before I do. because I'm friends with some of my students from Hong Kong, and we still keep in touch. It would feel strange (betrayal?) to write about them indirectly and share it with the world.

Feedback

Well. I wasn’t very happy with this paper. Grammar and word choice are all fine, but I really struggled with the overall movement of it. I wasn’t really sure where I was going with it, or what “point” to make. The anecdotes were easy to write, but the introduction and concluding paragraphs were very hard.

Comments I would appreciate:

-          Was the piece interesting to read? Or did it sound too much like entries in a personal diary?

-          Did it read too staccato or did it flow? What do you think I could do to make it flow better?

-          How did the narrative/dialogue pieces fit in?

-          Ignoring what “point” of the story I tried to make, What “point” of the story would you naturally expect as the reader? 

I Essay 2 Draft 1

            I have never seen the Grand Canyon. Or Mount Rushmore. Or the beaches of Hawaii. Still, I was blessed with many awesome experiences growing up. My parents sought to give me and my two sisters a rich childhood. Or perhaps they were living out the rich childhood they always wanted for themselves; I'm not sure. It may be from them that I inherited my natural desire for an interesting life. We seemed to always be on a quest to escape the norm, the mundane. Family vacations were an important part of this quest; thus, we took many of them.

             When I was small, my parents took our family to Niagara Falls each year. I leaned on the rail of the skyline as my dad explained the sights to us again, “the rounded one is called the Horseshoe falls, the small one there is the American falls.”  I wondered why America got the dinky waterfall when the rest belonged to Canada. Later, we visited the museum that memorializes all the people and things which fallen over the ____ foot drop, whether intentionally or no. There was also a boardwalk area that I remember well for its many fun activities: mini-golf, haunted houses, little shops. Once when we were out, a storm blew threw raining hail the size of golf balls. We were stranded at a fun house. The employees waved us in good-naturedly, and let us kids run through the maze again and again.

            Another important tradition was the yearly vacation to the beaches of Wildwood. My dad’s grandmother paid for a timeshare there, so my dad's whole side of the family would come together. The beaches of Wildwood are very wide and shallow; thus family friendly. My sisters and I would several hours swimming every day. I don’t recall ever being taught to swim, although my parents always stayed close during high tide. Every evening of the week involved a different activity: shopping along the boardwalk, playing minigolf, or riding the theme park rides. Our visit often coincided with the week of my birthday, so a celebration was usually part of the week’s events. The vacation in Wildwood was a yearly tradition until my great grandma passed away when I was 11. Even after that, my immediate family has continued to make day trips there in the summer, often to celebrate my birthday.

            One place we visited so often, I know its roads by heart. This is the Amish country of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. To this day, my family will stay in the same hotels and eat at the same restaurants that I visited at six or seven years old. My mother knows the area so well she could give a guided tour. There are so many fun things to do there, none of which are very expensive. You could visit the petting zoo, take a scenic train ride, or go on one of “Abe’s buggy rides” through the country. We must have walked miles through all of the different little shops full of homemade goods. I stepped inside another store to the sound of a cheery doorbell's jingle. The smell of cinnamon flavored candles and dusty antiques filled the air. “Don't touch anything!” my mother hissed at us. I always wondered how simply touching, especially something so innocent as a stuffed doll or wooden toy, could be so dangerous.

            When we reached middle school ages our parents decided to try something a little different. We joined my mom’s side of the family visiting a dude ranch in upstate New York. We always went during the first week of October when the trees were just changing to beautiful shades of  orange and yellow. The ranch was a self-contained resort, so three kids like us could run freely with little worry to our parents. Group rides went out several times a day at the ranch. Since I'd never had the opportunity to take lessons as a kid, I gladly rode every single one, no matter the difficulty level. When I wasn't riding, we could take a hay ride down to the lake to go fishing or paddle-boating. Equipment was available to play mini-golf, ping pong, or tennis whenever we waned. There was also a pool with a water slide for the hotter days. Those years both of my parents worked paper routes in the early mornings, so our allowance came in the form of rolled quarters. Most of this was spent in the tiny arcade near the Chuck wagon. I'm not really sure what my parents did all day.

           

            Camping, on the other hand, my parents actively participated in. My mom grew up camping herself, and the campground we live near today is the same one my parents frequented when they were first dating. We went camping a couple times every summer. Upon arrival, my sisters and I would pour out of the truck, instantly looking for trouble. My dad handed us  spoons or something and told us, “Now you girls dog over here while we work on the campsite. If you work hard, you might reach China by the time we're ready.”

“Really?” I exclaimed.

