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Gloria Chen
Appleseed Writing Project
Summer Institute 2008

“I Just Want to Let You Know…”--Writing Friendly Letters

Purpose: teaching ESL students to write personal/friendly letters with description of common memories, individual experiences, and expressing well meanings to receivers.

Process:

1. Read excerpts from two letters
a. “A Letter to My Mother Carolina Oates on Her 78th Birthday, November 8, 1995” by Joyce Carol Oates
b. A letter to Celie from Nettie

2. Share what we find in the letters
author
audience/receiver
style
contents
List the finding on the board.

3. Discuss what makes the letters special and unique: if we were the receivers of these letters what would we feel? List the finding on the board.

4. Invite participants to write a letter to a person they have know for at least five years, trying to incorporate what is discussed in steps 2 and 3. Share letters with elbow buddies. Discuss what makes the letters special to the receivers.

5. Ask volunteers to share a few letters.

6. Brainstorm to recall activities we have done at Appleseed Writing Project Summer Institute 2008. Make a list of nouns, verbs, and adjectives, and ask volunteers to write the lists on the board.

7. Explain to participants we are going to write letters to our elbow buddies. Reminiscent over the past two and half weeks of what we have done, what we have thought, and what we have found about the Institute, about ourselves, and about our fellow writers, especially about our present elbow buddies. Use the lists of words on the board as prompts if necessary, but do not be constrained by the lists.

8. Exchange letters and have a few participants read the letters, and the group will guess who the receivers are and explain why using contents of the letters.



Standard:
Standard 1: READING: Word Recognition, Fluency, and Vocabulary DevelopmentELP 9.1.3 Represent literal and figurative language pictorially and with spoken or written words, phrases, or simple sentences.
Standard 2: READING: ComprehensionELP 9.2.4 Identify the author’s asserted idea and express nonverbally (e.g., pictures, gestures) or with spoken words and phrases.
ELP 9.2.16 Examine and critique an author’s asserted idea and its supporting details to demonstrate impact on theme of text.

Standard 3: READING: Literary Response and Analysis.
ELP 9.3.2 Identify the main characters from a simple literary work and demonstrate characteristics dramatically with role play or simple spoken words and phrases.

Standard 4: WRITING: ProcessELP 9.4.1 Organize an outline to describe ideas nonverbally (e.g., pictures, gestures, charts, lists, tables, graphic organizers) or with simple spoken or written words, phrases, and sentences.ELP 9.4.5 Use common verbs, nouns, and high-frequency modifiers in writing.ELP 9.4.6 Identify the intended audience and describe with spoken and written sentences.ELP 9.4.7 Review writing for meaning.

Standard 5: WRITING: Applications (Different Types of Writing and Their Characteristics)ELP 9.5.2 Solicit information from simple, illustratively supported literary works and represent with pictures, charts, lists, or tables.ELP 9.5.3 Create a simple composition that asserts a main idea and some details nonverbally (e.g., pictures, gestures, graphic organizers) and with simple sentences.

Standard 6: WRITING: English Language ConventionsELP 9.6.11 Review and revise writing for word choice, organization, and consistent variation among grammatical forms.

Standard 7: LISTENING AND SPEAKING: Skills, Strategies, and ApplicationsELP 9.7.12 Identify and state a speaker’s main purpose and ask questions regarding content and delivery.

References:
Butrkhardt, R. M.2003. Writing for Real. Stenhouse Publishers, Portland, Main.

Ray, K.W. 1999. Wondrous Words. National Council of Teachers of English. USA.

Poole, F. & Szabo, M. Authentic Writing. Retrieved on June 20, 2008 from http://www.authenticwriting.com/whatis.html

Jolly, D. 1984. Writing Tasks: An Authentic-task Approach to Individual Writing Needs. Teacher’s Book. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

