Narrative

toc Return to Term One Writing Assignments =Assignment #1=

Personal Narrative The Personal Narrative, also known as the Reflective Essay, is a piece of writing describing an event of personal significance to the writer. Personal Narratives go beyond merely describing your personal observations and perceptions to examining abstract ideas – love, patience, courage, honor. Your examinations of and reflections on your personal experience should lead you to a new understanding of your beliefs about life, about what it means to be human.
 * Overview:**

There is no proper topic for such an essay. An essay can be about a variety of personal experiences. You, the writer, have the right to say what you want about your personal experience. You can write about anything ‑‑ Aunt Sally, the funky necklace you bought at a garage sale, the harrowing experience of being stuck in an elevator, the best Christmas you ever had, the worst day of your life.


 * Essay Requirements**


 * Your essay must be at least two 1 ½ -2 pages typed (double spaced with 1” margins) OR 2-2 ½ pages handwritten.
 * Your essay must have an original and intriguing title. “My Narrative Essay” does not work.
 * Must INCLUDE dialogue
 * Recall an experience AND **Reflect what you learned from the experience**--


 * Assignment Components**
 * Pre-Write: Fill out outline or graphic organizer template
 * 1st Draft: May conference with others while writing this
 * Self-Edit: Using the markers, make editing and revision markings on your draft
 * 2nd Draft: Conference with teacher for feedback
 * Final: Handwritten or typed final turned into the basket. Submitted with 2nd draft and sticky note
 * Publication: Posted to your blog -OR-save a copy to put into your writing book


 * Skills Assessed **
 * Focused, narrowed topic
 * Specific, concrete detail
 * Show instead of tell
 * Effective dialogue tags
 * Correct capitalization, punctuation with dialogue, commas with coordinating conjunctions (no run-ons or comma splices)
 * Using specific nouns and vivid verbs
 * Getting rid of be verbs
 * Varying sentence beginnings

=Assignment #2= Narrative Final

(See Option A) (See Option B) Directions: You will be writing another narrative, but you are going to do so displaying a sense of self-motivation. Essentially, you are going to be in charge of your own learning.

Use your writing process notes to compile the following components:


 * Pre-Write: outline or graphic organizer (use the templates)
 * 1st Draft: conference with students while writing this.
 * Self Edit: Use the markers to make revision and editing changes to your paper
 * Final: Handwritten or typed final with everything stapled together.
 * Publication: Posted to your blog –OR- save a copy to put in your writing book.

You will be turning in the 1st draft and final together. To make these changes without my feedback, you will need to use the following:


 * Feedback from your last narrative
 * Revision Checklist
 * Editors Checklist
 * Narrative Checklist

** Remember your Narrative Skills ( **Use your Personal Narrative Notes) Concrete detail Show don’t tell Effective dialogue Elements of a narrative

**Remember your Writing Skills** (Use writing skills notes) Eliminating “be” verbs Specific nouns and vivid verbs Varying sentence beginnings

**Remember your Grammar Skills** Commas with coordinating conjunctions (no run-ons or comma splices) Commas with introductions Punctuation with Dialogue

Option A: Personal Narrative
This is a personal narrative much like the one you wrote last time. An experience from your life, and what you learned from it.

1. **[An important friend]** Think about a friend who has been an important part of your life. How did you become friends with this person? Think about when you met, what you did, and how your friendship grew. Write a story about this friendship. Give enough details to tell the reader about this friendship.

2. **[People I've met**] A change in the weather can be wonderful. Sometimes we are surprised at how a snowy, rainy, windy, or sunny day can change the way we feel. The weather can bring chances for fun, creativity, time alone, time with your family, or something out of the ordinary. Write a story about a day in which the weather made the day special for you. Give enough details to show the reader what happened on this day.

3. **[A snow day]** You woke up one morning and learned that it was snowing. School was closed for the day! It was a dream come true. Suddenly you had time to take a break from the usual routine and do what you wanted to do. Write a story about a snow day off from school that you remember. Give enough details in your story to show what you did and how wonderful the day was.

4. **[Favorite place]** All of us have a favorite place where we get to do what we want. It could be an indoor place, an outdoor place, or even an imaginary place. What is your favorite place? Write a story about what you get to do in your favorite place. Give enough details in your story to show your favorite place and what you get to do there.

