SHREK and Satire

Definition of Satire:

A literary work that ridicules its subject through the use of techniques such as exaggeration, reversal, incongruity, and/or parody in order to make a comment or criticism about it.

How does this clip deviate (depart) fromt eh formula of a typical fairy tale?

Techniques of Satire:

Exaggeration

To enlarge, increase, or represent something beyond normal bounds so that it becomes ridiculous and its faults can be seen. 

Incongruity

To present things that are out of place or are absurd in relation to its surroundings. 

Reversal

To present the opposite of the normal order (e.g., the order of events, hierarchical order). 

Parody

To imitate the techniques and/or style of some person, place, or thing.

Common Fairy Tale Elements

Common Elements of Fairy Tales

1. A fairy tale begins with "Once upon a time..."

2. Fairy tales happen in the long ago.

3. Fairy Tales have fantasy and make believe in them.

4. Fairy Tales have clearly defined Good characters vs. Evil characters.

5. Royalty is usually present in a fairy tale, a beautiful princess/handsome prince.

6. There may be magic with giants, elves, talking animals, witches or fairies. 7. Fairy tales have a problem that needs to be solved.

8. It often takes three tries to solve the problem.

9. Fairy tales have happy endings – "they all lived happily ever after."

10. Fairy tales usually teach a lesson or have a theme.

Now you decide: what makes a fairy tale a fairy tale? What are the characteristics? What do the heroes look like? What does the setting look like, etc?

Why I Want a Wife- Judy Brady (Syfers)

READ THE FOLLOWING:

I belong to that classification of people known as wives. I am A Wife.
And, not altogether incidentally, I am a mother.

Not too long ago a male friend of mine appeared on the scene fresh
from a recent divorce. He had one child, who is, of course, with his
ex-wife. He is looking for another wife. As I thought about him while I
was ironing one evening, it suddenly occurred to me that 1, too, would
like to have a wife. Why do I want a wife?
I would like to go back to school so that I can become economically
independent, support myself, and, if need be, support those dependent
upon me. I want a wife who will work and send me to school. And while I
am going to school, I want a wife to take care of my children. I want a
wife to keep track of the children's doctor and dentist appointments. And
to keep track of mine, too. I want a wife to make sure my children eat
properly and are kept clean. I want a wife who will wash the children's
clothes and keep them mended. I want a wife who is a good nurturant
attendant to my children, who arranges for their schooling, makes sure
that they have an adequate social life with their peers, takes them to
the park, the zoo, etc. I want a wife who takes care of the children when
they are sick, a wife who arranges to be around when the children need
special care, because, of course, I cannot miss classes at school. My
wife must arrange to lose time at work and not lose the job. It may mean
a small cut in my wife's income from time to time, but I guess I can
tolerate that. Needless to say, my wife will arrange and pay for the care
of the children while my wife is working.

I want a wife who will take care of my physical needs. I want a wife
who will keep my house clean. A wife who will pick up after my children,
a wife who will pick up after me. I want a wife who will keep my clothes
clean, ironed, mended, replaced when need be, and who will see to it that
my personal things are kept in their proper place so that I can find what
I need the minute I need it. I want a wife who cooks the meals, a wife
who is a good cook.  I want a wife who will plan the menus, do the
necessary grocery shopping, prepare the meals, serve them pleasantly, and
then do the cleaning up while I do my studying. I want a wife who will
care for me when I am sick and sympathize with my pain and loss of time
from school. I want a wife to go along when our family takes a vacation
so that someone can continue to care for me and my children when I need a
rest and change of scene.
I want a wife who will not bother me with rambling complaints about a
wife's duties. But I want a wife who will listen to me when I feel the
need to explain a rather difficult point I have come across in my course
studies. And I want a wife who will type my papers for me when I have
written them.

I want a wife who will take care of the details of my social life.
When my wife and I are invited out by my friends, I want a wife who will
take care of the baby-sitting arrangements. When I meet people at school
that I like and want to entertain, I want a wife who will have the house
clean, will prepare a special meal, serve it to me and my friends, and
not interrupt when I talk about things that interest me and my friends. I
want a wife who will have arranged that the children are fed and ready
for bed before my guests arrive so that the children do not bother us. I
want a wife who takes care of the needs of my guests so that they feel
comfortable, who makes sure that they have an ashtray, that they are
passed the hors d'oeuvres, that they are offered a second helping of the
food, that their wine glasses are replenished when necessary, that their
coffee is served to them as they like it. And I want a wife who knows
that sometimes I need a night out by myself.

