Choose a poem in Chapter 12 or in the Exploring Gender album. Prompt: Write an essay in which you show how and why the speaker experiences a conflict between particular ways of looking or being. Also look at how the speaker's attitude toward, or thoughts about, something or how our vision of the speaker's character changes over the course of a poem. Be sure to clearly identify the speaker's conflict and what changed during the poem. Your postings will be reviewed according to the following criteria: Writing well-developed paragraphs relevant to the prompt(s) (minimum 300 words). Be sure that your thesis is explicit and supported with one to two quotations from the literature. Do not write in first or second person. Replying to two of your classmates with meaningful responses with a minimum of 30 words (do not simply write "I agree. I like what you've written.") Following the rules of Standard English. Please proofread your writing before clicking the ‘submit’ button! When you include a quotation from the literature in your mini-essay, please place an in-text citation (also called a parenthetical citation) immediately after you close the quotation marks and before you place a period at the end of your sentence. That way, anyone in the class (including me!) can easily find the quotation in the literature if necessary. If you're not sure what to place inside the parentheses, there is instruction in the textbook in Chapter 34- Quotation, Citation, and Documentation. When you include in-text citations, there must be a Works Cited listing at the bottom of your post. Be sure to follow the "Quote Sandwich" when you insert quotations. The Changeling” by Judith Ortiz Cofer Judith Ortiz Cofer was born in Puerto Rico in 1952. As a child, she only spoke Spanish. She moved to the United States as a child and has spent much time in Georgia. She is a poet, novelist and essayist. Her primary focus is Hispanic American culture. She is best known for her creative non-fiction. The Changeling As a young girl vying for my father's attention, I invented a game that made him look up from his reading and shake his head as if both baffled and amused. In my brother's closet, I'd change into his dungarees -- the rough material molding me into boy shape; hide my long hair under an army helmet he'd been given by Father, and emerge transformed into the legendary Ché of grown-up talk. Strutting around the room, I'd tell of life in the mountains, of carnage and rivers of blood, and of manly feasts with rum and music to celebrate victories para la libertad. He would listen with a smile to my tales of battles and brotherhood until Mother called us to dinner. She was not amused by my transformations, sternly forbidding me from sitting down with them as a man. She'd order me back to the dark cubicle that smelled of adventure, to shed my costume, to braid my hair furiously with blind hands, and to return invisible, as m.