Caleb McKenzie English 111 26 April, 2013

Table of Contents Self-Assessment. . . . . . . . . 1 Sweet Old Bob ( Revised). . . . . . . . . 4 Sweet Old Bob ( Original). . . . . . . . . 8 Writing Critique. . . . . . . . . 12

Self-Assessment

The first thing that I learned from reading was that all writing has a purpose. I learned that all who write write to explore their thoughts and emotions, to express themselves and to entertain. Some other purposes of writing are to records events, and to communicate with others. Some write to persuade others to see things the way that the writer sees them. I also learned that there can be multiple purposes in one article or text. The next thing that I had learned from the reading was that the writer should always be aware of their audience. I learned that with one audience a writer can leave some things implied, like with a mother asking her child to do chores, she doesn't have to tell them every little step, she just has to let them know what she wants done and that's it. While with a different audience, a writer may have to go into greater detail, like in a business meeting, when you have specifics that need to be mentioned. Some questions that you want to ask about the audience are, Whom do you want to reach?, meaning, to whom is the writer or speaker addressing, What is the audiences background?, what is the audiences education, age group, or occupation, and What political circumstances may affect their reading?, what is the audiences opinion, where do they stand politically, and what phrases or issues may the writer or speaker avoid or use, as the case may be. The following subject was the different genres of writing. Some of the genres that were mentioned were letters, reports, poems, and even parodies. Some methods of presenting information are better than others. That is where the use of genres come in. Some ways to do this are to think about your message is , what are you trying to say, and what might be the best way to get that message across. Should you use humor or seriousness, do you need resources to be cited or are you voicing a message that doesn't need statistics and quotes? The next topic was acknowledging the stance of the writing. The stance of the writing is the

attitude, showing the attitude of the writer on the topic. Some examples of stances are objective, curious, and passionate. The stance is created by the words that the writer uses. Being straightforward with writing will give a position strength, while using words like might or I think will make a position unstable. The fifth subject was about the use of media in writing, and how to design the writing. I learned that a writer has multiple means of media that they can put to use. These types of media are print( newspapers, books, and magazines), spoken( speeches), and electronic( internet). Design is the method that a writer uses to show different information, like using photos, diagrams, and fonts. Different stances and audiences may require different designs and media uses. After this, I learned about five different types of writing styles. The first was literacy narratives, which is a true story from the writer's past that tells a piece of the writer's history with reading and writing. The next style was a textual analysis. A textual analysis examines a written advertisement, story, or article on all of its aspects. The third writing style was an informational report. This style means that the writer picks a topic out of almost any subject, and explains to their audience all about the topic. The next style that I learned was the memoir, which is a style akin to the literacy narrative, except the memoir isn't tied down to just the topic of the writers history of writing. The memoir is a story that the writer chooses to share about any part of their lives. The last style of writing that I learned about was the argument. This style has the writer take a topic that has two sides to it, and has the writer examine the topic and build an argument using facts and statistics, while also paying attention to the other side of the argument. After learning about the different types of writing I learned how to develop a research plan. First, the writer has to establish a schedule, and then the writer has to choose a topic. Next, the writer must narrow the topic and think about what you know about it. To research, you must find sources that are relevant to your topic. Some source types are general reference works like encyclopedias and dictionaries, the library catalog for books, indexes and databases for periodicals, and search engines

and subject directories for information on the internet. After finding sources, the writer must evaluate the sources that they have gathered. While evaluating a source, the writer must consider if a source is reliable and if the source serves the writer's purpose. After evaluating, the writer must combine the ideas that they find in their resources. While the writer is mixing their ideas, they may come across quotes and phrases that they may want to use in their article, to do this, they are going to need to paraphrase, summarize, and quote from their sources. After learning how to do that, I learned how to avoid plagiarism by acknowledging sources in writing. The best way for a writer to do this is to cite all of the sources that were used in their article. After that, I learned how to receive response and revising afterward. To receive response a writer must share their work with others, and then the readers of the works give the writer response on the work and tell them how to make the work better. While the writer revises, they must keep the response that they had received in mind. Next, I learned how to proofread and edit. To start, the writer must first proofread, which means that they go through the whole article with a fine-tooth comb. When the writer edits, they keep in mind all of the problems and take care of those problems. The last thing that I learned whilst reading was how to compile a portfolio. A portfolio is a compilation of works. In this compilation, a writer would include rough drafts, final drafts, and revisions; writing assignments; source material that was used inn all of the works; responses to drafts; and reflections on the writer's work.