I want a wife who is sensitive to my sexual needs, a wife who makes
love passionately and eagerly when I feel like it, a wife who makes sure
that I am satisfied. And, of course, I want a wife who will not demand
sexual attention when I am not in the mood for it. I want a wife who
assumes the complete responsibility for birth control, because I do not
want more children. I want a wife who will remain sexually faithful to me
so that I do not have to clutter up my intellectual life with jealousies.
And I want a wife who understands that my sexual needs may entail more
than strict adherence to monogamy. I must, after all, be able to relate
to people as fully as possible.
If, by chance, I find another person more suitable as a wife than the
wife I already have, I want the liberty to replace my present wife with
another one. Naturally, I will expect a fresh, new life; my wife will
take the children and be solely responsible for them so that I am left free.

When I am through with school and have a job, I want my wife to quit
working and remain at home so that my wife can more fully and completely
take care of a wife's duties.

My God, who wouldn't want a wife?

Author: Judy Brady (Syfers)

ANSWER THE FOLLOWING (All of this is due Thursday!)

1. Does this essay have an explicitly stated thesis? If so, what is it? If you believe the thesis is implied, paraphrase it in your own words.


2. Throughout the essay, Brady repeats the words “I want a wife.” What is the effect of this repetition? 

3. Brady never uses the personal pronouns he or she to refer to the wife she defines. Why not?

4. Do you think Brady really wants the kind of wife she describes—does this ideal spouse

actually exist? Explain why you think Brady wrote this essay.

5. How does Brady define what it means to be a “wife”? How does she organize the many services a wife provides her husband and family? What do you think of Brady’s characterization of a wife and her responsibilities? How do you think she wants her readers to respond to this characterization? Why?

6. Write a letter to Brady responding to “I Want a Wife.” Let her know what you admire or don’t admire about the essay and the extent to which you consider it effective and/or persuasive.

 

7. Write your own piece entitled “I Want a/an X.” You can use Brady’s essay as a model, and in the process, imitate some of her stylistic techniques. Or, alternatively, write an essay about the role of a “wife” in the early twenty-first century, explaining how a wife’s responsibilities complement and are complemented by those of a spouse.

 

RESUME WRITING

Need help compiling the information for your resume? Here are the sections that you need to include in a resume, along with the appropriate format and advice on what information include in each section.

Resume Contact Information

Copyright Alison Doyle

It's important to include all your contact information on your resume so employers can easily get in touch with you. Include your full name, street address, city, state, and zip, home phone number, cell phone number, and email address.

Resume Objective

Copyright Alison Doyle

If you include an objective on your resume, it's important to tailor your resume objective to match the job you are applying for. The more specific you are, the better chance you have of being considered for the job you are interested in.

Career Summary

Copyright Alison Doyle

The Career Summary section of a resume is an optional customized section of a resume that lists key achievements, skills, and experience relevant to the position for which you are applying.

Resume Experience Section

Copyright Alison Doyle

The experience section of your resume includes your employment history. List the companies you worked for, dates of employment, the positions you held and a bulleted list of responsibilities and achievements.

Resume Education Section

Copyright Alison Doyle

In the education section of your resume, list the schools you attended, the degrees you attained, and any special awards and honors you earned. Also include professional development coursework and certifications.

Resume Skills

Copyright Alison Doyle

The skills section of your resume includes your abilities that are related to the jobs you are applying for. Include skills that are relevant to the position / career field that you are interested in i.e. computer skills, software skills, and/or language skills.

Resume Keywords

Copyright Mark Poprocki

Your resume should include the same keywords that appear in job descriptions. That way, you will increase your chances of your resume matching available positions - and of you being selected for an interview

TEMPLATES FOR MICROSOFT OFFICE:
http://office.microsoft.com/en-us/templates/CT010144894.aspx
Go with a simple one that ISN'T covered in pictures and colors; a little flair is fine, but don't go overboard!!!!

