Blog 20 - Draft Essay 4

Rebecca Wood

November 19, 2009

ENG 3017.01

Dr. Chandler

FOCUS: a second home can also feel like a get away place.

The Coldness and Warmth of Ice-cream

Small brown rectangles molded through a creamy mint green surface resemble the same colors of the four falls of one of my grandmother’s rooms in her house. The soft texture of the creamy ice-cream mixed with the coldness of a silver spoon, as it entered my mouth, was like sitting close to Nana on a cold winter night. Every room in Nana’s house was known by a different color; the green room, the pink room, and the tan room, which was determined by the color of the walls and the chosen pieces of furniture. The gentle exotic color of mint green took me to places like Hawaii and Aruba, but kept me comforted in the safeness of Nana’s house.

I only ate chocolate chip mint ice-cream at Nana’s house and never anywhere else, not even at my own house. During our traditional sleepovers, she would prepare me my special ice-cream; green, flowing with bits and pieces of chocolate shapes, and drizzled with hot chocolate syrup, dripping like paint off of a canvas. The ice-cream was always given to me in a tall wine shaped glass, which was superior to all of the other simple round bowls and plastic cups. I would wait all day and sometimes even all week just to get my little taste of paradise in a secure place.

The taste of minty goodness became familiar to me over time, but yet never became outdated or anything less than unique. The subtle green color of the ice-cream and the light green color on the walls became my security blanket. I only ate chocolate chip mint ice-cream in the green room. I needed it that way, otherwise, it would be like a stranger and it wouldn’t be a journey to another special island. Nana always joined me as I ate my ice-cream. We would talk, laugh, and watch Lifetime Movies together. I would scoop up each spoonful of the ice-cream, as a new adventure arose through the predictable love stricken plots. I was only a child because I loved eating ice-cream, but I was already growing up. My ice-cream had already taken me across the world. It was something that I didn’t want at my house, just at Nana’s house.

I want to write about my relationship with my grandmother, our bond, and how that creates the secure/exotic place caused by ice-cream……………..

Eventually, Nana’s house did become my house. In the summer of 2000, my mother, sister, and I moved in to live with my grandmother. My room was the green room. I packed all my belongings into the four small green walls, which was not much bigger than the size of ice-cream filled in its container, but contained more love than a mother watching her child take their first licks of an ice-cream cone. The place was beyond recognizable, but I wasn’t able to travel to Hawaii anymore; it was too close. I needed the chocolate chips and mint flavor to take me away during my sleepovers, but the sleepovers became my sleeping spot for two years.

Once we moved out of my grandmother’s house, I still spent nights over at her house. The trip to Disney World was still amazing, as I sat with Nana, eating chocolate chip mint ice-cream and watching Lifetime movies, but now at an older age. The thought of knowing that I wasn’t confined to a specific household anymore was spectacular. I could go back to the Magic Kingdom once in a while, but still feel a little piece of home, as I take my time, cherishing the special moment with Nana. I still don’t eat chocolate chip mint ice-cream at my house.

At the age of 20, I can still spend a night at my grandmother’s house, eat my favorite exotic ice-cream, watch a Lifetime movie, and feel like I’m a five year old child waking up on Christmas morning.

I am going to add more here in my reflection. I want to talk about my relationship with my grandmother now and maybe add an event that we spent together currently that involved ice-cream……………….

Blog #19 - pre-draft essay 4

For essay four, I am going to write about chocolate chip mint icecream. It may seem strange, but this has a huge connection to my grandmother (nana). When I was younger, I would spend nights over at my nana's house and she would always have chocolate chip mint icecream with chocolate syrup on top for me to eat while watching tv right before bed. I guess in a way, I am going to be talking about two things, chocolate chip mint icecream and my grandmother. I want to talk about what choc. chip mint icecream looks like, tastes, and feels like. I never really ate choc chip mint icecream at my house, only at my grandmother's house. There are so many descriptions I can include in this essay, like my grandmother's house, my grandmother, specific rooms, the green room, which is the same color as choc chip mint icecream and was actually my room when I was living there for about a year. When I first came up with this idea, I thought it would be something, but interesting enough I am actually finding a lot of things I could actually write about in relation to such a simple thing, choc chip mint icecream. Who would have thought? I want this essay to be light hearted, just something fun and cute to read, but still being interesting.

Main Focus:
how a familiar place can feel like a second home or a get away place and how a certain thing (icecream) does this.

