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Three pieces of student work with your annotations drawing our attention to key features: Fenix’s Calendar Book, Elias’ Documentary, and Alynna’s Horror Story


Fenix’s Calendar Book


Chet’s Annotations and Commentary on Fenix’s work:


Looking at Fenix’s calendars in their progression over the eight months of class, you can see the growth and style that he developed over time.  Going from shapes and patterns, where some days are just colored marker (Sep 27-29) , to specific characters that show an arrange of emotion and detail (April 11 - 26), it’s clear that Fenix became more invested with his work as he improved. Fenix was a difficult student to work with at times, as he was more than capable, but often finished assignments quickly and wandered around the classroom looking for entertainment - often at the expense of other students’ attention to their work. Juli and I often referred to the task of figuring out what Fenix could do as babysitting.  I say this because Fenix and I had a good talk about his calendar book, and he explained to me that he was able to channel his emotions into the drawings, and when he was feeling good about himself, and surrounding himself with people that brought him up, he was able to concentrate more on his work, and vice versa. It was Fenix’s way of telling me that when he wandering and aloof, there was usually something else going on in his life and that the best thing to do was just to check in with him. Though his calendars didn’t always document what had happened to him on a given day, he was able to use the space to express his emotions in a meaningful way. 


Elias’ Video 




Chet’s Annotations and Commentary on Elias’ work:


Elias’ video of Jacksyn was in many ways one of my favorite pieces of work by a student all year.  It was the quintessential example of why iterations are important - the Austin’s Butterfly of ninth grade documentaries.  For the assignment, students were to make a documentary video about their partner’s experience during our 3-day camping trip to Lake Cuyamaca. This entailed multiple rounds of video interviews, before, during and after the trip, as well as B-roll video of scenes from the trip itself. Students then edited audio and video together to create a final piece.  Elias and Jacksyn however were not able to go on the trip, and so made videos about what each other did during their weeks while the class was away. Elias’ first draft of Jacksyn recounting his week showed Jacksyn clearly answering a bunch of interview questions without trying to create his own story. After multiple rounds of iteration, peer review and critique, reshooting, and hours of editing, Elias was able to create an authentic and pretty hillarious piece of work that does a great job telling the story of Jacksyn’s week.  


Alynna’s Horror Story


It was our 10th anniversary, and we had gone all out. His suit fit so well on him. The dress I’ve been hiding in my closet is finally making its debut. I arranged for my parents to watch over our 9-year-old daughter, Emmy. The night was beautiful. The rooftop restaurant was perfect with the stars watching over us. It felt as if no one was around us. Just him and I, laughing and smiling as dinner goes by. The pasta tasted like nothing I’d ever had before. Then, the bar caught our eyes. We knew we had to drive back, so I planned on not drinking. Watching him drink influenced me to have just a little bit.
Afterward, I got in the driver’s seat and revved the car. He was wasted. I couldn’t help but feel worried. I drive us out of the parking lot and enter the freeway.

Everything turned into a blur. With vomit arising, I tried to pull over. My vision was beyond messed up. The constant honking behind me rang through my ears. I look at him. He’s still asleep. As I switch lanes, I feel an impact in front of me. Suddenly, everything turned black.
I wake up to bright lights facing me and someone’s grasp on my hand. As I slowly regain my vision, I look to the right of me.
“Emmy?”
“Mom! Thank goodness you’re awake,” she said, basically screaming. Her face was full of tears, both wet and dry.
“What happened?” I asked, with no recollection of the night before.
“I don’t know, I’m just glad I have at least one parent.” She had a smile I’d never seen before.
It felt like my soul had left out of my body. What did she just say to me?

