Posts Tagged ‘memoir’

I Am a Star by Inge Auerbacher

iamstarInge Auerbacher was one of only 100 children to survive the Nazi concentration camp of Terezin in Czeckoslovakia. Over 15,000 children passed through the gates of Terezin from 1941 through 1945.   She tells of her family’s horrifying experiences as the Nazis loom every larger and closer over their fates in I Am a Star: Child of the Holocaust (Scholastic 1986).  Through a combination of luck and determination Inge survived with both of her parents.

Inge was just three on the night of Kristallnacht (Night of Broken Glass, November 9, 1938) and just seven when she was taken to Terezin.  She recounts the growing terror her family experienced as they lost their German citizenship, their home, and finally, their freedom within the walls of Terezin.  Against her personal memories, she provides the context of the Nazi’s rise to power in Germany and across Europe.  Photographs of Inge, her family, and Terezin bring the story into sharper focus.  Poems written by Inge shine light into the dark of the camp and make my heart ache for those who suffered and died.

If you have read Anne Frank:  The Diary of a Young Girl and want to learn more about the Holocaust, I Am a Star is a good place to start.

Homer’s Odyssey by Gwen Cooper

homers odysseyHomer’s Odyssey (Bantam Books Trade Paperbacks 2009) was not written for a teen audience, but it is the kind of book I would have read and enjoyed as a teen.  If you love cats or inspiring animal stories, you will like Gwen Cooper’s epic tale. 

Homer was a stray kitten with a slim chance to live.  An eye infection required the vet to remove both eyes completely.  Who in their right mind would want to adopt a totally blind kitten?  Gwen Cooper, that’s who.  Even though she already had two cats, Gwen opened her home and her heart to Homer.

Rather than letting darkness limit his world, Homer lived large.  He could scale seven-foot bookcases even if he couldn’t figure out how to sneak up on the other cats.  For some reason, they always saw him coming.  I was amazed at Homer’s feats.  He could catch flies in midair–just like the old man in Karate Kid.  He survived being trapped in an apartment near the World Trade Center for several days after September 11.  My favorite story, though, is how he chased away a midnight intruder from Gwen’s apartment.  That burgular didn’t know what was after him. 

I found Homer’s story to be inspiring and funny and amazing.  I hope I can face the world with as much gusto as Homer does, and I hope I can learn to see with my heart as well as he does. 

What is your favorite story of an amazing animal–real or fiction?

Some of my favorite memoirs

I know.  I took way too long to get these up here, but I hope it’s better late than never.  Some of your memoirs were fantastic.  I wanted to point you to some of my favorites so you can enjoy them, too.  Please visit these memoirs and tell the writer what you thought.   I’m just sorry it took me so long to put them up for you to enjoy.

If you are a sports fan, you will want to check out these stories.  Harrison writes about a homeroom that almost didn’t happen in “Baseball Revelation.”  Ashley makes a surprising catch at a baseball game.  Kate discovers that even swimmers can make “The ‘Homerun.‘”  Adam tells another baseball story in “The Ball that Hit the Fence.”  Keenan hit a homerun in “The Best Homerun Ever.”  Baseball and softball aren’t the only sports.  Courtney sets a new cross country record in “Every Second Counts.”  Archery is the new sport in school, and you guys have had tremendous success with it.  Read about the experiences of Meegan and Mistina at different tournaments.

For those of you who enjoy the great outdoors, I have a new blog to introduce you to written by a friend of mine from high school.  He is an avid hunter and fisherman and teaches hunter’s ed courses.  His new blog is Bill Howard’s Outdoors.  (I put a link to it on my blog under Fun Stuff.)  He’s looking for stories to share, so if you wrote one of these great hunting/fishing memoirs, you can email it to him at billhowardoutdoors@gmail.com.  In the meantime, enjoy reading these stories.  Chase recreates the time he shot his first turkey in “Adrenaline Rush.”  I want to see the pictures of that turkey!  Ethan shot his first turkey in Ohio.  Anthony set his sights on a deer rather than a turkey.  If fishing is more your thing, check out what Blake pulled out of the water.  Maddy found “A Keeper” on her first fishing trip.  Keegan caught “The Big One” when he went fishing.  Carleesa won’t ever forget her first catfish. 

