The Dancer

Ashley Esteva

GSR 102

I absolutely love this short story. It is beautifully told with a kind of relatable quality that reminds me on my Abuela telling me stories. This is one of my favorite. It has a sort of indescribable feeling of warmth and enveloping love and tradition to it. I admire the narrator telling the story because it was done with innocence and honesty. This woman has opened up her home to in need children and is graciously trying to help others in her community. She takes in Clarissa even though she knows the little girl has had a rough past. She allows the small one to talk about her feelings when she is scared or when she feels the need to but the woman never forces her to talk about what she is feeling. I really admire the woman for having such an open heart for this child. After all she has no investment in the child and if she wanted to she could have her removed form her from for trying to kill the cat or not being a cohesive member of her family.  The woman tries to get Clarissa to be part of the family and feel comfortable interacting with the other members of the family.

Innocently enough the woman, in the effort to try and help Clarissa feel more like a member of the family, brings her to a powwow and the change in the little girl is so startling.  It was magical to see how much the little girl loved and felt so connected to the music and was able to grow as a person through learning to dance and feel the spirit when she danced.

I think it was beautiful how she told the story and how the young girl’s life was so beautifully transformed when she danced. When she watched her elders dance she absorbed all of the information and heritage and tradition.

I was completely blown away however when, near the end of the story, the young girl begins dancing and embraces the spirit and dances with Molly she is transformed into a beautiful elegant dancer far beyond her years. Through her heritage she is able to escape her troubled past and is able to become so much more through her dancing. She is able to be her true self and fit into the self she should have always been.

Page Three and Saturday at the Canal

        Page three has a very short poem however within those few lines the author was really able to convey so much information so many feelings and emotions. I really think it is remarkable that such few words that I was able to connect with the piece so much. I think this peace more than all the others I connect with the most. I think it’s about someone who finally gets to start a life on their own. They don’t have to worry about cleaning up after other people or even have to think about another person. It is there time to make their house into a home. The line “Not a man’s house. Not a daddy’s” is very prominent. It is the first thing in that persons life that is all their own and they get to shape it into their own home. Get to fill it with pretty purple petunias and books. It is a new beginning for someone. It relates to me going off to college. In my third year of college after receiving my associate’s degree I decided I wanted to come to Gallaudet and dorm. It was a new place for me, new town, new room, and a new experience. I was so excited to have this opportunity to show people and myself that I can take care of my self and that I am an independent self-sufficient person. I am proud of the person in the poem for striking out on their own and I am proud of myself for doing the same, starting a new chapter in my life.


         Saturday at the Canal was a much less appealing story that hardly grabbed my attention. Its fussy wording and vague people really was far less attractive that page three. I think it is sill to think that “oh I will be happy when this happens” it is a very silly thing to think. One can not dwell on a hope of an event being so beyond ones imagination because our imagination makes things so much better than they actually are. This boy’s fixation on wanting to visit San Francisco and being enamored by all the sights and sounds and birds and experiences associated with the city is quite silly. He should be happy with what he has now and shoot a casual glance towards the idea of visiting San Fran however I really think it is unwise for him to base his happiness on going to the city.

            Saturday at the Canal was a much less appealing story that hardly grabbed my attention. Its fussy wording and vague people really was far less attractive that page three. I think it is sill to think that “oh I will be happy when this happens” it is a very silly thing to think. One can not dwell on a hope of an event being so beyond ones imagination because our imagination makes things so much better than they actually are. This boy’s fixation on wanting to visit San Francisco and being enamored by all the sights and sounds and birds and experiences associated with the city is quite silly. He should be happy with what he has now and shoot a casual glance towards the idea of visiting San Fran however I really think it is unwise for him to base his happiness on going to the city.

Reading Your Room

Ashley Esteva

GSR 102

Reading Your Room

            My experience coming into my dorm for the first time was that it was the same dorm I had stayed at when I came to Gallaudet for a summer ASL camp three years ago. I wasn’t too fond of West when I came there the first time so I had low expectations of the dorm the second time around. As I remembered there was the open staircase and still had no elevator. The staircase is very open and nice however not having an elevator is both a blessing and a curse. I had to lug a fridge, mattress, and all of my other dorm necessities up three flights of stairs. I think it is good though the flights of stairs help keep me in shape and I always make sure I have everything before I leave my dorm because I know when I leave my dorm I'm not going back until my class or errand is done. The floors still look dated with the faux brown brick flooring however they have updated a portion of each floor with faux wood flooring and furniture to make it look appealing as a common room. The old style architecture is nice however the white pebble stone outside is my least favorite feature of the building.

                        When I arrived at my dorm I was so happy that I had a room facing the back of campus, I wasn’t facing the courtyard. That means I don’t have to worry about the lights or other dorm lights. Also my room was quaint. It was freshly painted a sort of taupe color with a bright white ceiling. I noticed the walls had a lot of outlets. Which, I thought in the beginning, was a bit much although now I am glad I have so many outlets. I never really though how many electrical appliances I had brought with me until I had to plug everything in. In my room I recently notices two holes drilled into one of the cinderblocks near my desk, I wonder if it was for mounting something or if it was for and internet cable hook-up. Although my room has just been painted there are still some pieces of the past such as stuck on adhesive and in some places there is a bit of the old paint color showing. The thing in my room that shows the most evidence of past inhabitants however is something that is not likely to be replaced anytime soon. My heater/ac unit, it’s an off yellow, horrible looking rectangle that traverses almost my entire window. It has old pieces of tape stuck to it and old grey paint showing through the chipped baby puke yellow that is on top. If you look into the heater there is shards of zebra printed I-don’t-know-what stuck in it along with waded up gum wrappers and I even found a penny wedged behind the thermostat control. Although it doesn’t have the best appearances it works well to cool the room, however my roommate and I haven’t figured out how to make it warm yet because the labels on the dials are completely worn off.

