Finish POV exercise
Discuss "Sweat"
- Why do you think Delia stays with Sykes after he has been so abusive towards her?
- What is the significance of Delia being a washwoman? Why, of all professions, might Hurston have chosen this one?
- Do you think Delia is a meek or strong character? Why or why not?
- Are there any redeeming qualities about Sykes?
- How does Delia's faith help her through the hardships in her life? Would she have survived without her religion?
- How do the village men on Joe Clarke's porch add to the story? What does their dialogue and comments say about them? About society in general?
- Why is the setting of Florida important to the story?
- What is your opinion on the dialect found in "Sweat"? Is it distracting? Rich culturally? Awfully confusing?
Azana Reed
ReplyDeleteGamzon
Advanced Fiction
4/18/18
First Step
Vivica has frozen in place, scared to death, and damn near pissing on herself from the anxiety of her first day of school. She thought school was going to be like it was on the television, from the shows she can watch without blinking, or moving for that matter. She thought school was going to be recess all day and she was going to arrive at the front of the school, and get friends immediately, like any six year old would, but that's not what happened for Vivica. Vivica looked at her mother with tears in her eyes, and a lip tremble that could rival any child actor, however she did not break, she let go of her life line. She sucked it up, with the mantra, ‘you can do it’ in her head and walked into the scary gray building, that would mold her into the young woman that she always wanted to be. Vivica knew she was going to be great.
I was scared to let go of Mommy’s hand, but something in me told me to and I did. Even though I was scared and wanted to cry I sucked it up because I needed to be a big girl, and I didn’t want to make Mommy sad or angry with me. I began walking into the building that was so tall I couldn’t see the top of it. The reality began to sink in that this wasn’t going to be like Girl Meets World and that I wasn’t going to be instantly popular because I had on the pretty shoes I picked out the day before, or because my Mommy did my hair extra special this morning, or even because I am as pretty as Mommy says. However, I knew that this scary gray building was going to be important for me, and that I was going to become as successful as Mommy with the help of it.
As Vivica let’s go of her mother’s hand and begins to take the first step towards her very first taste of an education, the world was getting ready for a rude awakening. Vivica was going to be powerful in this world, and she didn’t even know her true potential in this world. Yes she was going to have some obstacles in the way, and she was going to lose some of her childlike innocence along the way, but that would only make her become stronger and wiser. She was going to change the world. The only person that can sense her potential in this cruel cold world, is Vivica’s mother. She sensed the power Vivica had as soon she was conceived, as soon as she was thought of. And she knew Vivica was going to get that first crack of her potential when she took that first step.
I knew that my daughter was going to do some good in this world. I knew that she was special when she was brought to my attention in my mind. Vivica is my past, present, and future and she was going become everyone’s as soon as she took that first step. I didn’t feel sad as she dropped my hand, and I didn’t even feel sad as she didn’t tell my she loved me. The only thing that I was feeling was the warmth and tingle of the powerful rays coming off of her in waves. I knew her potential, but I hope other people did as well. However, that would all come to the light as she took her first step.
POV Exercise
ReplyDelete“Routine”
It wasn’t a good day. The rain howled as if it lost a lover, and the winds weren’t so kind either. It felt that even her bus, which weighed three whole elephants, was being pulled by the weather. It frustrated her, burned her skin in a flaring red hot spot on the side of her body, crouched onto her wheel while her eyes strained to look through the mist. The bus driver didn’t have any passengers yet that day—many of them sane enough to stay at home for the day—and she was hoping she wouldn’t. The rain was terrible, sure, but it wasn’t enough to stop the transit system from operating. Her next stop was the cross section between Abbey Avenue and Hannibal Street. She felt dread all over body, coating her skin with goosebumps. She hated that street.
