Research Paper Proposal:
For my research paper I would like to focus on something to do with the holiday’s and how more often than not, families are spending more time on the couch watching foodball than they are spending in the kitchen. While mothers and grandmothers used to spend days preparing for Thanksgiving dinner this generation spends less time in the kitchen and more time on the couch in front of the TV watching foorball or the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade. I would like to make some points about how now that we are either cooking our food the easy way in the crock pot or even worse, ordering those party size lasagna platters from Riccardi’s (which are indeed delicious) we are taking precious family time away from workers that have no choice but to open their restaurant up on a holiday in order to fill all of those holiday orders in time.
Final Draft of my Ethnography
I live with my room mate and her daughter as well as my boyfriend, Jun. For my ethnography I decided to go with my boyfriend to his mothers house to have dinner. My boyfriend is 100% Puerto Rican, so obviously that makes his mother the same, both of them have Spanish as their first language. Being more than 75% Portuguese and having that as my first language, I’m able to pick up some of what they’re talking about if I’m paying attention. His mother came here to the United States with her sons and daughters when my boyfriend was only 9 years old. He was taken away from everything he knew as a culture and placed in a totally different environment. That means that everything changed, from the food he ate at a restaurant to the school he went to, and everything else you can think of.
I noticed that most of the Spanish food that they like to eat is fried. I’m sure that’t not the healthiest way to cook but that’s what they favor. I’m just thankful I’m not a Vegan like my little sister who would probably vomit at the thought of some of the things I’ve eaten at my boyfriends Mother’s house. This particular night, his Mother was making Pastelitos. Which she described to me as a Spanish Empanada, she used seasoned ground beef to stuff the Pastelitos and made a delicious side of rice with some brown beans mixed in. Typical Spanish dinner. I also noticed that she used a generous amount of salt when she was cooking both the rice and the Pastelitos. I love her cooking, but thankfully we only have dinner at her house every once in a while, otherwise I’m sure my death would be caused by high cholesterol.
Not only were her cooking habits significantly different from the ones I had watched my Mother use when I was a child, she also even ate differently. The whole time we were sitting down at dinner she was just trying to make sure that everyone else was happy, it seems she is always thinking about herself last, she even was sitting there making sure that I was satisfied before herself. Her husband, her son (my boyfriend), her grandson, and myself, she made sure we were all sitting down and eating happily before she even made herself a plate. We talked about how her husbands day at work was, how one of his friends from work was selling a really cool (and expensive) fish that he wanted to buy for his fish tank, which has apparently been his pride and joy since Jun was a teenager. It seemed to me like that was his way of asking her permission to buy the fish from his friend without ACTUALLY asking if he could buy the fish because lord knows what that would do to a mans ego. We moved on to how her sons day at work was, this particular day he was working in the Barber Shop and how he got into a little argument with a customer who said he wanted his hair cut one way but when he saw how it looked on him he was unhappy and didn’t want to pay. Jun said that he was trying to be lenient with the kid because he knew him, but he was also mad that he didn’t want to pay him because it wasn’t like he gave him a bad haircut, the kid just didn’t like how the haircut looked on him. We then talked about how my day at school was, which was uneventful and then how her grandsons day at day care was, he’s 3 and Jun’s Mother is his primary caregiver, Jun’s sister had him at the age of 17 and really wasn’t ready to have a child, she had no job or car and her boyfriend was even worse than her, he was cheating on her and refused to step up to the plate even financially for his son. I’m not one to judge people but thank God Jun’s Mother was there to pick up the slack of her irresponsible child who was clearly not ready to bring a child into the world. I think if it wasn’t for her, I don’t know where that kid would be. All I know is that if I were to get pregnant at that age, my Mother would have LITERALLY killed me herself.
I’m not sure how she managed to finish eating before everyone else when in fact, she served everyone their plates and then sat down after we had already started eating, but by the time we were done she was already washing her plate in the sink and just waiting to take everyone else’s plate from them the very second they took their last bite.
She was very eager to clean up after we were done eating, I noticed that her husband did not offer to help her clean up, which is something my boyfriend would never do to me. He is always very helpful with me when it comes to helping around the house, most men when you ask them to vacuum the floor they will put it off long enough that you get so annoyed by asking them so many times that you settle for doing it yourself, he is the total opposite. He will already be half way done vacuuming the floor when I get up to ask him to do it. He is more than helpful. His step dad finished eating and went straight into the living room to turn on the television, and she didn’t even say anything. My boyfriend would have never heard the end of that!