San Francisco Airport

San Francisco Airport, September, 1996
The international flight from Taipei to San Francisco was delayed due to unusual turbulences. I urged Chin-ting, age 5, and Jen-ting, 3, to quickly put their bags on their backs. The bags were as big as their bodies, and the weight almost made them fall backward. I also slipped on my backpack, so my two hands could carry my children’s hands.
I found the luggage pickup area, and saw a big crowd was waiting around the turntable. “Look very closely,” I told my children, “remember the colors of our suitcases? A huge blue one, a big brown one, and a smaller pleaded one, with tiny red ribbons on them. When you see them, let mom know.” They nodded quietly, and chin-ting repeated, “ A huge blue one, a bog brown one..hey, Jen-ting,” he turned to his little sister, “Help me to watch for the smaller pleaded one, the pretty one…” Jen-ting liked the idea of watching for the pretty bag, so she agreed.
“Mom, I saw the pretty one!” after few turns, the turntable brought us our first bag. I picked it up, and Jen-ting patted the bag as she was patting the head of Lucky, our family dog who we had to leave behind in Taiwan. “Mom, I see the huge blue one, let me pick up!” “No, it’s too heavy for you.” “I can do it, Mom. See, I am strong.” Chin-ting managed to haul the bag from the turntable, with the help of a kind gentleman. Now there was one more. We waited and waited and waited for about ten minutes. The crowd around the turntable shrank and people left one by one with their luggage, but our big brown bag never came. “Mom, do you think someone took our big brown suitcase?” Tim inquired worriedly. “No! I put the tea set grandmother gave me in the brown suitcase! No! I don’t want them to take my tea set!” Jen-ting cried on hearing what Chin-ting said.
“No one will take our suitcase,” I tried to comfort both my children, but I really had no idea what to do. When I spotted a flight attendance at the corner, I ran to her, and asked, “I cannot see my luggage. What can I do?” This was the first English I spoke in this new country. The attendance looked at me and my little children. He picked up the two suitcases, led us to a counter, and told the woman at the counter something. Of course I did not know what he was saying, but I was alert enough to fish up the receipts of my luggage check-in, and the woman at the counter handed me a form. I asked her, “Write it?” “Yes, fill out….” I was glad I understood what “fill” meant, so I wrote down my name, the new address in Norfolk, Virginia, where my husband had lived for three months. The woman told me, along with gestures, that the missing suitcase will be delivered to the address when they found it. I was not sure if I understood what she said, so I asked her, “Will you send it to here?” “No, someone in Norfolk will.” “Can I go now?” “Yes, you may.”
We left the counter without the brown suitcase. Jen-ting had stopped crying because of this encounter with the flight attendance and the counter person, but her tears were still streaming down her tiny cheeks. I knew she was still worried about the tea set, and I was too. This token of my mother’s love to us would meant a lot to us in this new country. I hugged Jen-ting and gently assured her that the suitcase would be delivered to our new home where Baba is, and the tea set would be fine.
“What is next?” I asked myself, reviewing the procedure my husband told me in his aerogramme. “Oh yeah, pass the customs.” I checked my purse and made sure our passports were in the secure compartment. I found the sign of direction toward the customs, and told Chin-ting and Jen-ting, “Now Mon cannot hold your hands. You should take care of yourselves. Follow Mom very closely. Walk fast.” I tried to use my spared hands to pick up the two suitcases. They were too heavy! I was surprised many suitcases other passengers were carrying had wheels under them. Mine didn’t. Then I saw an array of carts at one end of the hall. I told my children, “Wait here for me. Don’t move. Mom will go pick up a cart to carry our suitcases.” They nodded quietly. I found Chin-ting was holding her sister’s hand tightly.
As I was trying to pull out a cart, I found the carts were attached to each other with chains. I also saw a sign “Be Smart Rent a Cart“ and a $1 sign went with it. I did have US dollars with me, but they were crisp twenty dollar bills fresh out of the Bank of Taiwan my father carefully brought home the night before. How can I break the bill? I looked around. People were hurriedly passing me, I didn’t even know how to say this in English? I need a dollar?
Frustrated, I went back to my children. I told them,” Now Mom have to carry these suitcase with my hands, but I think I can do it. Chin-ting, can you help make sure Mei-Mei is OK?” Tim came up with a better idea. “Mom, you will carry the huge blue one. I can carry this small one. I am strong.” As I was considering how possible we could handle this, Jen-ting had picked up one of the two handles of the pretty pleaded suitcase, indeed, it was a large duffle bag, the name I learned much later.
We inched to the immigration check points and customs. There were several long lines. Again I reviewed my husband’s instruction in the aerogramme, and found the lines for non-US Citizens. The immigration officer was very kind to us, which was a great release to me, because I was warned that some non-citizens or visitors without green cards were sent back to where they came from via the same airplane they took to this country. The person at the customs who checked our luggage didn’t even open our suitcases. I was happy that he trusted that I did not bring in anything illegal, although I did “smuggle” some Chinese herb my mother insisted I take with me in case of sickness. “It is very expensive to see doctors in America. The herb is not drug.” She assured me when she carefully tug the little sack into my blue suitcase the night before we left her.
Finally we completed the procedures. Then we had to transfer from international terminal to the domestic flight to Chicago. The shuttle took us to another building where UA 326 was. I went to the counter to checked in the two pieces of luggage. The attendance looked at my ticket and asked me suspiciously, “Are you sure you are taking the 9:15 flight?” “Yes of course.” “Do you know what time is it now?”

