Greetings,
Below you will find a few reminders as well as the assignments for Packet # 5 and Packet #6.
REMINDER:
Please bring four copies of your rough draft of Essay #2 to class tomorrow, collated and stapled.
SPECIAL REQUEST:
Attention: SYLVIA, KIANA, ELI, MARIA: If these four students read this blog entry in time, could you please bring FIVE copies of your rough draft, instead of four? If you do not read this in time, we will figure something else out. Thanks! (This request is JUST for the four students listed above.)
PACKET #5--(3 items)--Q & C #3 due for this Packet.
"Female Vets Navigate Post-War Stress, Home Duties"
http://www.npr.org/2011/08/30/140038335/female-vets-navigate-post-war-stress-home-duties
"Boots to Books: The Rough Road from Combat to College"
(This is an approximately 14 minute video and a short article)
http://news.newamericamedia.org/news/view_article.html?article_id=8c310eacfeb08aba2e7f1e29411543e9
"For Many Returning Veterans, Home is Where the Trouble is"
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/03/opinion/03mon4.html
PACKET #6
"The Magic of the Family Meal" by Nancy Gibbs
http://content.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1200760,00.html
Monday, July 14, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014--9 pm
Good evening,
A few things:
1. There is a change in the syllabus schedule for Friday this week, July 11th. I will be assigning out of class essay #2 on Thursday, not Friday. Your out of class essay is still due on Friday. Instead of meeting in our usual classroom on Friday, we are meeting in the library instead--Room 2024. It is on the second floor, near the computer lab.
2. For Packet 3, one of the readings is a short story, "A Small Good Thing," by Raymond Carver.
Two students have informed me that the link I provided in a previous blog entry did not "work."
If this is the case for anyone else, I am including another link to the story below. Please let me know if you have any trouble. (Reminder: Packet 3 is due to be read by Thursday, and there is a Q & C due for the packet.)
A few things:
1. There is a change in the syllabus schedule for Friday this week, July 11th. I will be assigning out of class essay #2 on Thursday, not Friday. Your out of class essay is still due on Friday. Instead of meeting in our usual classroom on Friday, we are meeting in the library instead--Room 2024. It is on the second floor, near the computer lab.
2. For Packet 3, one of the readings is a short story, "A Small Good Thing," by Raymond Carver.
Two students have informed me that the link I provided in a previous blog entry did not "work."
If this is the case for anyone else, I am including another link to the story below. Please let me know if you have any trouble. (Reminder: Packet 3 is due to be read by Thursday, and there is a Q & C due for the packet.)
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Sunday, July 6th, 2014--11:45 am
Greetings!
I hope you are thoroughly enjoying the last hours of your weekend! :)
Reminders:
1. rough draft of essay #1 due tomorrow
2. bring your stapler to class (and in fact, you will want to have it with you in class for the rest of the semester)
PACKET #4 ASSIGNMENT (due on Monday, July 14)--(3 items total)
"Becky Blanton: The Year I was Homeless"
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/becky_blanton_the_year_i_was_homeless.html
(this is a video which is a little over seven minutes)
"Homelessness and Hungry with No Excuses" by Rich Linberg
http://www.cdobs.com/archive/syndicated/homelessness-and-hungry-with-no-excuses/
"Down & Out in Fresno and San Francisco"
http://www.esquire.com/features/down-and-out-0709
I hope you are thoroughly enjoying the last hours of your weekend! :)
Reminders:
1. rough draft of essay #1 due tomorrow
2. bring your stapler to class (and in fact, you will want to have it with you in class for the rest of the semester)
PACKET #4 ASSIGNMENT (due on Monday, July 14)--(3 items total)
"Becky Blanton: The Year I was Homeless"
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/becky_blanton_the_year_i_was_homeless.html
(this is a video which is a little over seven minutes)
"Homelessness and Hungry with No Excuses" by Rich Linberg
http://www.cdobs.com/archive/syndicated/homelessness-and-hungry-with-no-excuses/
"Down & Out in Fresno and San Francisco"
http://www.esquire.com/features/down-and-out-0709
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Second Posting for Tuesday, July 1, 2014--7 pm
Greetings,
Below you will find the following:
1. Packet #2 (due next week, Wednesday, July 9th.)
2. Packet #3 (due next week, Thursday, July 10th. A Q & C is also due with this packet)
PACKET #2 (two items)
"Arturo" by Maria Mazziotti Gillan
http://www.pccc.edu/home/cultural-affairs/poetry-center/maria-mazziotti-gillans-poems2
************************
“Flies” (a prose poem)
By: Donald Hall
A fly sleeps on the field of a green curtain. I sit by my grandmother’s side, and rub her head as if I could comfort her. Ninety-seven years. Her eyes stay closed, her mouth open, and she gasps in her blue nightgown—pale blue, washed a thousand times. Now her face goes white, and her breath slows until I think it has stopped; then she gasps again, and pink returns to her face.
