B. Directions: reading the poem in Activity A, read the following poem by the same author and answer the questions. Girl,” by Julia Alvarez “All-American I wanted stockings, makeup, store-bought clothes; repressing a native fluency I wanted to look like an American girl; for the cooler mask of English ironies. to my English so you couldn't tell I wanted the world and words to match again I'd come from somewhere else. I locked myself 20 as when I had lived solely in Spanish. 5 in the bathroom, trying to match my face with words in my new language: grimace, leer, But my face wouldn't obey-like a tide disgust, disdain-feelings I had yet to feel it was pulled back by my lunatic in English. (And would tristeza even feel to its old habits of showing feelings. the same as sadness with its Saxon sound? Long after I'd lost my heavy accent, 10 Would pity look as soulful as piedad?) 25 my face showed I had come from somewhere else. I couldn't keep the southern continent I didn't know if I could ever show out of the northern vista of my eyes, genuine feeling in a borrowed tongue. or cut my cara off to my face. If cortesía be misunderstood I couldn't look like anybody else as brown-nosing or cries of alegría 30 but who I was: an all-American girl. translate as terror. So, mirror in hand, 15 I practiced foreign faces, Anglo grins,
B. Directions: reading the poem in Activity A, read the following poem by the same author and answer the questions. “All-American Girl,” by Julia Alvarez I wanted stockings, makeup, store-bought clothes; I wanted to look like an American girl; to my English so you couldn't tell I'd come from somewhere else. I locked myself 5 in the bathroom, trying to match my face with words in my new language: grimace, leer, disgust, disdain-feelings I had yet to feel in English. (And would tristeza even feel the same as sadness with its Saxon sound? 10 Would pity look as soulful as piedad?) I didn't know if I could ever show genuine feeling in a borrowed tongue. If cortesía be misunderstood as brown-nosing or cries of alegría translate as terror. So, mirror in hand, 15 I practiced foreign faces, Anglo grins, repressing a native fluency for the cooler mask of English ironies. I wanted the world and words to match again 20 as when I had lived solely in Spanish. But my face wouldn't obey-like a tide it was pulled back by my lunatic to its old habits of showing feelings. Long after I'd lost my heavy accent, 25 my face showed I had come from somewhere else. I couldn't keep the southern continent out of the northern vista of my eyes, or cut my cara off to my face. I couldn't look like anybody else 30 but who I was: an all-American girl.
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