Reetz Writes

Reetz

Reetz

Period 2

2-19-20

Short, Constructed Response: Three Poems, One Personal Theme (CHIASMUS)

Three poems, “The Writer” by Richard Wilbur, “Flint” by Christina Rossetti, and “Oranges,” by Gary Soto, were written during important influential times of their lives. Evidently, a daughter, a piece of rock, and a boy on a date all reflect a common theme. Certainly, there are other common themes that unite the three poems, but each of them, at some point, suggests the good advice: sometimes you need to look beneath the surface to find the truth, or don’t judge a book by its cover, or what you see baby, isn’t necessarily what you get.

First, in Wilbur, the narrator’s approach is subtle, but his daughter-character obviously struggles with inspiration. Her creativity is just below the surface, struggling to come out, since the labor of her writing is like ship’s “chains hauled over a gunwhale” (Wilbur, ln. 6). This suggests that the act of writing is difficult, but if one keeps pulling at the chains, even though it is difficult, the truth will surface and the ship we be allowed to float free. This essayist (Reetz) has had similar struggles with making people understand him, and as a poet, he has struggled with finishing poems. It hasn’t been pulling chains, but he masks much of his true silliness in front of his students. It’s been kind of “evaluated out of him.” Bummer. To summarize, creativity lies just beneath the surface and so does identity.

Next, “Flint.” Rossetti’s time during the American Civil war must have been difficult. It was a time of chauvinistic, male patriarchy, when what men said, stood. Period. Her poem suggests that beneath anyone’s oppressed-hard surface, say a woman or child who has been pushed into the background, lies a fire. A fire. A fire waiting to spark. Further, those people in the background could find themselves in the “…mud… (Rossetti, ln. 4). Because a flint holds fire that doesn’t burn until it is struck, a person does, too, despite the mud and the shadows. A person—a child poet, a teen dancer, an adult painter, a senior singer, will be at their best when ignited.

“Oranges,” by Gary Soto, similarly reflects the common theme, though much less directly. His character, an unnamed boy, has a fire burning within. A crush. The kid has a crush on a girl, and although his truth beneath the surface isn’t creativity or flint-like spirit, it is beneath the surface, waiting for the right circumstances to be set free. It IS set free in the final episode of the poem: “I took my girl’s hand [and] … someone might have thought I was making a fire in my hands” (Soto, ln. 47-56). See? The poet helps us see that the crush out in the open. The kid’s crush is like orange crush. Alight. It’s almost like a blush, for when a kid is crushing, he’s blushing, maybe the blazing orange is blush-like.

Certainly, there are other themes that unite the poems: one must be courageous to get anywhere in life, for example. In Wilbur, despite the fact that the girl is struggling in her work, she, figured in the trapped bird, finally finds the “wits to try it again.” The courage and brains, to try getting out of her writer’s block trap, again. Courage depends on brains, and brains depends on courage, and his character has both. “But a flint holds fire” for Rossetti, and Soto’s boy “walked toward her house,” suggest their courageous. This essayist has (he’d like to think) summoned and summoned again, the courage and wit to finish poems, to ski off of cliffs, and to meet new people, and no one can see his courage, just the results of it. Regardless, truth beneath the surface is the dominant common theme across the three poems.

That they have strengths is critical for people, and that those strengths underlie and outshine any public weaknesses that those people point out, is critical. Our poets’ people, the girl who writes, the oppressed who lies in the mud, or the boy who lets his feelings show, have an undeniable strengths that were once under cover, but are now out in the open. This is good for us.

Note: The essays (openings only) written here are DRAFTS for instruction, only, and are not perfect, are a bit rough, and may contain nuts.

Reetz

Mr. Reetz

Period 1

December 15, 2017 DRAFT

Position Paper: Snow Pack Unreliabilty in Colorado

Colorado’s snow pack is unreliable. Climate change has stilled the pendulum. Some people might say that the decrease in reliable snow pack isn’t devastating, and others, yet, may argue that climate change is entirely a hoax perpetuated by another country for economic advantage over the United States. Unfortunately, there is an economic effect on Colorado. One, its ski industry suffers from unpredictable snow pack. Two, the state’s white water recreation industry is similarly effected by inconsistent run-off in the spring, and third, but no less important, Colorado’s water reservoirs fluctuate so wildly that citizens are effected, too. This paper’s view is that the effects of climate change, and thus snowpack unreliability, is devastating to Colorado.

F. Reetz

Mr. Reetz

Period 3

January 15, 2018 DRAFT

Position Paper: Partial Preservation of the South Platte Hotel is Best

In recent conversations of historical preservation, some of my students argue that the historic South Platte Hotel should be entirely razed, while still others contend that the preservation efforts are futile because the site will eventually be under fathoms of water. This paper argues that partial renovation of the most important features of the historic be conducted. The most important features should be preserved. First reason? a total renovation would be a budget breaker. Besides prohibitive cost, other restrictions by property owner Denver Water probably prevent a total rehabilitation, as idealized by local historians. Finally, and most important, the vibe is alive. The vibe must be maintained in order to keep new visitors enchanted. The students of the WJMS team should propose a partial renovation to the hotel, only.

F. Reetz

Mr. Reetz

Period 1

October 18, 2017

Memoir: Saint Mary’s Burning

Memoir: A Flawed Topaz

I climbed around Saint Mary’s Glacier throughout my teen years. It was my escape from the hectic city. I haunted that place and still do, in my mind--maybe it haunts me. It is a “glacier” at tree-line, west of Denver. Take Fall River Road north from I-70, and you’re there. Since I felt like a local, I could call it “Mary’s,” like the locals, and there is nothing like being accepted. Hike a mile to the lake, and the striking steep terrain looms over tiny fragile people. Like me.

F. Reetz

Mr. Reetz

Period 1

October 6, 2016, DRAFT

Memoir: Bad Apple (I’m not sure of this title)

That apple tree was a beast. It scared me throughout my childhood. Looking back on the time on my grandmother’s farm, I remember the sounds of the orchard where that tree dominated, and the games I played in the giant arms of it. It held me. It scared me. It tore me to shreds, and one evening, it taught me to listen. That same evening my grandmother warned me to be smart, but, I was a brat of a kid, a bad apple, and I didn’t listen to anyone. I spoiled events for people because I needed so much attention. Why I didn’t get it, I don’t know, but grandma knew what was going on with all that attention seeking. She always knew what was going on, and like many kids, I thought I was so unique and so indestructible. I thought I was in charge.