My name is Mitch Smith, and I will be officiating the wedding service between my cousin the bride, Michelle Smith, and the groom Tom Rezpensky. I am truly honored that Michelle and Tom have given me this honor. And out of honor to these two lovers and to the holy matrimony of wedding two such lovers, it is my honor to present my fresh-off-the-presses certificate of deaconry to prove I am worthy of the honor of providing this holy matrimony of vows (I am permitted to perform one non-online service per year, so this is my wedding present to the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Tom Razaprasnky. I didn't buy a card or nothing so you can keep this certificate as a memento. You're welcome):
This blog post provides interview questions for WRT students to workshop their Twitterives with other classmates.
1) WHO are the characters in your story?
2) WHAT is your story? WHAT genres/modes are you using for your story?
3) WHEN does your story take place?
4) WHERE is your place?
5) WHY do you feel a connection/lack of connection to place?
6) HOW do you show your audience your connection/lack of connection to place?
In this post, I am writing two 250-word micro fiction pieces. In the first piece, I am using a line from Gloria Anzaldua's poem, El sonavabitche, to inspire a story. Here is Anzaldua's line: "I see that wide cavernous look of the hunted." In the second piece, I craft a story based off of one of my own tweets: "Reminded of Pop's cement backyard. Figs branched the concrete wall. Kid jumps to catch plumps. Tree passed away b4 Pop. Forever reminded. "
So I am driving the Jersey turnpike to Spanky’s house for his Flying Fish tasting and he had all the exits and told me I could get off on any one I wished and that sounded good to me though I knew the exits would give out before I would and the rattle of my driver-side mirror interrupted my visions of beer bottles lined up on Spanky’s tiny bar…almost as neat and orderly as the seven other beer dudes happy to be away from their wives except the that Spanky’s pregnant wife hadn’t left and perched herself next to another wife on the living room couch to watch as we inspected each label and frothy heads and noted the hops and other junk you’re supposed to do at these things and everyone was so insightful but one droopy-eyed guy touched me in the wrong way so the beer in me made him leave the room to smoke cigars outside in the cold where my old-old friends could say I was “dick” and return to talk about teaching in Spain but I translated into English what bullshit he was performing and there was the time I stood up for Spanky in Chicago when he was as wrong as his silence…so I am driving and I look in my mirror now dangling and when I see the wide cavernous look of the hunted, I pull over on the icy highway, step out of the car, and rip off the mirror.
I Made My Bed
The skin reminded of Pop's cement backyard. Cracked and white and shadowed by a growth that didn’t belong. Goosebumps were the tiny figs that branched over the concrete wall. I’m forever the kid who jumped to catch plumps of sweetness that never seemed within my reach. With each day that blew through and rattled the fragile twigs inside us, between us, beyond us, I suffered the passing of a tree I once knew. Poison fruit die here now. Gorged with purple decay. Before Pop left me, he said, “You must be gentle with the fig even if she plays hard to get; she is a woman too—even if she doesn’t look like one. You need to nurture her or she will rot from your hands. But even in death, she is beautiful. Any man can learn to love her as he has loved the tree. Fig and tree and man and woman—they are one.” He told me how when I someday married, he would chop down the tree and use the wood to build us a bed. So many days I long to be a boy again when the sunlight splayed through the leaves and warmed me and I knew the dangling fruit waited for me alone. All I had to do was be patient. Gentle. That in my hands all was safe. Now my palms are stained. Forever reminded.
Chelsea Ernst served as the referee for WRT1's arm wrestling bout today, and she crafted a thorough and fair set of rules. As such, we will follow these rules in WRT3 title match performance:
1. You must be sitting down at a table, across from your opponent.
2. You will begin when I stay “Ready…Go”
3. At all times you have to keep intense eye contact with your opponent.
4. All trash talking must be said with a New York accent.
5. No fake nails are allowed to be on competitors at time of the match.
6. After a two minute period if neither competitor has won, they will rotate sides.
7. You must remain seated the entire time throughout the match, or else you will be disqualified.
8. Elbows must be touching the table at all times, if not match will restart.
9. The hand not being used in match has to either be on your lap or holding the side of the table, or else resulting in a foul.
