CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.9-10.10

Mama’s Stitches Mama’s stitches color me like dark crayons striking paper; my beautiful Mama’s stitches find me on the rainy days I try to hide. Broken vase upon cold tile; sorry Mama, Mama—I’ll be better than the little girl I was last week; you said I needed fixing. Stitches, stitches, you say will hold me together; if not now, then forever. I’ll understand one day, how papas lie and kiss their bottles instead of mamas. Oh, Mama, Mama, black and blue the kids at school ask why I have these stitches and I smile and say they’re glue. I’ll stay together better than the best of you.

The KHS Press Characters Mr. Pulaski, the advisor for the KHS Press Ms. Cebon, another teacher Lena, Weasel, Beth, and Bryon, student reporters Mr. Pulaski stands behind a podium. Weasel, with a knee brace, sits at a table with his wounded leg sticking into the aisle. Beth and Bryon sit at desks. Mr. Pulaski: O.K., people. We need to start our meeting. Ms. Cebon has offered to help us with this issue because we don’t have a lot of time or staff reporters, and we need to get going.

Adam’s Train of Ghosts Something happens inside of me when I listen to the music of the Counting Crows. Raw, uncensored emotion pours from the mouth of lead singer Adam Duritz.

Diary of Gaspard May 12, 1780 How can I go on living? My one and only child was taken away from me tonight. It started out as a calm and normal night. It never occurred to me that in only a few short hours I would lose my child, my world, my life. I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew something was going to happen. I do not know why I sent my child outside. But as soon as he left, I heard horses. It sounded as if they had hit something. I ran out of the house as quickly as possible, but I was too late. My child was on the road, bleeding from the head. I ran to my child’s side.

My Interpretation of The Joy Luck Club Children, as they become adults, become more appreciative of their parents. In The Joy Luck Club, the attitudes of four daughters toward their mothers change as the girls mature and come to realize that their mothers aren’t so different after all. As children, the daughters in this book are ashamed of their mothers and don’t take them very seriously, dismissing them as quirky and odd. “I could never tell my father . . . How could I tell him my mother was crazy?” (p. 117).