STAIRS

The magical basement.  This name was reserved only once a year for the basement of my aunt's house, when Christmas Eve peered out through frosted windows, celebrated alongside steamy cups of cocoa and snuggled into with warm blankets.  As Christmas Eve came around, my sister and I would imagine all the glory  that awaited us down the carpeted stairs of my aunt's home.  We would sit at the top of those stairs, holding hands, unabashedly ready to pounce down the stairs to discover what store of treasures awaited us. The grown-ups always had first access to the basement, making sure that everything was in order below.  Finally, after resting for an egregiously long period of time, the word finally came, "You can come down now!" Lisa and I practically flew down the stairs, disregarding the wooden banister as we took the stairs two, sometimes three, at a time.  As we rounded the corner of the stairs, socks sliding over the linoleum of the basement floor, the Christmas tree would beckon us with twinkling lights and home-made ornaments, constructed with pop-sickle sticks and tissue paper.  To our elementary-school selves, the pile of presents seem to reach to the ceiling, though in reality, there were a few boxes for each family member.  The awe and exciting of a bare basement, suddenly transformed into this winter wonderland, made it magical to us.  As I look back now though, it wasn't just the presents and tree that was magical.. Those moments encapsulated times of family unity, or love and affection that, although visible through the gifts at hand, was most preciously felt through through the hugs, the snuggles, the joy of loving, and giving, and living, which lingers still today, sending a soft smile across my face

Water

Having grown up in the a crowded suburbs, where our yard had only two small trees, I was running in the yard, testing the hammock, and hugging the surrounding trees, I became rather parched and tromped into the kitchen for the first time. Holding my favorite E.T. glass up to the faucet, I filled the cup quickly and took a gulp.  Immediately, I spat the water out of my mouth.  It turns out that, aside from having the primitive wonder of shade and trees, I also now had to deal with the eggy and sulphuric taste of well-water, something to which I was completely unaccustomed.  No longer could I drink water from every faucet with the ease of before as I carelessly rinsed my mouth after tooth-brushing or snuck gulps of bath tube water.  No, from now on, the only water I could handle had to be filtered through Brita purifiers and bottled water.  I became accustomed to this change in my life, and soon found it only slightly annoying when I had to filter the water before drinking it.  Yet more surprises lay in story for me.  When violent storms and crashing thunder bellowed from the sky, we lost not only our electricity in the house, but our capabilities to access water,since it was connected tot he electric pump.  In the winter of 2004, a giant ice storm decimated the area, covering branches in a film of glassy frozen water, bending their once suppliant branches to the ground or simply snapping them in half.  My family lost water and electricity for eight days during winter break of that year, so we spent most of our time in the heated movie theater down the road, or stealing cans of beets and beans from my mom's preschool, heating hotdogs in the microwave there.  When we were in the house, we were bundled up in parkas, scarves, gloves, and hats, attempting fuitily to keep warm.  Because I am constantly cold, I was always bundled up to full capacity, and it was due to this that my family decided I was the designated snow fetcher.  This meant that I braved the freezing elements with a large metal bowl, usually designated for mixing up the dough for warm, gooey cookies, in which I packed as much snow as possible.  We had one tiny kerosene heater in the kitchen, and we melted the snow atop this.  With the newly aquired water supply, I then had to fill the backs of the toilets with water, so taht they would be able to flush.  Without electricity,t he pump couldn't fill them back up, and we were left with clogged and unaccessible toilets.  however, I became the master of the water-melting and made sure that our family could use the bathroom for our dark week.

Tetherball Pole

I sprinted across the blacktop in my red kangaroo shoes, spinning quickly away from the outstretched hand of  Brad Franz, as he fruitlessly attempted to capture me in our fourth grade game of tag.  This wasn't ordinary tag, but a game of epic proportions that pitted boys against girls, in a prepubescent battle to capture the most members of the other gender.  There were two rules to the game: don't get caught by the boys, don't get dragged to jail at the tetherball pole.  Brad Franz, who, on a side note, went on to be a huge jock in high school, while I took the path of the nerd, conjured up this idea with me one day at the lunch table over tater tots and chocolate milk.  At the end of every recess, we would tally up who had more boys or girls captured, and that group was the winner for the day.  If I was only tapped or brushed by someone's hand, this did not mean my immediate capture   Instead, a person had to be dragged to the actual pole in order for the capture to count.  I had ripped my neon pink coat a couple times while squirming away from dangerous hands, had suffered some scraped knees, but had never touched the gleaming metalof the tetherball pole as a captive.  I was the leader of the girls team, while Brad led the boys, and neither of us had yet been captured.  I touted my success humbly, but I considered it a great honor (and a quiet indicator) that I was an expert in the game of chase.  Yet one overcast Thursday, I decided that it was more important to show humility over pride when it comes to human connections.  A group of three frenzied girls had finally trapped Brad, two grabbing hold of his arms, and one snagging him by the waist.  Monica started dragging him towards the girl's capture spot, an orange slide, when Brad made one last flailing attempt to escape.  He torqued his body and bashed his face into the arms that were grasping her, and in the process, a rivulet of blood pooled out of his nose. We could all see that he was fighting back tears, not just from the painof his nose, but the humiliation of the capture that he had avoided for so long.   Since he had been captured and had suffered torturous pain from his captors, I decided that the noble thing to do would be to voluntarily put myself in jail.  I marched myself over to the tetherball pole, reaching out and touching the cold metal that I had steered clear of for so long.  At the end of recess, there was a tie between the girls and boys, since both had their leaders captured, and although I had tried to never touch that tetherball pole, I felt proud of my eight-year old self for putting a person before a cold and unfeeling pole. While my little competitive self was saddened that I no longer had a clean jail record, the compassionate side of me patted my back and said, "Well done."