zero

Zero
Gloria Chen
0. That is his grade.
How many times did he answer my questions in class? 0.
How many times did he raise his hand to show me he got it? 0.
How many times did he laugh with his classmates when I thought I said something funny? 0.
He didn’t talk. He didn’t read. He didn’t write. He couldn’t even repeat the vocabulary words I spoke to his ear. I had his hearing tested. The result came back “Normal.” I called parents’ meeting, but no one answered the phone. I should contact guidance counselors for a special need test, one of these days, I told myself.
Over the months, his ESL classmates has made significant progress: Dae Keun Lee has started writing 10-senteced journals; Mohamed has read 15 books in the Read-a-Thon program; Daniel has got a GPA of 3.2 in the third semester; and Katina, who just came to this country for 6 weeks, has been able to spell words with 8 letters.
But what happened to Dinh Tran, this skinny boy from Myanmar? I made word cards to help him recognize letters; I made tapes to help him hear the pronunciation; I drew lined paper to teach him write; but what did he do? 0. Z-E-R-O.
That morning, my ESL Level1 class was practicing spelling. “How do you spell ‘good’?” “I know. G-O-O-D.” Manuel proudly announced. “Say together, I am good!” “No, we will move to 5 letters. How do you spell ‘smart’?” “S-M-A-R-T!” Alicia said out loud. Obviously she was a smart student. “Now let’s say, I am smart.” My students eagerly and cheerfully participated one by one: patient, positive, wonderful, 9 letters, intelligent, WOW, 12 letters.
I look at Dinh Tran. His mouth was shut like a lying down 1. I decided to give him a chance. “Dinh Tran, tell us how do you spell ‘red.’” I thought these three letters would be his redemption. Who couldn’t spell R-E-D? Silence; except his face turned to be R-E-D. I tried H-A-R-D not to show my frustration, and even A-N-G-E-R.
After the class left, I picked up trash students left on the floor. I picked up a little scrap of under Dinh Tran’s desk. On the paper were scribbled a few words, “I am SCAD.”
S-C-A-D, scad? Is it English? What does this skinny boy from Myanmar try to say? SACD? Does he say, “I am sacred, S-C-A-R-E-D, 6 letters?” Or does he say, “I am scarred,” S-C-A-R-R-E-D, 7 letters?

Tim's Musical

Tim stormed in the house with tears in his eyes. Bang! He threw his book bag on the kitchen table and started to cry.
“What happened to my son, who’s usually sensible and cheerful? He is seventeen! What made him cry like a baby?” I wondered, “Did he fail the physics mid-term? Did the girl he secretly fell in love with find someone else?”
Then I remembered Tim had an audition for the school musical today-- The Sound of Music, our family's favorite. He has practiced and practiced over the past months. He was determined to play Captain Von Trapp, and he was pretty sure Mr. Ryan would choose him. He might not be the best mathematician or the best violinist at school as many Asian parents expected their children to be, but boy, his rich and brilliant baritone, and his poise in acting, everyone agreed it the best in the entire Todd High School.
Tim loved singing and acting so much. He played in every school musical since he was a freshman, He prepared thoroughly for every audition, and when he was chosen, he would study the entire script, and practice his lines and songs over and over again. Mm, in “Fiddler on the Roof” when he was a freshman, he was one of the villagers who attended the wedding of Tzeitel and Motel. He didn't have any singing part, but the squatting dances almost broke his ankles. Sophomore year, Bye-Bye Birdie, he sang in the Ed Sullivan Show among a group of singers. Last year, a junior, he got to play Tin Man in "Wizard of Oz," which made him a semi celebrity on campus. Students love the Tin Man with slanted eyes. This year he aimed at playing Captain Von Trapp. Reason one, this would be his last year in high school. Reason two, Catherine, the girl he secretly fell in love with, would most possibly be playing Maria, the lovely nun Captain Von Trapp eventually married.
Now someone else was chosen to play Captain Von Trapp, and next year he will not have another high school musical.
I tried to comfort him, but he cried even more bitterly. Then I thought I should teach him a lesson: "Look, let’s face the reality. Surely you have worked hard for the audition, but there might be still someone out there who’s better than you..."
"No!" Tim yelled back, making me stumble back several steps. "Mr. Ryan said I was the best!"
"But why didn't Mr. Ryan choose you for ....."
"Mr. Ryan wanted me to be the stage manager! He said the stage manager is even more important than Captain Von Trapp."
“But did you tell him you wished to play Captain Von Trapp?”
"Yes, but he thought the audience would feel odd that Captain Von Trapp was an Asian….No! I don't want to be the stupid stage manager! I want to be on the stage!" Tim stopped crying, but I saw the determination in his eyes.
"Have other characters been decided?"
"No, today Mr. Ryan only decided the stage manager, Captain Von Trapp, and Maria, .... Catherine.." Tears streamed down his cheeks again.
"Then, Tim," My husband who had silently watched and listened to our conversation, spoke up very carefully, "Have you considered playing one of Captain Von Trapp’s seven children?"
"What? One of the children? Dad, that’s ridiculous! How can Captain Von Trapp have an Asian child?"
"Why not? Why don’t we suppose Captain Von Trapp adopted a Chinese boy on his voyage…"
Before I gave my husband a scolding look for such a silly idea, Tim burst into a loud laughter and said, “Captain Von Trapp adopted a Chinese boy! This is a great idea! Thanks Dad! I will go back to school to talk to Mr. Ryan now!"
When I saw Tim played Friedrich, Captain Von Trapp’s oldest son, smiling all over the show, especially when he talked to Maria, I knew he just enjoyed being on the stage with Catherine.
My family still believes the trend that Western families adopting Chinese babies started from Captain Von Trapp--no, it started from Tim’s high school musical.

Appleseed Writing Project

Thank you Barb.