Paragraph writing strategies

This is a really bare bones outline based on the readings from WS pages 17-22. My paper was mostly complete by the time I was addressing this blog post assignment.

Introduction: In life, there are times we face certain situations or challenges that cause us to pause and examine the course of our lives, giving us the opportunity to live our lives differently and hopefully for the better. 

Being Diagnosed

Exam

Ultrasound

Biopsy

Follow-up

It felt like someone had put all of my life in a brown paper bag, shook it up, dumped it out and said, "ok now put it back together".

Cancer

Divorce

Remodel

Treatment Decisions

stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma with no cancer in my lymph nodes, ER and PR positive

surgery

radiation alone; no chemo

tamoxifen

Radiation Treatment

Depressing

Needed to make treatment bearable

Brought the party

Life Beyond Cancer

Being intentional

The Bucket list

Conclusion: Cancer for me became an opportunity to live.

Cubing Exercise for Paper 1

Describe it:
On a day like any other day, I went about getting the kids to school and went to take a shower and get on with all that I needed to do for that day. As I showered, I felt a funny bump about the size of a hard pea between my right armpit and breast. I did not think it was a big deal, but it was a bit weird so I went to the doctor to have it checked out. I thought for sure they would say it was nothing, not to worry. Instead, they sent me to have an ultrasound. A few days later I went in for a biopsy. I do not know how to describe how I already knew that it was breast cancer, I just did. Everyone that I had told was sure it was nothing, it will all be fine. Two days later I was in the doctors office with my two friends waiting for the results. As my doctor told me that I did in fact have breast cancer, I just sat there. What do you do? What do you say when you have just been told you have cancer? My friend to the left of my held my hand and cried. My friend on my right asked the questions. I sat there speechless, yet already knowing.

I was 39,  young for a breast cancer diagnosis. I had no family history of breast cancer or any other form of cancer for that matter. Three weeks before this my husband had filed for divorce. I had two small children, aged 8 and 11. We were in the middle of a major remodel; our 90 year old house was jacked up so that we could pour a proper foundation and update all of the plumbing and electrical. We were living in the one bedroom apartment above our garage. Outside our yard and driveway were nothing but mud as everything was torn up by the work trucks bringing materials and we were preparing for all of the new landscaping that was to take place. Needless to say the whole of my life felt as though it were coming apart.

Analyze it:

Fortunately my breast cancer diagnosis is one that is very treatable. I had stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma with no cancer in my lymph nodes. The tumor itself was estrogen receptor and progesterone receptor positive which meant that it used these two hormones to grow.  Which means that my treatment options were very good. I had surgery to remove the tumor and at the time of the surgery they dissected the lymph nodes closest to the tumor and found that there was not cancer there. A sample of the tumor was sent away and tested to determine the likelihood of reoccurrence. The results came back very good; only a 7% chance that the same cancer would return. This test helps to determine the recommendation for treatment. Because my risk of reoccurrence was so low, chemotherapy was not recommended. After I had healed from my surgery, I underwent seven weeks of radiation therapy and began taking tamoxifen, which acts as an estrogen blocker in breast tissue, a hormone therapy that I would take for five years. Though there are side effects I was able to deal with them without much hassle. 

The first day of radiation therapy I sat in the patient waiting area wearing one of those really ugly hospital gowns. As I looked around, I noticed just how ugly the waiting room was, nothing warm, inviting or happy. It just reminds you that you are sick. Because radiation is every weekday for a several weeks, you tend to have appointments at the same time each day which means that the people that you wait with are the same everyday. The woman that I waited with had Alzheimer's. Day three of this waiting room experience I looked at my friend who was with me and said, "I can't do this, this is depressing, I have enough to be depressed about, I don't need more". I determined to think of a way to make this experience doable. I needed to figure out a way to make it through my treatments. My friend and I had used a lot of laughter up to this point, but I was wearing thin. As I laid on the radiation table, contemplating my alternatives for making treatment bearable, I came up with a plan. I would bring a party with me several times a week. I would bring the happy and give myself something good and fun to think about.