I hated the bus stop lying between Abbey Avenue and Hannibal Street. It gave me a distinct feeling on unrest, a swirling pit of acid within my stomach that I feel it would burn a hole down my intestines and spout out through my skin. I tried to imagine just stopping at the street I was on, opening the door, and letting the water from the rain and small flooding to enter up, like a wild monster coming without warning, leaves swirling around it. But I didn’t. I did my best to delay the inevitable with the slow crawl of my wheels. I tried to imagine being the bus itself, my eyes fluttering with the sensation of cold metal becoming one with my skin, my mouth choking with oil, and the elements burning down my body in harsh pellets. When I opened them again, I was there, at the bus stop between Abbey Avenue and Hannibal Street. When I opened my eyes, my body shut itself back into its meaty confines, like an elastic band ripping itself off a wrist, the pulling stretching too tight to hold its form. When I opened my eyes, there they were.
The bus driver’s fingers traced a crescendo on her wheel, her taps softened by the grime under her nails. She watched the bus stop with a certain muddy clarity. Like a blind hawk she saw a man’s back, a woman’s body—hands folded in front of her, as if in prayer—and the bright red L.E.D sign spiraling above them. They couldn’t see her, too focused on one another as if they were lost lovers. The bus driver pressed down the horn again, and the winds changed.
Everyday, at the same time and at the same hour, you see two people bickering at the bus stop between Abbey Avenue and Hannibal Street. A man and a woman, dressed differently every time, but always matching the other. Like two sides of the same coin, they would stand at the bus stop mirroring each other. It would’ve been romantic had they not been bickering the entire time. Even now, through the glass separating you from them, you could see their mouths flap like lashes, echoing in your ears. You never know what they were arguing so much about, only catching some short words and phrases as you opened your doors. “It’s your fault,” you would often hear, “it’s yours” one of them would always counter. Again, like a star crossed lover, you opened your doors to them, and again you heard only softened words as they board your bus. “I’m sorry,” one of them said, “it’s okay” one of them clarified. You closed your eyes at that, and found yourself breathing steadily as the bus doors closed shut with finality, and you would filled with a melancholy at the broken routine.
Alexander Christie
ReplyDeleteGamzon
18 April 2018
Advanced Fiction
Point of View Exercise
He crawled around on the ground, picking at the green, synthetic asphalt. The color was brighter under the jungle gym because the rest of the children were too sophisticated. He chose that as his stomping ground. The little chinks stuck under his nails, bending them back on the cusp of breaking. He enjoyed living on the edge. Sometimes, he would lay down on his back and look up through the metal bars, criss-crossing into a sphere, trying to make sense. The shadows acted as blinds. They were perfect cut-outs that made him smile. He dug his fingers into the green foam and pretended that it was dirt. He could only see up toward the sky and blocked out the kids screaming to his left and the parents chatting to his right. His palms groped for something that was not there. Leaving those prickly thoughts behind, sun played a light show on his closed eyelids.
I wanted someone to notice that I was sitting alone under the playground equipment and much as I didn’t want them to. Maybe they thought I was dirty or strange because I didn’t like talking to people as much as they did. I would rather pick the debris out from under my fingernails, because that was something I knew I was capable of. Climbing up onto the jungle gym never occurred to me as something that people were good at. I always thought that people enjoyed hiding much more. The hours passed and the black lines cycled over each other, cooling my body in increments. I could hear the metal sizzling as the others’ squeals quieted as each one left with their parents. Once my nails were clean, I finally felt as though I could sit up without getting dizzy. I swiveled my head to the right, toward the bench where the adults sat, and realized my mother was missing.
The playground was massive. Children may seem innocent, but they act more like adults than the blind eye can perceive, dividing themselves along lines. Some played in the field, the more athletic of the bunch, their sneakers slipping and sliding over humid grass. Others sat around the swing set watching the others be bold, talking to parents instead of playing with friends. Finally, there were those who secluded themselves, under the burning plastic of the yellow slides, or the metallic bars of the jungle gym, sculpting their own world away from home. None of the children truly knew who they were or acted like themselves. Each new atmosphere of the playground added something new for them to touch. It was supposed to be a unifier, a platform for growth, but every time one child broke out of their mold, the others seemed blind to their existence.