Food brings families together, I believe that families should eat dinner together and families that DO eat together have stronger bonds with each other. Dinner time is a time to sit down and catch up with your family and hear about what everyone did that day. I was always taught that dinner time was very important for families to spend together and it seems like it is that way in most other cultures also. I learned that even when observing other cultures that appear to be very different are actually much more similar than you would think.
Peer Review: Ariel’s Ethnography Comments
I agree with Holly, that I would like to see more specifics in this… WHAT was different about their style and the way that they perceive things, are there any specific occasions that you can recall where you were really like “WOW, this is just not the way that I was raised.” or “Their perception on this situation is so skewed that I can’t even begin to talk about it.” I think more specifics are necessary. I like how you broke it down into sections, its a different approach, but it works well, it really shows what points you are trying to make and about what those points pertain to. I too have a boyfriend who’s from another country and its funny to me that you mentioned gambling because I wouldn’t say that I’m against gambling but hey, I work hard for the money I have and I hate the feeling of putting it up at stake just because there’s a slim chance that I could possibly make a little extra money off of it. My boyfriends family on the other hand does not feel that way at all, I’m pretty sure his mother has been living barely above minimum wage for most of the time that she’s lived in the US and she LOVES to go gamble. I think their mind set is more “well, either way I’m struggling to make ends meet, so I may as well spend my money on a chance to win the lottery or gambling until I hit the jackpot.”
I think it would be useful to explain how you grew up and how this lifestyle is different to you and from the way that you were raised. I wouldn’t go too much into depth but I would definitely explain a little more why your biological mother feels the way she does because I see a lot of similarities between us and if I’m correct your mother just feels like “Oh, my daughter is too good for that, and she can do so much better for herself.” Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s how my mother is a lot of the time and you just want her to understand that she should just be happy that you’re happy instead of always wanting better for you.
In the first line of the second paragraph you said “from not having a decent childhood, they rely on other people and things to hand them that childhood” I found that worded a little weird and I had to read it a few times to sort-of understand what you meant. Besides that your wording was ok throughout the essay. The only thing I would suggest for your final draft is to maybe revising the “style” paragraph a little, I think every family is sort of like that and it doesn’t really prove the significance of what you’re trying to prove. Also, in that paragraph, you don’t go at all into detail about your boyfriends family’s style, which if they are the ones you were observing, there should be more in that paragraph about them than there is about your own family. At times throughout the essay its hard to tell who’s family you are talking about, maybe in your final draft refer to one as my family and the other as HIS family, otherwise I fell the reader is going to be confused (as I was).
Overall nice start.
Ethnography Rough Draft
I live with my room mate and her daughter as well as my boyfriend, Jun. For my ethnography I decided to go with my boyfriend to his mothers house to have dinner. My boyfriend is 100% Puerto Rican so obviously that makes his mother the same, both of them have Spanish as their first language. She came here to the United States with her sons and daughters when my boyfriend was only 9 years old. He was taken away from everything he knew as a culture and placed in a totally different environment. That means that everything changed, from the food he ate at a restaurant to the school he went to.
I noticed that most of the Spanish food that they like to eat is fried. I’m sure that’t not the healthiest way to cook but that’s what they favor. She was making Pastelitos. Which she described to me as a Spanish Empanada, she used seasoned ground beef to stuff the Pastelitos and made a delicious side of rice with some brown beans mixed in. I also noticed that she used a generous amount of salt when she was cooking both the rice and the Pastelitos.
Not only were her cooking habits significantly different from the ones I had watched my Mother use when I was a child she also even ate differently. The whole time we were sitting down of dinner she was just trying to make sure that everyone else was happy, her husband, her son (my boyfriend), her grandson, and myself. We talked about how her husbands day at work was, how her sons day at work was, how my day at school was and how her grandsons day at day care was. I’m not sure how she managed to finish eating before everyone else when in fact, she served everyone their plates and then sat down after we had already started eating, but by the time we were done she was already washing her plate in the sink and just waiting to take everyone else’s plate from them the very second they took their last bite.
