deforestation_ela_tiffany_chen.docx | |
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4/8/15
Here is my essay about deforestation. I always thought that deforestation was bad, but what I researched for my essay was beyond what I could imagine. It was simply cruel. I want to put this in my portfolio to convince people to take action. In the conclusion of my essay, I stated some solutions to solve this problem. :D
I learned that deforestation is an issue that just leads to more problems. Deforestation can lead to animal habitat loss, effecting the population of animals, throwing off our ecosystem, and much more! We should stop this problem, or at least prevent it from happening in certain areas.
Here is my essay about deforestation. I always thought that deforestation was bad, but what I researched for my essay was beyond what I could imagine. It was simply cruel. I want to put this in my portfolio to convince people to take action. In the conclusion of my essay, I stated some solutions to solve this problem. :D
I learned that deforestation is an issue that just leads to more problems. Deforestation can lead to animal habitat loss, effecting the population of animals, throwing off our ecosystem, and much more! We should stop this problem, or at least prevent it from happening in certain areas.
6/9/15
This is my memoir that I wrote in ELA. A memoir is basically like a biography, but a memoir focuses on one special event.
“The Regret”
As I peeked outside my window, I felt a hot gust of air blow past my face. It felt like 500 degrees outside, as it did inside. I didn’t understand, the air conditioner was on, but I was that type of person who would sweat even if I had to walk up the stairs.
I was in the living room, enjoying some quality time with my sister and mom. My mom was reading the newspaper, which I always thought was boring- too many words. We were watching television, but the heat was really getting on my nerves. I turned to see if they were just as sweaty as I was. They seemed to be fine. I turned back and tried to focus on watching TV, but I just couldn’t. The more I was sitting there, the more I was getting jealous and mad- not to mention hot. I turned back to look at them, and it took me quite a while to realize their hair was about the same length, but mine was longer. I sat there, staring at the tops of their heads, and the length of their hair, wondering if I could get my hair to look like theirs too.
“Hey mom, it’s really hot.” I said, just trying to start out the conversation smoothly.
“I know Tiffany, but if you just sit still, you’ll cool off soon,” my mom replied so casually, I thought she was being sarcastic.
“But I can’t stand it! Can I get a hair cut? Maybe the same length as yours?” I couldn’t believe I asked her, but I was really desperate to be the same as them because if I looked like them, I would probably feel the same as them - cooler!
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I don’t see you guys sweating! Plus, my hair is longer than yours, so that might be the reason why I’m sweating so much! And, I haven’t had a haircut in forever, so I guess this would be a great time to do it.”
“No, Tiffany. I really don’t have time, and your hair looks fine. Don’t worry about it so much.” That was it. The conversation was officially over. Like the boring mom she was, she went back to the boring newspaper. I turned back to the television, but I wasn’t really watching. I was recapping what happened during our conversation, and it was really starting to bug me. If my mom wasn’t going to help me, then I’ll help myself. That’s when it all started.
I quietly slipped out of the living room, and tip-toed up the stairs. I reached the bathroom, and very slowly, closed the door. I remembered there was a pair of scissors that I hid behind the soap bottle from two weeks ago. I really don’t know why I did that, but I just did. I thought I could use them when I really needed it, and hey, I needed them now!
I very quietly reached behind the bottle, and felt the smooth, slim metal of the scissors. I took it out and thought it over. Yes, I’m going to do it. I mean, I was pretty good with my scissor work, so this shouldn’t be too bad, right?
I looked myself straight in the mirror, and started cutting the front. I stood, just snipping away my dark hair, letting it fall down. I had no regrets. I looked myself in the mirror, and thought I looked pretty cool. I just had to even it out, of course. I moved forward, looking more closely at myself than ever before. Maybe a little snip here, a little snip there. I was so focused, that I was ignoring the fact that my mom asked me what I was doing.
“Tiffany, what are you doing? You’ve been gone for 30 minutes already! Are you okay?”
I stood there just admiring my work. Then I realized I hadn’t done the back of my hair, so I started trimming it.
“Tiffany, where are you? Are you all right?”
I suddenly realized my mom was talking to me. I started cutting faster. I felt like my hands were competing after each other, one trying to move faster than the other.
“I’m in the bathroom mom! I’m all right, just doing my business!”
“Are you sure? Do you need me to check up on you?” I heard her put down the newspaper, and start up the stairs slowly. The air in the room was starting to get tight, and I felt like I was running out of oxygen.
“No, mom! Really, I’m fine! My stomach is just...acting up! Yeah, and if I were you, I wouldn’t want to come up here. But really mom, I’m fine.”