Between the roof of her mouth and her tongue, strands of spittle waver as she breathes. Now a nurse shakes her head over my grandmother’s sore mouth, and goes to get a glass of water, a spoon, and a flyswatter. My grandmother chokes on a spoonful of water and the nurse swats a fly
In the Connecticut suburbs where I grew up, and in Ann Arbor, there were houses with small leaded panes, where Formica shone in the kitchens, and hardwood in closets under paired leather boots. Carpets lay thick underfoot in every bedroom, bright, clean with no dust or hair in them. Nothing looked used, in these houses. Forty dollars’ worth of cut flowers leaned from Waterford vases for the Saturday dinner party.
Even in houses like these, the housefly wandered and paused—and I listened for the buzz of its wings and its tiny feet, as it struggled among cut flowers and bumped into leaded panes
In the afternoon my mother takes over at my grandmother’s side in the Peabody Home, while I go back to the farm. I nap in the room my mother and my grandmother were born in.
At night we assemble beside her. Her shallow, rapid breath rasps, and her eyes jerk, and the nurse can find no pulse, as her small strength concentrated wholly on half an inch of lung space, and she coughs faintly—quick coughs like fingertips on a ledge. Her daughters stand by the bed, solemn in the slow evening, in the shallows of after-supper—Caroline, Nan, and Lucy, her eldest daughter, seventy-two, who holds her hand to help her die, as twenty years past she did the same thing for my father.
Then her breath slows again, as it has done all day. Pink vanishes from cheeks w3e have kissed so often, and her nostrils quiver. She breathes one more quick breath. Her mouth twitches sharply, as if she speaks a word we cannot hear. Her face is fixed, white, her eyes half closed, and the next breath never comes.
She lies in a casket covered with gray linen, which my mother and her sisters picked. This is Chadwick’s Funeral Parlor in New London, on the ground floor under the I.O.O.F. Her fine hair lies combed on the pillow. Her teeth in, her mouth closed, she looks the way she used to, except that her face is tinted, tanned as if she worked in the fields.
This air is so still it has bars. Because I have been thinking about flies, I realize that there are no flies in this room. I imagine a fly wandering in, through these dark-curtained windows, to land on my grandmother’s nose.
At the Andover graveyard, Astroturf covers the dirt next to the shaft dug for her. Mr. Jones says a prayer beside the open hole. He preached at the South Danbury Church when my grandmother still played the organ. He raises his narrow voice, which gives itself over to August and blue air, and tells us that Kate in heaven “will keep on growing . . . and growing . . . and growing”—and he stops abruptly, as if the sky had abandoned him, and chose to speak elsewhere through someone else.
After the burial I walk by myself in the barn where I spent summers next to my grandfather. I think of them talking in heaven. Her first word is the word her mouth was making when she died.
In this tie-up chaff of flies roiled in the leather air, as my grandfather milked his Holsteins morning and night, his bald head pressed sweating into their sides, fat female Harlequins, while their black and white tails swept back and forth, stirring the flies up. His voice spoke pieces he learned for the lyceum, and I listened crouched on a three-legged stool, as his hands kept time strp strp with alternate streams of hot milk, the sound softer as milk foamed to the pail’s top. In the tie-up the spiders feasted like emperors. Each April he broomed the webs out and whitewashed the wood, but spiders and flies came back, generation on generation—like the cattle, mothers and daughters, for a hundred and fifty years, until my grandfather’s heart flapped in his chest. One by one the slow Holsteins climbed the ramp into a cattle truck.
In the kitchen with its bare hardwood floor, my grandmother stood by the clock’s mirror to braid her hair every morning. She looked out the window toward Kearsarge, and said, “Mountain’s pretty today,” or, “Can’t see the mountain too good today.”
She fought the flies all summer. She shut the screen door quickly, but flies gathered on canisters, on the clockface, on the range when the fire was out, on set-tubs, tables, curtains, chairs. Flies buzzed on cooling lard, when my grandmother made doughnuts. Flies lit on a drip of jam before she could wipe it up. Flies whirled over simmering beans, in the steam of maple syrup.