My dad wandered by an hour later and leaned his ear near the hole.

“Oh, I think I can hear them! They're speaking Chinese. Better hurry up, you've almost reached them.”

When we got a little older we were shooed off. I guess even digging to China can interfere with campsite preparation. We grabbed our mountain bikes and took off. My sisters and I knew every path and hiding place of the 130 acre campground. It was usually after dark when my dad would come looking to bring us back for dinner. He'd find us deep in the woods battling Indians. Or riding our dirt bikes along dangerous mountain roads. Or at the swamp catching frogs.

            There were actually several different trucks my family went camping in during my childhood. We never had much luck with cars. Daddy brought home something different every couple years, just to patch us through. The huge brown suburban had been around a couple years when we set off to go camping in a new area far from home. On the way there, it overheated and caught fire. I stood along the highway, watching the flames char the seat I had been sitting in, and asked my mom to please come away. She was still in the truck, frantically throwing camping supplies out. Much of the gear, things my parents had used since they were young, was lost.

            Although my family loves our traditional places, I have still been blessed to plenty of variety while growing up. I have visited many important historical sites along the east coast such as Gettysburg and Jamestown. I have hiked through the beautiful terrain of Virginia, Pennsylvania, the Carolinas, and New York. I have seen the Natural. Bridge and the Delaware Water Gap. In each place we visited, the trip usually began by checking into a tiny motel room. I carefully unpacked my possessions, imagining that I had just moved to a new place or that I was on my way to an exotic location. We ate packed sandwiches, explored the surrounding area, and stayed up late playing cards or board games.

            I was a teenager when took a vacation to West Virginia. We went to see the historic town of Cass, where the steam engine trains still run to the coal mines in the mountains. There are many beautiful vista points, as well as quaint rural towns to visit. It was during that trip that my parents fell in love. They decided soon after to move to West Virginia, a dream they have held to since.

            I can't say that we ever got to travel far, but we did travel deeply. They were interesting journeys, full of the simple enjoyment of one another's company. We broke away from the “boring” routine of daily life more often than most people get to. There's something to be said for  the adventurous spirit who will run towards the unknown. There's probably also something to be said about what that adventurous spirit might be running from.

blog 9

The first essay was enjoyable to write. It's a personal goal of mine to record many of my experiences from living in Mexico. Thus, the opportunity to write about this time was something that I enjoyed. One thing that went well was my attempt to write vivid descriptions of particular instances. I would like for other people to read these anecdotes and be able to access the richness of the memories. One struggle I have with writing these stories is in choosing what story to focus on and how to tailor out all of the other details that could distract from that story.

In my revisions of this essay I hope to make particular things that I say more clear. I was hoping to suggest that language learning is a process that is natural, living, and uncontrollable. We can't force it, and we probably won't know when it's happening. Particular details that I included in my story may not have supported this idea, so I want to make sure that everything lines up. This way, a reader can read my piece and understand my message, even if I'm not there to explain.

I had hoped that my next essay would also talk about some of my experiences living in Mexico, or maybe from my visit to Hong Kong this summer. However, I was not feeling inspired for anything in particular about these experiences. So I chose instead to write about family vacations (none of which were that exotic). I want to record some of the beautiful memories I have. I'm not sure what I hope to see in terms of craft. I will just continue to play around with the possibilities offered by sectioning and see how best I can communicate my “point”.

"I" Essay 1 Draft 1

The summer of 2007 was like most other summers, I assume. People worked hard, went to the beach, and made new friends. I wouldn’t know though, because I was living in another world. The mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico had been my home for the last seven months while I studied at a bible school. Having decided to stay on with the ministry, I was required to complete a four month internship living with a host family. I needed to master the language before my apprenticeship began in September. During the school year, I hadn’t had much time for regular language study. Thus, as of April when I began my internship, I only spoke Spanish well enough to have simple conversations.

Email Update Oaxaca              

Sunday, March 4, 2007 3:51 PM

As far as my host family goes, it’s settled that I'm staying with my friend Cesia. She's 20, my best friend here other than [others from the ministry]. We always have a ton of fun (we get a bit crazy). Her dad is a pastor of a small church down the road from us. I spent the night there on Friday. I really can't wait to till I live there. So encouraging. I know I'm going to learn a ton of Spanish & culture. I learned just in that night how to cook a bunch of stuff, and a lot of Spanish & cultural stuff. They've been living in Tlaxiaco for a while, so they are more set in the 'town' culture than the 'village' culture, which is fine. It’s good because I feel really comfortable speaking Spanish with them.

