Memoir Reflection

Writing the memoir was not an easy thing to do. It was a challenge to try and go back in time, trying to identify the significance in past events and determine how they have influenced me. I think that I tend to brush off certain events and think that they are no big deal when they really do affect me deep down. It takes some effort to come to terms with these feelings and then write them out. In the end though, this process has made it very rewarding. I can see myself in a bit of new light by dissecting all of it in a memoir. When memories are written out in front of you, they suddenly become existent again. When it is just in your head, it’s almost like you can just pretend it didn’t happen, but in words it is concrete and present. Writing the memoir has helped me be more direct in opening my mind and thoughts. I’m not as nervous, yet more curious in connecting my memories to my current personality.

"I Just Wanna Be Average" Response

I have definitely come across teachers like those that Rose discusses in “I Just Wanna Be Average”. The teachers that have little interest in making education meaningful, and instead make it continuously dull. My high school history teacher, Mr. Banwart is a good example. None of us had the mental stamina to pay attention as he’d turn off the lights everyday and turn on the meaningless daily flow of usually sixty powerpoint slides that he admitted he stole from some other teacher on the internet. He was sort of a funny guy but was extremely conceited. He found enjoyment in listening to our ideas of activities to do in class and then shooting them down with a demeaning smile. Since he couldn’t understand that we were so bored and didn’t have the mental stamina to pay attention to his lectures, we’d get poor grades and skim by anyway we could. It was sad that we were craving enthusiasm that he wouldn't give, leaving us to believe that we just weren’t disciplined enough to follow our “grade-level curriculum”. We easily could of learned all he taught but his mindset wasn’t on what’s most effective, but what takes the least amount of effort for him. If he wasn’t going to try, why should we? Teachers don’t always care about how they teach or who they’re teaching to, even though it’s their job.

Students like Ken Harvey cope with the pressures of high school by ignoring them like they don’t care and it’s not important. Because they have never been able to make that connection with what they’re learning they are left in the dust, year after year. After so many failed attempts at learning, they feel like the don’t belong or don’t have a reason to be there and stop caring. They begin to just plan out getting a mediocre job and living an average lifestyle. They become so content with that and teachers misjudge all of it as laziness or carelessness. There is always reasoning behind everything people think about themselves and teachers like Mr. Banwart, that you encounter since first grade, don’t realize that they are the ones to blame!

"Becoming Members of Society" Response

Devor discusses how the “generalized other” influences our development of a gender identity. The term means that we judge our own actions against those of generalized conceptions of how members of society are expected to act. With this in place, we monitor and censor our actions so that we earn social approval. I thought it was interesting how he writes the “self” is composed by the more internal and private “I” and the more public and judged “me” I agree with this idea because the characteristics of “I” are what truly make a person who they are, but we morph ourselves to create a certain “me” to portray to others because we feel that our “I” may not be good enough or perceived well by others.

The “patriarchal schema” that Devor explains is widely in use in North American society. It shows how males are highly attributed and are the dominant person in a family and in the world. They display features of innate maleness through aggression, body presence, and speech. On the other hand, women are known to be dependent on males because they are ones who have a warm and soft personality, gentleness, and motivation to care for children and work in female roles only. Furthermore, the way both genders dress is a huge characteristic that separates the male type from the female type. The schema reinforces and perpetuates the idea that when it comes to gender roles, males are superior to females.

Memoir Blog Post

The hot Florida sun was setting as my brother Mikey and I, in our swimsuits, climbed up the steps into the line for the orange, corkscrew waterslide. I was thirteen years old, which would have made him about eleven. Another family vacation, this time to Orlando for Universal Studios. We stayed at the Nickelodeon hotel which was a colorful and cheery place, surrounded by Spongebob and every other cartoon character you could think of. Mikey loved it. He’d go off walking around the whole place, laughing as he gazed up at the life-size pictures of every funny character he saw on TV.  My dad would follow behind him twenty steps back, keeping a distant eye on him since every time he’d try to catch up with him, Mikey would shake his head and shoo him away. Then keep walking as he wanted his independence as he explored the place. 

My parents do a great job of handling Mikey and not putting any stress on my sister and I. Often, that’s how it went. When Mikey wanted to go somewhere else or got upset, either mom or dad would go with him and the other would stay with us while we did whatever activity we had planned. I didn't have to worry about being stuck in a predicament with Mikey where I wouldn't know what to do. Mom and dad knew what to do, not me. In public, I admit I have anxiety when it comes to the unexpectedness that goes along with a brother like Mikey. What if he started screaming in the middle of a crowd? I’d know I’d walk away and let my parents figure it out. They tell me that’s what I should do. I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that, I don’t what to do so why should I hover around the situation. Yet as I walk away, I wipe any feeling I have off my face as if I am not associated with the scene I am escaping from. 

