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drawing conclusions

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Chelsea Schultz

on 18 September 2012

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Transcript of drawing conclusions

drawing conclusions a conclusion is a decision you make based on the information you have what we know... this information comes from two places:
1. the story
2. your head so...use what the author tells you (the hints!) in the story, along with what you already know, to make a decision (draw a conclusion) about what happened or what is going to happen! Emotional Charades DIRECTIONS:
-the 5 of you who got a slip of paper, go ahead and look at it
-don't tell anyone what it says!
-you may use a partner
-you have 10 seconds to get the class to guess your emotion whose line is it anyway?
NEWS FLASH! “Henry and I get comfortable in our usual Days of Our Non Lives positions on his mother’s scratchy plaid couch in their tiny living room. We’re just in time for the familiar hourglass. Sally hushes us for the opening voice-over.
Like sands through the hourglass…
Henry and I look at each other and telepathically exchange a single, familiar phrase: We are pathetic.
…so are the days of our lives. now, let's try it with a story: homework: -read the next 5 vignettes from "House on Mango Street"

-come up with 2 conclusions for each vignette

-write them in your RDJ (Reader's Digest Journal) Reading from: "House on Mango Street" what are some conclusions we can draw from this vignette? -our main character moves around alot

-the house on Mango Street is a step up from the character's previous houses

-our character doubts the parent's promises

-character is embarrassed of the house

-they want to be proud of the house they live in--able to "point to it" is the character a boy or a girl? i am going to conclude this character is a girl because they book gives us evidence that she is sharing a room with her sister, Nenny.
(previous knowledge: most of the time girls don't share a room with boys) The small air conditioner duct-taped into the only window in the cramped living room hums mournfully over the tragedy about to play on the TV, as well as the sagging couch the three of us sit on—Sally in the middle, as always. I close my eyes and feel the cool air against my sweaty face as the opening scene starts. Sally leans forward to watch. Her huge breasts rub over the top of the metal mixing bowl filled with Doritos she holds in her lap. She grips the edges of the bowl, her dimpled arms blocking Henry and me from reaching in to grab a chip, as if we don’t know the rule or might try to break it: No eating during Days. Sally says the crunching is too distracting. Instead, we wait for the commercials and crunch during the ads while Sally fills us in on whatever we’ve missed since the last episode we watched with her. Her face always gets a warm glow when she talks about TV love, like it’s going to ooze into her own life any day now. Sally believes with every molecule that makes up her large pink body that somewhere out there is the perfect man for her. Henry always looks sad when his mom says this. Neither of us believes it. Even if that man did exist, how could he find Sally when she never leaves the house? There is only one man who knows where Sally is, and he left fifteen years ago, two months after Henry was born.” But the house on Mango street is not the way they told it at all. It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling in places, and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard, only four little elms the city planted by the curb. Out back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they're ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom. Everybody has to share a bedroom--Mama and Papa, Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny. Once when we were living on Loomis, a nun from my school passed by and saw me playing out front. The laundromat downstairs had been boarded up because it had been robbed two days before and the owner had painted on the wood YES WE'RE OPEN so as not to lose business.
Where do you live? she asked.
There, I said pointing up to the third floor.
You live there? There. I had to look to where she pointed--the third floor, the paint peeling, wooden bars Papa had nailed on the windows so we wouldn't fall out. You live there? The way she said it made me feel like nothing. There. I lived there. I nodded.
I knew then I had to have a house. A real house. One I could point to. But this isn't it. The house on Mango Street isn't it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go. drawing conclusions...
information that is implied or inferred
writers show rather than tell through hints they leave behind
readers must use hints & previous knowledge to draw conclusions
happens subconsciously for independent readers--bring it to a conscious level for our dependent readers
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