Caleb McKenzie English 111 Stacy Jones March 25, 2013 Sweet Old Bob There were many times that I had met with my grandfather, but I never really got a chance to truly know the man. When I would meet with him over the holidays and other family gatherings, he would always seem quiet and rather gruff. Luckily, there was one opportunity that I had to truly meet the man that was my grandfather. My grandfather and my father both are fishermen, and, like them, I too enjoy fishing. In fact, most of my family on my fathers side loves to fish. There is a place that they would always go as a family to fish. The Red Cedar River in Chetek, Wisconsin will always be a special place to my father and his siblings. I had the chance to go with my father and grandfather to Chetek and be a part of the family tradition! We left early; the sun had not even risen yet. The car was ready to go, all that was left was for us to load up and go. As we traveled, I could see and hear my grandfather changing. If this change was brought on by the fact that we were going fishing, or if it was just us guys, Im not sure. We arrived at Chetek not long after dawn, the grass still wet with dew and the morning sun glinting off of the still waters of the Red Cedar River. After inspecting the serene waters, we went to a small diner in town and had breakfast. Following breakfast, our band of fishermen unloaded the truck at the cabin. The first morning of the trip was rather uneventful. We unpacked and got adjusted to the environment. The people that we had rented the cabin from were old friends of my grandfathers. My grandfather, father and I spent most of the morning socializing with the Superskis, which, in our case, meant making various jokes, appropriate or not. Around noon, my father and I went out to get lunch and then we loaded up the boat. Unfortunately, my grandfather wasnt feeling up to going out on the

river that day, so it was just my dad and me on the river that first day. As we set out, the water was still and smooth. The canoe glided through the water with ease, leaving my father and me the opportunity to fish instead of row. I will confess that I am not the best of fishers, so I may have not caught anything, in fact, I may have even lost a few lures, but I still loved the time that I had on the water with my dad. After a while the wind stopped helping us, and dad had to start rowing, leaving me the duty to keep casting. The afternoon was pretty uneventful, up until the rain came down on us. The section of the river that we were taking was familiar to my father, and he knew that the end was near, but about that time, the heavens decided to open upon us. The rain was frigid, not some little summer rain. It was pouring down on us, sending up a cacophony as it pounded down on the canoe and the water. I could see the rain coming in waves, each stronger than the last. By the time my father and I had reached the dock, we were both drenched to the bone. We got the boat back on the trailer and all of the gear back in the boat as fast as we could. I hurried back to the cabin to get warm, dry clothes. By the time we got back to the cabin, the sun hadn't come out, but the rain had definitely stopped. My father and I were quite a sight; every stitch of fabric that we wore was drenched, clutching our fishing gear, without any fish to show for it. Even without fish, the trip was worth it. I still loved the trip, just being out on the water. That evening we went out to dinner at a local burger joint, savoring the food. After we returned from dinner, we spent most of the night talking and laughing about the days adventures. It was just us guys, sitting around a picnic table, with the smoke from my grandfathers cigarette swirling through the cool night air. We talked with some of our temporary neighbors, most of them who seemed to know my dad and grandfather, greeting them as old friends. We adjourned to our cabin and fell asleep quickly, ready for the next day. On the morning of the second day, we went to the same diner that we had eaten at the previous morning. The food was just as good as the morning before. After breakfast, we went back to the cabin and planned out what our day would be like. We were going out on a shorter trail than we had the