Some descriptions/details I want to include:
*childhood memories -a time when we at icecream together and watched tv (familiarity, safe place)
*specific shows/movies I watched with her (made it familiar, but different plots in the shows made it a new journey every time)
*the green room - my room when living there and when spending nights (resembles the color of the icream and was familiar by always eating it in this room and being my actual home for a while)
*other rooms in the house - colors
*not eating choc chip mint icecream at my house, only at her house (this made it special/different, sort of like a vacation/get away place)
*how always having it there gave comfort (familiar)
*texture - soft and warm with syrup on top
*feeling of being soft and warm
*reflections now - how it is when I go there now (do I still eat icecream over there, do we still talk about, do I think about my nana everytime I see choc chip mint icecream or eat it)

Some feedback I would like is:
Do you think this is a good essay topic?
Are you interested in reading why choc chip mint icecream is related to my grandmother?
Is my focus a solid idea?
Do you understand it?

Blog # 18 - Important Places

Important Places

1. Florida
2. Nana's house
3. New York
4. Yankee Stadium
5. The beach
6. Shiki

Unfortunately, I am not able to go to one of the places listed above, that are important to me. However, I am going to state why my chosen place is important to me and describe it.

New York City; the place where I saw my first Broadway play, my first Yankees game, my first ride on a horse carriage, my first concerts, the place where the twin towers once stood tall, gleaming in the sunlight. New York City has and always will be a very important place to me. As we all know, it is very close to Jersey, but yet somehow far away enough to feel like you're somewhere else. I saw my first Broadway play in New York, The Lion King, and continued to see The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Shrek, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas, which usually occurred on my birthdays. I saw almost all of my first concerts in New York, Mariah Carey, Backstreet Boys, and even the Spice Girls, yes the Spice Girls. I saw my first Yankees game there, my first home run, my first grand slam, and my first seem seeing some of the players in person.

I often go into the city with my mother, Nana, and sister. We enjoy walking around, shopping, weather it be cold, hot, or just perfect, it's always magical. Flashing lights, tall buildings, billboards, the smell of cigarettes in the cold air, crowded streets yet space as big as the world. The only thing that really comes to mind right now when trying to describe this is, "cornered jungle where dreams are made of", as stated in the Jay Z and Alicia Keys song. It really is a magical place.

Blog 17 - Draft Essay 3

Draft Essay 3

Rebecca Wood
November 9, 2009
ENG 3017.01
Dr. Chandler

As the Seasons Change

Frozen snow covers my windshield wipers preventing them from moving. My tires are parked on top of an icy patch of emptiness, part of a section on the street, and the rims are filled with old dirty snow. There is a light mist of snow on the hood, windows, and trunk, appearing like sprinkled sugar over a silver countertop. My two snow scrapers, an extra pair of gloves, and an extra pair of snow boots lay quietly in the back seat, but I cannot retrieve them because my two doors are frozen shut. Icicles are trapped between the openings, as they hang down sharply, resembling blades. A layer of ice sits on top of the door handles, forcing them to gleam from the reflection of the sun.

I attempt turning the key into the slot, but that is ineffective. I pull on the handles, of both doors, strongly, but subtly in hopes of doing no damage to anything. I have no luck. I stomp up the stairs, leaving a trail of icy water, and wake up my dad for help. I am going to be late to school, again. My dad heats up some water in a coffee maker and pours it on the openings and the handles of both doors. The steam flows up in the air, like smoke, as the hot water hits the rugged shimmering pieces of glass and metal. The doors open and I immediately put the heat on. There is no significant smell, just cold air and my perfume. My black mats are not shiny. They are dirty and lifeless. They are tired of being stepped on with hard, cold snow boots. They want to be refreshed. My glittering, curvy, silver Marilyn gets me to school.

The last remains of the snow have melted and it’s time for a good wash and some cleaning. The scrapers, gloves, and snow boots are extinct, at least for now, and have been replaced with a light sweater, an extra cloth purse, and some text books for school. My sweater and purse are folded neatly in the trunk. My text books are thrown around in the back seat on top of grey blanket, which is also neatly folded in the center and matches the inside material of the seats. They are waiting for the last day of school. There is a purple tree with yellow flowers on it, hanging from my rearview mirror, releasing a floral scent.

