Summer ended and school was about to start up again. I had to sign up for new classes this year. Trying to wisely dovetail “just right” classes into my schedule was complex. It was important for me to choose classes that met my graduating requirements, fit into my weekly schedule and complemented my homeschool studies. After scrutinizing the class selection, I selected drama for the last two class periods on Wednesday. Previously, I had been in drama for 2 years at North Star. Pleasant memories filled my head of the adventurous characters I had played. In my first play, ”Raven Hood”, I was a nun and a guard. It was fun acting as a heroine and a villain at the same time. In the second play, “The Voyage of the Dawn Trader”, I was a Lord and a thief with only one line each.
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Searching for the right poem took extensive time to accomplish. Studiously, I riffled through picture books, monologues, sonnets and poetry, feeling discouraged. Nothing spoke to me! Suddenly, the CPU of my brain activated the neurons, reminding me, I had several poems saved on Google docs from Mrs. Ginny’s Short Stories and Poetry class. Positively, I clicked on the cold black mouse, opening my Google doc account. The very first document I saw spoke to me; “Hope Is A Thing With Feathers” written by Emily Dickinson. This lovely poem is about a bird that was scared, but it never gave up. The black tornado of fear, living in my heart, froze when hope swept in. I always think about things that I cannot do that easily. Sometimes I just want to give up because I’m fearful of what might happen. Having hope helped me with this fear and that is why I chose this poem. This poem represents me best by how the bird had hope to never give up when things were hard. While memorizing the poem, I repeated it day and night, in my head or out loud in the middle of my living room. I dedicated my time to this poem until I spoke it fluidly like water, not a robot. The process was tedious;
Searching for the right poem took extensive time to accomplish. Studiously, I riffled through picture books, monologues, sonnets and poetry, feeling discouraged. Nothing spoke to me! Suddenly, the CPU of my brain activated the neurons, reminding me, I had several poems saved on Google docs from Mrs. Ginny’s Short Stories and Poetry class. Positively, I clicked on the cold black mouse, opening my Google doc account. The very first document I saw spoke to me; “Hope Is A Thing With Feathers” written by Emily Dickinson. This lovely poem is about a bird that was scared, but it never gave up. The black tornado of fear, living in my heart, froze when hope swept in. I always think about things that I cannot do that easily. Sometimes I just want to give up because I’m fearful of what might happen. Having hope helped me with this fear and that is why I chose this poem. This poem represents me best by how the bird had hope to never give up when things were hard. While memorizing the poem, I repeated it day and night, in my head or out loud in the middle of my living room. I dedicated my time to this poem until I spoke it fluidly like water, not a robot. The process was tedious;