FC: Language Arts Project By:Aimee Rivera Solis 1-2 March 29, 2012
1: Table of Contents: pg 2 : Where I'm From pg 4 : Self Respect Poem pg 6 : Language Arts Poem pg 8 : My Mother's Kitchen
2: Where I'm From | I am from bags, from Jarritos and Old Paso. I am from the bright colors and fiestas. I am from the cactus, the Poinsettias. I am from Christmas trees and posada's, from Ivan’s and Pablo’s and Ricardo’s. I am from the barbeque's and family reunions.
3: From story-telling and Aztecan princesses. I am from Catholics. I'm from Aztecs, tacos and burritos. From the crazy people, the people who don't know, and the dream shooters. I am from Mexico.
4: Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I jump and dance, sometimes I won't. Depend on my mood, I might even sing. It really just depends on how I want to be. I'm not the average Hispanic girl. And I ain’t going to let anyone tell me different. But I learned that things are the way you want it
5: Self Respect | Because I am a strong person. I'm not the average Hispanic girl. My worth is not determined by how you treat people. No matter what happens or the rough places in life, I will always be strong, beautiful me.
6: Language Arts isn't grammar and reading It's about going with the flow and being Great about everything your doing. Essays are done with a passion English is learned, along with some Spanish and Greek Roots are done with a certain fashion.
7: Language Arts Class | Even though it's long and demeaning I still come and have Shakespeare keep me dreaming and have with a smiling, leaving. So tonight I read and read So that I leave with no deed Riding on the Language Arts stead
8: My aunt says, “Time to eat! ¡Todos venga! Let us rejoice.” You see the cluster of people gathering Hear the happiness ring in the voices I love this time of year Smell the savory turkey, roasting, turning Watch the steam rise from the hot mashed potatoes. The poor dead turkey didn't see this feast coming I love this time of year Hear children running, laughing, playing. Laughter rings from every hall See those eyes, big, hungry, waiting. I love this time of year
9: My Mothers Kitchen | Leaves are brown, orange, red The wisp around like a small tornado on the pavement String beans are served a fresh baked bread I love this time of year The feast has finished and everything is merry A slow blanket of sleep is settling into you for the night Your eyes close, as sweet dreams fill your mind with pies and berries I love this time of year