Compare it: 

How I described that time in my life is that it felt like someone had put all of my life in a brown paper bag, shook it up, dumped it out and said, "ok now put it back together". 

Apply it:

The first time was the funniest as the radiation technicians treating me were unsuspecting. I had decided to do themes and with each theme I would wear sort of a costume under my hospital gown and bring food for the staff that matched the theme. I had to keep things simple because I need to easily take the costume off and receive my treatment. The first theme was naughty housewife. I had baked a coffee cake and went into the treatment room and put down my things, I slipped off my robe and turn to face the technicians holding my cake in a provocative stance in my naked girl body apron. They laughed so hard. I had the desired effect; we had a party. I brought in a party three times a week, soon all of the staff were walking by the treatment room during my appointment time to see what I had brought. This gave me something positive to focus on and cheered many other people as well.

Though I would never wish cancer on any one and would have preferred not to have had cancer, I have chosen to see this as an opportunity to do life differently. I choose to live. Not just in the biological sense, but take things in, enjoy, be intentional, explore, take risks. Cancer for me became an opportunity to learn to live.  

Associate it:

Even though I had figured out a way to go through treatment in a way that felt good to me, I still need to sort out the rest of my life. As I looked at the pieces that came out of the paper bag, the question that I was struck by was: did I want the same life that I had been living put back together? I knew that I wanted to live, I knew that I wanted the best for my children, but what is it to live? I remember I was on my elliptical trainer and this ah-hah moment. I considered a good long life to be eighty-plus years of which I was on thirty-nine, so roughly half. As I looked back over the first half, which had had a lot of turmoil, I determined that I did not want the remaining forty to be the same as the previous. I needed to change how I lived. Though I knew that I would survive cancer, I wanted to more than survive, I want to live, to really live. Yet, I needed to determine just what that meant. What does it mean to really live? I reasoned that one thing that it meant was to be intentional. How many times do we say “someday”? I needed to decide how to turn someday into today.

I made a list of all of the things that I had been talking about learning and wanting to do, the places I wanted to see, people I wanted to visit or connect with and hung it by my computer in my home office. This keeps me mindful of those things and when I see an opportunity to do one of them, I seize it. I  try to do one of the items on that list between scans, which until recently was every six months. I try to keep a mixture of both big and small things. As I do one of the items, I lightly draw a line through it. I love to see all of the things that I have done. The list has included knitting an afghan for myself, walking along the beach out to the lighthouse at the Dungeness Spit in Sequim, being in a dance performance, going back to school, canning jam, going to yellowstone with my family and learning to fly fish. To celebrate my being five years cancer free, my new husband, kids and I toured Norway this past summer.

Education Narrative Purposes

The “Writing Simplified” text outlines four purposes for writing; to explore/examine, to entertain, to inform and to persuade. Although there can be elements of all for purposes in a paper, it is important to keep your paper focused by understanding which is your primary purpose. My primary purpose is to explore examine what I had learned through my experience of having breast cancer. Many things in my life were coming unraveled at the time that I was diagnosed and by stopping and considering what this meant for my life, if I was going to put things back together again as they had been, or go about life different. I began to look at where I was in life as opportunity to make changes and live better than I had. Which for me meant being more intentional with my time and relationships. By setting up parameters for myself that have helped to “seize the day” and do things that I had been putting off, I have learned to live because I had cancer.

Paper #1 Rough Draft

On a day like any other day, I went about getting the kids to school and went to take a shower and get on with all that I needed to do for that day. As I showered, I felt a funny bump about the size of a hard pea between my right armpit and breast. I did not think it was a big deal, but it was a bit weird so I went to the doctor to have it checked out. I thought for sure they would say it was nothing, not to worry. Instead, they sent me to have an ultrasound. A few days later I went in for a biopsy. I do not know how to describe how I already knew that it was breast cancer, I just did. Everyone that I had told was sure it was nothing, it will all be fine. Two days later I was in the doctors office with my two friends waiting for the results. As my doctor told me that I did in fact have breast cancer, I just sat there. What do you do? What do you say when you have just been told you have cancer? My friend to the left of my held my hand and cried. My friend on my right asked the questions. I sat there speechless, yet already knowing. 