My grandmother fretted, and took good aim with a flyswatter, and hung strips of flypaper behind the range where nobody would tangle her hair in it.
She gave me a penny for every ten I killed. All day with my mesh flyswatter I patrolled kitchen and dining room, living room, even the dead air of the parlor. Though I killed every fly in the house by bedtime, when my grandmother washed the hardwood floor, by morning their sons and cousins assembled I the kitchen, like the woodchucks my grandfather shot in the vegetable garden which doubled and returned; or like the deer that watched for a hundred and fifty years from the brush on ragged mountain, and when my grandfather died stalked down the mountainside to graze among peas and corn.
We live in their house with our books and pictures, writing poems under Ragged Mountain, gazing each morning at blue Kearsarge.
We live in the house left behind; we sleep in the bed where they whispered together at night. One morning I wake hearing a voice from sleep: “The blow of the axe resides in the acorn.”
I get out of bed and drink cold water in the dark morning from the sink’s dipper at the window under the sparse oak, and fly wakes buzzing beside me, cold, and sweeps over set-tubs and range, one of the hundred-thousandth generation.
I planned long ago I would live here, somebody’s grandfather.
PACKET #3 (two items)
"A Family" (a short story by Guy de Maupassant)
http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/Afamily.html
"A Small Good Thing" (a short story by Raymond Carver)
http://astoryeveryday.com/2011/10/13/raymond-carver-a-small-good-thing/
Below you will find the following:
1. Packet #2 (due next week, Wednesday, July 9th.)
2. Packet #3 (due next week, Thursday, July 10th. A Q & C is also due with this packet)
PACKET #2 (two items)
"Arturo" by Maria Mazziotti Gillan
http://www.pccc.edu/home/cultural-affairs/poetry-center/maria-mazziotti-gillans-poems2
************************
“Flies” (a prose poem)
By: Donald Hall
A fly sleeps on the field of a green curtain. I sit by my grandmother’s side, and rub her head as if I could comfort her. Ninety-seven years. Her eyes stay closed, her mouth open, and she gasps in her blue nightgown—pale blue, washed a thousand times. Now her face goes white, and her breath slows until I think it has stopped; then she gasps again, and pink returns to her face.
Between the roof of her mouth and her tongue, strands of spittle waver as she breathes. Now a nurse shakes her head over my grandmother’s sore mouth, and goes to get a glass of water, a spoon, and a flyswatter. My grandmother chokes on a spoonful of water and the nurse swats a fly
In the Connecticut suburbs where I grew up, and in Ann Arbor, there were houses with small leaded panes, where Formica shone in the kitchens, and hardwood in closets under paired leather boots. Carpets lay thick underfoot in every bedroom, bright, clean with no dust or hair in them. Nothing looked used, in these houses. Forty dollars’ worth of cut flowers leaned from Waterford vases for the Saturday dinner party.
Even in houses like these, the housefly wandered and paused—and I listened for the buzz of its wings and its tiny feet, as it struggled among cut flowers and bumped into leaded panes
In the afternoon my mother takes over at my grandmother’s side in the Peabody Home, while I go back to the farm. I nap in the room my mother and my grandmother were born in.
At night we assemble beside her. Her shallow, rapid breath rasps, and her eyes jerk, and the nurse can find no pulse, as her small strength concentrated wholly on half an inch of lung space, and she coughs faintly—quick coughs like fingertips on a ledge. Her daughters stand by the bed, solemn in the slow evening, in the shallows of after-supper—Caroline, Nan, and Lucy, her eldest daughter, seventy-two, who holds her hand to help her die, as twenty years past she did the same thing for my father.
Then her breath slows again, as it has done all day. Pink vanishes from cheeks w3e have kissed so often, and her nostrils quiver. She breathes one more quick breath. Her mouth twitches sharply, as if she speaks a word we cannot hear. Her face is fixed, white, her eyes half closed, and the next breath never comes.
She lies in a casket covered with gray linen, which my mother and her sisters picked. This is Chadwick’s Funeral Parlor in New London, on the ground floor under the I.O.O.F. Her fine hair lies combed on the pillow. Her teeth in, her mouth closed, she looks the way she used to, except that her face is tinted, tanned as if she worked in the fields.
This air is so still it has bars. Because I have been thinking about flies, I realize that there are no flies in this room. I imagine a fly wandering in, through these dark-curtained windows, to land on my grandmother’s nose.