I was instructed by my supervisor to develop a plan for myself that involved the LAMP method. Language Acquisition Made Practical focuses on learning language through social situations. I was supposed to make 20-30 contacts with which I would visit each day and recite a memorized monologue to. A natural introvert, this idea terrified me. I had only survived the last seven months by cowering behind my friends. Although I spent several hours a week surrounded by Spanish conversation, I was convinced of my inability, and thus stayed silent.

Cesia became my friend because I didn’t need to talk with her. We got along very well because of our similar youthful spirits. We would watch movies and play games. We would run and laugh and joke. But we would never talk.

I moved in during the first week of April. Cesia and I cleared some things away, swept down the dirt floors, and somehow fit my borrowed cot along the wall opposite her bed. Separated by a curtain was the other part of the room, which housed her younger brother Hidai. The house was structured like a log cabin, with no insulation to keep the night cold from coming through the cracks.

I joined Cesia in her daily tasks each morning. We swept, prepared breakfast, and straightened up around the home. Cesia had an adopted younger sister named Berenice, who was two and a half. Bere (pronounced like the English “berry”) was born with a cleft palate, which, even after reparative surgery, caused her trouble in speaking. So twice a week we brought her down to the special education school in town for speech therapy. I like to say that Bere and I learned Spanish together that summer.

In the evenings I lived a peaceful life from the mountainside. I learned how to cook and make tortillas by hand. Cesia and I would occasionally climb the mountain behind the house to a higher plane and collect pine cones, which make excellent kindling. (We cooked over a fire, naturally). Later, I’d let the chickens out to graze and watch them from a large rock overlooking the valley at sunset.

Re: Hello

Saturday, May 5, 2007 11:32 AM

Yesterday I was in [Cesia’s] house a lot. I've been helping out, they work a lot. It’s been hard keeping my priorities straight. Spanish study? Relationships in town? Relationships & work in the house? God time? For at least this month I'm going to help out around Cesia's house & focus on God more than other stuff. Being at home gets me as much or more Spanish as being in town.

It was terrible, it was awful. Small & fluffy & white, snapping at my heels. I tried to run but it chased me up the street, Cesia tried to beat it back with a stick- but it had no fear! We only but escaped with our lives from the terrible, killer, watch- ........duck.  (!!??)

For the first month or so I spent a lot of time at home. Cesia occasionally worked odd jobs that I tagged along on. Also, I had to find a good balance of helping out enough so that, culturally, I would not be seen as a freeloader. I chose to err on the side of caution since my Spanish level did not allow me to ask about this complicated topic.

Gradually, however, I transitioned to a more Spanish-centered schedule. Each day after the morning chores, I would walk a mile through the corn fields to the highway. From there I’d catch a 40 cent taxi ride into town. Tlaxiaco is a beautiful place. The smell of street food fills the air. People pass each other tightly on crowded streets. Stands sell every possible good: vegetables, clothes, bowls, thread. American cities look gray in comparison; Mexico is decorated, unabashedly, in rich colors: the buildings, clothing, plastic chairs, and even tarps strung over the stands to provide shade. Eventually I memorized the maze of tiny alleys and got used to the constant stares and catcalls of “Gringa! Guerrita!” (little white girl)

Que ta? (What’s up?)

Monday, June 11, 2007 12:13 PM

I need you to come back so I can show off my Spanish. (just kidding) But God has been really good in blessing me in that. The main thing that changed is more my confidence level with talking. I’m learning a ton. I’ve been reading my Bible out loud in Spanish every day. Plus the songs at Cesia’s church are getting into my head. I know a bunch of them now. I can hear the present subjunctive now & am using it. I want to learn so I can talk to people. I love them.

Eventually I started to meet new people. I did this more out of fear of my supervisor than anything else. I would spend four to six hours in town every day, visiting, running errands, and walking around. Thankfully it was easy to make friends in a town with only a handful of Americans. We were an anomaly, heartily welcomed.

Sandra was one of the first people I began spending time with. She ran a Pasteleria (cake shop) with her husband near the town square. Coming from a well- known and wealthy family in Tlaxiaco, their store had many regular customers. These people often liked to talk with me to find out who I was and why I lived there. Sandra was patient with my lack of Spanish and comfortable with “companionable silence.”

I was looking for breakfast one morning when I met Eustolia, a local vendor. Her stand had all the breakfast staples: quesadillas, taquitos, and empanadas. Eustolia took my Spanish stumblings in stride, although I have to admit that a lot of our conversations were strained. Often, I would just sit and listen to her talk to other customers or friends who passed by. I think she appreciated the attention I attracted, although she never really understood why I had so much free time for visiting.

