Paige's Writing Portfolio

This portfolio will reflect my work in EED 390 and what I have learned as a future English teacher

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Personal Choice Piece: Memoir

I truly believe dogs are very similar to humans. Every dog I have owned looks at me as if they know what is going on, and they have an opinion about it. My sister and I constantly joke about how sassy our dog is, and my dad has conversations with her every day-- we all do. The dog I grew up with was named Torre. She passed away at 11 years old, and I was a Senior in High School. I now have a puppy named Yogi, and I love seeing how different their personalities are.

Torre was fearless, daring, and very independent. Why do I think this? Let’s take it back to the day before my tenth birthday. We had let Torre outside to play in the yard (we had a fence to keep her in), and we were enjoying a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and I walk behind my dad to see who’s there. Right at our front door is a police officer holding Torre by the collar. He asks if this is our dog, and my dad, extremely confused, says yes and takes her in. Here’s what really happened, though. My fearless, daring, and independant dog found her way through the fence in the backyard, walked across the extremely crowded and dangerous Main Street, and sauntered into the automatic doors of a Kings grocery store and started looking around. To this day I laugh to myself every time I think of my giant, black dog just walking around the grocery store by herself. It was only until someone called the police that she was escorted home, looking pleased with herself. After that day we added an extra lock to the fence in the backyard, but nothing could keep Torre from doing what she wanted.

Yogi, on the other hand, is quirky, obedient, and definitely a princess. She would never dream of doing the things that Torre dared to do. While Torre would bolt for an adventure the second she had a chance, Yogi won’t step outside without our okay. Yogi makes the strangest noises, that I swear she is about to speak to me. She groans when you cuddle her, and she gets mad when my sister and I try to lock her in our room. She sits with poise and purpose, and she is always ready for a photoshoot. She demands attention, as all princesses do. Yogi has no crazy stories, because she is not a crazy dog.

The one thing both my dogs have in common, however, is their loyalty. They absolutely love my dad, and they would follow him anywhere and everywhere. They both may give me and my sister sassy looks, but at the end of the day, they will always jump for joy when we get home. I may sound odd talking about dogs this way, but anyone who has a dog would agree with me: they all have their own different personality. Let’s face it, we could all use a friend as loyal as a dog.

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This I Believe About Teaching Writing

Apart from the boring academic writing we did in school, I do remember one class in High School where we had creative writing at the beginning of class every day. At the beginning of the year, we all wrote down a topic to write about on a scrap of paper. These prompts ranged from “write about aliens” to “write about your favorite memory.” There was so much variety, and there were so many different ways to write about each one. Each day my teacher would pick one out of a hat, and we would have five-ten minutes to write about that topic without stopping. Afterwards, we would share our responses, and we got to see all the different ways people chose to write about the prompt of the day. I remember this being so fun, and it brought us together as a class.

This experience made writing fun. I plan to use the writer’s notebook to show my students all the different genres of writing, and allow them to explore with those genres. I want to give my students the power of choice, and hopefully, they will learn to enjoy the experience of writing because of that ability.

The one aspect of the writer’s notebook I will be strict with is consistency. My students will write in their notebooks every class period, and this consistency will improve their writing. It takes dedication and patience to see improvement, but their notebooks from the beginning of the year compared to the end will be drastically different.

I believe in making writing enjoyable for my students. The writer’s notebook is a place for experimentation and practice. It is where someone becomes a writer. It may consist of spelling errors and comma splices, but it will be filled with creative ideas and a strong voice. Only after students find the joy in writing, can they find the motivation to write a lot, and therefore, write better.

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Personal Choice Piece #4- Persuasive Letter

Dear Schools Everywhere,

Feminine hygiene products should be free in schools. Why? According to Annamarya Scaccia in “The Price Young Girls Pay When Tampons Aren't Free,” “advocates say having to jump through hoops for menstrual care can be traumatizing, especially for the 21 percent of school-age children living in poverty. Students who can't access pads or tampons often can't concentrate in class, risk bleeding through their underwear, and are forced to miss class or school altogether, falling behind on lessons and grades.” Schools should let nothing get in the way of students’ learning, especially something natural like periods. This issue extends the gender gap in schools. The fact that feminine products are not free, is like saying women’s education is not as important, or that their health is not a priority. This is completely unacceptable.

