My Semester Break Essay Definition

Essay on The Lesson and Mid-term Break

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Introduction to The Lesson and Mid-term Break

"The Lesson" tells the story of a 10 year old boy who has lost his father in the duration of school time. It goes on the say he's trapped and although he feels grief for the death of his father he realises that he can use the death to "bind the bullies' fist".

"Mid-Term Break" is about the loss of a brother. It goes on to say that life goes on even though he has lost his brother and he witnesses things he does not normally experience (his father crying).

"Mid-Term Break"

Meaning

The meaning of "Mid-Term Break" is to tell the story of an accident involving a young child and a vehicle. He tries to explain how life goes on and the death of the boy's brother doesn't mean that…show more content…

In the first stanza the poet uses lines to describe how the child sits alone without any idea about what is going on "Sat all morning" and
"counting bells knelling classes to a close". This shows he has been alone, sitting all morning. Also "counting bells knelling classes to a close" shows alliteration to allow the line to flow and shows that he's so bored that he's counting the school bells ringing (later we discover that kneeling is also the sound a funeral bell, a glimpse of what is to come). Also the boy comes across another unforeseen incident " Neighbours drive me home" This shows something extremely uncommon and shows the importance of the circumstance that even his parents cant pick him up. At this stage so many things must be going through the boys mind and he must be very confused.

The next stanza starts with another uncommon sight "in the porch I met my father crying". This shows that it must be very a serious incident that even his father, someone who is supposed to never cry and always show his strong side, has been broken by all that has happened. It even goes on to say that "he had always taken funerals in his stride" so this particular circumstance must be much more serious than all the other funerals he had ever been to.

The next stanza begins with "the baby cooed and rocked the pram" not only does this use onomatopoeia (cooed) but also implies that life goes on and the bay is completely oblivious to the

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I am about four weeks into our six-week semester break, and I have to admit that I wish I was going back sooner. Now granted, I will probably remind myself of this thought a month from now, on another bleak, gray, subzero day in a long line of previous gray subzero days, when I’m running late, tired from working all day, and I can’t find one of my gloves, my scarf, or my hat (which all seem to disappear one by one as the winter creeps along), and inside my apartment the radiators are sighing warmly and outside it’s starting to snow. Again. By the time February rolls around in Chicago, all the charm of a snowy day is lost entirely, because the new snow usually just accumulates on top of the scallops of dirty, muddy sludge that have been frozen to the ground since December. On my way out the door, I will most likely slip on a patch of black ice and fall on my butt.

But right now, I’m missing the discipline of the weekly check-ins, the camaraderie of my classmates, just, really, the active involvement in a writing community. I’ve been writing consistently over the break (though not as much as I had hoped—see my earlier post about The Tudors)—but this past month of break has been a fresh reminder to that, in the end, writing is a solitary pursuit. This is a reality that cannot—and should not—be changed when you join an MFA program. But what the MFA can do is make you forget it sometimes. We always write alone, but it doesn’t feel quite so lonely when you’ve got work to turn in to teachers, writing groups to plan with classmates, readings to attend, assignments to talk about, required readings to examine, etc. It’s easier to remember that you’re writing for an audience when you are actually going to hear your work read before an audience the next week in class. It’s a lot easier to gauge whether what you’re doing is any good when you get immediate feedback from people whose opinions you respect.

As I head into my final stretch of graduate school, I begin to wonder (okay, fear) what will happen when I graduate: When it’s up to me to keep up with happenings in the Chicago literary world, to form writer’s groups, to seek feedback and help from people I trust. To keep myself from floating away in the purposeful disconnect between writing and real life (and when you’re floating, that’s usually when you’re doing your best writing!) and remembering my audience.

I’d love to hear from those of you who either have already graduated from an MFA program or who never went through a program and are still able, somehow, to balance all of the above issues. How do you make it work once you’re out of the MFA cocoon?

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