5. **[Special adventure]** All of us have had a special time or adventure in our lives. It could be anything such as a visit with a friend or relative, a party you went to, or a game you watched or played. Or it could be something completely different. Write a story about a special time or adventure that you have had. Give enough details in your story to show what it was like and what made it so special.

6. **[Summer activity]** Summer is a special time when children get to do fun things. You have more time during the day to choose activities that you enjoy doing with your friends or family, outdoors or indoors. There are many different ways to have fun in the summer. What¹s yours? Write a story about your favorite summer activity. Give enough details in your story to show what you were doing and what made this your favorite activity.

7**. [An important person]** Think about people you know or have met. Choose ONE person who has made a big difference in your life. Write about that person AND describe his or her positive effect on your life.

8. **[Childhood Event]** Choose a vivid time from your childhood. Narrate the events related to the childhood memory that you've chosen so that your readers will understand why the event was important and memorable.

9. **[Lightbulb Moment]** Think of an experience when you realized that you suddenly understood an idea, a skill, or a concept you had been struggling with. Write a narrative that tells the story of your movement toward understanding. Your paper should help readers understand how you felt to struggle with the idea or skill and then to understand.

10. **[Being Unprepared]** Because you have been sick, out of town, or working on other homework, you didn't have as much time to study for an important test as you needed. Think of a specific test that you took that you felt unprepared for and narrate the events. Your paper should help readers understand what it felt like to be unprepared.

11. **[Achieving a Goal**] Think of a time when you achieved a personal goal. Tell your readers about the story of how you met your goal. Be sure that your readers understand why the goal is important to you.

12. **[The Good and the Bad]** Think about an event in your life that seemed bad but turned out to be good. Tell the story of the event that you experienced and help your readers understand how an event that seemed negative turned out to have valuable consequences.

1 3. **[Being a Teacher]** Teaching someone else how to do something can be rewarding. Think of a skill that you've taught someone else how to do. Think about the events that made up the process of teaching the skill, and narrate the story for your readers.

14. **[Changing Places]** Think of a change to a place that you know well, and narrate the events thatoccurred. Readers should know the details of the change, and they should know how you feel about the changes that occurred.

15. **[Personal Rituals]** Describe a personal ritual that you, your friends, or your family have. Narrate the events that take place when you complete your ritual so that your readers understand the steps that the ritual includes and why you complete them.

16. **[Standing Up]** Choose a time when you did something that took a lot of nerve, a time when you didn't follow the crowd or a time when you stood up for your beliefs. Think about the details of the event and write a story that tells about what happened. Your narrative should show your readers why you decided to make a stand or try something that took nerve, give specifics on the events, and share how you felt after the event.

17. **[Disagreeing]** Think of a time when you disagreed with a decision that had been made and did something about it. Write a paper that narrates the events that occurred ‑‑ from the decision that was made to your response. Be sure that your paper gives enough details that your readers understand why you disagreed with the decision and why you felt that your response was appropriate.

Option B: Fictional Narrative
With the fictional narrative, you will be writing about an event that didn’t actually happen to you as if it happened to you.

**My Life in another Era** Create a diary entry or multiple entries chronically a week in the life of someone from another era as if that someone were you. Your challenge is to describe what your created character (you) is experiencing using great sensory words; what does your character see, feel, smell, touch, hear and taste. Ideas: A slave girl or boy A jew during Hitler’s rule A young boy enlisted in Hitler’s youth A pilgrim or Indian A southern bell during the civil war

**Superman** Superman has been a comic strip character for over sixty years. He can fly, is super strong, has x-ray vision, and has super hearing. Imagine that you wake up one morning and find that you are a super hero or heroine and have **one** of Superman's powers to use for a day. Write about your experiences that day.

**Three Wishes** All of us have probably heard the story about the Genie in the bottle that would grant the person who opened it three wishes. We have all probably wished, at some time in our lives, that we would come across such a bottle and be granted three wishes of our own choice. Assume that you have found such a bottle and the Genie will grant you three wishes. There is one catch to this Genie. He will not grant wishes that are destructive or hurtful to you or to others. Write a narrative about your experience meeting with the Genie and getting your wishes.