10. In order to win the contenders entire arm must touch the table.
My name is Norm. I am a member of the Anti-Shenanigans Rock-Paper-Scissors Coalition of Referees. As the referee of the first-ever, co-ed, heavyweight, rock-paper-scissors, title match, I am here to announce there will be no shenanigans. Not on my watch. No. To avoid any shenanigans from trying to shenanigan their way into this bout, I am going to be a steadfast defender of the following anti-shenanigan rules:
1) 10-round bout;
2) Rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, paper beats rock;
a. An open hand indicates paper;
b. A closed fist indicates a rock;
c. An extended and split-into-the-shape-of-a-V pointer finger and middle finger
(known as the peace sign) indicates scissors;
3) Each contestant must bounce his his/her “shooting” fist in the opened palm of his/her opposite hand at least three times before he/she can engage the opponent;
4) Once the ref has completed saying, “one, two, three…” he will command the contestants to “shoot” – upon which time the contestants must shoot a hand gesture that indicates a rock, paper, or scissor (see 2a, 2b, 2c for an explanation of these sign gestures);
5) If the ref deems a contestant has employed a “hesitation shoot,” he can penalize the contestant by taking away one point. A hesitation shoot is defined by the Commission of RPS as “whenever a contestant does not follow the natural rhythm of the 1-2-3 shoot roundup—thereby disrupting the flow of the match and gaining a decided advantage by possibly viewing the opponent’s shoot gesture prior to shooting his/her own gesture;”
6) If a contestant achieves three straight wins before the end of round five, he/she has recorded a knockout victory;
7) If a contestant achieves three straight wins after, but not including, the end of round five, he/she has recorded a technical knockout victory;
8) If the bout lasts the full 10 rounds, the contestant with the most wins has recorded a victory via decision;
9) In the event of a knockdown or injury or other stoppage of the bout, the unaffected contestant must place both arms behind his/her back and must create a look of concern upon his/her face;
10) If the referee senses any unruly shenanigans, he can stop the fight on an instant’s notice.
In Living the Narrative Life, Gian Pagnucci narrates his own experiences as a way to illustrate how humans use narrative to make sense of their world. He grounds his theoretical exploration of narrative inquiry through personal storytelling and multiple genres (academic and poetic)--a sort of praxis-scholarship--where theory informs practice and practice informs theory. In a Native Hill, Berry combines description, narration, and argumentation into a collective lens to view the impact man has on nature and vice versa--and how our stories connect past, present, and future. So in both readings, we see a cyclical, multigenre, multimodal approach to meaning making.
This summer, Erin Herberg has taken over for Roberta as our First-Year Writing Coordinator. We have already established a Steering Committee comprised of course coordinators, our writing center director, and both tenured and non-tenured faculty. I am excited about what the next year will bring...
In a sense, I work with students to create awriting workshop in the classroom. As such, I assist and join my students alongeach step of the writing process. By composing my own texts, I hope to showstudents that our writing assignments are relevant and useful. We start eachassignment with in-class prewriting, including freewriting, brainstorming, andclustering—this affords me the opportunity to offer direct instruction whenstudents struggle with the difficulties of “getting started.” From there,students complete multiple drafts that are peer-reviewed and submitted to me onmultiple occasions. I make it a point to meet students one-on-one to discuss mycomments and their progress on assigned essays. This approach allows studentsto “talk through” their issues in the paper and their next draft consistentlyshows improvement. When a student sees how a written piece improves throughmultiple revisions, the act of writing becomes much less daunting and morerewarding.
One of my strongest assets as a teacher is that Iunderstand how to connect with students from different social, economic, andlanguage backgrounds. My background as a first-generation college student andprofessional writer helps me relate to my students. Moreover, I incorporatehumor and anecdotes into class lectures and discussions, and I show my studentsI am interested in them as people. I schedule time before and after class to meetwith students, and I routinely comment on student essays via email and/or aclass blog. Ultimately, my philosophy revolves around the concept offacilitating students’ growth in terms of writing and thinking.
I am a writing instructor who blogs on this site to reflect on my teaching, writing, and research.