day before, because grandpa was going with us out on the river. We got out to the water and started loading up the canoe, and we were almost ready to go when the canoe tipped, with grandpa in it! Dad and I rushed over to help him. We straightened the canoe and finished the preparation to go back out onto the water. And then we were off, rods flying, just us, the fish, and the water. The weather was much better than the day before. The temperature was pleasant, the wind was no more than a gentle breeze, and the rain gave us no problems at all. Dad stayed in the middle of the canoe, operating the oars, grandpa sat in the front, casting his rod again and again, and I was in the back, in charge of the anchor and, of course, casting as much as I could. There was only one fish caught that day, a small mouth bass that was quite small, caught by me. The fish was so small that we had to throw it back, but the trip wasnt for the fish, but rather the fishing, the ritual of just being out there on the river. While we were on the water, we werent grandfather, father, and son, but rather we were peers, able to talk about anything, just friends out there on the water. By the time we got back to the cabin, it was late in the afternoon. We had a bit of time before it would be time for supper, so we sat with Mr. Superski and talked for a while. It was during this time that I learned of Sweet Old Bob. I will admit that my grandfather didnt exactly go out of his way to make others happier. Because of this, there were some that would call him an S.O.B., and my grandmother, who never wants to make anyone feel bad, said that they were just calling him a Sweet Old Bob. This, of course, was not what they meant, but it still got a good laugh. Soon enough it was time for us to go out to dinner. We dined that evening at a Mexican restaurant that was superb. After dinner, we repeated the ritual of the night before, all us guys sat around the table, laughing and carrying on. That night we slept well, knowing that in the morning, we would have to leave for home and the fun was almost over. The next morning was to be the last day of our time in Chetek. For breakfast, we tried a different restaurant, and the cuisine was delicious. Afterward, we returned to the cabin and packed up our belongings, said our good-byes, and hit the road. We may not have caught many fish, but we did

have fun, and I got to meet the man that was my grandfather. Last May my grandfather died, leaving behind three children and his spouse. That was nine months after our adventure in Chetek. Im so glad that I got a chance to know my grandfather and what he was really like before he passed. His sense of humor will live on through my father and me. I liked my grandfather, but I loved and could relate to Sweet Old Bob.

Caleb McKenzie English 111 Stacy Jones March 25, 2013 Sweet Old Bob There were many times that I had met with my grandfather, but I never really got a chance to truly know the man. When I would meet with him over the holidays and other family gatherings, he would always seem quiet and rather gruff. Luckily, there was one opportunity that I had to truly meet the man that was my grandfather. My grandfather and my father both are fishermen, and, like them, I too enjoy to fish. In fact, most of my family on my fathers side loves to fish. There is a place that they would always go as a family to fish. The Red Cedar River in Chetek, Wisconsin will always be a special place to my father and his siblings. And I had the chance to go with my father and grandfather to Chetek and be a part of the family tradition. We left early; the sun had not even risen yet. The car was ready to go, all was left was for us to load up and go. As we traveled, I could see and hear my grandfather changing. If this change was brought on by the fact that we were going fishing, or if it was just us guys, Im not sure. We arrived at Chetek not long after dawn, the grass still wet with dew and the morning sun glinting off of the still waters of the Red Cedar River. After inspecting the serene waters, we went to a small diner in town and had breakfast. Following breakfast, our band of fishermen unloaded the truck at the cabin. The first morning of the trip was rather uneventful. We unpacked and got adjusted to the environment. The people that we had rented the cabin from were old friends of my grandfathers. My grandfather, father and I spent most of the morning socializing with the Superskis, which, in our case, meant making various jokes, appropriate or not. Around noon, my father and I went out to get lunch and then we loaded up the boat. Unfortunately, my grandfather wasnt feeling up to going out on the