CHAIR

I sat in the diminutive blue chair, the tan desk attached to it, and I squeezed my eyes together, hoping that by doing so, the time would fly by.  Yet when I opened my eyes, the clock seemed stuck, moving so slowly that I didn't even register its movement.  I glanced to the front of the room, where a large lady, Mrs. Gates, stood at the front of the class.  She was a substitute in my second grade class, one I had seen once or twice, but whom I did not know very well.  Moments earlier, I had seen her reprimand Jeff Hall as he asked her if he could use the bathroom.  She told him he needed to sit down and wait until recess.  This crushed my spirits, because I had to go to the bathroom so badly, yet I was now terrified to ask Mrs. Gates for permission.  I assumed that since Jeff was denied a chance to use the restroom, I would receive a similar denial.  I forgot that Jeff was one of those kids who was always looking to leave the classroom, often attempting to pull something over on an unsuspecting substitute (and Mrs. Gates had been around enough as a substitute to know that Jeff was this kind of kid).  But all I could think was that she would tell me no, and I hated to be a bother or be rejected, so I continued to sit squeamishly in my chair.  All of a sudden, a warm puddle formed on my chair.  I couldn't believe it.  I had just peed my seat. Mortified, I tried to sit really still, but the puddle spread and slowly dripped off the sides of the blue seat.  At that point, classmates started turning and looking at the growing moisture surrounding my chair.  I tentatively raised my hand.  "Mrs Gates....I peed my chair." Mrs. Gates looked at me, her face agast.  "Julie, why didn't you ask to go to the bathroom?!"

Common Application Essay Prompts 2011

Common Application Essay Prompts 2011-2012

1.        Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.

2.        Discuss some issue of personal, local, national, or international concern and its importance to you.

3.        Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.

4.        Describe a character in fiction, a historical figure, or a creative work (as in art, music, science, etc.) that has had an influence on you, and explain that influence.

5.        A range of academic interests, personal perspectives, and life experiences adds much to the educational mix. Given your personal background, describe an experience that illustrates what you would bring to the diversity in a college community or an encounter that demonstrated the importance of diversity to you.

6.        Topic of your choice.

Sample Essay website

Go to the following website; read the sample essay, along with the critiques.  What criticism, if any, can you provide? What was good about the essay?
http://www.collegeboard.com/student/apply/essay-skills/9407.html

http://www.collegeboard.com/student/apply/essay-skills/9408.html

The College Essay

Compliments of College Board!

Choosing a College Essay Topic

What You Write About Says Something About You

Underlying all essay questions is choice. The essay question may be direct and ask you to choose something about yourself to discuss, or it may be indirect and require you to write about something such as an event, book, or quotation.

Why Your Choice of Essay Matters

The college regards your choices as a way to evaluate your preferences, values, mental processes, creativity, sense of humor, and depth of knowledge. Your writing reflects your power of persuasion, organizational abilities, style, and mastery of standard written English.Your essay topic reveals your preferences.

Here is what colleges look for: 

Your Preferences: Your essay topic reveals your preferences. Are you an arts person or a hard-facts science type? Certainly, there is a difference between the person who'd like to talk about the Cold War with Machiavelli and someone who'd like to get painting tips from Jackson Pollock.

Your Values: Choice also reflects values. The person who drives a beat-up, rusty, 1971 Volkswagen is making a statement about how she wants to spend her money and what she cares about. We say, "That dress isn't me" or "I'm not a cat person." In choosing, you indicate what matters to you and how you perceive yourself.

Your Thought Process: Choosing shows how you think. Are you whimsical, a person who chooses on impulse? Or are you methodical and careful, a person who gathers background information before choosing? Questions about you and about career and college reflect these choosing patterns. Even a question about a national issue can show your particular thinking style, level of intelligence, and insight.