I was 39,  young for a breast cancer diagnosis. I had no family history of breast cancer or any other form of cancer for that matter. Three weeks before this my husband had filed for divorce. I had two small children, aged 8 and 11. We were in the middle of a major remodel; our 90 year old house was jacked up so that we could pour a proper foundation and update all of the plumbing and electrical. We were living in the one bedroom apartment above our garage. Outside our yard and driveway were nothing but mud as everything was torn up by the work trucks bringing materials and we were preparing for all of the new landscaping that was to take place. Needless to say the whole of my life felt as though it were coming apart. How I described that time in my life is that it felt like someone had put all of my life in a brown paper bag, shook it up, dumped it out and said, "ok now put it back together". 

Fortunately my breast cancer diagnosis is one that is very treatable. I had stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma with no cancer in my lymph nodes. The tumor itself was estrogen receptor and progesterone receptor positive which meant that it used these two hormones to grow.  Which means that my treatment options were very good. I had surgery to remove the tumor and at the time of the surgery they dissected the lymph nodes closest to the tumor and found that there was not cancer there. A sample of the tumor was sent away and tested to determine the likelihood of reoccurrence. The results came back very good; only a 7% chance that the same cancer would return. This test helps to determine the recommendation for treatment. Because my risk of reoccurrence was so low, chemotherapy was not recommended. After I had healed from my surgery, I underwent seven weeks of radiation therapy and began taking tamoxifen, which acts as an estrogen blocker in breast tissue, a hormone therapy that I would take for five years. Though there are side effects I was able to deal with them without much hassle. 

The first day of radiation therapy I sat in the patient waiting area wearing one of those really ugly hospital gowns. As I looked around, I noticed just how ugly the waiting room was, nothing warm, inviting or happy. It just reminds you that you are sick. Because radiation is every weekday for a several weeks, you tend to have appointments at the same time each day which means that the people that you wait with are the same everyday. The woman that I waited with had Alzheimer's. Day three of this waiting room experience I looked at my friend who was with me and said, "I can't do this, this is depressing, I have enough to be depressed about, I don't need more". I determined to think of a way to make this experience doable. I needed to figure out a way to make it through my treatments. My friend and I had used a lot of laughter up to this point, but I was wearing thin. As I laid on the radiation table, contemplating my alternatives for making treatment bearable, I came up with a plan. I would bring a party with me several times a week. I would bring the happy and give myself something good and fun to think about.

The first time was the funniest as the radiation technicians treating me were unsuspecting. I had decided to do themes and with each theme I would wear sort of a costume under my hospital gown and bring food for the staff that matched the theme. I had to keep things simple because I need to easily take the costume off and receive my treatment. The first theme was naughty housewife. I had baked a coffee cake and went into the treatment room and put down my things, I slipped off my robe and turn to face the technicians holding my cake in a provocative stance in my naked girl body apron. They laughed so hard. I had the desired effect; we had a party. I brought in a party three times a week, soon all of the staff were walking by the treatment room during my appointment time to see what I had brought. This gave me something positive to focus on and cheered many other people as well.

Even though I had figured out a way to go through treatment in a way that felt good to me, I still need to sort out the rest of my life. As I looked at the pieces that came out of the paper bag, the question that I was struck by was: did I want the same life that I had been living put back together? I knew that I wanted to live, I knew that I wanted the best for my children, but what is it to live? I remember I was on my elliptical trainer and this ah-hah moment. I considered a good long life to be eighty-plus years of which I was on thirty-nine, so roughly half. As I looked back over the first half, which had had a lot of turmoil, I determined that I did not want the remaining forty to be the same as the previous. I needed to change how I lived. Though I knew that I would survive cancer, I wanted to more than survive, I want to live, to really live. Yet, I needed to determine just what that meant. What does it mean to really live? I reasoned that one thing that it meant was to be intentional. How many times do we say “someday”? I needed to decide how to turn someday into today.