As Mikey and I come to the front of the line, the lifeguard tells us it is our turn. We climb up the net crawl going upwards to the top of this monstrous playground, continuously being soaked by tipping water buckets. I laughed as I appreciated that Mikey and I were having fun together doing something exciting in a new and unfamiliar place. It doesn’t happen too often. I didn’t think he would be up for a big waterslide like this, instead maybe just floating around in the pool with my dad like usual. 

We lifted our feet from the scratchy rope climb and stepped onto the platform. We walked to the slide, gazing out to the huge pool that sat below where my mom waited at the bottom of the slide. We were on top of the world, I was proud Mikey wanted to do this. He stood at the opening of the slide, smiling and giggling, looking all around. “Go Mikey! I’ll be right behind you.” I said. He didn’t move. I kept encouraging him to go, but he stood still. He wasn’t scared, just taking his time. My heart started to race. I didn’t expect this. I looked down as the lifeguard was saying something and motioning his hand forward. The line of kids behind him just stared up at me. They were all waiting on us, what do I do? I kept telling Mikey to go, each time getting less friendly. He kept looking around and up at the sky, smiling. I nodded my head to the lifeguard, and looked away like I had it under control. The clock in my head kept ticking, and it felt like hours standing up there. The number of people in the pool watching us seemed to suddenly grow, although it was probably just in my head. Were we going to have to climb back down, come on already Mikey! I was angry at my parents that this was happening. I was embarrassed. I guess I just have no hope in any other people that they could possibly have the ounce of humility to understand anything. Finally, he slid down joyously in a split second. I breathed in deep. I didn’t wait to watch him splash into the water before I slid down behind him. I couldn't stand up there any longer. 

When I hit the water, I swam to my mom and her face was glowing as Mikey twirled around in the water next to her, probably ecstatic after what he had just accomplished. I was still calming down from what was probably in reality merely 90 seconds of what felt like torture. I looked around and business was as usual, no one looked appalled or whispered about the hold-up that we just put all those kids through. Not until now, am I able to look back and realize how much of that moment was blown up in my head. Why was I so embarrassed? Not because of him, but because of the inconvenience I thought we were causing. Because of what I thought people were thinking on the inside. Because of what I thought people would view us as: different.

Zinsser NPR Story/Memoir

William Zinsser’s thoughts about memoir helped me understand the purpose and meaning of one much more. I agree that a bad memoir whines because it doesn’t provide the reader with anything to take away from it. When writers dwell on the people and things that they feel hatred for or events that upset them, it is more of a soap opera than a memoir. But, when writers can take those harsh experiences and turn them into something deeper, both they and the reader benefit. The writer is able to use the memoir to achieve a revelation of their life. It can also be a healing process as it allows them to confront and overcome their issues. The reader is able to relate and have a better understanding of what makes this writer’s life meaningful to them. They can connect the truthfulness in the memoir and identify their own revelations.

My intent in writing this memoir is to hopefully tap into parts of my life that I may not spend enough time evaluating and recognizing the significance in. I’d like to make some discoveries into what has formed who I am. By writing honestly and wholeheartedly, I should be able to open up more and have a more freeing outlook on some experiences that I may have suppressed or ignored the importance of. I hope to come to some conclusions about life that could make me see things differently or give me new attitudes towards the future. 

Memorable Day

The sun was beating down on my backyard so much that my skin felt like it was being burnt as soon as I walked out of the house in my swim trunks. I lathered on three squirts of Coppertone sunscreen and inhaled the smell of it along with the fresh lilacs that my mom planted in the flower box. It was the smell of July that I craved all through the winter. I couldn’t stand in one place for very long because the deck was scalding hot on the bottom of my feet. I did a little hop every 20 seconds to give them relief and was happy to see my dad bring out the garden hose. He sprayed my feet with a rush of icy water and shivered as the burning went away.

My friends Jessica and Nick waved hello as they came through the swinging fence door just like they usually did most days during those summers back in elementary school. They were only one street over in my neighborhood. Jessica would have her oversized pink and purple towel wrapped around her and Nick would have his goggles in place over his eyes, ready to jump in our round, above-ground pool. 

Today we had something new to try. The afternoon before we had rode our bikes to the “Four Quarters” store and bought five packs of the balloons that had a rubber band at the end of them so you could bounce them back and forth off your hand really fast. We were going to fill them up with the hose and have a water balloon fight. I stuck the hose in the opening of the first balloon and let it fill up. Nick and Jessica held it in place as we were suddenly stunned. It just kept growing. It became the size of a large watermelon. These were no ordinary balloons. We laughed historically as all three of us collectively poked it and made it wiggle. We couldn’t have a water balloon fight as it was probably 30 pounds, so we rolled it over to where the deck met the edge of the pool and let it splash in, making the same noise we did as we cannonballed in after it. We spent the day swimming around this giant green blob floating in the water, too fascinated to do anything else.

VR Project

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