Sometimes experiences don’t go exactly as planned.  Sometimes the results are humorous as Alan describes in “Camping is Scary.”  Monica discovered the thrill of “The Loopty Loop” while riding four-wheelers.  If you haven’t figured it out yet, four-wheelers and dirt bikes can be dangerous.  Just ask Elliott as his dad learned “What to Expect from Me.”  Lexi had an altogether different “driving” experience.  Gee brings to life a very close call in “The Feeling of Being Scared.”  KK describes a different scary experience in “Shards of Glass.”  Sara discovered the hidden dangers of bobby pins in “What an Appetite.”  Riley had to leave home in the middle of the night for “The Evacuation.”  Trinaty had to leave home as well as she shares in her memoir.

People and pets go together, whether it’s the first or last time together.  Scarlett describes “Where It All Began” with her horse Prince.  Brooklyn describes her last moments with her cat Little Bit in “One More Minute.”  Sometimes the moments with our pets are not smooth sailing.  Imagine what it would feel like if a horse fell on top of you, for example.  You don’t have to imagine, just read Hunter’s “Excitement as a Teacher.”

Some of my favorite memoirs capture the daily moments of life.  That’s what these last stories do.  Adam Do. visits the Civil War, right here at the county park.  Katelyn discovered the best hiding place in “The Best Place.”  Ashton describes a scary moment with “The Stray Dog.”  Brittany recreates her first flight and discovers comfort in an unexpected place  in “We’ve Made It.”  Cole recreates the excitement of Christmas morning in “A Wrapped Up Christmas.” 

Memoirs can also be a tribute to someone you’ve loved and lost.  Ariel and Allie reflect on how much they miss their grandmothers.  Adi reflects on the death of a friend. 

Which ones are your favorite memoirs?

How to Write Your Life Story by Ralph Fletcher

I will definitely be turning to this book the next time I teach memoirs. This slim little book (under 100 pages) has much wisdom to share about writing the stories of your life. My favorite part is the variety of forms explored with memoir–from poetry to picture books to narratives.

In addition to sharing several memoirs from his own life, Fletcher interviews several popular YA writers who have written memoirs and explores different ways to craft your writing.

If you are interested in telling the story of your life, check this one out and pick up a pen and paper while you read.

Narrative Leads

Here are three different leads for my driving test memoir.  Which do you think works the best?  Why?

ACTION: 

I slowly slid into the seat of my mom’s 1976 Toyota Corolla station wagon and gripped the steering wheel.  I followed the examiner’s instructions:  click the left turn signal, then right turn signal, tap the brakes.  I took a deep breath and reached behind me for the seat belt.  I glanced over at the examiner who had taken her place on the passenger side and was already busy taking notes on her clipboard.  She didn’t have her seatbelt on.  Should I ask her to put on her seatbelt?  Was this part of the test?  Or would she be offended?  I didn’t want to get off to a bad start.

Dialogue:   

        “Would you please put on your seat belt?”  I nervously asked the examiner who was getting ready to give me the driving test for my driver’s license.  I wasn’t sure whether or not I should ask her.  She might get offended or she might expect me to as her as part of the test.

        “I don’t wear a seatbelt while giving a driving test,” she icily replied.

        Uh-oh.  It looked like I was off to a bad start.

 Reaction:

        I felt pretty confident about the written part of my driving test.  I always had been good at tests at school, and I had studied for this one.  It was the next part that I was worried about—the driving test.  I glanced at the examiner sitting next to me.  She wasn’t wearing her seat belt!  I wondered if I should ask her to put it on.  She might get offended, or she might be expecting me to ask her to put it on as part of the test.

Now post your narrative leads for your memoir.  Comment on at least three of your classmates’ leads.  Keep comments positive.  Point out what works well.  Ask questions about what you want to know.

September Sky

Here is the new and improved version of my memoir.  What makes this one an effective piece of writing? 

    “Where did I put that stack of papers?” I muttered to myself as I looked for the copies of the handouts I needed to give my first class of the day.  “There they are!” I seemed to always be scrounging at the last minute to find what I needed for class.  When would I ever get organized?

