Asia G.

7th-Grade English Portfolio

My Portfolio Refection

1. How would you describe your writing at the beginning of the year and how would you describe it now?

During the beginning of the year my writing was at a 6th grade level. As the year went on, my writing improved and I because a stronger writer. My CAPS improved a lot as we did C.Y.G. almost everyday.

2. What do you consider your writing strengths? Explain.

I consider my writing strengths to be persuasive essays. I really like that kind of writing and feel that is my strong place in writing. Persuasive writing is a type of writing where you try to convince the other person that you are correct. I like this kind of writing because I get to put more of my opinion in it.

3. What writing skills do you need and/or want to continue to develop next year? Explain.

The skill that I think I need to improve on is newspaper types of writing. The reason why I think I need to work on that is because I make that type of writing sound chunky and not connected.

4. What piece of writing from this year best captures your growth as a writer and thinker? Explain why.

The piece that best captures my growth in writing is The Giver Essay because it is very well formatted. Everything sounds really smooth and connected. If I had wrote that essay at the begging of the year it wouldn't have been as good as it is.
5. What piece of writing from this year are you most proud of? Explain why.

The piece of writing I am most proud of is my Holocaust Diary entries. I feel that I really put a lot of thought into that writing and it turned out really well. The writing really told  a strong story.

Artifact #1

Letter # 4

Dear Mike and Goomer,

I am so glad that I finally heard back from you. Thing have gotten even worse since the last time you heard from me.

Remember when I said how much I wanted to leave the Ghetto? Well now I want to go back to the Ghetto. Things have just gotten worse; I am suffering even more than I did before.

On a Friday evening I was woken up sharply by a loud honking noise. I woke up to see a sargin in a grey uniform standing watching me. I was not sure what was going on. All of the people from the ghetto were lining up to go onto a large bus. It looked broken, crusty, and very unsafe but everyone was getting onto it, so I did to.

The air was cold; mist drifted through the air. Everyone was half awake and looked very nervous. We all picked up one foot after another, as if we were made of stone. I plopped myself down onto a ragged grey seat. I set my head onto the side of the bus and watched the tall man get on. Madeleine, the last one in line, was behind him. I was feeling very drowsy so, I did not really get to see what happened next. All I saw was Madaline struggling to get on. I closed my eyes and heard a shriek. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to know what had happened. I wanted to open my eyes and wake up from a terrible dream. I wanted to be free again. I knew that would never happen. So instead I let a sea of salty tears drift me to sleep.

That night, I woke up to the sounds of someone screaming at me in Greek. I opened my eyes quickly, and then jumped to my feet. Every eye was pointed in my direction staring at me in fear. I slowly but surely got off of the bus. Huddled up with the rest of the group, we stood in front of a large train station. The doors were made out of bronze that was old and rusted. The sky was pitch black and we all stood there waiting for something to happen. The tall man that was the last one to get on had a deceiving look on his face. He slowly started to transition towards the back of the group. About 10 minutes later, he started running. One of the officers ran after him; he fired three gunshots. One went at a tree, one at his arm, and one in his back. I stood there, full of fear. I didn’t know what to do.

Many long, cold hours later, a train arrived at the station. They separated us into two different groups. One was old and dying; the other one was young and dying. They put me in the younger group, but at this point I wished that I would have been in the young and dead. My hands were becoming so boney. I wish I could have just been done; I wanted to be done with the suffering. How much longer could I take this?

We got onto a tiny train wagon. It was full of people, packed so tightly that you could not sit down. In the middle, there was a hole about the size of a small child, ment for bathroom purposes. I was crammed next to people and I didn’t have any room to move. The girl next to me was almost dead. Her hands were extremely boney and the dug into my ribs.

The next two days were very hard. Many of the children got sick and vomited continuously; it was not like they had anything to vomit. Then they would become weak and die. I had two pieces of bread left in my pocket that I would secretly eat when no one was looking. Some of the children were not lucky enough to have that bread. Most of the children died from starvation and were thrown out through the whole, or just jumped out of the train through the whole.

Three days later when we finally stepped out of the train it felt so good. It felt like we were free, but we were not. At the front of the camp there was a large sign that said Auschwitz, Birkenau Concentration Camp. So far I have only been here for a day, but I am not liking it.

About two hours ago a little girl with little pigtails came up to me and said, “They have taken her. Help me. Help me.” Then she was dragged into these building that look like bathrooms; but have a yellow tinted gas coming out from them. He voice keeps running through my head like a song on loop. What if I am taken away just like her mother. Then what?

I want to leave this terrible nightmare. If I could just open my eyes and everything would be gone. I would be free again. My life would be normal. Mother and Father would be sitting in the living room laughing. When I closed and opened my eyes all I saw was two women sitting and screaming in pain. I hope I hear back from you as it is the only thing keeping me happy at this point.

Sincerely,

Ayala Goldstein

Artifact #2

The world in The Giver by Lois Lowry is a dystopia because nobody in the community gets to experience emotions.

The people in Jonas’s community do not get to feel proud of what they do and they do not get to do entertaining activities. As Jonas thinks about his friends accomplishments but, is unable to express his feelings, the narrator explains, “He had never talked about the boy’s accomplishments because such a conversation would have been awkward” (26). None of the community gets to experience pride. Whenever they finish a job, they are not rewarded in any way. This type of attitude shows the reader that they are only in the world to serve the people around them. Since the community in The Giver never prides anyone for the good deeds they completed, it makes it a dystopia because they are taking away their emotions. During a session with the Giver, he says somberly,: “‘ Of course you didn’t. You don’t know what snow is, do you?’ Jonas shook his head” (65) The fact that Jonas has never seen snow means that he has never had the joy of snow. Most of the activities are not fun because they choose to get rid of all the danger which resulted in also taking away all the fun. This proves that the giver community is a dystopia because none of them ever experience joy and don't get to have fun. Nobody even knows what laughter is. They don’t get to have fun or be excited.

In conclusion, Lois Lowry wants to show that when people are the same, the world is not perfect. When everybody is different it makes the world special. She also wanted to show that when people love each other, everything becomes human like.

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