She was very eager to clean up after we were done eating, I noticed that her husband did not offer to help her clean up, which is something my boyfriend would never do to me. He is always very helpful with me when it comes to helping around the house, most men when you ask them to vacuum the floor they will put it off long enough that you get so annoyed by asking them so many times that you settle for doing it yourself, he is the total opposite. He will already be half way done vacuuming the floor when I get up to ask him to do it. He is more than helpful.
Food brings families together, I believe that families should eat dinner together and families that DO eat together have stronger bonds with each other. Dinner time is a time to sit down and catch up with your family and hear about what everyone did that day. I was always taught that dinner time was very important for families to spend together and it seems like it is that way in most other cultures also. I learned that even when observing other cultures that appear to be very different are actually much more similar than you would think.
Scene vs. Summary Article: Sample Writing Piece
She sat in the back of the classroom with her face buried in her hands while she struggled to think of what she would write about. She could feel her hands becoming clammy, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead, as she went to wipe it, she was startled by a hand on her shoulder, her english teacher. “How are you coming along, Demi? You look like you’re having some trouble.” She muttered back to her, “I’m just frustrated with myself, I thought this would be an easy essay to accomplish, so I didn’t think I needed to put much thought into it.” Her teacher didn’t look disappointed, rather concerned, and willing to help out. “Don’t worry, thats what I’m here for.” The teacher looked around for her pencil, scanning the desktops of students whom she had just visited before she patted her own head only to find it tucked behind her ear. “Now, lets make a list of a few options for you.”
(I’ll stop there before I write a boring novel about whatever I’ve started here)
Classwork: Thursday February 25
Classwork Thursday Feb 25, 2016 – 3 Summaries
Protect and Restore Animal Habitats by Reed Noss
Unless there is a large reduction in the human footprint many species will go extinct within the next few decades. “Many zoos already contribute to habitat conservation, but the scale of these efforts must be expanded.”
The Homework Parent Trap by Alfie Kohn
“No study has ever supported that homework contributes to independence, responsibility or good work habits.” The author makes a good point when he says after spending a full day at school it is counterproductive to have students working a “second shift” doing homework, it gives them less time for pleasurable activities and it diminishes their interest in learning.
Just Wash Your Hands by Kim Amer
“Observations in hospitals have revealed that before patient contact doctors wash their hands only about 75 percent of the time” As a Mom, the author admits that she doesn’t have time to keep her home immaculate, but it is still a priority to keep kids healthy more than it is to keep everything around them clean, so we must teach everyone how important it is to wash their hands.
Exercise: Making your Words Visable
- My hometown was a wonderful (or choose your own adjective) place to grow up.
- Laci had a rather eccentric style.
- Mr. Brown is the worst teacher I’ve ever had.
- The room seemed very institutional (or choose your own adjective).
Instead:
My hometown was a small and peaceful place by the ocean.
Laci was one of those kids who had no problem leaving the house in July wearing a full-blown Halloween costume simply because she felt like it.
Mr. Brown was a teacher that spent the entire duration of the class pacing across the room while reading straight from the text book.
The room was very dark and gloomy, you could almost feel how much everyone didn’t want to be there.
A Food Memoir: The Final Draft
I work for an mid-sized engineering firm in Marion, Massachusetts. Just about every semester we will hire a civil engineering student to participate in our internship program. This particular semester we had a kid that was in his Sophomore year at UMASS Dartmouth, Andrew Cameron. He was a heavy-stock kid, with that stick up straight dirty blonde hair, freckles and glasses. He would come into work every day looking like all he did was wipe the crust out of his eyes, throw on the same pair of pants he had on yesterday and look through a pile of unfolded laundry to find a shirt, and the shirt never matched, he must have been searching in the dark. This kid was a mess, I mean a real mess. You would think wearing the same pants every day, “they must fit well, huh?” Not even! This kids ankle bones were always sticking out. He was always eating something. You guessed it, this is where it gets good, we had so many stories about this kid involving food.
Now, we eat lunch together every day at work, so its no secret that my boss Stefanie is just about the pickiest person on the planet when it comes to food, she could make a ham and cheese sandwich complicated, that says something. Stef is a skinny pickle with not only a small appetite, shes also got little to no room for trying new things. Shes a little stuck on boring, she comes to work every day with the same over-dressed flow-ey pants on and boring black high heels, with her never-in-her-life-dyed hair straightened pin straight and messy eyeliner. Shes the type that doesn’t like to eat anything beyond chicken fingers and a bland steak every once in a blue moon. Not only is she super picky, shes just got that personality that, if you like to eat something that she doesn’t like to eat, she will sit there and make comments and faces about what you are eating so that you feel like you are the only weirdo on the planet that can stomach the taste of a salad dressing other than plain old ranch.