At the Andover graveyard, Astroturf covers the dirt next to the shaft dug for her. Mr. Jones says a prayer beside the open hole. He preached at the South Danbury Church when my grandmother still played the organ. He raises his narrow voice, which gives itself over to August and blue air, and tells us that Kate in heaven “will keep on growing . . . and growing . . . and growing”—and he stops abruptly, as if the sky had abandoned him, and chose to speak elsewhere through someone else.
After the burial I walk by myself in the barn where I spent summers next to my grandfather. I think of them talking in heaven. Her first word is the word her mouth was making when she died.
In this tie-up chaff of flies roiled in the leather air, as my grandfather milked his Holsteins morning and night, his bald head pressed sweating into their sides, fat female Harlequins, while their black and white tails swept back and forth, stirring the flies up. His voice spoke pieces he learned for the lyceum, and I listened crouched on a three-legged stool, as his hands kept time strp strp with alternate streams of hot milk, the sound softer as milk foamed to the pail’s top. In the tie-up the spiders feasted like emperors. Each April he broomed the webs out and whitewashed the wood, but spiders and flies came back, generation on generation—like the cattle, mothers and daughters, for a hundred and fifty years, until my grandfather’s heart flapped in his chest. One by one the slow Holsteins climbed the ramp into a cattle truck.
In the kitchen with its bare hardwood floor, my grandmother stood by the clock’s mirror to braid her hair every morning. She looked out the window toward Kearsarge, and said, “Mountain’s pretty today,” or, “Can’t see the mountain too good today.”
She fought the flies all summer. She shut the screen door quickly, but flies gathered on canisters, on the clockface, on the range when the fire was out, on set-tubs, tables, curtains, chairs. Flies buzzed on cooling lard, when my grandmother made doughnuts. Flies lit on a drip of jam before she could wipe it up. Flies whirled over simmering beans, in the steam of maple syrup.
My grandmother fretted, and took good aim with a flyswatter, and hung strips of flypaper behind the range where nobody would tangle her hair in it.
She gave me a penny for every ten I killed. All day with my mesh flyswatter I patrolled kitchen and dining room, living room, even the dead air of the parlor. Though I killed every fly in the house by bedtime, when my grandmother washed the hardwood floor, by morning their sons and cousins assembled I the kitchen, like the woodchucks my grandfather shot in the vegetable garden which doubled and returned; or like the deer that watched for a hundred and fifty years from the brush on ragged mountain, and when my grandfather died stalked down the mountainside to graze among peas and corn.
We live in their house with our books and pictures, writing poems under Ragged Mountain, gazing each morning at blue Kearsarge.
We live in the house left behind; we sleep in the bed where they whispered together at night. One morning I wake hearing a voice from sleep: “The blow of the axe resides in the acorn.”
I get out of bed and drink cold water in the dark morning from the sink’s dipper at the window under the sparse oak, and fly wakes buzzing beside me, cold, and sweeps over set-tubs and range, one of the hundred-thousandth generation.
I planned long ago I would live here, somebody’s grandfather.
PACKET #3 (two items)
"A Family" (a short story by Guy de Maupassant)
http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/Afamily.html
"A Small Good Thing" (a short story by Raymond Carver)
http://astoryeveryday.com/2011/10/13/raymond-carver-a-small-good-thing/
Monday, June 30, 2014
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Greetings!
And congratulations! If you are reading this, it means you have located the class blog successfully!
Below you will find the following:
1. a copy of the syllabus, distributed today in class.
2. a copy of the Grade Sheet, distributed today in class.
3. a copy of the Unacceptable Errors handout, distributed in class today.
4. Packet #1 assignment. It is due to be read by Thursday. Also, remember that a Q & C is also due for this Packet. There are four poems in the Packet. You will write a question and comment for EACH of the four poems, as discussed in class.
*****
*****
***
And congratulations! If you are reading this, it means you have located the class blog successfully!
Below you will find the following:
1. a copy of the syllabus, distributed today in class.
2. a copy of the Grade Sheet, distributed today in class.
3. a copy of the Unacceptable Errors handout, distributed in class today.
4. Packet #1 assignment. It is due to be read by Thursday. Also, remember that a Q & C is also due for this Packet. There are four poems in the Packet. You will write a question and comment for EACH of the four poems, as discussed in class.
*****
SUMMER BRIDGE
ACADEMY--2014, CSU SACRAMENTO
COURSE: English 5: College Composition I –Section 70
July 1-August 6
Sequoia Hall, Room 450; 1:00 pm – 2:35 pm M through F
INSTRUCTOR: Catherine Fraga
E-mail: sacto1954@gmail.com
Office Hours: Calaveras 149
July 1 – July 11 – 2:45 pm – 3:15 pm, or by appointment
July 14 – August 6 – 12 noon – 12:50 pm, or by appointment
CLASS BLOG:
http://SummerBridge2014.blogspot.com
.
