Middle School Writing Assignments
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MIDDLE SCHOOL WRITING ASSIGNMENTS Middle school writing assignments vary considerably not only from school to school but also from teacher to teacher. The sample assignments below illustrate some of this variety. Provided here are select assignments in sequence and samples of students’ responses to those assignments. In some instances, teachers agreed to allow use of their names, and their assignments appear immediately below the name. When teachers chose not to allow this use, the assignment appears under “anonymous.” In the case of those students who chose not to allow use of their names, I have provided pseudonyms. Note that the assignments and student papers are provided without any editing. Sandra Woffington (Grades 6-8 at a West Coast Middle School) Ms. Woffington taught at a private school with low enrollment. Consequently, her middle school class was a combined group of Grades 6-8. The nature of the class made it more efficient to give the same assignments to all students, regardless of grade level. Although this approach raises significant questions regarding assessment, it allows us to compare performance variation by age. We should expect to see more problems among the younger writers owing to their overall lack of experience and training. Assignment 1 Your assignment is to write a scary story. I have introduced you to the elements of basic story structure (plot, character, exposition, POV, dialogue format, MLA format, development, climax, resolution, etc.). After writing your first draft, add active verbs and remove passive verbs (unless used correctly). Finally, add specific details. © 2014 Taylor & Francis Analysis This assignment was given just before Halloween, so we can imagine that students were in the mood to exercise their imaginations. The timing was good. Also positive is that Ms. Woffington—a writer herself—introduced students to the basic elements of fiction, as listed here: 1. Narrative opening (presents a main character and a situation/setting) 2. Inciting incident (something happens that causes the main character to take action) 3. Development (because the main character takes action A, it leads to situation B, and the protagonist needs to take new action, which escalates the tension in the story) 4. Climax (the highest point of tension) 5. Resolution 6. Denouement (a final relaxing of the story, tying up loose ends, and so on) The idea of “active” and “passive” verbs is problematic. Many teachers are confused about verbs, and they generally believe that any use of the word “be” is “passive.” This is incorrect. I suspect that what teachers are actually getting at is the difference between existential verbs (linking verbs and forms of “be”) and action verbs. “Passive” refers to the structure of a sentence, not to a verb type. Specifically, a passive construction shifts the object to the subject position and the subject to the object of a prepositional phrase at the end of the sentence. We differentiate active sentences from passive sentences, but we do not differentiate active verbs from passive verbs because they do not really exist. Consider these examples: Fred wrote the book. (active) The book was written by Fred. (passive) © 2014 Taylor & Francis Student Papers Kiley Quan (Grade 6) Lost without you, Dead because of you (draft 1) So here I am, (who ever I am, what ever my name is. Well he said my name was Destiny, but you can call me what ever you want.) At a funeral were no ne knows me except the dead person. In the same old, worn out ugly clothes I wear everyday; Black pants, black combat boots and my brown hair hung down my back. I felt like I should be wearing something else, something more honorable, Because I am standing before my best friend, whom I loved, whom I was with every single day and minute I could be with him, whom handled my sarcastic, overly determined, slightly dark and dramatic attitude; which he called imaginative, goal driven, funny, and sadly mature because of the life experience I’ve gone through. He whom is the saint that taught me to look at life in a entirely different perspective from the one that I had of life. His perspective was beautiful and positive. Without him life is imposable to see in that light that actually made me happy. He was whom I turned to in times of desperate need of support. He made me complete. He is whom saved me from the exempt at death that was my doing, whom stopped the knife from stabbing my heart, he is whom saved me from the falling of depression so deep that I would cut my arm apart to drink the blood, and be unsatisfied with the amount of pain I felt, so I would seek the pain so unlivable. I’d kill myself in the most inhumane way I could think of. He whose name is Sam Begley is my hero and will always be my hero. I jumped up in fright; I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see a blurry image of a boy that looked a lot like Sam, with his hand on my shoulder. © 2014 Taylor & Francis “Get up you troubled child or I’ll call the security,” the boy said in a worried, scared voice that seemed a lot like a women’s voice. My vision cleared and it wasn’t a boy I saw, it was a women. She was tall, had long blond hair that was French braided in the back, her skin was Californian skin; sun tanned, dirty blond skin. Just like Sam`s skin and hair and then it sunk in. This is Sam`s mom. She looked at me like she was disturbed, scared, worried and horrified. “GET UP, HELP ANYONE THAT’S MY SON! SECURITY” Mrs. Begley yelled, know she sounded in pain. Like she was chocking up, crying, scared, and mad at the same. I noticed I was lying down for the first time; I began to wonder what was going on, and sat up to an upright position. I felt and arm brush against my arm and looked to the side of me. I was lying in Sam`s casket! For the first time I actually really wondered what did really happened, I wanted to ask someone what happened to me and how I got in the casket but I figured everyone was a little to freaked out to answer me. Across the aisle of the funeral home I saw Mrs.Begely running toward me with security. I hopped out of my best friend`s resting place and ran out of the building to hide. I ran around the backside of the home and found a hiding spot were no one could find me, behind dumpster covered in trash bags. I felt sad, because of the thought, of that being my last look at Sam. I heard footsteps. Of the security guards I figured. I felt a chill of nervousness go up my spine, I pinched my arm so hard that my arm bleed. I didn’t feel the pain though, it felt good and it stops anxiety. I thought of what Sam had once said to me. “Don’t make yourself bleed, just because you’re nervous. Do what I do, Just think about something that calms you down! When I need to be calm, for tests and things I think of you. Your laugh, smile, dark long brown hair and you’re crazy long eyelashes that I`m sure you got from your birth mom.” I released my pinch, with thought of that fond memory. When I think of © 2014 Taylor & Francis Sam the world melts away and I get lost in memories. Know that I think about him and the comments he said, I guess he indicated that he had a crush on me, but we were just friends. He always said that my troubled mind was a reason why he loved me. It made me strong. Sam said that I was a free spirit around him though. Myself he said, Happy, free, open-minded, and it was true. I felt like me around him. “She went out of the back door, come on guys.” I was alarmed by, the speaking of the security guards that I forgot that were after me. “So what did the mom say happened?” “She said the girl turned into a psyche path, she was out of it like unconscious. Mumbling stuff, then she started screaming and crying. She climbed into the dead boys casket. Weird right.” “I don`t see the girl, she probably just has mental issues if it really happened, I mean the story …its a little out there. She might be the crazy one. Lets go back inside. The ceremonies probably been canceled anyway. If it is we get some donuts.” “I doubt that she made the whole thing up. The lady looked truly terrified, and besides if we ever need proof there’s a whole room of witnesses. Ok, we`ll head back. I`m in the mood for some glazed donuts.” I sat there frozen in the cold air until I couldn`t hear their footsteps anymore. If Sam were here and not lying dead in the building, he would surly help me. When they were gone I got up and found the nearest shop. Thank goodness it was just around the corner, because it was starting to get dark. The little shop sold coffee, a family business obviously. I sat in a seat and hoped that the clerk would not spot me and kick me out. I mean why shouldn`t he, I’m technically a homeless, messed up 12 year old, who ran away from home because I was living with unfit © 2014 Taylor & Francis abusing parents who were one drugs 24/7 and probably don’t even know I’m gone.