So, one day we’re eating lunch and the phone rings, nothing unusual. But, this day the phone rang and it was something urgent, the big boss out in California was having an emergency. This guy can turn anything into an emergency, so of course, there have been a few of those calls over the last four years that I’ve worked for this company. I don’t remember what it was this day, but I do remember that Stefanie practically stopped mid-bite, packed up her cheese pizza (light on the cheese, and cooked well done, but not burnt) and apparently ran it into the kitchen to leave it on top of the toaster oven before running back down the hall to her office. She’s a bit of an enabler if you ask me, the guy probably needed a ride from whatever airport.
As if we don’t eat lunch late enough in the day already, I finally heard the screeching hinges of her office door opening almost forty-five minutes later. I looked at the clock and it was just passed two o’clock. I could practically hear the funky attitude she was about to be stuck in for the rest of the day when she walked down the hall towards my desk. “Oh great,” I thought, as the sound of her heels approached my desk, she always manages to put me in the center of her bad mood. But she kept walking, she turned into the kitchen and I thought I was safe. But, just as quickly as she walked into the kitchen she came back out, she walked over to my desk with her open box of pizza in hand and a look on her face that could kill. I wasn’t sure if I should be worried about what was about to come out of her mouth because I was sure I couldn’t think of anything wrong I had done all day long. She looked at me and said, “are you fucking kidding me, who has been in the kitchen since lunch?” I looked at her, confused. I said, “Um, I’m not sure, I’ve been in the other room for most of the time making plan copies. Why? Whats the matter?” She looked down at her pizza box, lid open, and sort of nudged it toward me as if I should be able to read her mind. Looked like a normal slice of pizza to me. Then, it dawned on me. “Didn’t she eat about one bite of a piece of pizza when Carey called?” I thought to myself. I was about as pissed as she was about this because I knew she was about to send me back across town to get her something new to eat. I said, “You have GOT to be kidding me. Why don’t you just walk around the office and see who is eating pizza? And if that doesn’t work, just ask everyone who ate the pizza that was on top of the toaster oven?”
She stormed off into the main area of the office and yelled “WHO ATE THIS PIZZA!?” as she held the practically empty box of pizza up over her head. I was worried for my co-workers, I was worried for whoever ate that damn pizza. Not a peep out of anyone for a minute, then, Andrew looked up and wiped his mouth, “Uh, the one that was on top of the toaster oven?” As if he didn’t know that was the only pizza she could possibly be talking about, as if pizzas just appear out of no where. She looked at him for a minute, waiting for something. Obviously, for him to at least come up with an excuse as to why he just ate someone else’s lunch, but nothing. He looked down, waiting for the repercussions of his actions, but when Stefanie didn’t say anything for a minute, he looked back up at her and muttered “Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours.” She stormed off back over to my desk, “Can you go get another pizza for me?” I wanted to roll my eyes right in her face but I somehow managed to refrain. She can be very entitled at times, but since we are a very close-knit work family I sucked it up that I had to get up and leave again after I just sat back down at my desk and did her the favor.
A lot of people have their closest relationships at their home, outside of work simply because that’s where your family is and that’s also where they spend most of their time. But, when you spend 45 hours a week cooped up in a small office setting with only about 10 – 15 other people at a time, you begin to have closer work relationships than family relationships. I myself have been on my own in my own house for about 7 years, so it has been a while since I have been able to see my parents on a daily basis. My Dad lives in Dartmouth so he is not too far from my apartment in New Bedford, while my Mom, on the other hand lives in San Mateo, California. Most people I know with family situations like mine will become closer with their siblings when they don’t have much family to have close relationships with, but since my only sister lives at UMASS Amherst and I work full time as well as go to school full time, I don’t get much time to visit her. I guess even though most of us would rather be doing anything besides being at work, that is where most of our time is spent, and relationships are established (maybe even involuntarily). Being with the same group of people over the last 4 years every day you start to become a family and although we are not exactly a real family, it’s kind of nice to be able to leave your “family problems” at work most of the time and go home to a happy house.