=Pre-Write Template & Examples=

You may use any of the outline or graphic organizers that work for you. I have a copy of each different type. You only need to use one. This zip drive folder contains all of them; download the zip folder, and then choose the one you want to use.

I have created two examples of my narrative pre-write using two different graphic organizers.





=Rubric & Checklist=





= Student Example Narrative=

A Guarantee in Life By Justin S. age: 17

Everyone at some point in life says, “I regret that ever happening,” or “If I had one thing to change, it would be ...” Well, I suppose you feel that way until you realize that there was a reason for those events to happen. Looking back on my childhood, I realize that those situations had a big impact on the person I am today.

It was a cold day in November, 22 days after my fifth birthday. I sat motionless in a bathtub full of bubbles, deep in thought, staring blankly, wondering this and that. Suddenly the phone rang. When the phone would ring I would run frantically, hoping it was that mysterious caller who would send a message once or twice a month. But this time, for some reason, I didn’t bother to move. It was as if the ringing of the phone never happened. Eventually I drifted out of thought and listened. The phone stopped ringing and my mother was speaking. Vaguely, I recall hearing, “This boy has been waiting for a call from you for weeks.” I was a little curious, so I slipped out of the bubbly liquid, put on my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas, and wandered into the living room.

“Mommy, who’s on the phone?” I asked, tugging at her shirt. She whispered something into the phone then looked down at me.

“It’s daddy, honey. Do you want to talk to him?” (Why even bother asking a question like that? I thought to myself. You know the answer)

“Really? Daddy’s on the phone?”

She nodded her head slowly, her face still, and handed me the phone reluctantly.

“Hello!” I exclaimed.

“How doin’ buddy?” said my father.

“I’m OK. I have a sore throat.”

“Oh, that’s not good. So I hear it was your birthday a couple weeks ago?”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Yep,” I said excitedly.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“How old are you now, twelve?”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Five, dad,” I said with a smile.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“I was thinking, maybe you would like to come over to my house and spend the night.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">The words I had been waiting to hear finally came.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Yeah, I’ll go get ready, I’ll bring my Ghostbusters toys and my Ninja Turtles cartoons and my sleeping bag and I’ll go make pizza rolls so we have something to eat and...”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“That sounds great, buddy, and you know what else you need to do?” he said as though he cared. “You need to go and drink lots of orange juice to fix that sore throat.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“OK...”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">Suddenly the phone was taken out of my hands.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Hello, Frank, I’m not going to let you...” my mother said, looking down at me. She stopped in mid-sentence. “Honey, go dry your hair,” she told me as she covered the receiver. I tried to listen to what she said as I returned to the bathroom. In the distance I could hear her voice get a little louder, but the words were too muffled for me to understand.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">It was about 7 p.m. and I had just finished packing my things. My mother had told me that dad had said, “Tell him I’ll be there at a quarter after seven.” So I began my wait. I sat on the couch and watched some of an episode of “Full House.” Waiting...waiting. I could smell the pizza rolls in the oven. Having almost forgotten about them, I hurried into the kitchen to find my mother taking them out of the oven. She put them on a plate and wrapped it in foil. Mom began to say something, but I wasn’t listening. The radio was playing the song “Lay Down Sally.” My dad was in a band and they always would start the evening with that song. This made me even more excited to see my father. I sang along as I ran back to sit by the window.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">It was 7:20 and still no sign of my daddy. I sat on the chair closest to the front window, watching all the cars that would pass, hoping that each one of them would be my dad. With each passing of a car, wind would slip through the crack underneath the window seal, sending a chill through my body. I turned around every so often to look at the clock. While panning from the window to the clock, I caught a glimpse of my mother’s face. She looked upset. I didn’t really care, though. My mind was occupied with the thought of seeing my dad. The seconds of waiting turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into an hour. I decided I would call to see if my dad had fallen asleep or something. My dad didn’t have a phone at his house, and I knew he had to have called from somewhere else, so I quietly picked up the phone and hit star 69.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">Once the recorder told me the number, I hung up quickly and dialed. The phone rang and rang. Finally, someone picked up.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Helllooo,” a drunken voice spoke, party music booming the background.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Can I talk to my daddy?” I said.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Whhattshyer dad’s name?” she asked.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Frank.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Oh, Frankie. Yeah, suuure, I’ll go and find him.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">I could hear the phone being laid down. After what seemed like ten minutes, that strange man’s voice came through the line.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Yeah, this is Franko,” he said, sounding drunk himself.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Daddy, you said you were coming to get me,” I said, my heart beating faster.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Ah, did I? I’m sorry, buddy, but you know what?” he said, slurring his words.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Daddy, I made pizza rolls, I got my things together, and I drank three glasses of orange juice, just like you told me,” I said, my eyes welling with tears.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“What?” he said, sounding confused. “Sorry, feller, but things came up and I can’t get you tonight. Maybe next weekend.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">In the background I could hear a woman’s voice. “Frankie, come on baby, come back to bed.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">“Daddy, I love you...”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">Click. The phone went dead. As I stood there trying to absorb what had just happened, the line began to beep.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">I placed the device that enabled me to hear that mysterious man’s voice back on its holder. I tilted my head to the side, and the tears flowed. I turned around to find my mommy standing in the doorway, her arms out. She had known what would happen even before it happened. It was ten o’clock that cold November night when I went to sleep. For some reason, crying always had that sleepy effect on me. “No more tears for Daddy tonight,” my mommy whispered as she rubbed my forehead, knowing I would fall asleep in her arms.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">I knew that night that the phone conversation had been backward. I may have been only five years old, but I knew what that mysterious man really was — just a very lonely and confused child. Now I realize that conversation took place between a thirty-year-old child and a five-year-old adult. Things happen for a reason, at least that’s what I believe, so I would like to thank my father for never being there for me, for when he would pop his head into my life just long enough to give me pain. I don’t regret all those times I would get my hopes up and be let down. Without his influence in my life, I may not be the person I am today. People say the only guarantee in life is death. That’s not true. There are two. The other is pain.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">Today, my father tells me, “I wish I had a part in your childhood.”

