I am really happy about my work for this essay, because I’ve written about “Night” by Elie Wiesel twice beforehand and this is the highest I’ve ever scored. In fact in the previous two times, I received a 4. In this essay, I received a high 7. I think it’s because of how many Q3 prompts I’ve practiced as well as feeling more comfortable with the prompt.
Below is the rubric and the comments:
This rewrite was for the in class Q2 writing about a Hamlet passage. In this essay, I focused on refining my analysis of the metaphor about worms. I feel like this essay is a good indicator of how my writing has progressed for Q2 writing.
Link to rewrite: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1h0BW5lZcDopiPmZWEXH4vmh1Bvh21pCjSjQ5L68LVSE/edit
Grading:
For my novel lecture I discussed the play “Master Harold and the Boys” by Athol Fugard. My 3 selected themes were racism, dance, and character development. Mrs. Brayko randomly selected dance, and even though it was my weakest topic, I still felt like I did my best. I think I started out a bit nervous in the beginning, but that quickly faded. My classmates said that I sounded confident, so I’m really happy that my delivery ended up well.
Here are the comments from my peers:
My notecard for my lecture looked like this:
Grade:
For this poem, I tried to emulate “His Coy Mistress” by using the same structure. In addition, I also connected a theme to the topic of time. In this case, I talked about running out of time to watch the TV show, Game of Thrones. I enjoyed using lots of imagery and descriptive words, which is different from my usual writing style.
My poem went as follows:
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, Game of Thrones, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To watch, and pass our long tired day.
Thou by Khal Drogo’s side
Shouldst eggs find; I by the north
Of Lannister would complain. I would
Love the Starks before the red wedding,
And you should, if you please, bend the knee.
My love for HBO should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine plot, and on thy bloody gaze;
One hour to adore each episode,
But two hours for the last;
Patience at least to every part,
And the last trying should show your heart.
For, Martin, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy plot shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing longing; then worms shall try
That long-preserved secret,
And Martin’s honour turned to dust,
And into ashes all my questions;
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there watch TV.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us watch us while we may,
And now, like hungry hyenas,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us sit all our strength and all
Our anticipation up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the twists and turns:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will chase the throne.
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