You couldn’t stand looking at him sitting there all alone, staring up at nothing. You envied his quiet space and knew that it was something you could never provide. That’s why you stopped bringing him to the playground, made him go on his own even though he was too young. You sat on a bench outside of your old elementary school, understanding their attraction to the outside world, while never truly comprehending your attraction for the inside. Your ankles were sore and your hair sweaty. You knew you had to pick him up soon. It felt like your heels were nailed into cement. You wanted to cry, but you knew they would evaporate before you could understand them. He would find his way home. You didn’t know if you ever would.
Kyra Majewski
ReplyDeleteHer feet dragged in the dirt as she swayed back and forth on the playground swing set she used to soar on when she was younger. Her head hung low as she watched her dusty shoes trace circles beneath her. The rhythmic creaking of the rusted metal chains mixed with the patterns in the sand were enough to put her into a trance while she waited for a tap on her shoulder. When it came, it startled her, shocking her out of the coma she let herself fall into. His touch wasn’t warm like it used to be, the fingers that ran over her knuckles and along the lines in her palm felt forced, contrived. He sat beside her on the next swing and adjusted his feet to sway in sync with her. He smiled at her and she tried her hardest to smile back, feeling like the corners of her mouth were held up by string.
I made piles and lines in the sand with my shoes because they were dirty anyway. The screeching sound of the metal chain dug into my head. My hair would always get stuck in the links, ripping it out in pieces. The longer I swung back and forth the more my stomach would ache, but I couldn’t stop. The silence would be too much without anything to test it. I felt his icy fingers on my shoulder, exposed in the summer heat. My chest ached and my stomach fell into the dirt. I wish he didn’t come. I wish he never showed. There was no way to feel close to him anymore, even when he tried to swing in sync without me noticing. He was trying to get me to look at him. I could see from the corner of my eye, but I didn’t want to. Instead, I forced myself to smile, facing down the patterns in the dirt. I thought that would be good enough.
A girl hopped over the fence into the playground, then she looked around more a minute, grinning slightly when she saw that it was empty. She walked over to a bench that stood under a red maple tree. Her fingers glided over the bark as she passed it. She sat down on the bench for a moment, her legs crossed and her head resting in her hands, but she quickly got up, taking a new place on the swing set. She started to swing back and forth fast, her legs kicking back and forth to propel her higher and higher until there was slack in the chains when she went up. She smiled big as the wind whipped her hair back. After a minute or so she started to slow, eventually coming to a hard stop. Her face looked pale and her smile was gone. From then on, she just swayed slowly, dragging her white shoes in the dirt. A boy hopped over the fence behind her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He tapped on her shoulder and sat down next to her. That smile didn’t come back.
You hop over the chain link fence, expecting her to hear you. Of course she doesn’t though, she’s always lost in her thoughts. That’s one of the reasons you love her. You tried to make as much noise as you could as you walked up behind her, but still, she stared down at the ground. You didn’t mean to scare her, but when you tapped on her shoulder you could feel her jump with fear. You know that you should’ve just called her name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it without bringing tears too. You touched her hand as softly as you could because you know she loves it, holding on until you take the spot next to her. She didn’t notice as you adjusted your swing to align with hers. You stared at her as you swung in exact sync. She smiled and you smiled back because you knew that as long as she was smiling she was still yours.
ReplyDeleteJonathan has always participated in his community events. His personality has touched several of people lives. He has been very caring and giving over the past few years. Several of sorority groups will like to include him apart of their team because of his attitude. Jonathan has impressed several of people lives and has present is fullmpoential when woorking in a group. His communication skills has shaped him to becoming a strong leader that he currently is. He gives children inspiration and courage to step out of their comfort zone. When Johnathan complete his final year in college he will be receiving his masters degree in Law. He has been offered several of positions in his community because of his service. Jonathan learned the more you help others they will help you.