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 119%;">I reply, “I wish I had a part in yours.”

= Madsen Example Narrative=


 * A Sip of Danger**

I hesitantly step into the smoke-laden, crowded club. Shoving the ambiguous decision back and forcing the plastered, famous Katie smile to the front, I jovially prance about the floor with that vivacious energy they have all come to expect from me.

After a moment, the boys declare their need for alcohol. Sitting in the bench with Ecuadorians drinking all around me, I focus in on one girl. Perfecting the archetypal ideal of a “real woman,” she commands the floor shaking her booty that is barely covered by a tight jean skirt. Pulling my eyes away from the repulsive scene, I snap back to my current surroundings just in time to realize Jean-Louis is asking Racheal to dance. That leaves Lindsey, Hugo, and me. It doesn’t take long for me to realize what is going to happen next. Hugo turns to me asking if it’s alright if he dances with Lindsey since Jorge is coming for me. “Of course,” I quickly reply even though I know Jorge or not the scene would be the same.

Destined to be the loser in the corner, my eves revert back to the fem-fa-tal. The dance floor is not enough for her; she has jumped onto the skinny walkway sensually dancing with another girl while the men eye ball the scene with leering delight. It isn’t long before she is dancing with a guy, making out, while thrusting herself into him. Before I give heed to the ambivalent thought of why this both fascinates and disgusts me, I am rudely pulled out of my chair by Jorge.

On the dance floor, he pulls me sickeningly close, while he whispers into my ear how beautiful I look tonight. I am torn between wanting to hear those beautiful words and wanting to scream in terror as he forces me into an unwanted dance position and breathes his alcohol stenched breath into my hair.

Lindsay mouths to me, “Are you okay?” Of course I am not, but I nod yes not wanting to destroy the night for her. Lindsay is not to be fooled, and she sends Hugo to the rescue. In the arms of Hugo, I feel incompetent–not able to dance in that amazing way of his. But at least I feel safe. The safety is short lived, however, as Hugo goes back to Lindsay, and Jorge walks menacingly toward me. Shaking me like a Ragedy-Ann doll, he hisses, “You are only allowed to dance with me, and no one else. Got it?”

With each dance step, my head pounds harder and harder with the stench of the room, and the booming music dulling my senses. Why and how do people live like this, I ask. Everyone around me is laughing and having fun. These people are actually enjoying themselves, but all I see are monkeys prancing on each other. It seems everyone is making out with everybody. An unattractive, gangly boy jumps onto the pole whooping like a banshee; girls viciously rip into him lavishing him with affection that neither will remember tomorrow.

