Read the four pieces below and print them out to bring to class. You will want to mark them up in any case. Look for two things in particular: 1) the underlying theme, and 2) the distinctive language/imagery that contributes to that theme. In your first reading, which should be casual and at normal speed, do you "click" on the theme? What do you feel intuitively after the first reading? Do the subsequent readings confirm/reinforce that intuition, or does a subsequent reading detract from the initial effect?

She was a miraculously tiny child, with an angelic face and wide blue eyes which innocently swallowed all things. As the sunshine shimmered and danced around her head, her hair was cast pure white and embraced in a glorious ring of sunbeams. Glowing and skipping, she followed the sun through the grass on that smiley spring afternoon. And each living being beamed and danced and glittered and smiled down upon her as she joyfully skipped for delight.

Yet she had been instructed in the proper way to skip. Her mother had sent her outside for a purpose, and she didn't dare disobey. Suddenly, her skipping changed as she recited her mother's words over and over again lest she forget: "Skip in the pattern I have told you. Do not stray; do not think. Do this because I love you."�

The sun began to blaze, as the child skipped in the pattern she had been disciplined. She hopped along, tracing the invisible pattern. One longer line down, and one shorter one across. Long line down, short one across. She created right angle after right angle, until finally a small bead of sweat formed on her brow and trickled down her cheek. She did not know why her mother wanted her to do this. But mother always said that her will was best and children couldn't understand everything. And the little girl tried to please her mother, for her mother loved her so. So the child continued to hop and skip and hop and skip until she just could not handle the oppressive heat any longer. She stood quite still and looked around, beholding the beauty with which she was surrounded.

She caught sight of a flower, hastily abandoned the invisible pattern, and ran to admire it. It was a blossomed jewel, brilliant crimson in color. And before she could contain herself, the girl reached out and grabbed it. Her eyes were wide with joy as she held the flower to herself and dreamed of all the wonderful things that could come with having such a flower for her own. "I love you, flower,"� she whispered and no sooner had the words brushed her tiny lips then the shine forsook her eyes. Her little heart was overwhelmed with guilt as she knew that she had not obeyed her mother. She had abandoned the skipping; she had wandered off on her own; she had wanted the flower.

Casting the petals to the dirt the little girl ran as fast as she could across the lawn, across the porch and across the doorway into the house. She knelt at the bottom of the staircase and called up to her mother, crying out to confess all she had done.

"Child," her mother ordered from out of sight, "go to the living room and sing my favorite song 3 times. Then, you will have earned my forgiveness." The little girl stood up slowly, walked to the living room, and bowed her head. In a remorsefully soft voice she sang back her mother's love.

The music kicks in and I can hear you whispering. I see the notes I never wrote for you and I can hear those verses you rehearsed. This song and dance is getting old and you're straining so hard to keep this lie intact that you're going out of tune. Don't worry, that gentle weeping isn't for you, it's for me. This chorus I'm screaming isn't loud enough for you to hear and turning it up wouldn't do any good. I'm like a pair of headphones that are away from your ears, you nod your head to the beat but you can't make out any of my lyrics. Listen to that noise, that cacophony of too much all at once, like an overdose. Who produced this? Was it you? Or was it me? You always had the better ear for this kind of thing so maybe it was me who overproduced and used too many effects. But effects are unnatural and even years after our record stopped I still use the same ones, so maybe it was you. You're whole sound is different now, but why does your voice still constantly call to me like a siren? That memory fades with the music and another one queues up with the next track.

I would always go apple picking in the fall. The air was crisp and the scenery was beautiful with all the different colored leaves on the trees. I would walk up and down the rows of apple trees slowly, admiring the variety. There were so many different ones to chose from. I could feel the moist grass sink down closer to the ground with every step. Its all about picking the right ones. If I'm lucky I'll pick firm, round, sweet, juicy ones. It is always good to go for the ones closer to the top of the tree. You eventually learn after going a time or two (or for some people it takes longer) to avoid the ones on the bottom. No one wants to bite into an apple and find a worm in the middle or even worse, it hanging from their lip. You also learn to not get your heart set on the shiny apple that is out of your reach. If you cannot reach that one apple that has grabbed your attention when you stand on your tip toes and extend your arm at its fullest length the first time it is not worth exhausting yourself and trying again. As I pick the perfect apples I put them in my basket one by one, filling up every inch of my bag. When the bag was completely full, practically overflowing, I felt overjoyed with achievement. The perfect apples with the perfect ingredients like brown sugar, a few sprinkles of cinnamon, and sometimes when the mood is right I dribble some thick sweet molasses on top of the thinly sliced apples. Stir them all up in a big bowl and put them in the piecrusts. After all the hard work was done I put the pie in the oven at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. While it slowly baked, the delicious aromas filled the entire room.

Each morning after I get out of the hot shower, I walk into my bedroom, dry off, and get dressed. The next thing that I do is go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I usually have to take a towel and wipe down the mirrors because they are usually steamed up from the hot shower. The light is gazing into my eyes. I pull out my purple toothbrush and notice its dry, rough, and hard bristles on it. I turn on the faucet and run the toothbrush under the cold water in order to get it wet. I watch the water trickle onto my toothbrush. Then I take the bottle of toothpaste and squeeze a good amount, about a size of a penny, onto my toothbrush. Before I put it into my mouth, I run it under cold water again for the second time in order for the toothpaste to get wet. Then I begin brushing my teeth. I first start by brushing my top and bottom teeth and I move the toothbrush in a circular motion. This process usually lasts about 3 minutes or so. While brushing my teeth I rinse off the toothbrush with warm water in between and then put the toothbrush back into my mouth. Once I am finished, I make sure that the toothbrush is completely clean and germ free before I place it back into the toothbrush holder.