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      <title>List ONE of your writing style examples- DO NOT identify what the writing style is by Jessica Picciano</title>
      <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n</link>
      <description></description>
      <language>en-us</language>
      <pubDate>2017-12-14 13:07:29 UTC</pubDate>
      <lastBuildDate>2017-12-14 18:37:49 UTC</lastBuildDate>
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      <item>
         <title>Alex</title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275536</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>In Hatchet, it describes towards the middle about some of the challenges that Brian faced while staying in the forest.</div>]]></description>
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         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:24:50 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275536</guid>
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         <title>Emily Rodriguez</title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275582</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>Sometimes at recess, I stand by the mural wall. I like the people painted there. One girl is my favorite because my mom painted her 20 years ago. The paint is fading and flaking off this mural, so it is going to be replaced. Jones Elementary is having a new mural contest, and every student should get involved.&nbsp;</div><div>The first reason kids should help out is that the mural represents Jones Elementary. Students will decide what kind of picture they want. Then they can draw pictures and enter them in the contest. The artist hired by the school will choose pictures that tell the city something about us. Also, kids need to help because the new mural is going to take a lot of work. The artist can’t do it all alone. She needs a whole crew of kids to help paint the new mural. Some kids can help after school. Other kids can help on Saturdays. If everyone helps, the mural will get done quickly. The most important reason to get involved is that this mural is going to be around for 20 years. When we are grown up, we will want to point to the wall and tell which parts we painted. As Mom says, “The mural is part of our history and part of our future.” The mural wall is important to everybody at Jones Elementary, so everybody should enter the mural contest. Start dreaming of a new mural, draw your best ideas, and send them in. Then get ready to put on a painting shirt and help make history!&nbsp;</div><div><br></div>]]></description>
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         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:24:56 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>Evan</title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275689</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>“He was tall and skinny as a rake”  (“Schooled”)</div>]]></description>
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         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:25:07 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275689</guid>
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      <item>
         <title>Gael </title>
         <author>3001622</author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275700</link>
         <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
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         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:25:08 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275700</guid>
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      <item>
         <title>Ashley</title>
         <author>3004173</author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275752</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>“It was a dark and stormy night. In her attic bedroom Margaret Murray, Wrapped in an old patchwork quilt,sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind.” (A wrinkle in time)</div><div><br></div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:25:16 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275752</guid>
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      <item>
         <title>ilianna (who is slowly dying)</title>
         <author>3009941</author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275883</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>Bats can’t see so they use echolocation to find their prey. When they have gotten close enough to grab it, their long claws, or fingers, turn into a shovel looking form. </div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:25:35 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216275883</guid>
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      <item>
         <title>Abbigale </title>
