[PROSE] Portrait of Fatuma as an English Teacher

Another creative writing assignment for my Teaching English to Adolescents course. In this final narrative assignment, we had to write a portrait of ourselves as an English Teacher. I really had fun writing up the following. As always, comments are always appreciated! 

In the middle of Ricky’s Costume Superstore, I stand, arms tender and shaking from the weight of numerous costume choices. With limited vision, I slowly make my way to the dressing room, mumbling “5” to the clerk in answer to her barely audible question of ‘how many items?’ Walking into dressing room 13, my lucky number, I throw my burden onto the seat, before turning to shut and lock the door. Click.

Taking a deep breath, and a quick look at my watch—crap, only have 20 minutes—I quickly grab the first costume and put it on. 

Twisting one way, then the other, the four mirror-covered walls capture the khaki shorts, polo tee, shades and imitation camera around my neck. I stop, lean closer, scrunch up my nose, make a decision. Nature photographer for National Geographic? No.

Costume Number Two: A white coat, stethoscope, smiley face sticker and lollipops as props. Single shake of head. Pediatrician? Nuh-uh.

Costume Number Three:  Business wear, microphone, notebook and pen. …Still not quite right. Journalist? Not happening.

Costume Number Four: Business wear again, more old-fashioned. Silver wire rimmed glasses attached to a sterling silver chain. Pile of books in arm. Closer look in mirror. Nearly, not quite. Love the books, not the rest. Librarian? No way. 

Costume Number Five: Business wear once again. Sigh…but wait? Another look—more casual, comfortable. Grade book and novels in one hand. Apple in the other. Staring intensely, straighten up. Turn this way, turn that way. A smile. It’s perfect. Almost. 

If only I was in—wind, gust, momentarily blindness, ending—in a classroom.

A blink. Another. Gaze clears. One pair of brown eyes meets 25 other pairs in varying shades. 

In those eyes—25 desperate hopes, 25 whimsical dreams, 25 inquiring minds, 25 windows—some clear, some dim—to 25 fledgling souls, 25 rare chances for 25 daily successes, beginning with a single line interpreted 25 many ways by 25 unique beings.

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today we’re going to learn…

How to read, to write, to explore, to live.

How to scream, yell, give voice to pain.

How to survive, to be, to succeed.

How to care, to love, to share.

How to rearrange the letters in D-R-E-A-M and make them R-E-A-L-I-T-Y.

How to fly, to run, to jump.

How to smile, to laugh, to grin, to smirk.

How to…

Sudden wind, gust, momentarily blindness. A blink. Another. Gaze clears. One pair of brown eyes looking at their twin. In those eyes—a single burning flame of passion, a single determination, a single goal to be the greatest English teacher to ever live. 

Another look at my wrist, “Time to go.” Frantic undressing, messy repackaging. One last guilty look at the mess left behind, I unlock the door and hurry to the register. ‘Will that be all?’ ‘Yes, found the perfect one’. Proud Smile. “That’s be $200,000, please’. Cringe, wince. Reluctant handing over of credit card. Deep breath. In six years, it’ll be worth it. 

So, what do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments section.

Until next time,

Tuma

Earliest Memory...

Another writing workshop from the same course!

For this one, we began by listing our five earliest memories.  Below are my five memories:

1. Running out of the classroom on the first day of kindergarten after announcing that I'm going to find my mother.
2. Current hatred of uncooked carrots stemming from my throwing up after eating them...ahain on the first day of kindergarten.
3. Wearing my favorite "farmer's" overalls and digging for strawberries and potatoes (to make french fries afterwards) in my school's botanical garden--fourth grade.
4. Being in Glee Club, even though I couldn't sing worth shit because my best friend was in it.
5. Guest starring on the show Zoom.

 Next, we had to identify a specific item or smell or color from the memory. My specific items for each of the above were the following:

1. Block puzzles
2. Carrots
3. Pale yellow overalls
4. Stage
5. Recorded VHS

Finally, we had to choose one of the memory/item pairs and begin writing with the item as the beginning point into the narrative. Below is my entry:

Six wooden pieces with their matching wooden frame. They were meant to form a single image. Unable to see much clearly through the tears in my eyes, I sullenly attempted to force the pieces into place. One by one, I made them fit. One by one my tears dried as the image slowly appeared. A final smile of triumph as the final piece found its rightful space and the image showed itself to me. 

It was the halfway through the first day of kindergarten and I played with puzzles alone as the class did something else. It had been an emotionally stressful day for the smaller-than-average five-year-old that was me. Being ripped away from the arms of a loving mother. Abandoned with a promise of returning soon. Attempted escape when soon didn’t seem to be soon enough. Thwarted, as the teacher zipped down the hall after me. Finally, hope that maybe this strange place called “school” wasn’t so bad, as I played endlessly with toys for the rest of the day.

So... pretty sad, huh? Yeah, that first day of Kindergarten didn't begin to well for poor little Tuma.
Please comment. Constructive criticism always appreciated.

Until next time. Adios,
Tuma

Walk into the Beginning...

 Another writing exercise from my "Teaching English to Adolescents" course. For this one, we were asked to go outside and stroll around campus for 15 minutes. It was dark and cold, too! 

So, during this wandering around, we had to "collect" five items or images and commit them to memory. I cheated and created a memo on my phone! :)

Once, we came back to the classroom, we had to free write using all of the five items if possible. Below is what I came up with. Can you guess my five items?

It wasn’t something that I would normally notice, but something made me look up that day to notice the sign. It was diamond shaped, yellow with black lettering—like any other pedestrian crossing sign really. Except, this one was turned the wrong way, almost as if we were meant to walk down the road. As I stared at it, my mind flittered with thoughts of reasons for the sign being turned: maybe they had changed the direction of the road; is it possible to simply move a road in any way, but then why not change the sign too? May-be some idiot kid moved the sign, I finally thought dismissing the stupid sign. 

Just as I turned away to continue on my way to class, I heard a loud, piercing shriek. ‘What the hell?’ I thought as I whipped my head around to look up at the large skeletal tree behind me. As my eyes followed up the paths of its leaf-less branches, I saw it perched at the very top. “A crow,” I breathed softly. “Or a raven. A bad omen”. I looked up again at the turned sign. I shuddered once and shook my head. "I should probably lay off the Edgar Allen Poe for a while,” I chuckled and finally went on my way to class.

Could you figure out my five items? No...well, they were:

• A dark path I couldn't see the end of.
• Glaring car headlights
• rows of bright street lamps
• skeleton like trees
• pedestrian sign turned wrong way
• scary ass black bird

Thanks for reading. Comments = Love from me!

Laters,
Tuma

Where I'm From...

This was written as an exercise in my "Teaching English to Adolescent's Course". We read three poems, all called "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon, Jacob Miller and Hallie Herz. You can read the three poems here.

After reading the poems, we created our own. Here's mine:

Where I’m From

I’m from the Boogie Down,

The BX – born and raised.

From a seat of power –

Leader of four younger siblings.

From a journey made by a young couple.

From a world lost in words, but

Never at a loss for words.

From Judy Blume and R.L Stine.

From Double Dutch and melting

Ice pops on the corner after school.

From relatives too many to count.

So... what do you? Not my best, *shrugs*, but I wanted to share it anyway. As always, comments are appreciated.