                        When I finally finished bringing all of my belongings into my room I began to unpack and slowly but surely I was making this shell of a room my own. I put my clothes in my closet now it sort of looks like my closet at home and my dressers under my bed are reminiscent of those in my room at home. The bedding, pillows and mattress had the same color scheme as my room so everything slowly came together and it feels more or less like my house, it has the essence of my room. I think the only thing that made my move here easier than keeping things similar was bringing my music along. I was able to play my favorite CDs while unpacking and I know it sounds silly but the music makes everything feel normal and not so foreign. My music made me feel more at home than almost anything else I brought with me.

                        My room became mine in the ordinary way. My room was assigned to me. It seems very straight forward and simple. My room selection was out of my hands and in no way in the realm of thing I can or could have possible controlled. In the other sense of “my room becoming mine” was me deciding to add familiar colors and textures and patterns. I also began to decorate my walls so far I have one piece of art but hopefully I will expand to have my wall covered in uplifting artwork.

                        I really love my room and my dorm. I believe I have added my personality to my room and I am definitely proud of my work. I wouldn’t mind if my friends came over to my room, it is always tidy and reasonably kept. There is extra seating and sleeping accommodations. However, I don’t believe that the question of my room being inviting or not is really the question or not. I think the deeper question lies within my upbringing and while growing up my parents rarely invited people over so subsequently I fallowed suit. I don’t mind not having people over, though, to me my room is my sanctuary my little piece of quiet and familiar. It belongs to me.

revised blog for "the first day"

The first day of school is peculiar short story. There is so much detail in the beginning of the story about the little girl's clothing, shoes, hair and perfume. However, as the story progressed the details became fewer and fewer. It makes me wonder why all of the information was planted in the beginning instead of being sprinkled throughout the story. The beginning was so important so the reader would have a good understanding and foundation for the rest of the story. The information needed to be at the beginning of the story so that we as readers would be able to see how the mother had such strong religious connections and wanted the best school for her daughter. We need to see that the mother wanted her daughter to have pride and look very nice for the first day. She did not want her daughter to look poor or disheveled. The mother was only looking out for her daughter.

As we go further into the story the numerous amounts of details help the reader connect and understand the struggles of both the mother and the daughter. Although the details of the story turned into vague descriptions forwards the end of the novel the initial information that had been provided helped make it easier for me to overlook the general framework that did not help to enhance the story.

I found it really nice that there was a bit of foresight included in the story for example her shoes which she would scuff later that day. The mother though the story stole my heart, she was trying to give her daughter the best life she could, just like any other parent she wanted a better life for her daughter than she had for herself. The little girl's mother was her biggest advocate and wanted to give her daughter more that what the mother had been provided with during her lifetime.

three handouts- week 2

       The first short story, Learning My Native Language, was a wonderful heartfelt recollection of Ms. Stocker's life and how she coped with her hearing deficiency. She makes her story sound so human and so vulnerable, I really feel for her as she is telling about her childhood and growing up in the hearing world. It breaks my heart when i see that she struggled with such isolation and frustration. when you can quite hear what is going on or are unable to make out the context clues it make interacting within the world you live in so unbelievably difficult and exasperating. i love how she leads us through her pitfalls and successes throughout her life, she makes sure to show her successes and explain how she was able to overcome.  i appreciate her ending her story with her acceptance of her limitations and who she had come to be while learning to ask for help or accommodations that lead her to be able to join in life more fully.

       -Ashley Esteva

       The second story/ poem, The Hands of My Father, the father's life seems to be such a simple one, a life of solidarity and solace however when the child introduces themselves into the story the silence of the father is different than what the child describes the silence being for themselves. the child seems to see themselves as a nuisance to the father because the do not quite understand each other's perspectives. however when the child says that they would go to their father even though he has passed away really shows how much the child really loved the father even though they had their differences, they shared a bond in silence- even though their silences were different.

     -Ashley Esteva

       The third story, Recollections, was unlike the previous two stories and really reflected on the pride that the author had for her Deaf heritage and she so loved ASL and the beauty it brought to her life. her memories were so vivid and unmistakable. it was as if she was telling her life story with the colors and majesty of ASL without actually signing her story. i really enjoy feeling involved with the memories of her elementary school experience all the way through to her time at Gallaudet University. her pride for her native language is unmistakable and so admirable she came to terms with the fact that she loved her native language so much that she would rather live with ASL and in the Deaf community so fully that she didn't want to have speech therapy or marry outside of her culture. it was a refreshing look at someones life.

       -Ashley  Esteva

       The first day of school is peculiar short story with so much detail in the beginning of the story about the little girl's clothing, shoes, hair and perfume. however as the story progressed the details became fewer and fewer. the details of the story turned into vague descriptions that did not help to enhance the story. i found it really nice that there was a bit of foresight included in the story for example her shoes which she would scuff later that day. the mother though stole my heart she was trying to get her daughter the best life she could, just like any other parent she wanted a better life for her daughter than she had for herself. the little girl's mother was her biggest advocate.

~Ashley Esteva