Think About Topics

The topic you select for your essay can also reveal much about who you are. Yale's application instructs: "In the past, candidates have used this space in great variety of ways.... There is no 'correct' way to respond to this essay request...." No answer is wrong, but sloppy, general, insincere, or tasteless responses can hurt your cause.

Some of the best essays—the memorable and unusual ones—are about very similar, just more focused, topics. Essays about your family, football team, trip to France, parents' divorce, or twin can be effective as long as they're focused and specific: a single Christmas Eve church service, a meal of boiled tongue in Grenoble, or dipping ice cream on a summer job.

Narrative Essay Guide

What is a Narrative Essay?

When writing a narrative essay, one might think of it as telling a story. These essays are often anecdotal, experiential, and personal—allowing the student to express herself in a creative and, quite often, moving way.

Here are some guidelines for writing a narrative essay:

If written as a story, the essay should include all the parts of a story.

This means that you must include an introduction, plot, characters, setting, climax, and conclusion.

When would a narrative essay not be written as a story?

A good example of this is when an instructor asks a student to write a book report. Obviously, this would not necessarily follow the pattern of a story and would focus on providing an informative narrative for the reader.

The essay should have a purpose.

Make a point! Think of this as the thesis of your story. If there is no point to what you are narrating, why narrate it at all?

The essay should be written from a clear point of view.

It is quite common for narrative essays to be written from the standpoint of the author; however, this is not the sole perspective to be considered. Creativity in narrative essays often times manifests itself in the form of authorial perspective.

Use clear and concise language throughout the essay.

Much like the descriptive essay, narrative essays are effective when the language is carefully, particularly, and artfully chosen. Use specific language to evoke specific emotions and senses in the reader.

The use of the first person pronoun ‘I’ is welcomed.

Do not abuse this guideline! Though it is welcomed it is not necessary—nor should it be overused for lack of clearer diction.

As always, be organized!

Have a clear introduction that sets the tone for the remainder of the essay. Do not leave the reader guessing about the purpose of your narrative. Remember, you are in control of the essay, so guide it where you desire (just make sure your audience can follow your lead).

Courtesy of The Purdue Owl Writing Lab

Narrative Essay-Helen Keller

The Story of My Life

Helen Keller

Part I. The Story of My Life

Chapter IV

The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven years old.

On the afternoon of that eventful day, I stood on the porch, dumb, expectant. I guessed vaguely from my mother's signs and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen, so I went to the door and waited on the steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeysuckle that covered the porch, and fell on my upturned face. My fingers lingered almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greet the sweet southern spring. I did not know what the future held of marvel or surprise for me. Anger and bitterness had preyed upon me continually for weeks and a deep languor had succeeded this passionate struggle.

Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was. "Light! give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour.

I felt approaching footsteps. I stretched out my hand as I supposed to my mother. Some one took it, and I was caught up and held close in the arms of her who had come to reveal all things to me, and, more than all things else, to love me.

The morning after my teacher came she led me into her room and gave me a doll. The little blind children at the Perkins Institution had sent it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it; but I did not know this until afterward. When I had played with it a little while, Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word "d-o-l-l." I was at once interested in this finger play and tried to imitate it. When I finally succeeded in making the letters correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to my mother I held up my hand and made the letters for doll. I did not know that I was spelling a word or even that words existed; I was simply making my fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words, among them pin, hat, cup and a few verbs like sit, stand and walk. But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name.

One day, while I was playing with my new doll, Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also, spelled "d-o-l-l" and tried to make me understand that "d-o-l-l" applied to both. Earlier in the day we had had a tussle over the words "m-u-g" and "w-a-t-e-r." Miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that "m-u-g" is mug and that "w-a-t-e-r" iswater, but I persisted in confounding the two. In despair she had dropped the subject for the time, only to renew it at the first opportunity. I became impatient at her repeated attempts and, seizing the new doll, I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had not loved the doll. In the still, dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment or tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth, and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was removed. She brought me my hat, and I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless sensation may be called a thought, made me hop and skip with pleasure.

Helen Keller at the age of seven, 1887

We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten--a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.*

I left the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with the strange, new sight that had come to me. On entering the door I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to the hearth and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly to put them together. Then my eyes filled with tears; for I realized what I had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow.

I learned a great many new words that day. I do not remember what they all were; but I do know that mother, father, sister, teacher were among them--words that were to make the world blossom for me, "like Aaron's rod, with flowers." It would have been difficult to find a happier child than I was as I lay in my crib at the close of that eventful day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time longed for a new day to come.