“Where is your father? I need to know where he is, now.”
“I don’t know Mom, I’m sorry. They took his body away.”
At that moment, my world ended. I slowly gained memory from the previous night, and I couldn’t help but blame myself for everything. I instantly turn into a sobbing mess. So many things entering my mind at once. “This wouldn’t have happened if I stayed sober.” “I was the one who crashed our car.” “I killed my husband.” I was going insane.
Once I was released from the hospital, all I could think to myself was, “How am I supposed to continue on with my life?” We get to our house and I sit down on the couch. As I looked down to my daughter, holding her hand in mine, she smiled. That smile.
“Stop,” I said, sternly.
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” The more I stared at her, the more I saw him. She has the same smile. The same eyes. The same nose. The same hands.
“JUST STOP IT!” Without thinking, my arm suddenly swang and my hand came in contact with her face. Tears immediately came pouring down her face and she bolted to her room. I felt remorse. Though at the same time, the rush felt so good.

After spending the next two weeks with her, I was at my wit’s end. All of the hitting, yelling, and screaming had finally gotten to me. Spending weeks enduring the psychological torture I got just by looking at her has turned me insane. Every time I gaze upon her, I see the man I married. The love of my life. The father of my child. The man I killed. Why am I just realizing the number of features she got from him?
I finally thought of a solution. I praised myself for my amazing thinking. To execute this plan, I needed to wait until midnight.
The clock struck twelve and I checked up on Emmy. She was sound asleep. I walked back to my bedroom to unlock the safe. As I enter the pin, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I pull the gun out and dash to her room.
I pointed it to her head, and with a flash, she was gone. I’d done it. She’s gone. All of the suffering had come to an end. I picked her up and took her to the woods, which connected to our backyard.
I leave her in a safe spot and went back to the backyard. I entered our garden shed and pulled out the shovel. The smell of rust overwhelmed me. The shed hadn’t been touched in years. I was glad I finally found a use for it.
I started digging and digging for hours. It was 3 in the morning when I had finally finished.
I looked down at the 6-foot-deep hole feeling incredibly proud of myself for my hard work. The silence broke when I heard a voice coming from my house.
“Mom! I’m hungry.” My heart sank. I stopped in my tracks, frantically looking around. I didn’t see anything. “Is this all in my head?” I thought.
“Mom please.” Emmy’s voice sounded whiny like she always did. I dropped everything and started sprinting toward the woods. Nothing else was in my mind except her.
I finally reached the spot I left her and low and behold, she was lying right in front of me. I wipe sweat from my forehead as I catch my breath. Tears form out of relief. As I’m about to celebrate, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Everything stopped. Frozen in my tracks, I slowly turn my body behind me.
“Hello, Mom.”

Chet’s Annotations and Commentary on Alynna’s work:


For our 3 day camping trip to Lake Cuyamaca, students wrote horror stories to tell around the fire. We spent about a week looking at the idea of fear, and how we can implement fear into our writing effectively.  We started with two sentence horror stories and worked our way up to short stories. Though this wasn’t an assigment that we ended up polishing or putting extra time into, Alynna’s piece brought a seriousness to the work that impressed both her peers and herself.  There are moments in a classroom when a student sets a new bar for the quality of work that can be achieved, and her peers realize, “Oh wait, I can do that?” And it totally changes the game. This was one of those moments.  Though I had seen and worked on this story with Alynna previously, the majority of the students heard it for the first time around the campfire and looks on their faces said everything. Alynna’s use of imagery, and sensory detail, two writing techniques we had used during the year, made it seem as though the reader (or listener in this case) was there, “Everything turned into a blur. With vomit arising, I tried to pull over. My vision was beyond messed up. The constant honking behind me rang through my ears. I look at him. He’s still asleep. As I switch lanes, I feel an impact in front of me. Suddenly, everything turned black.“  In the story, a woman accidentally kills her husband in a car accident, and then slowly loses her mind and kills her daughter, too. Alynna’s demonstrates her ability to bring the reader into the Mom’s consciousness, and show how her sanity slowly slips away, “Every time I gaze upon her, I see the man I married. The love of my life. The father of my child. The man I killed. Why am I just realizing the number of features she got from him?”.  I talked to Alynna the next day and complimented her on her work.  She explained to me that she almost didn’t read it aloud, fearing that no one would like it, but was very happy she had the courage to go for it.