My windows are moist from the previous rain and the slight damp cold that only occurs in the morning. My tires are parked on top of a few pink flower petals that lay scattered in the street. My black mats are damp, but regaining life. They are no longer topped with hard, cold snow boots, but with light Converses and colorful flats. My windows are slightly open, letting in a gentle breeze and the smell of rain. The radio is on medium, playing some song on the radio. I am on my way to somewhere enjoyable. My glittering, curvy, silver Marilyn gets me to the park, thankfully.

The rain has slowly faded away and the sun is usually always shining, even in the morning. The light from the sun shines on Marilyn, causing her to look beautiful and new. The silver looks like platinum. The windows glisten during the day and the tires are sparkling. The inside is automatically warm. An orange hangs from my rearview mirror, and a yellow smiley face hangs from the tuner of the radio, releasing an orange vanilla aroma throughout the whole. The back seat consists of several pairs of flip flops, two beach towels, and sun tan lotion. A pair of white sunglasses lay in a section behind the cup holders, whenever they are not on my face. There is no need for a sweater because the heat that is given to Marilyn from the enormously large sun keeps me warm enough, even with the windows open.

My windows are completely down and I can feel the warm subtle breeze that only occurs every so often, but I don’t mind and neither does Marilyn. My ipod is plugged in to the radio, playing on shuffle, loud and clear, so everyone outside can hear it too. It smells like sunshine and my Beach perfume. The inside of the trunk smells like chlorine. My black mats are happy. The rubber is dry and comforted. They are no longer stepped on at all, but tip toed upon with merely weightless flip flops, and sometimes just bare feet. I am singing and on my way to swim with friends. My glittering, curvy, silver Marilyn gets me to the pool, amazingly.

The leaves are beginning to fall and Marilyn is unfortunately covered in bird droppings. The windows are covered with wet orange leaves and some are stuck between my windshield wipers. This is all seeming a little too familiar to me. There is a pumpkin hanging in my rearview mirror and a Yankees shirt lying on top of the back seat, reflecting through the back window. It smells like cinnamon, but I don’t know why. My tires are parked on top of wet leaves that have lost their color and some pieces of branches. A towel, black pair of flip flops, and a dirty chlorine filled bed sheet remain in the trunk after the last endless days and nights that once occupied my time.

My black mats are recovering from the fulfilling sunshine days and warm nights consisting of long talks and singing. They are happily tired, but prepared. An air freshener and a tub of bubble gum occupy the space of my cup holders. The heat is on for approximately two minutes and then the windows are put down, as I turn the knobs, without any automatic assistance, letting in the air that is soon to be cold and distant. (ADD MORE HERE) My glittering, curvy, silver Marilyn gets me to school, once again.

**my focus has slightly changed from my previous blog. I am focusing on the seasons changing and how life continues, as a circle. I am still incorporating my feelings during these times, but subtly, not really including specific events throughout a year, but the seasons and where my car takes me during these seasons, which reflects my likes/dislikes.

Blog 16 - pre-draft essay 3

1. My focus is going to be about how people's attitudes/feelings/moods change throughout a year. As the seasons change and different situations occur throughout a year, people feel different ways. People are required to go certain places and choose to go other places. There are birthdays, holidays, weather changes, school days, work days, vacations, and so much more. As they say, people change with the seasons. A lot can happen in a year and I believe we all tend to remember events and stages of our life by the years. There are people we hold close to us, friends that are lost, and friendships that are gained. I am going to write about my car, in order to develop this focus.

2. The descriptions/information I will present to develop my focus are:
* what my car looks like/does during different seasons
-heat/air condition, windows down/up, music, air fresheners, outside of my car, smells, cleanliness, people who are in my car

*places I have used my car to take me and during what times
-school, work, beach, pool, houses, restaraunts, movies, parties, park

*when I use my car for lesuire/requirments
-school, work, to get away, to come back home, to pick someone up

*how my car has been a help
-emergenies, get away,

*people who have been in my car

3. These descriptions show that:
*depending how my car looks, reflects the way I am feeling

*how my car looks during different seasons shows the way I feel about that season/time of the year

*how my car has helped in certain situations
-helping someone, needing to get away from a certain situation/time of year, needing to come back home, having to go to work/school

*people affecting my life
-reasons why they were there, what relevance they had in my life during that time

In general, I want to pick a specific year to discuss, which will allow me to recall specific events. The seasons of the year can divide my essay into sections and I believe I will really be able to give detailed descriptions about my car throughout those seasons in a way that will show my intended focus, people change with the seasons.