Many girls who cannot afford feminine hygiene products at home have to stay home from school for a week once a month when they have their period. This is to avoid embarrassing and unsanitary situations that result in bleeding through their clothes. This can cause those students to fall behind, and make it practically impossible for them to keep up with the students who can afford these products, or do not need them. "This is a big stress in a lot of [the students'] lives," says Ferreras-Copeland. But, she continues, when students have access to menstrual products in bathroom, they feel relieved and no longer lose valuable class time. "[They] have everything they need to have a successful day." This is not a choice by women, it is a health issue. Therefore it should be a right, not a privilege.

Pads and tampons should be covered by insurance and free in schools. Young girls who are going through this stage in their life need the support of their school. This will normalize the taboo subject of periods, and bring to light what the real problem is: inequality. Women should have everything they need to be comfortable and successful in the classroom. What are you going to do about it?

Sincerely,

Paige

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Personal Choice Piece #2 Explication on Free Verse Poem

I chose this poem because I feel like it will urge my students to really think about what they want to write about, and use strong emotions to write their free verse poems. I feel like this could be relatable to them, as well. They will learn how to be careful with their word choice, and create a flow in their writing. I will use this poem by reading it aloud to my students, in order for them to hear how I want it to be read and show them where the pauses are.

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Personal Choice Piece #1 Explication on Short Story

I chose this piece because I feel it is a good mentor text for a short story unit. Using this piece will help my students learn a lot of writing strategies. It will help them see how they can use dialogue in their short stories, character development, descriptive language, and voice. It shows what an inner monologue looks like, and it teaches them how to write first person narratives. I would use this piece as a mentor text to help them along the process of writing their own short stories. I will show it to them as a whole, as well as highlight bits and pieces while demonstrating certain strategies that we are focusing on that day.

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This is a great example of using writing territory expansions to create a writers notebook entry. It shows how I can take a simple topic such as my mom, and create a story from it. I created a snapshot moment out of a memory. This shows the purpose of the writers notebook: to practice writing and creativity and have fun while doing it. I enjoyed writing this piece, because it was such a fun memory of mine. My students should work on their writing while challenging themselves to write about things that matter to them, drawing out emotion, and working on their voice. 

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This demonstrates the purpose of a writers notebook because it shows how to use free flowing ideas. Sometimes a writers notebook is a great place to free write. Don’t think too hard about making it perfect, just start with an idea and work with it. Just keep writing without stopping for 5 minutes straight and see what you come up with. It can be something you expand on later, or just something you tried out one day. The writer’s notebook is all about experimentation in writing. I want my students to feel free to write about anything they want, especially ones that are fun to them, that they can enjoy. 

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Personal Choice Piece #2: Free Verse Poem

Trust Issues

By: Paige Barmakian

You kissed me And told me That I was beautiful.

And I believed you.

I couldn’t think straight, My mind was cloudy, And my whole body was electrified by the thought of you

At that moment I didn’t know That you also said that very same thing To a couple of other girls that same day

But it was okay. I would be okay.

So I found someone new. And he kissed me And told me that I was special

And I believed him.

My palms became sweaty at his words, My toes wiggled around in my sandals, And I felt a pull towards him, magnetic, in the pit of my stomach

At that moment I didn’t know That he went back to his room that night And fucked the girl next door, telling her That she was special.

But it was okay. I would be okay.

So I found someone new. And he kissed me And told me That he loved me

He held his hands in mine And pleaded with me Not wanting to let go

But this time I didn’t believe him

So I walked away Before I could get hurt Again

Even though This time He was telling The truth

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Personal Choice Piece #1: Creative Writing Short Story

The Slippery Sock

By: Paige Barmakian

I knew from the start that this would kill me. I was in no way prepared for what I would have to deal with if he stayed with me forever. He was the best thing in my life for a while, and I will always love him. But he is not mine, and I don’t think he ever was. It was the biggest decision I’ve ever made, letting him go. And for an 18 year old, it was a shit ton to deal with.

