Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Friday, March 20, 2015

We will go on our field trip to Legacy on April 1.  

1. Bring a scribble to trade!

2. Writing a monologue.

  • Listening to monologues --
  • Writing your own -- 
    • 1. Write a monologue from the point of view of a fairy tale character who is NOT the hero or heroine!  
    • 2.  If you have extra time, write a monologue from a realistic teenage character.


Male monologue
Comedic (dramatic) monologue

After climbing up a giant beanstalk for hours, Jack is lost and anxious. He finally sees another life, a black crow, and discusses his options for getting off the beanstalk.


Please don’t poke my eyes out! Wait—don’t leave! I mean, unless that’s what you were going to do, poke my eyes out—were you? But otherwise, just, just stay. I—I—I mean, you understand my worrying about that, right? But—well, you don’t seem like those birds. Right? And, even if you are, I’m not like those girls. So. It’s just—I really am happy to see you. I’m getting a little, well, maybe a little anxious. I don’t know if you can tell, but, I’m kind of a little bit stuck up here.

See, I didn’t…really…think that I’d make it this far up. I didn’t really think it through at all. My mom keeps telling me that’s my problem, and I guess it is. I just…saw it, and I’ve always been a bit of a climber, my mom said. When I was nine months old, she found me sitting on top of the brown cow in the barn one morning. I guess we all have our strengths. I’ve never really considered myself afraid of heights before, but, it’s not really the climbing up that scares me. It’s the getting down, Black Crow. It seemed so easy getting here—just put one foot on the branch—if you can call it a branch. They sure don’t seem like branches now—looking down. Oh, and, I’ve tried going down already. I put my foot on a branch, but it seems slippery now. See? It’s like the sludge at the bottom of the pig trough. And you do not want be climbing down from the clouds on pig sludge! I’m not a bright boy. They all tell me that, but that is one thing I do know.

And see, that’s why this is so, so, kind of tough to swallow. Maybe I was proving something. Maybe I was running away. I don’t know. But I was doing something. You know? Climbing up something. Something that wasn’t there before, but then suddenly was, and it made me feel powerful and strong and, and, smart. And I liked that feeling. So I kept on going, because the feeling kept on going. And, I’d never felt that way before. I mean, strong maybe, but—not smart.

But now I’m here. And I don’t feel very smart. Because a smart person would know how to get down. I can’t gain any footing on the sludge branch. I tried sliding down, but the few feet I did it, well, it hurts an awful lot, and I’m not even sure I wouldn’t fly off of it and land down there in a broken bone pile. And, then everyone would just say, Well, that’s Jack. He doesn’t know how to climb down, poor slow boy. And I guess they’d be right. So.


The other thing I could do…and this probably would show I’m just as slow of a boy. Because it sure doesn’t seem like a smart idea. But it’s all I can think of to not kill myself falling.


See, I’m starting to hear voices. And not like voices in my head. I haven’t turned silly yet. These are low voices. Really low. Booming voices, but not too loud yet. If you know what I mean. Like, a low rumble, sort like a bull when he sees his mate. So the idea, Black Crow, is just to…keep climbing up. And maybe there’s someone up there, one of the voices, who can help me, who can show me how to get down, or take me down. I’d be ok if someone else carried me down. I’d just ask them to do it at night, so no one in town would see. And I’d keep my eyes closed, so I’d remember it less. And then I could still sort of feel a little powerful. A little smart. So see? I’ve got it thought out now. At least a little bit. That’s a step, right? So. I guess maybe I’ll see you up there. If that’s where you’re going too.

(pause, starts going up)

It really doesn’t feel like sludge when you’re going up the stalk.


Male or female monologue
Dramatic monologue
Children's, teen or adult monologue

Jaime can be as young as 10 years old and as old as 20 (or higher).

Sometimes, when I stand on the beach and look out at the ocean, I imagine I’m a shark. My feet are hot, so hot they’re burning. Burning so much, I start to not feel the pain anymore. I take several deep breaths, and I breathe out the heat through my nose. I can feel it leaving me. My feet are tingling. A little numb. But I feel no pain. I am a shark. I’m swimming through the water and you can cut me with your knives, but my skin is hard and I am tough. And I feel no pain. A boy, this boy I know, but wish I didn’t, runs out of the ocean and past me. I feel the cold water he’s brought in on my legs. He’s tossed sand on me too and it’s sticking to me. I reach my hand down to feel the roughness on my legs. It’s like sandpaper. His friend runs out of the water too, chasing him, and he bumps into me. Pushes past me. My body turns with him, but my feet stay grounded. Like a rooted flower blowing in the wind. I don’t fall over. He yells something. Freak…Try again..Knock…but I can’t make out these words. I can’t understand them. My head is under water. Sound is muted down here. I am swimming fast. I am a shark. As two bodies now run past me, run into me, there is the sound of laughter. My roots were not deep enough. My face is burning hot against the floor of the beach. My hands push my body up and I taste sand in my mouth. It’s rough in my mouth now. Like my legs, my arms, my chest. I feel a kick to my side, but it is nothing to me. I am strong. My skin is tough. I feel nothing. I am a shark.


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