************************************************************************
REQUIRED
TEXTS & MATERIALS
(ALL READING MATERIAL WILL CONSIST OF
HANDOUTS AND READINGS FOUND ON THE INTERNET)
- 8 1/2” x 11” lined notebook paper
(paper that is torn out of a notebook without a straight edge will not be
accepted).
- Stapler
- Reliable access to a computer and a
printer. (Remember, all Summer Bridge Academy students have 200 copies
free on their One Card.)
- Two (2) Blue (or Green) Books for the
two in-class essays
(these can be found in the university’s bookstore or at the Student
Union store—they are available in two different sizes—either size is
acceptable)
COURSE
DESCRIPTION:
English 5 is a freshman writing course that offers students
the opportunity to learn and develop the reading and writing skills that
will be most useful to them during a four-year college program. The course is designed to help students
improve their ability to understand and critically judge reading material
and to write an essay which has a single controlling idea and which is
coherently developed using idiomatically and grammatically correct English.
The heart of the course is readings that require a range of
narrative, analytical, reflective and research writing skills.
COURSE
REQUIREMENTS:
1. Attendance and punctuality are required.
I have designed this course so that it depends on your presence and
participation. Summer Bridge Academy
is a very intense course—a 15 week course in only six weeks.
2. There
will be numerous reading and writing assignments in this course. I expect you to complete them on time
and come prepared to class. We may
not get an opportunity to discuss everything we read for class, but that is
inevitable in any college course.
3.
You will complete a question and comment assignment for four of the reading
assignments, BUT NOT FOR ALL READING ASSIGNMENTS. The course outline indicates
clearly when a question and comment response is due for a particular reading.
The question is optional, but the commentary is not. Your commentary must be a
minimum of eight sentences in length. (I know ALL the shortcuts students may try. Be assured that if you write eight very
short, simple sentences you will not receive credit for the assignment. A thorough
explanation of what is required for these question and comment assignments and
a sample will be provided.)
4.
No
late work is accepted. This is a fairness issue. However, you MAY submit any of
the three out of class essay assignments late, but there is a penalty. For
every day it is late, 10 points will be taken off your final earned score. And,
you may not earn back points due to lateness if you choose to revise.
5. Journal writing assignments
are assigned and completed in class and are not allowed to be made up.
6. Quizzes: There will be four unannounced,
unscheduled quizzes during the semester. If you come prepared to class, the
quizzes should present no problems for you. Quizzes cannot be made up.
7. A note on classroom etiquette:
If you feel you cannot survive each class
session without the use of your cell phone, iPod, iPad, laptop computer or
other similar devices, please do not enroll in this class. Simply, it is the
highest degree of rudeness and disrespect.) If I see you busy texting, etc. I will not hesitate to ask
you to leave. (IF THERE IS A COMPELLING REASON THAT YOU MUST KEEP YOUR PHONE ON
VIBRATE FOR AN EMERGENCY PHONE CALL THAT MAY OCCUR DURING CLASS HOURS, PLEASE
INFORM ME BEORE CLASS.) Each cIass session is a mere 95 minutes long and I plan
to give you my full attention for 95 minutes, and I expect the same from all my
students. (Of course, if you have documented paperwork from the university
indicating the need for a computer in the classroom, that is perfectly fine!)
8. HOW YOUR GRADE IS EARNED:
See attached grade roster. At no time should you
wonder how you are “doing” in the course. The grade worksheet makes it very
easy to keep track. Simply record your scores as you receive back your graded
work. Do not discard any assignments that are graded and returned to you until
the semester is over.
9.
English 5 is graded A, B, C, D, or F. Do not assume that because you have not
submitted an out of class essay assignment, you will still be able to pass the
course. Even though you have
missed the due date, and have an automatic “F” for that assignment, YOU STILL MUST WRITE AND SUBMIT ALL THREE
OUT OF CLASS ESSAYS TO PASS THE COURSE, as well as earning passing scores on
your other work.
Theme: The Significance of Home
· We will consider home
as our
course-long theme. The significance of home – as a place of beginnings, as a
starting point, as a place of comfort, regret, anguish, joy, personal growth,
and loss – fuels a meaningful, intriguing collection of themes. Home is a base from which all of us
emerge.
· Most of us have
pre-conceived notions of home as a place of love, comfort, security. For millions of children, however,
these definitions do not fit their reality of home as a place to escape: escape
from cycles of poverty, mistrust, abuse.