I also would like to reflect on what happens after the year has passed. Does the same thing happen all over again next year or is it totally different? Do the same events occur in the same way? Are the same people still in my life or have they gone away? I need to chose a very important year to me, which has to be after I got my car, obviously. Maybe it can be the first year I got my car or this current year.

4. My request for feedback
*Is this essay topic good/relevant to most people?
*Do I have a solid focus?
*Is my focus clear/easy to understand?
*Is this interesting?

Blog 15 - Revised Essay 2

Rebecca Wood
November 2, 2009
ENG 3017.01
Dr. Chandler

Teaching – A Story of Finding Yourself

“Mom, I figured out what I want to go to college for. I want to be a teacher," I said, as I sat in my bedroom, a few months before filling out my college application for Kean.

"That's a great choice. I think you'll be great at it," said my mom. My mom and I stayed in my room discussing my decision and where it might lead me. We reminisced about times I've worked with kids and how I felt during those times. "Do you remember volunteering at St. Mary's CCD program's first grade class," asked my mom.

"Of course,” I said laughing. "I was nervous my first day going there, even though I knew the teacher already, but then the kids starting saying the funniest things and I thought it was pretty cool."

I remember babysitting ever since I was younger. I babysat children of family friend's and even one of my old bosses' children. She would always say to me, “It comes naturally to you to work with children. They love being around you. It’s like they connect with you one on one.”

Her oldest child, John, was four, the middle child, Matthew, was almost three and the youngest, Travis, was about nine months, at the time. It was very chaotic with three boys; two toddlers and a baby. After running around like crazy, Travis would finally go to sleep and I was able to watch John and Matthew play and interact with them. I remember answering all their silly questions relating to their imaginations about Spiderman and their baby brother. Although I was completely exhausted by the end of the day, I wasn't at all unhappy.

A few months later, after the conversation with my mom, December had already arrived. I finally received my application packet for Kean. I sat on my bed, legs crossed, let out a deep sigh and began filling out the application. As I filled out line by line, I arrived at the most important part, intended major. I wrote down Early Childhood Education on the paper and prepared to send it out in the mail and wait for my acceptance letter, hopefully.

I was so anxious to get the letter and see what the results were. A few weeks later, my mom received the letter in the mail while I was at school, but did not open it. I walked home as fast as I could that day and ran upstairs. My parents and I stood in the kitchen as I slowly opened the letter. "I got in," I shouted. "I got accepted."

"Congratulations, you've made it such a long way," said my mom with a few tears in her eyes. I thought to myself, ‘Finally, my journey through my college education has begun and it is going to be a breeze.’

During my sophomore year at Kean, I got a job working at a day care center after conducting an observation for one of my Early Childhood classes. I remember walking in the day care, the few days a week I worked, but I just didn’t see myself fitting in. There seemed to be something missing and I couldn’t figure out what it was. I just wanted something more, something extra, something different, something special.

In the summer of 2008, I was going to begin working in an office at city hall. A few weeks before the summer started, my dad said to me, "I found out that there's another job being offered for the city. It's working with kids at different ages. They are kids with special needs." "Which job would you rather have? I can get you into either one."

I told my dad that I would definitely rather have the job working with the kids. I remember thinking, ‘This will be a fun experience, an easy money-making summer, and help me with my major. I can kill three birds with one stone.’

I began working at the recreation program in July. I was beyond nervous on my first day. I had just parked in the back parking lot and walked towards the doors of the school, without even knowing what room to go in first. At that moment I was thinking that I didn’t know anyone and I really didn’t know what to expect, but I was hoping for the best. I walked in to the school building and was greeted by a security guard. She asked me what program I was there to attend and I informed her that I was there for the Special Needs Program.

She replied, "Oh, okay. Just go right through these doors, make a left and that is your room.” I said thank you and continued to walk through the hallway, looking around at the walls, as if I had never been in a school before. I arrived at the classroom and was greeted with "good mornings” and “welcomes.” I said good morning to everyone and let out a huge sigh of relief. I sat down in one of the seats and waited for the morning meeting to begin. I was introduced to all the staff, met my cooperating teacher and other assistants, and walked with my teacher to the cafeteria, where all the children were waiting. When we got to the cafeteria, all I saw were kids running around all over the place, just normal children acting like children are supposed to act.