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I dressed for school this morning as I do for every morning as of late. I pull on my stretchiest leggings that are getting maddeningly stretchier everyday. I pick out my blue socks with the wrong day of the week on them (because who cares), and pull on my UGG boots over them. Then, I stick my head through the hole of another oversized t-shirt (it’s always an oversized t-shirt these days) and pile my white blonde hair at the top of my head. I don’t bother putting on makeup anymore. There’s no one to impress; no one at school even looks me in the eye.

When I go downstairs for breakfast, my dad is waiting for me with everything I need for the day. Ever since he and my mom found out about him, they have become extremely involved in my life: overbearing and suffocating. I guess they are just being protective, but I wish they would leave me alone. Especially now when he has been with me for so long already. I know what I am doing, and I am clearly not a child anymore.

I wish they would just act like they used to. Before him.

My dad hands me my lunch bag, and I leave for school. I am a senior in high school, which would be really cool if I could drive like the rest of my classmates. But, living right down the street from school means I have to walk like a pathetic freshmen every day of my life. As I’m walking, I feel my right sock slowly sliding off my foot with each step. Well, fuck. This is what my day is going to consist of: me constantly pulling up my sock. Perfect! That is just what I needed to worry about today. I don’t bother adjusting it, though. It will just start slipping off again.

Once I get to class, I take off my shoe and fix my sock. At least it will be comfortable while I’m sitting down. Well, as comfortable as I can be. No one looks at me anymore as I take my “special” seat by the door, allowing me easy access to leave whenever I need to and has a desk I can sit comfortably in. I have this set up in basically every class with the exception of gym. Then, I am allowed a free period because of my “situation” as the school calls it. I wish I had clothes in my gym locker, though. That way I could get a new pair of socks whose sole purpose isn’t to drive me crazy.

At lunch I meet up with Jamie. He has sandy blonde hair that he is constantly brushing out of his eyes and freckles that cover every inch of his body. He is my best friend, and no, I am not secretly in love with him. He is a total goofball and also a complete dick at the same time. But, I put up with him because he puts up with me and well, I’m a bit of a handful myself if I’m being quite honest (which I always painfully am). He is the only one that will sit with me anymore, anyway. He has that “I don’t give a fuck about what other people think” quality that connects us. All the girls are too embarrassed to be seen around me and the other boys are afraid of me. It pisses me off, but there really isn’t anything I can do about that.

“Hey, Fal!” I jump as he comes up behind me and then double over in shock.

“Shit. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you” He takes my lunch from me and helps me over to a table.

“I’m fine it was actually nothing” I assure him, exasperated and rolling my eyes. I re-adjust that damn sock again.

“Are you sure?” he says, and then, without waiting for me to answer, “So, are we working on the project after that doctor thing you’ve got today? My shift ends at five.”

“Yeah. It should be over at like four thirty. Just come by my place when you’re done, and you better bring me The Fallon special.”

“Oh, of course. How could I forget that?” he says, sarcasm heavy with each word.

The Fallon special is a milkshake from the ice cream parlor he works at. The parlor has these amazing milkshakes with like 50 different flavors and candy topping options.  Everyone is obsessed with it in our town, and Jamie’s brother owns it. We named the one I always get the Fallon special as a joke because there is literally nothing special about it at all. It’s just a chocolate milkshake. No toppings or special flavors whatsoever. He makes fun of me all the time for liking it the best and that’s where the running joke came from. But, he always brings me one after work and it is one of the main reasons I keep him around. Along with the fact that he’s my only friend and as much as I hate to admit it, we are basically the same person.

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It’s five now, and I am waiting for Jamie. I just ate an enormous dinner and I feel like I am about a thousand pounds. I sink into the couch in the living room and idly rub my stomach. I watch Netflix on my computer while I wait for him to show up. I hear the familiar sound of my side door creaking followed by the slam of it hitting the wall as it opens. Jamie comes into the living room with a grocery bag of supplies in one hand and a milkshake in the other.