My Memoir: Rough Draft
To be honest, I was really worrying about this essay and I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to write about that was based on the “Food” topic. Yesterday at work, I was discussing it with some of my coworkers and I mentioned that I was a bit stumped. Then, it dawned on me. Well, not exactly, it was really Jane that refreshed my memory.
I work for an mid-sized engineering firm in Marion, Massachusetts. Just about every semester we will hire a civil engineering student to participate in our internship program. This particular semester we had a kid that was in his Sophomore year at UMASS Dartmouth, Andrew Cameron. He was a heavy-stock kid, with that stick up straight dirty blonde hair, freckles and glasses. He would come into work every day looking like all he did was wipe the crust out of his eyes, throw on the same pair of pants he had on yesterday and look through a pile of unfolded laundry to find a shirt, and the shirt never matched, he must have been searching in the dark. This kid was a mess, I mean a real mess. You would think wearing the same pants every day, “they must fit well, huh?” Not even! This kids ankle bones were always sticking out. He was always eating something. You guessed it, this is where it gets good, we had so many stories about this kid involving food.
Now, we eat lunch together every day at work, so its no secret that my boss Stefanie is just about the pickiest person on the planet when it comes to food, she could make a ham and cheese sandwich complicated, that says something. So, one day we’re eating lunch and the phone rings, nothing unusual. But, this day the phone rang and it was something urgent, the big boss out in California was having an emergency. This guy can turn anything into an emergency, so of course, there have been a few of those calls over the last four years that I’ve worked for this company. I don’t remember what it was this day, but I do remember that Stefanie practically stopped mid-bite, packed up her cheese pizza (light on the cheese, and cooked well done, but not burnt) and apparently ran it into the kitchen to leave it on top of the toaster oven before running back down the hall to her office. She’s a bit of an enabler if you ask me, the guy probably needed a ride from whatever airport.
As if we don’t eat lunch late enough in the day already, I finally heard the screeching hinges of her office door opening almost forty-five minutes later. I looked at the clock and it was just passed two o’clock. I could practically hear the funky attitude she was about to be stuck in for the rest of the day when she walked down the hall towards my desk. “Oh great,” I thought, as the sound of her heels approached my desk, she always manages to put me in the center of her bad mood. But she kept walking, she turned into the kitchen and I thought I was safe. But, just as quickly as she walked into the kitchen she came back out, she walked over to my desk with her open box of pizza in hand and a look on her face that could kill. I wasn’t sure if I should be worried about what was about to come out of her mouth because I was sure I couldn’t think of anything wrong I had done all day long. She looked at me and said, “are you fucking kidding me, who has been in the kitchen since lunch?” I looked at her, confused. I said, “Um, I’m not sure, I’ve been in the other room for most of the time making plan copies. Why? Whats the matter?” She looked down at her pizza box, lid open, and sort of nudged it toward me as if I should be able to read her mind. Looked like a normal slice of pizza to me. Then, it dawned on me. “Didn’t she eat about one bite of a piece of pizza when Carey called?” I thought to myself. I was about as pissed as she was about this because I knew she was about to send me back across town to get her something new to eat. I said, “You have GOT to be kidding me. Why don’t you just walk around the office and see who is eating pizza? And if that doesn’t work, just ask everyone who ate the pizza that was on top of the toaster oven?” She stormed off into the main area of the office and yelled “WHO ATE THIS PIZZA!?” as she held the practically empty box of pizza up over her head. I was worried for my co-workers, I was worried for whoever ate that damn pizza. Not a peep out of anyone for a minute, then, Andrew looked up and wiped his mouth, “Uh, the one that was on top of the toaster oven?” As if he didn’t know that was the only pizza she could possibly be talking about, as if pizzas just appear out of no where. She looked at him for a minute, waiting for something. Obviously, for him to at least come up with an excuse as to why he just ate someone else’s lunch, but nothing. He looked down, waiting for the repercussion of his actions, but when Stefanie didn’t say anything for a minute, he looked back up at her and muttered “Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours.” She stormed off back over to my desk, “Can you go get another pizza for me?”
Classwork: Feb-9
- My hometown was a peaceful town to grow up. Children could play in the middle of the street with their neighbors kids until the sun went down or it was time for dinner.
- Laci had a rather bizarre style.
- Mr. Cotter was the absolute worst teacher, he mostly handed out classwork and didn’t say more than two words during the entire 1 hour and 15 minute class.
- The room seemed very established.