A Hero in my eyes:)

1.A hero becomes a hero when they do something to help others. Heroes think about other people before themselves and take time out of their day to help someone in need. To me a hero isn't someone who necessarily has to do something so stupendous or great, like saving some one's life. It can be something average, like helping with homework, because they could just say, "Go ask your teacher, I'm busy." But if they choose to help it shows they actually care.

2.The Hero in my Eyes project was a writing assignment where we wrote about important people in our lives who have influenced us and have been good role models and heroes. I chose to write about my mom because she is a single mother who never complains or gives up.

3. To get to the final product I first thought of people to write about. I finally chose one person that I thought was worthy.I interviewed my mom After that I wrote our my first draft, which was edited and revised by a few of my classmates. I changed everything that needed was suggested to accommodating and then started on my final draft.

4.I learned, from interviewing my mom, that the world doesn't have to revolve around me and there are people in the world who have more important needs than mine. I realized that I could make a difference in some one's life for the better. Some challenges that occurred would be choosing the person I was going to write about because it was hard to choose to write about my mom over my best friend. Something that I would make different would be to put more showing not telling and description. This will help me later because I can become a better writer if I try harder and add more details.

5. One Habit of Mind that I used would be Wonder because when I fixed the things that my classmates and teachers edited for me it was to make it better.

6. Here's a link to my Character Sketch Blog Post :)http://illfofilly.blogspot.com/2009/11/character-sketch.html

Character Sketch

Why my Head is High
“I want to help others and a lot of people at the nursing homes don’t have family come to visit them.” I watched as my mother’s generous, almond colored eyes gleamed in the light. Her blazing red, shoulder length hair showed off her bright teeth and smile. She sat in our car and swayed back and forth to the music, like a palm tree at the beach. As we got out to go inside she didn’t even think twice or feel a morsel of laziness. She opened the door for Gary, the other volunteer, who is tall and slender and limps when he walks. Once inside the building, we walked into a small room, filled with tables and a television. Sunshine poured down through the windows, and seemed to singsong, “Good morning.” Medicine and hospital whiffs rushed up my nose. Ladies and men sat in chairs, while some were in different types that allowed them to roll around. A few wheezed ferociously, like a hibernating bear, their mouths open and tongues hanging out. Many mouthed lyrics to the song, releasing cooing sounds, like a newborn baby.I could see their eyes, faded with age like a person’s favorite shirt washed too many times. The nursing home residents’ wrinkled faces altered from alert to excited as we walked in. Toothless smiles were shown as my mother handed out packets of lyrics, filled with church gospels. “Amazing Grace…” My mother’s high-pitched, squeaky voice filled the room. I imagined it would belong to a mouse, if mice were able to speak.I remember my mom saying, “It makes me feel good, just to see them smile. I realized it doesn’t always have to be about me. I could make a difference in someone’s life!” I could now see what she meant as I found myself singing along with people I had never even met, until that day, with pure joy. People were rocking back and forth, as if they were sitting upon a church pew.“How does she do this?” I wondered. How does she have that ability to brighten up someone’s day like that? She works so hard, for the five days of the week, caring and nurturing babies as if she were their mother. Every time I’m feeling down she’s always right by my side asking what’s wrong. You could tell she cares enough for the answer, once the tears trail down she is always my shoulder to cry on. I find myself walking alone sometimes thinking how big a loser I am and how I could have done better if I didn’t fail so much. Then my mom’s famous line appears in the back of my mind, “Keep your head up high.”I never hear her complain. She wakes up cheerful and in a good mood, like a cheerleader rooting for the football team to win. Being a single parent, she has to work twice as hard to take care of me. “I never regretted having you at twenty-four years old. I never would have given you away.” Hearing this is music to my ears. It brings a smile to my face and reminds me how special I really am to have someone as dependable and hardworking as my mom. I keep following her around the nursing home, with my head up high.

The Origin of Zero

Some things from the article that struck me would be how it says how the symbol for zero has changed over the years. I never thought about where zero came from and it surprised me how the Mayans represented it as just a dot. Even though it was the Chinese that thought of the open circle, that we now use today, I think that the Mayans are the ones who should get all the credit because they are the ones who invented it. I think the whole world found out about zero when the Mayans first thought of it. It is like when new discoveries are found and they are put on the news, except in this case it was probably just spread around in words.

Cry me a River

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. “I never meant to hurt you, you know, ”she said as she leaned towards his lunch table. “How can I make this up to you?” Her long blonde hair curled at the ends and her baby blue eyes twinkled like stars. As much as he hated her he could never let her go. She was a part of him. Darren glared at her for a few seconds, which seemed like forever to Angela.He stared into her eyes and remembered the first time he ever saw her. She was at the park, playing football with all the guys. If she fell or got trampled she would always get right back up. She was a soldier, never backing down or quitting, until she got what she wanted. His insides were a volcano, ready to erupt. He realized he shouldn’t follow his heart this time. “What you did is unforgivable. It’s just too late to apologize.”Angela’s mouth quivered, she always thought she was irresistible. She ran to the bathroom and nearly drowned in her tears. It’s really over, she realized.