Now my ear was on the door, cautiously listening for my mom’s voice.
“All right, then,” I heard her turn around, and walked back downstairs.
I let out a sigh of relief. That was way too close. I went back to my business, but this time, much faster. I felt a sense of rush that came into my body, which made me cut much quicker. At this point, I was cutting the back of my hair. I was just reaching over my shoulder to get the hair, and then I’d just estimate where I should cut. I felt pretty confident about cutting my own hair, and was actually dreaming about opening up a salon, doing people’s hair in the future and actually becoming famous. Hey, a little girl can dream...
After the final cut, I stopped to look at the end result. I dropped the scissors. Oh. My. Gosh. I stopped, not knowing how I should’ve reacted. I was really startled, and suddenly dizzy. I took a few steps back, as my legs were starting to get weak. I couldn’t believe what I just did. My hair in front was up to my cheekbone. It was zig-zag, up-down, messy, uneven- words couldn’t describe what I just did. I turned around just looking in horror as the back was just as short and just as terrible.
The sight of my hair was just unbearable. I was just staring at myself again, looking at my horrendous hair that was once beautiful. The worst part was that I wasn’t even cooling off. As a matter of fact, I was actually more sweaty than before. Now, I was panicking. I was breathing heavily, rushing around, screeching my lungs out from inside, and then, I started getting angry. I was so annoyed with myself, that I just wanted to rip all the hair that was left off my head. I was just so desperate for help, and I really needed someone to take care of what I did.
“Tiffany, it’s time to eat lunch! I know you’re done!” My mom was calling me again. Great. But my mom was the least of my problems, since I had to fix this and hide my hair.
“Uh, I’m not done yet! I still have to, uh...well, nevermind. I’m not done yet!” I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to do. My voice was beginning to crack, and I was getting even more stressed out.
“Tiffany, if you’re not down here in ten seconds, you’re not eating!”
If my mom knew what I was going through, maybe she would understand what I was feeling! I opened the door, heart beating 100 beats per second, hands shaking crazily, and my mind out of control. I walked slowly, one step after the next, just waiting for time to tick faster.
“Come down here now! You should enjoy your lunch while it’s warm.”
My mom was starting to get up from the chair, and I felt my heart ready to burst. I was running down now, and I was just exploding like fireworks. My tears were racing down my face like a waterfall, and my legs completely gave up, and I just plopped onto the floor.
“Oh my god. What happened to your-” My mom couldn’t even continue thanks to my sister’s laughter.
“This is going down in history, Tiffany! Oh my gosh!” I
could barely hear a word she was saying because of her giggles in between each word. I looked at my mom. A blurry picture of a woman stood before me. Her face in shock, but filled with a slight hint of amusement and a giant bucket of discipline. I was getting scared, and I really hoped my mom could do something about this catastrophe.
“M-mom, fix this! P-P-Please! I hate it!” I was trying to speak clearly, but my hiccups that had suddenly appeared due to all the crying, were preventing me. I hoped my mom could understand what was happening.
“What is wrong with you! Why in the world would you do this?! A five-year-old girl like you can’t touch scissors without my permission because you could’ve cut yourself!”
My mom was now grabbing me by the arm, forcing me to stand up.
“You can’t just do things on your own without my permission! You see what you end up with if you don’t listen to me?” My mom was mad. No, she was even more than that. She was enraged. Frustrated, angry, annoyed- I couldn’t describe this moment. I had never seen her react this way, and I was actually quite surprised that she could get this angry. She took me upstairs to the bathroom, and when she saw my hair on the floor, she was just as surprised as when she saw me with my new hairdo.
“We’re going to have a talk later.” She looked me in the eye. It was serious now. No more playtime.
“Yes, mom.” My answer was as small as a breadcrumb, and I couldn’t even think about the trouble I was in.
She took the scissor that I had dropped on the floor, and then starting trimming.
“Mom! Stop making it so short!” I was bawling, whining, as she kept cutting.
“I’m cleaning up the edges for you! Who even told you to do this anyways?”
She went back to cutting, and it was silent except for the sound of the scissors cutting. I guess she was right. I start thinking about my punishment. What was she going to do to me later? I was so curious, that my question just flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it.
“Mom, will I get punished later?”
“No.” Her reply was calm, but a little taunting. Wait, was I hearing my mom correct? I won’t be yelled at more, or grounded? Nothing? That was unusual. I mean, that wasn’t the mom I knew.
“Wait, really? Are you sure? You’re not going to ground me, or even yell at me?”