     “Mrs. McGriff, did you hear what happened?  A plane ran into the World Trade Center!”  Josh told me as he came into homeroom that morning. 

     I looked at Josh in disbelief.  “Josh, you can’t believe everything you hear.  That’s how rumors get started.”  I was always amazed at how quickly news traveled around the middle school.  Somehow without radios or televisions, my students seemed to know what had happened as soon as it happened.  Of course, by the time the news made the rounds of the school, it had often changed quite a bit.  I knew from past experience that Josh–like many middle school students–was quick to pass on news, but did not often check the accuracy of what he heard first. 

     Soon homeroom was over, and students in my second period class came into the room.  Small groups of students stood around the desks, talking and laughing befroe beginning the work of the day.  I hastily checked one more time for the handouts on using commas that we would go over in a few minutes. 

     “Hey, Mrs. McGriff, did you hear that a plane ran into the World Trade Center?”  Cory asked just as the bell rang.  Several other students looked at me.

     Oh no, I thought.  Would this story not ever go away today?  But still, Cory was generally a pretty responsible student.  There was only one way to put an end to this and get on with class.

     “All right, class,”  I said.  “Let’s turn on the television.  If something like this really happened, it will be on all the channels.”  I couldn’t imagine an airplane running into the World Trade Center in New York.  It’s not like the pilot couldn’t see them from a long ways off.  And besides, I knew from my experience as a private pilot that small planes couldn’t just ride over New York and buzz the tops of apartment buildings.  With as many airplanes as flew into and out of New York, small planes weren’t even allowed without meeting specific guidelines.  I never imagined someone would deliberately fly an airplane into a building. 

     I turned on the classroom television, hoping to put an end to this latest rumor floating around school.  Little did I know that my whole world was about to change because Josh and Cory had been right.  I stepped back from the television, expecting to see one of the morning talk shows.  Instead, the somber faces of Peter Jennings and other reporters filled the screen.  The classroom grew silent as the reporters related that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.

     Over and over again we watched the video play of the second airplane crashing into the other tower.  Plumes of white smoke poured into the bright blue sky.  I struggled to grasp the enormity of what had happened.  Before our eyes first one tower collapsed and then the other.  There was no hope for the people left inside.  The twin towers had their own zip code.  How many thousands of people were killed when the towers crashed?  What was it like for the people on the plane, knowing that they were going to crash into a building?  Did they know what was coming?  Not even the news reporters seemed sure of what was going on.  I could not get my mind around the fact that terrorists had hijacked two, three, four airplanes and deliberately crashed them into buildings.  Every time I thought of what it must have been like for the passengers on those planes, my mind ran into a brick wall.  It couldn’t be possible.

    Fear began to fill the room as other news reports filtered in.  A plane had struck the Pentagon in Washington.  Another plane was headed for the White House.  A plane crashed in Pennsylvania.  All airplanes had been ordered to land at the nearest airport.  Where was my brother?  He was a flight attendant for Delta.  Had he been working on one of the planes that crashed?

     Several students began to cry.  I looked around the classroom.  My students’ faces reflected the questions in my own mind.  I was the teacher.  I was supposed to have the answers to their questions, to know how to lead them through this crisis.  But I didn’t have the answers.  I didn’t know what to do.  All I had was more questions.  Could I cry in front of my students?  How could I listen to their questions when my mind was racing with unanswered questions of my own?  I struggled to think of what to tell them could help them cope with what was happening.

     All through the rest of the day, I watched news reports with my classes.  I still didn’t have any answers to their or my questions.  I still don’t have answers today.  I don’t know why anyone would hate our country so much that they would be willing to die and to kill so many innocent people.  As I seek to find a sense of peace and safety in a world that has been changed forever, I echo the prayer my daughter repeated before dinner each night for months after this day:  God please be with the people on the airplane and in the building.

Mrs. McGriff’s Very Bad Memoir

Here it is:  the memoir I spent two minutes writing.  Man, those bad examples are easy.  What makes this an ineffective piece of writing?

 September 11

        It all started during homeroom that morning.  A student told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  I didn’t believe him.

