Sometimes The Sun Comes Out
In the meantime, in my "high" class -- only three years behind! Yes! -- we started The House on Mango Street, and the kids were rocking. Massive hands in the air, good reading, questioning, etc., etc., all oh so very rare in your average High Point B class. We discuss similies and metaphors, the way Cisneros leads us toward conclusions without giving us clear answers, and we come across this one: "I am a red balloon, a red balloon tied to anchor."
"Think about balloons. What do they represent."
Freedom, they say, flying, floating, being free, happiness, parties, carnivals.
"But it's tied to anchor."
Yeah, they say, it can't fly, it's being held back, held down.
Her house, her family. The neighborhood, the people in it, being poor. They keep her from going the places she wants and doing the things she dreams of doing. She wants to be free and fly like a balloon, by instead she gets pulled down by jealous people or lazy people or just bad luck.
Some quiet then, and one girl says, She's still the balloon though. It's still inside her. She can get away from the anchor.
I let that one kinda hang there for a few minutes, then they put their folders away and go to P.E.