“Thanks, J.” I take the milkshake and begin sucking at it without hesitation despite the massive dinner I had just consumed. A pain in my stomach interrupts me, though, and I have to put it down while I wait for it to pass. I guess that’s what I get for having eyes that are bigger than my stomach.

“So, I know I said I’d do most of the work for this one, but I gotta say I have absolutely no idea what I am doing here.” Jamie sits next to me and I close my laptop, shutting Netflix off and cutting off yet another one of Ross and Rachel’s fights mid sentence.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say, unconcerned “But it should also not surprise you that I have no idea what I’m doing, either”

We stare at each other for a second in silence and then both start laughing at the same time. Typical.

The laughing causes my stomach to hurt again and I clutch the pillow next to me for support before it passes. Jamie doesn’t notice.

“Just start googling shit and I’ll get us some water” I say and stand up off of the couch.

The second my feet touch the ground, though, something happens. My pants are suddenly soaked and I let out a noise of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie looks over at me, his face forming a look of surprise and realization almost simultaneously.

“We have to go.” He starts yelling for my parents and helping them pack. I can’t seem to move. I can’t even process what is happening. I just stand there as chaos ensues around me.

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I am lying in the hospital bed. The last 24 hours being the most painful of my life, but I am finally done now. It’s over. I look to my left, and I can see him. My mom is in the room, and she is sitting on my bed beside me. I can see my dad outside talking to the Clarks. The couple looks overjoyed, but they’ve been asked to stay outside for the time being. The nurse walks in, and I ask to hold him one last time. She brings him over to me and I take him in my arms. They wrapped him up in a blue blanket, giving him a matching blue hat and tiny blue socks. I can tell he looks a lot like me, his hair so white you can barely tell he even has any. But he also has features I don’t recognize, and I know they must belong to him. My mom and the nurse leave us alone so I can say goodbye. When the door shuts behind them, I touch my forehead to his and give his nose a kiss.

It is an odd feeling that builds in my chest. The idea of him reminds me of that terrible night. The night I was taken advantage of. The night that repulses me to my very core. The night where I lost my self worth, and am only barely beginning to find it again. Even though I cannot even fully remember that night, the thought of it is more than I can bare. But, the little boy in my arms right now is not at fault. As he lays in front of me and opens his eyes, I again become soft.

“They will take care of you little bean. You were never mine; you were always theirs.”

For some reason no tears come. Probably because I feel empty. No pain, just numbness. We wait together for the nurse and my mom to come back, and a few minutes later they do. The nurse comes over and reaches for the baby, but I don’t let her take him.

“Do you mind if… if I give him to them?”

“Not at all,” she says with a look of sadness in her eyes. She and my mom help me into a wheelchair with the baby in my arms. They wheel me into the hallway and I see them waiting. I know this will be the best day of their lives, because I can’t think of a worse day in mine. When we reach them, they are very kind. They ask me how I am feeling and we make small talk for a couple of minutes. I know it is time to give him up, though. I take a deep, shaky breath, and one last look at his face. He smiles at me. My heart completely skips a beat. He’s going to be okay. I hand him to Mrs. Clark.

“Thank you so much,” she says, starting to cry for what seems to be the millionth time today by the redness in her eyes. “We can’t even begin to tell you how happy you’ve made us.”

“I know you will make great parents.” I try to smile, but I know it must look forced. My mother pushes my wheelchair as we leave the Clarks at the hospital’s entrance. I watch them take him away. Take him home. I am keeping my eyes locked on him as they strap him into the carseat, and I notice something. His sock has slipped halfway off of his foot. Suddenly, my body is slammed with pain as my emotions of him leaving hit me like a brick. The car door is closing, and my eyes are filling with tears. Everything is turning blurry, and when I blink the tears away and open my eyes again the door is closed and he is gone. I blink away more tears, silently rushing down my face, and see something where the car had just been. I step out of my wheelchair and walk over.

I bend over and pick it up:

his tiny blue sock.