“Your own bad haircut is the punishment you get.” Nevermind, I take that back. She was back to the old mom.
My mom had officially cleaned up my hair, and I was not as worried, but still tense. It would take a while to get used to my new hair.
“Now, don’t do anything stupid like that ever again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, mom. And thanks.”
I hugged her tightly. I guess moms do know everything.
I went to eat my lunch, and I just started thinking over this whole crazy event. I was really proud of my mom, and really grateful too. I guess we should really do what we’re told, and respect what we’re told to do.
Trust me. I learned my lesson the hard way.
This is my memoir that I wrote in ELA. A memoir is basically like a biography, but a memoir focuses on one special event.
“The Regret”
As I peeked outside my window, I felt a hot gust of air blow past my face. It felt like 500 degrees outside, as it did inside. I didn’t understand, the air conditioner was on, but I was that type of person who would sweat even if I had to walk up the stairs.
I was in the living room, enjoying some quality time with my sister and mom. My mom was reading the newspaper, which I always thought was boring- too many words. We were watching television, but the heat was really getting on my nerves. I turned to see if they were just as sweaty as I was. They seemed to be fine. I turned back and tried to focus on watching TV, but I just couldn’t. The more I was sitting there, the more I was getting jealous and mad- not to mention hot. I turned back to look at them, and it took me quite a while to realize their hair was about the same length, but mine was longer. I sat there, staring at the tops of their heads, and the length of their hair, wondering if I could get my hair to look like theirs too.
“Hey mom, it’s really hot.” I said, just trying to start out the conversation smoothly.
“I know Tiffany, but if you just sit still, you’ll cool off soon,” my mom replied so casually, I thought she was being sarcastic.
“But I can’t stand it! Can I get a hair cut? Maybe the same length as yours?” I couldn’t believe I asked her, but I was really desperate to be the same as them because if I looked like them, I would probably feel the same as them - cooler!
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I don’t see you guys sweating! Plus, my hair is longer than yours, so that might be the reason why I’m sweating so much! And, I haven’t had a haircut in forever, so I guess this would be a great time to do it.”
“No, Tiffany. I really don’t have time, and your hair looks fine. Don’t worry about it so much.” That was it. The conversation was officially over. Like the boring mom she was, she went back to the boring newspaper. I turned back to the television, but I wasn’t really watching. I was recapping what happened during our conversation, and it was really starting to bug me. If my mom wasn’t going to help me, then I’ll help myself. That’s when it all started.
I quietly slipped out of the living room, and tip-toed up the stairs. I reached the bathroom, and very slowly, closed the door. I remembered there was a pair of scissors that I hid behind the soap bottle from two weeks ago. I really don’t know why I did that, but I just did. I thought I could use them when I really needed it, and hey, I needed them now!
I very quietly reached behind the bottle, and felt the smooth, slim metal of the scissors. I took it out and thought it over. Yes, I’m going to do it. I mean, I was pretty good with my scissor work, so this shouldn’t be too bad, right?
I looked myself straight in the mirror, and started cutting the front. I stood, just snipping away my dark hair, letting it fall down. I had no regrets. I looked myself in the mirror, and thought I looked pretty cool. I just had to even it out, of course. I moved forward, looking more closely at myself than ever before. Maybe a little snip here, a little snip there. I was so focused, that I was ignoring the fact that my mom asked me what I was doing.
“Tiffany, what are you doing? You’ve been gone for 30 minutes already! Are you okay?”
I stood there just admiring my work. Then I realized I hadn’t done the back of my hair, so I started trimming it.
“Tiffany, where are you? Are you all right?”
I suddenly realized my mom was talking to me. I started cutting faster. I felt like my hands were competing after each other, one trying to move faster than the other.
“I’m in the bathroom mom! I’m all right, just doing my business!”
“Are you sure? Do you need me to check up on you?” I heard her put down the newspaper, and start up the stairs slowly. The air in the room was starting to get tight, and I felt like I was running out of oxygen.
“No, mom! Really, I’m fine! My stomach is just...acting up! Yeah, and if I were you, I wouldn’t want to come up here. But really mom, I’m fine.”
Now my ear was on the door, cautiously listening for my mom’s voice.
“All right, then,” I heard her turn around, and walked back downstairs.
I let out a sigh of relief. That was way too close. I went back to my business, but this time, much faster. I felt a sense of rush that came into my body, which made me cut much quicker. At this point, I was cutting the back of my hair. I was just reaching over my shoulder to get the hair, and then I’d just estimate where I should cut. I felt pretty confident about cutting my own hair, and was actually dreaming about opening up a salon, doing people’s hair in the future and actually becoming famous. Hey, a little girl can dream...