Graciela offered to help teach me Spanish if I taught her English. We didn’t spend much of our time together studying, to be honest. I met all of her family members and even went to school with her once (we are the same age). Unfortunately, I lost contact with her after the summer. It took awhile to discover that she’d followed the cultural trend of getting pregnant at a young age. With virtually no future prospects (a situation that most Oaxacan youth face) she had agreed to move in with her boyfriend’s family to cook and clean for them in exchange for a place to live and raise her daughter.

Re: How are you?

Wednesday, July 11, 2007 2:06 PM

There are rumors flying around the [ministry] base now about my Spanish. I’m not trying to show off, but I want to praise God for it, because He has given me grace. Somewhere in the last 4 months I went from silent to easily conversational, and I’m really blessed in my accent. I’m learning the subjunctives now, which are going fairly easily. The problems only appear when talking about something really serious, important, or confusing. Then I can’t keep up. But most of anything else I can handle now.

I never planned what to talk about with my friends. Talking was a byproduct of our friendship. It was rare that I used a dictionary to look up a word. The mesa was what we ate at. The ropa was what we dressed Berenice in. The jabón was what I washed dishes with. If I didn’t know something, I simply talked around it. Communication, not correctness, was my goal.

Communication is something much deeper than language. It is the interaction between souls. It is meaning transferred from one person to another. When I focused on relationships, my language ability became a secondary concern. As long as my message was understood, I felt content with the communication. Of course, there were many times when I did not get my exact meaning across. The frustration of this drove me to listen harder, to study harder, and to speak more clearly.

That summer, I didn’t take any Spanish classes. It was two months before I even developed a pattern for how and when to practice. Actually, I think that a plan would have made me stressed, like there was a certain level at which I needed to produce.

There are dozens of methods for learning language. Different things will work better for different people. One crucial element of learning a language is to be familiar with one’s personal learning style. Another major element is discipline. Rare is the person who is self-disciplined enough to overcome all of the embarrassment, confusion, headaches, and lack of time that comes with language learning. It is better to be in a situation where you are forced to learn, than to claim that you will teach yourself a language “when I have time.” Finally, personal interest is absolutely essential. Language learning is simply too difficult for the faint of heart but with a deep and personal desire to learn, you can overcome all barriers, have patience for all the problems, and make time where seemingly none exists. The last suggestion I can give is to pray and pray a lot.

Spanish Report—Week of June 2^nd to 10^th

Monday, June 11, 2007 11:42 AM

So I’ve actually been just using my own system. I only made a couple contacts, but I think that’s working better for me. I’m more relational anyways; I’d rather have a couple close friends than lots of acquaintances. But don’t worry; I’m speaking with Mexicans all day, every day. I spent several hours this week in town, and an hour or so every afternoon doing sit-down study. I’m learning a lot of words and grammar through context, I can’t even think of what they all mean in English. Not sure, but whatever I’m doing is working, so I’m gonna stick with it.

blog 5

One thing I really looked forward to, once I understood what the class title meant, was the chance to write down some of my personal stories. Since I have lived and traveled abroad, people have often mentioned, "Wow, you must have some crazy stories about that." I do. I just can't always seem to remember what they are at the appropriate time.
I lived in Oaxaca, Mexico for a year and a half. The first seven months of this time was spent in a Missionary Training School doing biblical studies. We would also visit local villages each week. After this I spent four months doing an internship in order to join the ministry. My internship focused on developing my Spanish ability. After this I stayed on until the following January for an apprenticeship with the ministry. Since moving back to the U.S. I have visited Oaxaca twice. I also spent a month in Hong Kong and a week in Cambodia this summer.
Now that that has been established, I hope that it is easy to see why I run into a problem when try to write my stories down. I find them too large, too complex, requiring too much baseline knowledge for people to be able to understand.

As I started free-writing for my first piece, my thoughts wandered all over the memories of my time in Mexico. I decided to focus on the summer of my internship and the process of learning Spanish, because this offered the most obvious "point of the story" that I could find and highlight on. Also, I feel like some of the richest experiences during this time.

It took a long time to write. Every time I brought up a concept that I assumed would be new to the reader, I explained it. The result was a very detailed, wandering piece. Five pages single-spaced. I have been working hard to beat the piece down into something focused, concise, but still understandable. I will share it soon. I hope to receive comments on whether its range is still too broad, if you would like to hear more details about something, if the story is skimmed too shallowly, and if the "point" is adequately presented and expanded.