· The course will explore
not only home as a safety net, but also the illusions we have of home
perpetuated by Madison Avenue advertising agencies.
· What are our expectations
of home? Again, does our “real”
home live up to the expectations society has created? How do different cultural values and priorities play a role
in determining what home should and should not be? Attempting to answer these questions is the task I have set
for us during this semester.
· What does it mean to leave
home for the first time? What does
it mean to be rootless, without a home?
· Finally, how can we
reconnect to the earth as home, knowing full well that the lives we have
created for ourselves impact the finite planet all of us call home?
·
We view at least one film (possibly two) which explore the theme of home.
These films will allow us to observe and witness concepts we have read about
and discussed.
COURSE OUTLINE
(Please note: Bring this outline to class each
session; changes could occur at a moment’s notice. Also, most reading and writing assignments are noted --
other class exercises and lectures
may not be noted specifically)
ALL OUT OF CLASS ASSIGNMENTS (HOMEWORK, ESSAYS, ETC) MUST BE TYPED
AND DOUBLE SPACED UNLESS INSTRUCTED OTHERWISE. PLEASE USE TIMES NEW ROMAN, 12
POINT FONT and MLA DOCUMENTATION GUIDELINES.
Week One (July 1 –
3—Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday)
·
Introduction to the Course (course theme
explained)-TUES.
·
Course Outline Distributed (handout) & Class Blog explained-TUES.
·
Question/Comment Homework Explained (handout)-TUES.
·
Unacceptable Errors (handout)-TUES.
·
Packet 1 assigned (see blog for assignment)-TUES.
·
How to Read a Poem—lecture/discussion-TUES.
·
Discuss theme of home-WED.
·
Out of Class Essay #1 assigned-WED.
·
Packet 1 due to be read today. Q & C # 1 due-THURS.
·
Critical Thinking--Group Work #1-THURS.
Week Two (July 7 –
11—Monday through Friday
·
Stapler check…25 points! MON.
·
Oral Presentation Assigned (for last week of
class) MON.
·
Rough Draft due for Out of Class Essay #1 MON.
· In
class Demonstration/Discussion on the Writing Process MON.
·
Rough Draft of Out of Class Essay #1
returned to students TUES.
·
Discussion: Reading and Evaluating Short Fiction
TUES.
·
Read Packet 2 WED.
·
In class Journal #1 WED.
·
Read Packet 3 - Q & C #2 due today -THURS.
·
Final Draft due for Out of Class Essay #1 FRI.
·
Out of Class Essay #2 assigned-FRI.
Week Three (July
14 – 17—Monday through Thursday)
· Read
Packet 4 –MON.
· In
class Journal #2-MON.
· Rough
Draft due for Out of Class Essay #2 –TUES.
---bring four (4) copies of your rough draft to class
·
Group Work #2 (Peer Editing)-TUES.
·
Discussion: How to Evaluate a Documentary
Film-WED.
·
Out of Class Essay #2 due today THURS.
·
View documentary film in class-THURS.
Week Four (July 21
– July 24—Monday through Thursday)
·
Discuss film viewed last week in preparation for
In Class Essay #1-MON.
·
Assign Out of Class Essay #3 MON.
·
In Class Essay #1-TUES.—Remember blue or green book.
·
Read Packet 5 -- Q & C #3 due today WED.
·
In Class Journal #3 THURS.
·
Read Packet 6 THURS.
·
Rough draft due for Out of Class Essay #3 THURS.
Week Five (July 28
– July 31—Monday through Thursday)
·
Rough Drafts of Out of Class Essay 3 returned to
students MON.
·
Read Packet 7 MON.
·
In Class Journal #4 MON.
·
Read Packet 8 –Q & C #4 due today TUES.
·
Group Work #3—TUES.
·
Editing & Proofreading Review Workshop—WED.
·
Out of Class Essay #3 due today THURS.
Week Six (August 4
– 6—Monday through Wednesday)
·
Discussion: Are you a Committed Learner? MON.
·
How well do you know CSUS campus? TUES.
·
Oral Presentations today WED.
·
Last day of classes—Grade Worksheet Check &
Celebration! WED.
THURSDAY,
AUGUST 7TH—Summer Bridge Crossing Ceremony
Alumni
Center. 11 am – 4 pm.
