Reading Specialist Author Post 2
Patrick Kelly- Part of an Open Letter to the City of Chicago
Chicago is a city of rich neighborhoods, cultures, and history. It is a beacon of hope and prosperity for some, but also great tragedy and aguish for others. Growing up in this city and being a public school teacher, I have become aware of inequality of education and lack community resources for those who need it most. The last few months have opened my eyes to ideas and experiences of others. It makes me so proud to see people of all ages and backgrounds taking to the streets and the internet to let their voices be hear. People are fighting for something that is bigger than themselves. It is generations of systematic racism. As an educator I am have become really inspired be an upstander bring in messages of social justice and tolerance. However, will civil disobedience be just another fad? Will people demand actual change? When school budgets are cut in the future, that directly affect black and brown communities, will people line the streets then? Everyone deserves an great education. I believe that Chicago and Illinois needs to reform it educational funding and it must start with communities that need the most support. If students can be given resources and support, communities can begin to grow with more opportunities. I ask on the City Council and CPS board to put the youth of Chicago first, get ride of charter schools, and fund neighborhood schools for communities that need it most.
Chicago is a city of rich neighborhoods, cultures, and history. It is a beacon of hope and prosperity for some, but also great tragedy and aguish for others. Growing up in this city and being a public school teacher, I have become aware of inequality of education and lack community resources for those who need it most. The last few months have opened my eyes to ideas and experiences of others. It makes me so proud to see people of all ages and backgrounds taking to the streets and the internet to let their voices be hear. People are fighting for something that is bigger than themselves. It is generations of systematic racism. As an educator I am have become really inspired be an upstander bring in messages of social justice and tolerance. However, will civil disobedience be just another fad? Will people demand actual change? When school budgets are cut in the future, that directly affect black and brown communities, will people line the streets then? Everyone deserves an great education. I believe that Chicago and Illinois needs to reform it educational funding and it must start with communities that need the most support. If students can be given resources and support, communities can begin to grow with more opportunities. I ask on the City Council and CPS board to put the youth of Chicago first, get ride of charter schools, and fund neighborhood schools for communities that need it most.
Writing a paragraph activity with my elementary Explorer.
ReplyDeletehttps://docs.google.com/document/d/17yJpbeEJThGmTcMChhVn8am-GGqopUj94m-UHKSPh5o/edit?usp=sharing
As my student Daniel was writing his personal essay about his name, I was writing in tandem my own personal narrative about my name.
ReplyDeletePeople have told me that my name suits me, but when they say that, I’m not entirely sure what they mean. My “real” legal name is Eliza. I go by Ellie. Which name are they talking about? Eliza? No one calls me that unless they don’t know me- telemarketers, government officials, the corporate office for where I work or where I might shop- they call me Eliza. It feels very impersonal and distant. Ellie? Hmm...I wonder what about it suits me.
I’ve never had an issue with not liking my name. I generally like it. As an Asian-American kid growing up in a small rural town where we were the only Asian family, I was acutely aware that I was “different” from everyone else. I remember feeling happy that I had an “American” sounding name and not a Korean name that other people wouldn’t be able to pronounce very well and make me feel even more self-conscious about being different. I did not grow up in a time or place where diversity was so accepted and celebrated as it is now. I wondered if I was betraying my own culture by secretly rejecting wanting a Korean name.
My middle name is Cho. It is my mom’s maiden name so that sounds “Korean.” I never particularly liked my middle name. Everyone else around me had a middle name like Lynn, or Marie, or Charlotte. When my friends found out what my middle was, they always repeated it questioningly and then I would have to explain. My last name, Kim, is also very Korean. It is equivalent to being a “Smith” or a “Jones.” It is the most common Korean last name. Despite this fact, I remember noticing at some point when I was younger that other Korean last names sounded more “ethnic” than Kim. At least Kim was familiar in English because it can be someone’s first name. I was glad that I didn’t have a more “ethnic” sounding last name like Choi or Chang. Again I wondered if I should feel ashamed for rejecting my own ethnicity.
If I had a choice, I would not change my name. My parents chose my name and I do like it. If I could have chosen my own name, I’m not sure what I would have chosen. The only thing I would liked to have changed is my attitude about my identity and ethnicity as I was growing up. I wish I valued it more. I wish I was proud of it. At least that is something I can change now.
One of my explorers wanted to write a children’s story with animal characters. The other, wanted to create a graphic novel like Dav Pilkey’s Dog Man, which is about a superhero dog and his sidekick cat friend. As they worked on their creations, I worked on mine as well. Below is my story. The inspiration for the main character is my dog, Grace.
ReplyDeleteThe Rainy Day
On a warm summer afternoon in Chicago, Grace the playful dog could not wait to go outside. She looked outside the window of her apartment as her tail wagged. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It looked absolutely beautiful outside. She ran to the closet to grab a picnic blanket, ball, and sunglasses. Dark clouds traveled across the sky. Then, she heard it. BOOM! SPLASH! The rain started pouring down. Grace ran to the window and looked outside. “What am I going to do now!?!” she thought.
Grace ran back to her room and began to cry. After realizing that crying wasn’t going to make the rain stop, she bolted out of bed. She ventured back to the living room and turned on the TV. Her favorite show, Kickin’ It at the Beach, was on. She watched for about 5 minutes, then turned the TV off. “This is making me even more sad.” Grace grabbed her phone an called her mom. Grace’s mom lives in southern California. As they talked, Grace could hear her mom walking along the beach. The waves crashed along the shore with each word, taunting Grace. “I got to go, mom.” Sad and dejected, Grace began to draw. Her mind was still on her ruined beach day. As she thought, her hand continued to draw. Fluffy clouds, shining sun, clear blue water. Then it hit her! She knew exactly what to do.
“If I can’t be outside at the beach, I’ll bring the beach to me!” exclaimed Grace. She feverishly began hanging up her drawings in the living room. She went back to her closet to gather her beach items. She spread out her beach blanket on the living room floor and put on her sunglasses. She grabbed her beach ball and started to play. She even turned on the heat to get that Chicago warm weather feeling. “Why haven’t I done this before?” she asked herself. “It’s super fun to pretend you’re at the beach!” Grace had so much fun inside, she didn’t even realize that the rain had stopped. It was a beautiful sunny day again, outside, AND inside.
This is my story about ghosts.
ReplyDeleteResurrection Mary knew this ghost was no Casper. As she floated over to introduce herself to this visitor, she saw a ghostly infant at La Llorona’s feet. She wondered if this was her own child, or one she’d met after her death, but not enough to ask. Mary put out her hand, but quickly withdrew it when it was met with a snarl.
“Maria,” she said, “do you want to come dancing with me? I know you’re new to town and there are so many great places I’d like to show you.”
Maria eyed Mary closely before shaking her head no. She had no interest in dancing, not when this city had rivers and lakes to explore. Her plan was to find a playground close to water and wait. Chicago, like any place with kids, always had a few who didn’t listen to their parents and stayed out at night. When she told Mary about her plans, Mary realized that Maria intended to make more ghosts. Mary didn’t want anyone to have to go through this, reliving a single night over and over for all eternity; mixing things up by laying in the middle of the road and faking out the living was just about the only fun thing she did, aside from dancing. So she told Maria about the best park she knew, in Justice. On the way, she told Maria she needed to stop at the cemetery to change her shoes. Maria agreed, not realizing that Resurrection Cemetery had a gate that was capable of keeping ghosts in. Mary slammed the gate on Maria and locked her into the cemetery.