I have struggled understanding my accomplishments. Some people tell me i'm an overachiever and should recognize my work. I have noticed the more I push myself the better i'll become. Over the past few years my daily routine has changed. I have dedicated my late evenings to my community and children in my neighborhood. Commiting to these children has allowed me to realize how important it is. While reaching out in my community I’ve realized what mistakes need to be fixed to make a change. I have set myself to high standards and is holding myself to them. My overall experience in these community programs has been very successful. I enjoy collaborating with people younger than me and telling them what i've been through.
The neighborhood wasn't the safest place to be, but it was a process to change that. As the months progressed and things drastically changed children began to fall in love with their new home. Several of construction man contributed to building a neighborhood playground to make a change. The neighborhood began to turn into a place of peace and where people wanted to spend their sunny afternoons. Late afternoons you will see the sad faces from kids wishing they can stay just one minute longer, but it was time to go home. Children began to fall in love with the atmosphere and shaped their own personal beliefs about the community they lived in.
1. Delia stays with Skyes after he has been so abusive towards her for two reasons. The first reason is that she is afraid of him, given his history of violent behavior, and if she did try to leave him, the outcome could be much worse than she expects. The second reason is that in her heart, she knows that Skyes will get what is coming to him in the end and therefore their marriage is something that she will not shy away from, because she understands he will be punished.
ReplyDelete2. The significance of Delia being a washwoman is that she is moral and organized, two of her most righteous qualities that are supported by her profession. She cleans the immorality of others and is forced to do the dirty work when it comes to her relationship. Her role as a washwoman highlights these attributes and creates a parallel between her actual and metaphorical work.
3. Delia is a strong character because anyone who can stand up to others even after years of abuse, especially in a climate where black women are severely inferior to everyone else in terms of privilege and amount of respect given to them, is strong. Even when faced with whips, snakes, and her husband having a relationship with another woman, she remains determined to fight against such injustices and stand tall despite them.
4. Simply as a person himself, Skyes does not have any redeeming qualities. He is highly cruel to Delia in every way imaginable and is the embodiment of an alpha, violent male, a man who believes he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants without repercussions. As a symbol and out of context, the type of man he stands for has a redeeming importance in society, for it exposes the inhumanity that still exists and multiplies it, drawing attention to a terrible flaw in modern societal structure.
5. Delia’s faith helps her get through the hardships of her life by giving her hope in a world that has lost it. Her husband is cruel and she has to break her back to keep them afloat, but the thought that God is real and can save her from her woes if she remains moral and punish her husband for his violence pushes her forward. Without her religion, she may not have survived for all of that optimism would be gone and the darkness of her life would overtake the glimmers of light.
6. The village men on Joe Clarke’s porch add to the story by provided a sort of chorus that validates Delia’s thoughts and verifies the intensity of Sykes’ cruelty. Their dialogue and comments show that they are in tune with what is happening around them and understand the plights of Delia and how strong she is. Society in general at this time put a lot of their hope in faith and relied on it, but the presence of these village men also shows some sexist tendencies of the time, having the men be the wise ones and the popular bunch.
7. The setting of Florida is important to the story because of the heat involved as well as the cultural climate. Heat is important in this story for it represents everything that Delia had to overcome and the intensity of Sykes. In addition, rural Florida create a societal context for Delia’s struggles as women were perceived as less than others and were often doing most of the housework, highlighted by Delia’s occupation as a washwoman.
8. The dialect found in “Sweat”, while important and authentic, does create some confusion and makes the story difficult to read. Large pieces of dialogue in this dialect are dense and take readers out of the story. That being said, when a reader finishes the story, Hurston’s choice to make her character’s speak in the manner make their voices more genuine and give a true portrayal of their personalities and thoughts.