***A NOTE ABOUT REVISIONS***
Since this is a composition course,
where the goal is to become a better writer and a more sophisticated thinker,
you are invited to revise both out of class essay 1 and 2. You will not have time to revise out of class essay 3. The decision
to revise is purely optional. If you choose to revise an essay, you must submit
the revision, along with the
original, no later than one week after you receive the graded essay back. You
MUST highlight all changes and additions you make on your revised essay.
English
5, Summer 2014, Prof. Fraga
GRADE WORKSHEET-----1675 POINTS
POSSIBLE
Stapler Check (25 pts.)
Monday,
July 7—stapler in your possession!______(25)
Oral Presentation=(100 pts.)
Oral
Pres._____(100)
Out of Class Essays (600 points—200
points each)
Out
of Class Essay 1_____(200 pts.)
Out of Class Essay 2_____(200 pts.) Out of Class Essay 3_____(200 pts.)
Unannounced Quizzes (200 pts. --50
points each)
Quiz
1____Quiz 2_____Quiz 3_____Quiz 4_____
Journals=(100 pts.--25 points each)
Journal
1 (25) _____Journal 2 (25)_____Journal 3 (25)_____Journal 4 (25)_____
Homework=(400 pts.)
Q
and C #1 (100)_____Q and C #2 (100)_____Q and C #3 (100)_____Q and C #4 (100)_____
In Class Group Work (150 pts.--50
points each)
Group
Work 1 _____Group Work 2 _____Group Work 3 _____
In Class Essay (100 pts.)
In
class essay #1 (100)_____
**************************************************************************************
How
to assess your grade earned: Divide the points you earn by 1675 to find the
percentage. Then see chart below.
100-94=A
63-60=C- Example:
1505 pts. earned=91.4%=A-
93-90=A- 59-54=D
Example:
1444 pts. earned=86.2%=B+
89-84=B+
53-0=F Example:
1376 pts. earned=82.1%=B+
83-80=B
Example:
1189 pts. earned=70.9%=C+
79-74=B-
73-70=C+
69-64=C
UNACCEPTABLE
ERRORS
In English 5, students should already be very proficient in word usage. We do not have time for grammar
lessons. (I will, however, provide
short ‘mini’ lessons when I feel they are warranted.) The following errors that are commonly made on student
papers are considered unacceptable.
For out of class essays each unacceptable error
takes ten points off your final earned grade. You may correct unacceptable errors and
receive the points back if you choose to revise. In class essays that have
unacceptable errors CAN always
be corrected to earn back the points lost.
1. there – place Put
it over there.
2. their – possessive pronoun That
is their car.
3. they’re – contraction of they
are They’re
going with us.
4. your – possessive pronoun Your
dinner is ready.
5. you’re – contraction of you are You’re
not ready.
6.
it’s – contraction of it is It’s
a sunny day.
7. its – possessive pronoun The
dog wagged its tail.
8. a lot – always two words I
liked it a lot.
9. to – a preposition or part of an
infinitive I
like to proofread my essays carefully.
10.
too – an intensifier, or also That
is too much. I will go too.
11.
two – a number Give
me two folders.
12. In today’s society
or In society today This
phrase is grossly overused and very cliché. Instead use “Today” or “In America”
or “Now” etc
13. right(s)/write(s)/rite(s) rights are a set of beliefs or values
in which a person feels entitled: His rights were read to him before he
was arrested for stalking Dave Matthews. Writes
is a verb indicating action taken with a pen, pencil or computers to convey
a message: Michelle writes love letters to Dave Matthews in her sleep. Rites are a series of steps or events
which lead an individual from one phase in life to the next, or a series of
traditions that should be followed: The initiate began his rite of
passage ceremony at the age of thirteen.
14. definitely/defiantly This
error USUALLY occurs when a writer relies solely on spell-check. You really
must learn to become the final editor of your work. Definitely is an adverb and it means without a doubt. Mary will definitely
miss the Dave Matthews Band concert. Defiantly
means to show defiance. She was in a defiant mood. It is an adjective.
Or it could be used as an adverb. She was defiantly rude and sullen
towards the professor.
15. On your Works Cited page: you
MUST center and type at the top the heading just as it is here: Works Cited.
NOT ALL CAPS, NOT BOLDED, NOT UNDERLINED, NOT MISSPELLED, NOT IN A DIFFERENT
SIZED FONT, ETC.
16. woman/women woman
is used when you are referring to ONE female lady.
women
is the
plural of woman, meaning MORE THAN ONE lady
There are many women
at the nail salon, but only one woman is shopping at the market next
door.
***********************************************************************
An accumulation of the following
errors will affect your grade, but not 10 points off for EACH error. My evaluation of your work depends on
how serious the error is, and how often you make it. Some do not slow up the reader as much as others.