The phrase “Why am I here?” keeps reverberating around my brain. It is simple, and yet hidden behind years of complexity: Jorge, upon meting me, declared me the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. He requested my presence here tonight. My urgent desire to feel wanted, at this point in my life, overrode any practical, cognitive function.

Distraught at the realization, I pushed Jorge away demanding a drink of water. Staring at my reprieve, I forcefully grabbed the glass and pushed my lips to the rim. As I tilted my head back, I was met with a bitter, repulsive taste. Accusingly I demanded to know what I had been given. “Mineral Water,” came the short, easy reply. Naively, I believed. And although it tasted awful, I ravishingly took sip after sip waiting for the cacophonous noise to dim and the headache to cease. When no relieve came, I grabbed Lindsey and went outside with Jorge trailing. In the light of the street, Lindsay saw my glass, her eyes widened, and she asked, “What are you drinking?”

“Water,” I replied.

“That is not water; it is orange.”

Swiveling our eyes to Jorge, it took Lindsay asking him three times before he confessed the foul contents: whiskey. The moment the words were out, I felt my knees buckling and an unfamiliar bile rose up in my throat as I realized what the Jerk was trying to do. Dashing into the dark street, I ran. Lindsay chased me down and rationally helped me see that running in the dark streets of Ecuador by myself was not the best option.

Tears swelled. As the world spun around me, I sat down on the sidewalk and cried. Breaking the cry-fest, Jorge approached me and had the gall to tell me he thought it was just water. He assured me he was not trying to get me drunk, so he could take advantage of me. That was laughable. I had not even told him my suspicions and yet he knew. I stood up, and yelled at Jorge while many Ecuadorians looked on. After I did the unthinkable and stood up for myself, Jorge whispered that he wanted to talk, to explain, and being who I am, I let him.

“I did not know it was whiskey; I thought it was water.”

"Then why did you just tell Lindsay it was whiskey," I asked incredulously.

Silence. . . . . . . ..

Eventually he gave in: “Because I realized it was whiskey.”

"So when you went to the bar, you ordered water?"

"Yes, I got you water."

“But it was alcohol,” I exclaimed vehemently while looking to Lindsey to see if she was as shocked by his illogical argument as I.

“Yes”

“Did you order alcohol or water?”

“I ordered alcohol, but it was for me, not for you.”

“Then why did you give it to me?”

“Because you were thirsty.”

“So you knowingly gave me alcohol?”

“No, I thought it was water.”

After this disoriented exchange, I sat down on the curb, and tried one more time to make him see sense: “How could you think it was water when you just said you ordered alcohol?”

However, this just started the exchange all over again, as he stuck to his story: “Because it was for me, not for you.”

“But you gave it to me.”

“Yes, because I thought it was water.”

WHAT?????? WHAT??? This guy actually thought he was making sense.

“Katie, I think you are incredibly beautiful, and so smart, and I respect the fact that you don’t drink or mess around with boys even though I desperately want to kiss you. You have to know, I was not trying to do anything; if I were, if I didn’t respect you, I would have tried kissing you already.”

Me: ............

Approach Hugo, my fun-loving, funny, kind host brother. Upon discovering what had happened, Hugo shrugs it off like it was no big deal. After all the whiskey had been heavily water-down, so what was the big deal?

The big deal...the big deal.....hello it was watered down, so I would not notice as much. It was planned.

Jean-Louis took me back inside and proceeded to dance with Michelle, Lindsay, and me. The rest of the night I was safe. Safe with the men who would never do that to me. Safe, and yet why? Why? Why this club? Why these dance steps? Why the noise? Why do people live like this?

Luckily, I never saw Jorge again. Although he did call to ask me on a date, and yell at me. I thought when he was sober he would understand how illogical his argument was, but even then, he held firm to his story.

Years will continue to fly by, bad experiences will still happen, people will continue to lie, and I will continue to believe in the goodness of mankind. Should I? Perhaps, not, but I will because it is who I am. I refuse to be scared to trust others; I refuse to let bad experiences taint how I look and view the new people in my life. But, I can hold firm to that trusting, kind nature, and still learn to stand up for myself. That night in the streets of Ecuador, I took my first step in learning to say, “Hey, you hurt me, and I didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”