I made a list of all of the things that I had been talking about learning and wanting to do, the places I wanted to see, people I wanted to visit or connect with and hung it by my computer in my home office. This keeps me mindful of those things and when I see an opportunity to do one of them, I seize it. I  try to do one of the items on that list between scans, which until recently was every six months. I try to keep a mixture of both big and small things. As I do one of the items, I lightly draw a line through it. I love to see all of the things that I have done. The list has included knitting an afghan for myself, walking along the beach out to the lighthouse at the Dungeness Spit in Sequim, being in a dance performance, going back to school, canning jam, going to yellowstone with my family and learning to fly fish. To celebrate my being five years cancer free, my new husband, kids and I toured Norway this past summer.

Though I would never wish cancer on any one and would have preferred not to have had cancer, I have chosen to see this as an opportunity to do life differently. I choose to live. Not just in the biological sense, but take things in, enjoy, be intentional, explore, take risks. Cancer for me became an opportunity to learn to live.  

Using blog Post to generate ideas

Blogging the way that we have done thus far in class, reading papers related to what we will be writing in our papers and then blogging about those readings, is helping me to generate ideas for my paper. Each reading that we have read is triggering ideas about about the topics that I might want to write about, whether they are resonating with an experience that I have also had, as in “I Just Wanna Be Average”. Or something that I have learned in a more self taught way such as the articles by Malcolm X and Benjamin Franklin and Feross. These exercises have also shown me ways that I might not want to go about my paper, as in the article on learning to live google free, which I found a bit tedious to read.  

Not only am I beginning to generate ideas about what I might like to write about, through the repetition and practice of posting blogs I am beginning to feel more comfortable with the idea of writing in general. Also the interaction with my fellow classmates in class and through our blog posts helps me to see things differently and spurs on new thoughts about my own experience. 

I Just Wanna Be Average

Wow! After reading “I Just Wanna Be Average” Part 1, by Mike Rose, I have been transported back to my own experiences in high school. Though I was not part of the vocational education program, I was in the lower and average level classes. Like his teachers, I found the majority of mine ill prepared, uninspired and under equipped to deal with a classroom full of kids who were really average. In some regards it felt more like a processing plant than an educational system; we were being moved through to graduation in hopes that something would turn out for us.

Once in this system that does not really teach or make sure that each student understands the subject matter before moving on, intellectually they become a bit stagnant. Emotionally their self confidences diminish and shut them down to new experiences in learning because they are protecting themselves from further embarrassment. Socially it just feels safer to be with other students in the same boat and no one is encouraging each other to do more and it can feel a bit like betrayal if they do move on. Math is a good example of that, if you are moved on to the next level without really “getting it” earlier, the student already feels behind and math becomes very emotional.

High School can be a very difficult time if you do not have a parent who has the ability, academic experience or time, to help advocate for you. It can be very difficult to be your own advocate especially if you do not know what you do not know. Grappling with your own experience and then coming face to face with other students and their experiences while you are all experiencing emotional surges and bodily changes can be a very disorienting time. For Ken Harvey, the idea of just wanting to be average is comforting. It’s a way to protect himself from putting himself out there and risking further harm and it’s protecting oneself from being less than average.

College has seemed really different than high school. As long as I am trying and communicating what it is I do not understand, I have found the professors to be much more available and concerned about whether or not I have understood the material. I think maturity helps. Not having all of those confusing emotions and wanting to make sure that socially I fit in frees me up to learn. Also, socially there is not that feeling that you are all stuck in this processing plant together; you get to make some of the choices for yourselves. If someone was feeling disoriented, I would encourage them to talk to their professors or even an advisor. Having someone help you find the right question to ask really helps.

Malcolm X and Benjamin Franklin

Though written in different times with very different circumstances, the educational narratives of Malcolm X and Benjamin Franklin are similar in their shared passion for learning and desire to communicate effectively.