- Misuse of the word
“you”. You must actually mean
the reader when you use the word “you”.
- Avoid use of
contractions in formal expository writing. (can’t, shouldn’t, didn’t,
etc.)
- Agreement of subject
and verb. Both must be either
singular or plural.
- Fragmented sentences,
comma splices and run-ons. Be
sure to proofread your papers carefully before turning them in.
You
will not pass English 5 if you cannot write an intelligent sentence in correct
English.
PACKET #1--four poems
“Taking my Son to School”
by Eamon Grennan
(do a google search of the above poem exactly as it is written above. The first posting will be a commencement speech give by Mr. Grennan. Open this and you will see the poem right at the beginning of the speech. Focus only on the poem, not the speech)
*********************************************************************************
"One Home”
By William Stafford
Mine was a Midwest home—you can keep your world.
Plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.
We sang hymns in the house; the roof was near God.
The light bulb that hung in the pantry made a wan light,
but we could read by it the names of preserves—
outside, the buffalo grass, and the wind in the night.
A wildcat sprang at Grandpa on the Fourth of July
when he was cutting plum bushes for fuel,
before Indians pulled the West over the edge of the sky.
To anyone who looked at us we said, “My friend”;
liking the cut of a thought, we could say “Hello.”
(But plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.)
The sun was over our town; it was like a blade.
Kicking cottonwood leaves we ran toward storms.
Wherever we looked the land would hold us up.
*************************************************************
“Where Children Live”
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Homes where children live exude a pleasant rumpledness,
like a bed made by a child, or a yard littered with balloons.
To be a child again one would need to shed details
till the heart found itself dressed in the coat with a hood.
Now the heart has taken on gloves and mufflers,
the heart never goes outside to find something to do.
And the house takes on a new face, dignified.
No lost shoes blooming under bushes.
No chipped trucks in the drive.
Grown-ups like swings, leafy plants, slow-motion back and forth.
While the yard of a child is strewn with the corpses
of bottle-rockets and whistles,
anything whizzing and spectacular, brilliantly short-lived.
Trees in children's yards speak in clearer tongues.
Ants have more hope. Squirrels dance as well as hide.
The fence has a reason to be there, so children can go in and out.
Even when the children are at school, the yards glow
with the leftovers of their affection,
the roots of the tiniest grasses curl toward one another
like secret smiles.
**********************************************************************
“To a Daughter Leaving Home”
by Linda Pastan
(please google the poem and you will find it on PoemHunter.com)
by Eamon Grennan
(do a google search of the above poem exactly as it is written above. The first posting will be a commencement speech give by Mr. Grennan. Open this and you will see the poem right at the beginning of the speech. Focus only on the poem, not the speech)
*********************************************************************************
"One Home”
By William Stafford
Mine was a Midwest home—you can keep your world.
Plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.
We sang hymns in the house; the roof was near God.
The light bulb that hung in the pantry made a wan light,
but we could read by it the names of preserves—
outside, the buffalo grass, and the wind in the night.
A wildcat sprang at Grandpa on the Fourth of July
when he was cutting plum bushes for fuel,
before Indians pulled the West over the edge of the sky.
To anyone who looked at us we said, “My friend”;
liking the cut of a thought, we could say “Hello.”
(But plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.)
The sun was over our town; it was like a blade.
Kicking cottonwood leaves we ran toward storms.
Wherever we looked the land would hold us up.
*************************************************************
“Where Children Live”
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Homes where children live exude a pleasant rumpledness,
like a bed made by a child, or a yard littered with balloons.
To be a child again one would need to shed details
till the heart found itself dressed in the coat with a hood.
Now the heart has taken on gloves and mufflers,
the heart never goes outside to find something to do.
And the house takes on a new face, dignified.
No lost shoes blooming under bushes.
No chipped trucks in the drive.
Grown-ups like swings, leafy plants, slow-motion back and forth.
While the yard of a child is strewn with the corpses
of bottle-rockets and whistles,
anything whizzing and spectacular, brilliantly short-lived.
Trees in children's yards speak in clearer tongues.
Ants have more hope. Squirrels dance as well as hide.
The fence has a reason to be there, so children can go in and out.
Even when the children are at school, the yards glow
with the leftovers of their affection,
the roots of the tiniest grasses curl toward one another
like secret smiles.
**********************************************************************
“To a Daughter Leaving Home”
by Linda Pastan
(please google the poem and you will find it on PoemHunter.com)
*****
U
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