Post your connections to the book. These may be connections to: your own life (text to life)
To happenings at school or in the neighborhood or in the newspaper (text to world)
To other books or stories (text to text)
To other writings on the same topic (text to text)
To other writings by the same author (text to author)
Please respond to one other entry regarding discussion questions
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12 comments:
test comment by Bobbie
this course seems overwhelming. I'm really scared
Here is my test
testing
I am going to write about a text to text connection I have. Marshfield Dreams is a R.F. book that describes his childhood in Marshfield, MA (my students enjoyed by Boston accent having grown up in Peabody, MA). Anyways, he grew up in a large family very similar to the family in Fig Pudding. In fact, the part in Fig Pudding where he describes his brothers playing in a broken water main is very similar to a chapter in Marshfield Dreams. I shared this with my students and reminded them that, "Good writers write what they know." I thought it was a great example.
That's it,
Steve
I'm writng a text to self connection. When I was growing up, my best friend was the only girl in a family of 5. She was the middle child just like Cyn. I remember fondly how she liked to escape to my house; yet I loved being at her house where all the action was.
I could really identify with Cliff not wanting to share his tackle box with his younger siblings. Although I have an older sister we didn't grow up together and the times that we did spend visiting each other (usually in the Summer-here or there), my grandparents and/or mother would often try to make us share. We'd always pretend to do it, but the minute they left us alone there would be conflict because we weren't accustomed to sharing anything, especially the things we cherished most.
A younger first cousin of mine passed quite a few years ago in a motor vehicle accident, while living in another state. He was the second youngest from a family of seven. We are all very close. As I read about "Brad's" death, I couldn't help but remember the sadness, and how difficult it was for us to even mention his name. Chapter seven really hit home!
This connection is a text to self. I could relate to grandma coming over at Christmas time. I began to remember my grandmother and her scottish empire cookies she made every year at Christmas and going to her house to help make the dough. I thought a lot about my families traditions (old and new) and though how funny it was that I had easily remembered the past experiences and wondered if my niece and nephews would think of our Christmas' as foundly as I remember my childhood experiences with my grandparents. It's also funny that I believe that this story took place about the same time period as I was growing up. Anyone else remember "rock'em sock'em robots..."
My connection is more along the lines of a text-to-world connection. I think that Nate's behavior as well as his approach to his brother's death is typical and understandable. He seemed to be angy, shocked, and in denial. He held in his emotions and when they came out, they poured out and that is a reaction that many can relate to when they hold something inside of them that needs to be released inorder to heal.
This is in responsse to John's comment. We lost a cousin in 1973 and the pain was so confusing at the time because I was only 13 and didn't really understand what was happening. He had come back from Vietnam and commited suicide. It's still difficult to talk about. For so many years all the adults in my family silently blamed themselves for not being aware of what he was going through.
In a text to life connection, I identified with Cliff as the oldeset child of four with a brother two years younger, a sister six years younger, and a sister nine years younger than I am. Frequently I was made responsible for my younger sisters, Beckie, and Abbie. Five year old Abbie had a little friend named Billie and they often excaped supervision to terrorize the neighborhood. On one of their exploratory ramblings, they came upon a garden hose and ran it into Mrs. Smith's oil tank and became the most unpopular kids in town. Like Cliff, somehow I had lapsed in my reponsibilities as the older sister.
I also connect to John's comment about sharing the treasured tackle box--it seemed to be assumed by our parents that nothing was so special to us that it could not be shared,
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