After the final cut, I stopped to look at the end result. I dropped the scissors. Oh. My. Gosh. I stopped, not knowing how I should’ve reacted. I was really startled, and suddenly dizzy. I took a few steps back, as my legs were starting to get weak. I couldn’t believe what I just did. My hair in front was up to my cheekbone. It was zig-zag, up-down, messy, uneven- words couldn’t describe what I just did. I turned around just looking in horror as the back was just as short and just as terrible.
The sight of my hair was just unbearable. I was just staring at myself again, looking at my horrendous hair that was once beautiful. The worst part was that I wasn’t even cooling off. As a matter of fact, I was actually more sweaty than before. Now, I was panicking. I was breathing heavily, rushing around, screeching my lungs out from inside, and then, I started getting angry. I was so annoyed with myself, that I just wanted to rip all the hair that was left off my head. I was just so desperate for help, and I really needed someone to take care of what I did.
“Tiffany, it’s time to eat lunch! I know you’re done!” My mom was calling me again. Great. But my mom was the least of my problems, since I had to fix this and hide my hair.
“Uh, I’m not done yet! I still have to, uh...well, nevermind. I’m not done yet!” I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to do. My voice was beginning to crack, and I was getting even more stressed out.
“Tiffany, if you’re not down here in ten seconds, you’re not eating!”
If my mom knew what I was going through, maybe she would understand what I was feeling! I opened the door, heart beating 100 beats per second, hands shaking crazily, and my mind out of control. I walked slowly, one step after the next, just waiting for time to tick faster.
“Come down here now! You should enjoy your lunch while it’s warm.”
My mom was starting to get up from the chair, and I felt my heart ready to burst. I was running down now, and I was just exploding like fireworks. My tears were racing down my face like a waterfall, and my legs completely gave up, and I just plopped onto the floor.
“Oh my god. What happened to your-” My mom couldn’t even continue thanks to my sister’s laughter.
“This is going down in history, Tiffany! Oh my gosh!” I
could barely hear a word she was saying because of her giggles in between each word. I looked at my mom. A blurry picture of a woman stood before me. Her face in shock, but filled with a slight hint of amusement and a giant bucket of discipline. I was getting scared, and I really hoped my mom could do something about this catastrophe.
“M-mom, fix this! P-P-Please! I hate it!” I was trying to speak clearly, but my hiccups that had suddenly appeared due to all the crying, were preventing me. I hoped my mom could understand what was happening.
“What is wrong with you! Why in the world would you do this?! A five-year-old girl like you can’t touch scissors without my permission because you could’ve cut yourself!”
My mom was now grabbing me by the arm, forcing me to stand up.
“You can’t just do things on your own without my permission! You see what you end up with if you don’t listen to me?” My mom was mad. No, she was even more than that. She was enraged. Frustrated, angry, annoyed- I couldn’t describe this moment. I had never seen her react this way, and I was actually quite surprised that she could get this angry. She took me upstairs to the bathroom, and when she saw my hair on the floor, she was just as surprised as when she saw me with my new hairdo.
“We’re going to have a talk later.” She looked me in the eye. It was serious now. No more playtime.
“Yes, mom.” My answer was as small as a breadcrumb, and I couldn’t even think about the trouble I was in.
She took the scissor that I had dropped on the floor, and then starting trimming.
“Mom! Stop making it so short!” I was bawling, whining, as she kept cutting.
“I’m cleaning up the edges for you! Who even told you to do this anyways?”
She went back to cutting, and it was silent except for the sound of the scissors cutting. I guess she was right. I start thinking about my punishment. What was she going to do to me later? I was so curious, that my question just flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it.
“Mom, will I get punished later?”
“No.” Her reply was calm, but a little taunting. Wait, was I hearing my mom correct? I won’t be yelled at more, or grounded? Nothing? That was unusual. I mean, that wasn’t the mom I knew.
“Wait, really? Are you sure? You’re not going to ground me, or even yell at me?”
“Your own bad haircut is the punishment you get.” Nevermind, I take that back. She was back to the old mom.
My mom had officially cleaned up my hair, and I was not as worried, but still tense. It would take a while to get used to my new hair.
“Now, don’t do anything stupid like that ever again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, mom. And thanks.”
I hugged her tightly. I guess moms do know everything.
I went to eat my lunch, and I just started thinking over this whole crazy event. I was really proud of my mom, and really grateful too. I guess we should really do what we’re told, and respect what we’re told to do.
Trust me. I learned my lesson the hard way.