         <author>3005045</author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216276242</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>Brave men of war have faced adversities both physical and mental and risen above them as butter from cream. Chivalry and conquest have carried soldiers from pole to pole and across the seven seas. Hardships of campaign life are legendary, and the iron men these trials created go down in history as examples to all mankind.</div><div>I have faced battle under duress and have learned I am not a brave man. Shell-shock is partially defined as a "psycho neurotic condition akin to hysteria." To this day I am saddled with the memories of the day I was sent to battle in my Grandmother's kitchen. No man should have to endure these conditions. Women can, with impunity, set foot in the estrogenically charged atmosphere of Grandmother's kitchen on Thanksgiving Day; greater men than I, however, have been broken this way. Men of the world take heed, only the insanely brave or exceedingly foolish would choose to accept this near-suicide mission. Counting myself as the latter, I offer my tale as counsel.</div><div>The day was overcast, cold and thoroughly November. I answered the call to arms with the eager sincerity of a private fresh from basic training. My Grandfather wept openly, fearing for my life as I bade him farewell. I entered a young soldier brimming with bravado; I returned a troubled man with bruised ego, clutching hard-won wisdom to my breast.</div><div>The fact that women are vastly better equipped for a culinary tete-a-tete with Grandmother should have been apparent to me after the opening salvo, but I was too green, too new and shiny, to heed.</div><div>"Have you seen your cousin George's new haircut yet, Denny?" asked Granny. Shot number one had been fired, and I did not even hear the air-raid sirens.</div><div>"Yeah, I like it," I answered with none of the suspicion that has dogged me at holidays since my tour of duty.</div><div>"It makes him look like a porcupine," chimed in my Aunt Molly, correctly answering the subtle part of the question and putting any doubts about the spike haircut and its social value to rest.</div><div>"Uncle Dwight's been smoking again," Granny mentioned tersely.</div><div>"I know, I bummed one off of him today already," I said quietly.</div><div>"Well, let me tell you about Dwight's smoking, where it has gotten him, and what will happen to you if , . . ." Granny had launched into a surprise flank attack and caught me off-guard!</div><div>I regained my senses and dove into a foxhole I had dug out of an old mound of flour. Hiding and licking my wounds, I pondered my first lesson of holiday kitchen combat. Men cannot gossip effectively with professionals. It is dirty, it is dangerous, and it hurts. I thought I was well-camoflauged in my foxhole, but Grandma switched on the radar and found me.</div><div>"Melt that butter in the microwave and bring it over here."</div><div>ng, looked at me as if I had been burning bras with the women instead of fighting in futility for the good name of men everywhere.</div><div>I settled back into an easy chair to relate my story. The older men, Grandpa and Dwight, looked on with understanding as they had fought in World War II. Douglas smirked in the corner with all the arrogance of a heavy-handed young man. Dwight handed me a cigar and we settled back for a football game, thankful to a man for my safe return.</div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:26:19 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216276242</guid>
      </item>
      <item>
         <title>Noah</title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216276306</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<ol><li>Food?”&nbsp; Chris inquired, popping out of his seat like a toaster strudel.</li><li>Grandpa lounged on the raft in the middle of the pool like an old battleship.</li><li>If seen from above the factory, the workers would have looked like clock parts.</li><li>The truth was like a bad taste on his tongue.</li><li>The people who still lived in the town were stuck in place like wax statues.</li><li>Cassie talked to her son about girls as though she were giving him tax advice.</li><li>Alan’s jokes were like flat soda to the children, surprisingly unpleasant.</li><li>My mother’s kitchen was like a holy place: you couldn’t wear your shoes, you had to sit there at a certain time, and occasionally we’d pray.</li><li>The bottle rolled off the table like a teardrop.</li><li>The handshake felt like warm laundry.</li><li>She hung her head like a dying flower.</li><li>Arguing with her was like dueling with hand grenades.</li><li>The classroom was as quiet as a tongue-tied librarian in a hybrid car.</li><li>Janie’s boyfriend appreciated her as an ape might appreciate an algebra book.</li><li>The clouds were like ice-cream castles in the sky.</li><li>The shingles on the shack shook in the storm winds like scared children.</li><li>When he reached the top of the hill, he felt as strong as a steel gate.</li><li>When the tree branch broke, Millie fell from the limb like a robin’s egg.</li><li>She swam through the waters like she was falling through a warm dream.</li><li>They children ran like ripples through water.</li><li>Mikhail scattered his pocket change in front of the beggars like crumbs of bread.</li><li>Her hair was as soft as a spider web.</li><li>Each dollar bill was a like a magic wand to cast away problems.</li><li>The man held the blanket like a memory.</li><li>The ice sculptor’s hands fluttered like hummingbird wings.</li><li>I’m about as awesome as a flying giraffe.</li><li>You are soft as the nesting dove.</li><li>Andre charged down the football field like it was the War of 1812.</li><li>The stars looked like stupid little fish.</li><li>Her laughter was like a warm blanket or a familiar song.</li><li>The river flows like a stream of glass</li><li>Blood seeped out of the wound like red teardrops.</li><li>Paul carried his science project to school like he was transporting explosive glass.