        During 2nd period another student told me the same thing.  After that I turned on the television to see if it was really true.  It was.  Two airplanes had crashed into the World Trade Center.  Another crashed into the Pentagon.  Another one crashed in Pennsylvania.  Then the World Trade Center collapsed.  Thousands of people died in the worst terrorist attack in the United States.  It was the worst day ever.

Backing Up

I slowly slid into the seat of my mom’s 1976 Toyota Corolla station wagon and gripped the steering wheel. From outside the car, the driving examiner barked instructions: click the left turn signal, click the right turn signal, tap the brakes. So far, so good. I felt pretty confident about the written part of the driving test I had just taken. After all, I regularly aced tests at school, and I had studied for this one. No, it was the next part I was worried about—the driving test.

I glanced over at the examiner who had taken her place on the passenger side and was already busy scratching notes on her clipboard. She didn’t have her seatbelt on! Should I ask her to put on her seat belt? Was this part of the driving test?  Or would she be offended? I didn’t want to get off to a bad start.

I decided to ask—hesitantly. “Would you please put on your seat belt?”

“I don’t wear a seat belt while giving a driving test,” she replied icily.

Uh-oh. It looked like I was off to a bad start.

I pulled out of the parking space, relieved that I didn’t back into any cars on the way out. I hated backing up.

As I pulled onto the road, only the clipped words the examiner barked out for directions broke the ominous silence. I grew increasingly nervous at the examiner’s lack of response. How was I doing? I felt the sweat begin to gather between my shoulders and trickle down my spine. The air conditioning in Mom’s ten-year-old car was no match for a hot June afternoon in North Carolina. The backs of my legs stuck to the vinyl seats every time I shifted my foot from the accelerator to the brake. When would this torture ever end?

Finally, the examiner (she never did tell me her name) asked—no, ordered—me to turn onto a quiet residential street and pull to the side. Was it time for the three-point turn?  I was ready for that. No, she told me to back up.  Did I mention that I hated backing up?  At least it wasn’t parallel parking.  I knew I’d never get my driver’s license if I had to parallel park.  Little did I know that backing up would prove to be just as great a nemesis.       .

, I slowly turned and looked behind me. No cars in sight. That’s a relief. Then I turned back to the front. I found that if I looked in the rearview mirror, I didn’t get as confused about which way to turn the steering wheel as I backed up. My mom had shared that trick after about the tenth time I ran off the driveway into the grass, narrowly missing the mailbox. I was so intent on backing straight that I missed the deepening frown of the examiner next to me.

Soon after, we pulled back into the parking lot at the license branch. The examiner opened the door and swung a leg out to leave, and she still hadn’t said a word other than to give me directions. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“How did I do?” I asked in desperation.

She glanced down her nose at me as if the answer should have been obvious. “You failed,” she said. “You stopped too quickly and didn’t look behind you as you were backing up.”           .

I failed?  I stared in disbelief as her heels clicked across the asphalt. She never glanced my wav again as she continued scribbling notes on her clipboard and disappeared behind the glass doors to the license branch. Did she, the almighty driving examiner, not care that she had just devastated my entire life?

I failed reverberated through my mind. Heartbroken and downcast, I stared at the duct tape covering the cracks on the dashboard so I wouldn’t have to see the expectant faces of my mom and boyfriend. How could I face them after this? How could I even tell them I failed? How could I, who aced every test I’d ever taken, fail the driving test? Who failed the driving test anyway? No one I knew. At least school was out and I wouldn’t have to face my classmates.

Slumping down in the back seat, I handed the keys over to my mom. I could barely hear their words of comfort over my sobs. What did it matter if this examiner had failed every other teenager on their first attempt at getting a driver’s license? That didn’t mean I should fail. I didn’t want to come back tomorrow or next week to try again. I had failed and my world was coming to an end.

Of course, I did go back. Who could resist the call of the open road and the freedom to drive along it? Not me. I did manage to pass the driving test the next time, with a different examiner, of course. I still stop too quickly (just ask my husband). I still hate to back up. But I have learned that my world does not end with failure—as long as I don’t have to back up.

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