river that day, so it was just my dad and me on the river on the first day. As we set out, the water was still and smooth. The canoe glided through the water ease, leaving my father and me the opportunity to fish instead of row. I will confess that I am not the best of fishers, so I may have not caught anything, in fact, I may have even lost a few lures, but I still loved the time that I had on the water with my dad. After a while the wind stopped helping us, and dad had to start rowing, leaving me the duty to keep casting. The afternoon was pretty uneventful, up until the rain came down on us. The section of the river that we were taking was familiar to my father, and he knew that the end was near, but about that time, the heavens decided to open up on us. The rain was frigid, not some little summer rain. It was pouring down on us, sending up a cacophony as it pounded down on the canoe and the water. I could see the rain coming in waves, each stronger than the last. By the time my father and I had reached the dock, we were both drenched to the bone. We got the boat back on the trailer and all of the gear back in the boat as fast as we could and hurried back to the cabin and warm, dry clothes. By the time we got back to the cabin, the sun may not have come out, but the rain had definitely stopped. My father and I were quite a sight; every stitch of fabric that we wore was drenched, clutching our fishing gear, without any fish to show for it. Even without fish, the trip was worth it. I still loved the trip, just being out on the water. That evening we went out to dinner at a local burger joint, savoring the food. After we returned from dinner, we spent most of the night talking and laughing about the days adventures. It was just us guys, sitting around a picnic table, with the smoke from my grandfathers cigarette swirling through the cool night air. We talked with some of our temporary neighbors, most of them who seemed to know my dad and grandfather, greeting them as old friends. We adjourned to our cabin and fell asleep quickly, ready for the next day. On the morning of the second day, we went to the same diner that we had eaten at the morning previous. The food was just as good as the morning before. After breakfast, we went back to the cabin and planned out what our day would be like. We were going out on a shorter trail than we had the

day before, because grandpa was going with us out on the river. We got out to the water and started loading up the canoe, and we were almost ready to go when the canoe tipped, with grandpa in it! Dad and I rushed over to help him straightening the canoe out and finishing the preparation to go out in the water. And then we were off, rods flying, just us, the fish, and the water. The weather was much better than the day before. The temperature was pleasant, the wind was no more than a gentle breeze, and the rain gave us no problems at all. Dad stayed in the middle of the canoe, operating the oars, grandpa sat in the front, casting his rod again and again, and I was in the back, in charge of the anchor and, of course, casting as much as I could. There was only one fish caught that day, a small mouth bass that was quite small, caught by me. The fish was so small that we had to throw it back, but the trip wasnt for the fish, but rather the fishing, the ritual of just being out there on the river. While we were on the water, we werent grandfather and father and son, but rather we were peers, able to talk about anything, just friends out there on the water. By the time we got back to the cabin, it was late in the afternoon. We had a bit of time before it would be time for supper, so we sat with Mr. Superski and talked for a while. It was during this time that I learned of Sweet Old Bob. I will admit that my grandfather didnt exactly go out of his way to make others happier. Because of this, there were some that would call him an S.O.B., and my grandmother, who never wants to make anyone feel bad, said that they were just calling him a Sweet Old Bob. This, of course, was not what they meant, but it still got a good laugh. Soon enough it was time for us to go out to dinner. We dined that evening at a Mexican restaurant that was superb. Afterward we repeated the ritual of the night before, all us guys out there sitting around the table, laughing and carrying on. That night we slept well, knowing that in the morning, we would have to leave for home and the fun was almost over. The next morning was to be the last day of our time in Chetek. For breakfast, we tried a different restaurant, and the cuisine was delicious. Afterward, we returned to the cabin and packed up our belongings, said our good-byes, and hit the road. We may not have caught many fish, but we did

have fun, and I got to meet the man that was my grandfather. Last May my grandfather died, leaving behind three children and his spouse. That was nine months after our adventure in Chetek. Im so glad that I got a chance to know my grandfather and what he was really like before he passed. His sense of humor will live on through my father and me. I liked my grandfather, but I loved and could relate to Sweet Old Bob.

Writing Critique

I believe that my best piece of writing for this semester was The Holy War. The Holy War was my informative report, in which I wrote about the Crusades. The reason that I choose this paper is because I had covered all eight of the Crusades. For the first five Crusades, which were the big five, I delved into greater detail more than the last three, which were much smaller. Not only were the first five larger, but more fruitful in the sense of gain and loss in the way of soldiers and land. I went into detail about leaders of armies and countries, and how they led their armies into battle. My weakest paper this semester, in my opinion, was A Love of Reading. This specific article was my literacy narrative for this semester. The reason that I believe that this was my weakest paper was the exact opposite of The Holy War, I hadn't put enough details into it. I should have described the characters in the narrative better. I should have put more detail into my and their histories of reading.