I had no idea which children were going to be in my group, but my teacher had recognized some of the faces from previous years and introduced me to them. One child kept walking to the water fountain to get a drink of water and to talk to Ms. Z and I. "That's Mason", said Ms. Z. "He's a handful." Mason was one of the kids in our group. Throughout the day, I met all of the children who I would be working with and learned exactly what I was going to be required to do. The children in my group were the youngest, ranging from ages six to eight. My job was to assist the children in their daily classroom schedule, interact with them personally, help them learn, and make sure they remained safe and looked after.

One day during the summer program, we went on a trip to the bowling alley. I never saw children so excited to go on a trip before. We sat with the children during the bus ride and when we arrived at the bowling alley, the children were extremely happy. All of the children who were in my group continuously tried to use the heaviest bowling balls. I remember laughing as they attempted to carry the heavy bowling balls and roll them with two hands down the alley. They were excited just to get one pin down. It was the greatest achievement to them and it made me happy to see that they were learning and feeling accomplished.

That summer was the best summer of my life. It was crazy, interesting, entertaining, a headache creator, but definitely worth it. I gained such a bond with the children in my group and was amazed of how happy I was. I didn’t think getting attached to the children you work with was possible, but it was and it is. From the first day of the job, a few of the children were already completely attached to me.

I remember when Tanya, the tiniest seven year old I've ever met, would sit on my lap and fall asleep, still with her thumb in her mouth, during movie time. I remember Michael and Robert, best friends, who would recite the lines to Toy Story to me. Michael played the role of Buzz Light year and Robert played the role of Woody. It was amazing to me how children with Autism were able to memorize exact words from movies they were interested in. I also remember Mason, the most energetic, free spirited and funniest child, who one day started singing “Take Me Away” by Natasha Bedingfield down the hallway.

In December of 2008, the Saturday session of the recreation program began. The program occurred until May of 2009, and coherently in time for my college semester to finish. During the beginning of the summer, I was anxious to return to work for another year of the summer recreation program.

I missed getting up every morning and smiling as each child walked up to me and said, “Hi Miss Rebecca,” along with a hug. I missed eating lunch with them, having to get up every five seconds, to either take someone to the bathroom or tell someone to sit down. I missed the art projects, laughter, little problems that seem like the end of the world for a seven year old, and I missed learning so many new and interesting things about how Special Needs children work, learn, interact, solve problems, and face every day situations.

After the summer, which went by way too fast, and my third time working at the program, I knew it was time for a change. I talked to classmates, advisors, my parents, and teachers, and I changed my major from Early Childhood to Special Education. I finally matched the name to the calling, and I was satisfied.

Even though it may take a while to get it exactly right, our journeys through our careers usually begin a while before we can even put a name to it. We are all already doing what we want to do, without actually knowing it. Sometimes we may be generalizing the concept or not looking deeply enough into it, but we all have an understanding somewhere deep inside, without being able to define right away.

People who want to be singers are already watching ‘American Idol,’ and singing. People who want to be dancers are already watching ‘So you think you can dance,’ and dancing. People who want to be writers are already communicating their significant thoughts through scribbles, messy journals, stories, and discussions. People who want to be doctors are already watching ‘Grey’s Anatomy,’ and learning how to save people’s lives, and people who want to teach are already involved with children in their lives, and spreading their encouragement, support, patience, and guidance to others.

Blog 14 - Photograph

The photograph I chose is of me and my little cousin. It was taken in 2006 and my cousin was 1. We were in New York waiting to watch the Doodle Bops, for my little cousin. I was with my mom, aunt, and uncle, and my mom is the one taking the picture. We had went on the train to the city and we gave my cousin cotton candy for the first time, which he loved. My cousin is now going to be 4 years old and he talks so much. It's interesting because at that time he wasn't able to talk at all. It's funny how we both are wearing jean jackets and we look so young. I don't remember the exact date of the picture, but we it must have been sometime when it was nice weather. We have had 3 more birthday parties for my cousin since then and at the time the picture was taken, my aunts cat was still alive, but unfortunately about a year ago, she passed away because she was very sick. My cousin would lay on the floor with her, play with her, and grab her tail, but he still has no idea that she isn't around anymore. I don't think he remembers her.

It's very interesting when you look back on a picture that you haven't looked at in so long and think about how much things have changed since that picture was taken. I guess it's true when they say a picture is worth a thousand words.