</li><li>She looked at me like I was speaking in some strange alien tongue.</li><li>The town square was buzzing like a beehive.</li><li>Kelsey followed her dreams like most kids would follow a big sister.</li><li>Kyle looked at the test with a stare as blank as his notebook.</li><li>The robins are as thick today as flakes of snow were yesterday,Yes, please.</li><li>Her eyes are like the eyes of statues.</li><li>The gray moss drapes us like sages.</li><li>The music burst like a bent-up flood.</li><li>The curtains stir as with an ancient pain.</li><li>But now her hands like moonlight brush the keys with velvet grace.</li><li>I flitted like a dizzy moth.</li><li>The flowers were as soft as thoughts of budding love.</li><li>The gray of the sea, and the gray of the sky, / A glimpse of the moon like a half-closed eye.</li><li>Yes, the doors are locked and the ashes are white as the frost.</li><li>A mist about your beauty clings like a thin cloud before a star.</li><li>She went like snow in the springtime on a sunny hill.</li><li>Then I knew those tiny voices, clear as drops of dew.</li></ol><div><br></div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:26:26 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216276306</guid>
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      <item>
         <title>Monica </title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216276435</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>He was tall and as skinny as a rake, with long blond flyaway hair stretched all the way down to the middle of his back. His cloths looked like pajamas- homemade pajamas, and his shoes were something out of a social studies project from the pioneer days. They were sandals made out of corn husks and rustled every time he moved. </div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:26:42 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216276435</guid>
      </item>
      <item>
         <title>Alahni</title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216277944</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>“The rusted seats on the bus were bouncing along the tatted road..."</div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:29:58 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216277944</guid>
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      <item>
         <title>Dimitri Milord</title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216279667</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>I am a balloon that goes up and never comes back</div><div>I am the old shoe that walks away from you<br><br></div><div>I am the shadow that follows you forever<br><br></div><div>I am salt like the snow in winter<br><br></div><div>I am a dream that opens and closes<br><br></div><div>I am the baseball that flies like a bird<br><br></div><div>I am the musical note that plays on the moon<br><br></div><div>I am beneath your feet<br><br></div><div>I am above the stars<br><br></div><div>I am in your soul <br><br></div><div><br></div>]]></description>
         <enclosure url="" />
         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:33:28 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216279667</guid>
      </item>
      <item>
         <title>Noah </title>
         <author></author>
         <link>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216279994</link>
         <description><![CDATA[<div>I was to lazy to delete the other one&nbsp;<br><br><br>This morning at 9am, a school bus collided with a car at the intersection of Jones and Heard streets. There were no injuries on the school bus, but medical personnel performed checks on each student and the driver before those students were transported to their schools. The driver of the car sustained slight, non-life-threatening injuries. He was transported to the local hospital. The accident is still under investigation at this time.</div><div>Advances in science and technology have made the use of "green" energy possible. In places where climate conditions permit, people are able to use solar energy or wind energy for power. Solar energy is the use of sunlight for energy and power. Humans are able to harness the energy of the sun by installing solar panels on their homes or businesses. Humans have also found ways to harness the power of the wind by using wind turbines to capture wind energy. Both of these forms of "green" energy are being used more and more.</div><div>The school science fair was a success again this year! We had 15 teams participating, and they all had amazing projects. Each team consisted of two students who designed a science experiment to test a hypothesis, created a display of their experiment and results, and presented their display to the judges. The winners this year are Sarah Jones and Mark Gordon, who hypothesized that students get into less trouble in the classroom on days when it is sunny outside. The judges were very impressed with their data collection methods, which included asking teachers to share information on how many students earned stars at the end of each day. They correlated this information with their own data about the weather-sunny, cloudy, or rainy.</div>]]></description>
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         <pubDate>2017-12-14 18:34:13 UTC</pubDate>
         <guid>https://padlet.com/jessica_picciano/kg27ysbviz0n/wish/216279994</guid>
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