Malcolm X entered a seven year prison sentence having dropped out of school in the eighth grade. His reading and writing levels were very low and while in prison felt frustrated because he really wanted to write letters, but his levels of ability prevented him from doing so effectively (street slang did not convey his message well). It was at this point that he determined to teach himself to write legibly, build his vocabulary so that he could read the materials that were to be the source of his education. He was incredibly driven. The end result was that he was a very learned man with an ability to communicate his message. He says that, “the ability to read awoke inside me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive”. 

Benjamin Franklin also discontinued his education at young age, but had had the experience of being raised in a family that valued reading and had ample materials available to him. Yet, it was not until he really wanted to effectively communicate, or rather spare, with his friend did he really hunker down and work with the a determined passion to do so. 

Both of these men came to a sort of crisis in their lives where they had to decide whether they were really going to go for it and give their all, or remain as they were.

Pre-writing

I found it interesting that in the text, in the section on “The Process of Writing”, the first item is mind set and the importance of having the right attitude when approaching writing. I often approach writing with a sense of dread. Which has likely made the process of writing more difficult and any creativity strained. 

I am thinking back to other writing assignments that I have had and what my prewriting experience has been. It has been a while. I have done some brainstorming, listing, free-writing and stream of consciousness. I find that free-writing and stream of consciousness tend to be difficult for me because I become self conscious and have a difficult time being that free. I wish I felt more comfortable with them. Looping is a new concept to me. As I read about it in the text I was intrigued and even though it uses a more freestyle, I would be willing to give a try. 

I have had the most success with mapping and clustering. I like seeing all of the pieces laid out and put together in groups that make sense to me. I prefer mapping to clustering because it seems more orderly.

 Malcom X wrote about the significance of learning to communicate by teaching myself to read and write. His story is significant and makes a lastly impression. Not only did Malcom X learn to read by vigorously teaching himself in a process he found to work, but he taught himself to understand the meaning of these words, and to memorize them with repitition. It is amazing that he was able to change his language from street slang to scholarly language and was published. This is a great example of a significant educational experience that stems from a motivation to communicate, and that motivation developed into a passion. Through his new skill of communication, he was able to reach a much larger audience with his powerful message. Through this educational experience we learn not only of the experience of Malcom X learning to read, but about the things he learned as result of reading and how he was then able to teach his followers in a more meaningful way. His story is inspirational and is a testiment to fact that education need not be formal, but with motivation and access to a few tools, we can learn things that can change the course of our lives.

Braining Storming for the First Paper

My fellow group members and I have been discussing what we understand our first assignement to be.  We will be writing a narrative essay about a significant educational experience in our lives, that could be academic,vocational, recreational or a life changing event. It can be a long term process that is learned over a period of time or an isolated experience. Its important to keep in mind who our audience is and provide them with the most convincing, descriptive, juicy details that keeps them interested. As well as analyzing what those details mean to us; our truths.
After discussing the first two articles we all agreed that the second article lost our interest in some of the details, which we do not want to do. Our assignement will challenge us to identify an educational experience in our own lives that may be of interest to others.
 We do understand that our essay should be between 1,200 and 1,500 words in length and that we should employ MLA style.

I found both of the articles that we read during this first week of class to be useful examples of narrative essays that describe a significant educational experience. 

In the first article, “How I LEarned to Program Computers”, Feross described the process of learning a skill over a long period of time. He began programing computers at the age of eleven and in his article walks the reader through his process of learning, giving us examples of his work and materials that we might find helpful in understanding how he acquired that knowledge until he himself was a college student. He provided the reader with ways in which they too could learn this skill and all the while emphasizing the importance of practicing. 

The second article, “How I Learned to Live Without Google”, the author chronicles a more isolated learning experience of being google based to being google free. Similar to Feross, he goes step by step over how he frees himself from google by changing his e-mail, his search engine, and his phone. Though I did find some of the detailing to be a bit on the tedious side and at times lost my interest. 

Be it an educational experience that is a accumulated over a long period of time or a much more isolated experience, both of these articles shine light on how to write a narrative essay that conveys that experience with good detail and information that the reader could refer to if they were also interested in a similar learning experience.

First Day.  I hope that I will figure this out.