Question
(1) Mom always had after-school projects waiting for me. "Can you help decorate cookies?" she'd say. Or, "Go outside and pick some flowers." Or, "Fix my nails, please." She loved to paint them, but since she wasn't coordinated with her left hand, her right-hand nails looked like a preschooler's coloring page.
(2) I guess these projects were chores, but they were fun, too. Now when I come home, I've got to sweep, fold towels, or scrub the bathroom sink. Dad helps, but sometimes he makes a big mess.
(3) Like today. He's got flour, potato skins, and crumpled napkins on the counter. The pot boils over with brown scum. And I don't want to talk to him because I'm still mad about the volleyball game, but I have to know what he's up to.
(4) "What are you doing, Dad?"
(5) "Making dinner. Thought I'd give you a break."
(6) Except for game nights, dinner's my responsibility. I cook while Dad cleans—that's our rule. And even though I don't cook as well as Mom did, Dad never complains.
(7) "What are you going to make?" I ask.
(8) "Came guisada and papas fritas."
(9) "You need a recipe for that?"
(10) "Are you kidding? I need a recipe for peanut butter sandwiches."
(11) How mad can a girl be at a man who makes fun of himself and wears a green frog apron that says KISS THE COOK and tube socks over his hands for potholders?
(12) We clear space on the table. Dinner's served. The beef's tough and the papas are mushy, but who cares? I pretend it's delicious because my dad lets me blabber about the Halloween carnival. He laughs out loud when I describe Vanessa's potato baby and Ms. Cantu's creative cascarones,1 so I don't complain when I notice he served ranch-style beans straight from the can instead of heating them up first.
(13) Everything's great until he asks about my English class.
(14) "Any new vocabulary words?" he wants to know.
(15) "I guess. Maybe. Super . . . super . . . super something. Can't remember."
(16) "Was it supersede?" he asks. "Supercilious? Superfluous?"
(17) "I don't remember, Dad. It could have been super-duper or super-loop for all I care."
(18) He gets sarcasm from his students all the time so he's good at ignoring it.
(19) "Remember that super is a prefix that means 'above and beyond,'" he says. "So no matter what the word is, you can get its meaning if you take it apart."
(20) "Okay, Dad. I get it. So did I tell you we're having a book sale for our next fundraiser?"
(21) "What else are you doing in English?" he asks. "Reading any novels?"
(22) I sigh, bored, but he doesn't get the hint. He just waits for my answer. "Yes," I finally say. "I don't remember the title, but it's got a rabbit on the cover."
(23) "Is it Watership Down? It's got to be Watership Down."
(24) "Yes, that's it. But I left it in my locker. I guess I can't do my homework."
(25) "Nonsense. I've got a copy somewhere. Let me look."
(26) He leaves the table to scan the bookshelves, and all of the sudden, I care about the tough beef, the mushy potatoes, and the cold beans. Why should I eat when my own father has abandoned his food? Nothing's more important than his books and vocabulary words. He might say I matter, but when he goes on a scavenger hunt for a book, I realize that I really don't.
(27) I take my plate to the kitchen, grab my half-finished soda, and head to my room. When I walk past him, he's kneeling to search the lower shelves. He's got a paper towel and wipes it lovingly over the titles as if polishing a sports car. He doesn't hear my angry, stomping footsteps. I catch the last part of his sentence.
(28) ". . . a classic epic journey," he says as if he were in class with a bunch of students. I can't stand it. I just can't stand it. I'd rather have Vanessa's crazy mom.
(29) Later, just as I write I love Luis for the three-hundredth time, my dad peeks through my bedroom door.
(30) "Found my copy of Watership Down," he says, handing me a paperback whose spine's been taped a dozen times. "How far do you have to read tonight?"
(31) "The first four chapters," I say.
(32) "That's a lot. You better get busy."
(33) "Sure, Dad. I'll start reading right away."
(34) But I don't. As soon as he leaves, I put the book on my nightstand and use it as a coaster. The condensation from my soda makes a big, wet circle on the cover.
1cascarones—hollow eggs filled with confetti or toys
From CONFETTI GIRL by Diana Lopez. Copyright © 2009 by Diana Lopez. By permission of Little, Brown, and Company
In the passages from Confetti Girl and Tortilla Sun, the narrators have points of view different from those of their parents. Write an essay analyzing how these differences in points of view create tension in both stories. Remember to use details from both texts to support your ideas.
Answers
GPT-4o mini
In both *Confetti Girl* by Diana Lopez and *Tortilla Sun* by Jennifer Cervantes, the narrators exhibit distinct points of view that highlight the generational and experiential gaps between them and their parents. This disconnection creates tension that drives the narrative and shapes the characters’ relationships. Through their unique perspectives, both narrators grapple with love, frustration, and the search for identity, revealing how differing values and understandings can lead to conflict and, ultimately, growth.
In *Confetti Girl*, the narrator, a teenage girl, experiences a range of emotions toward her father, from annoyance to longing. The tension arises from her perspective that sees her father as somewhat inept, particularly in the kitchen where he attempts to take over dinner responsibilities. Despite his good intentions, his culinary skills fail to impress her, evidenced by her sarcastic remark, “Are you kidding? I need a recipe for peanut butter sandwiches.” This humor illustrates her frustration but also her recognition of his vulnerabilities. The father, on the other hand, approaches the situation with optimism and a desire to bond, believing that making dinner will lighten his daughter's load. His continual prodding about her schoolwork, asking about vocabulary and the book she’s reading, emphasizes his enthusiasm for her education, which feels burdensome to her. This disparity in their viewpoints creates a rift; while he seeks connection through intellectual engagement, she perceives it as an intrusion into her autonomy, leading her to retreat further into her world.
Similarly, in *Tortilla Sun*, the narrator navigates her experiences with her mother, who carries the weight of cultural expectations and familial duty. The narrator's youthful perspective contrasts sharply with her mother’s established identity shaped by tradition. The tension between them manifests in the narrator's desire for independence and her mother's insistence on familial ties and responsibilities. The narrator often feels misunderstood as she grapples with fitting into her cultural heritage while also forging her own path. This familial disconnect is illustrated when the mother tries to impart wisdom or guidance, which the narrator often views as restrictive rather than supportive.
Both texts underscore the complexity of parental relationships, marked by love but also by inevitable misunderstandings. The narrators, seeking autonomy and self-definition, perceive their parents' actions through a lens of frustration and conflict. For example, the teenage girl in *Confetti Girl* feels abandoned when her father prioritizes his search for her book over their dinner, leading her to think, “I realize that I really don’t.” This moment captures her internal struggle between a desire for connection and a feeling of neglect. In *Tortilla Sun*, the narrator's tension with her mother is palpable during moments when she tries to assert her individuality, leading to feelings of being stifled rather than loved.
The differing points of view in both stories also illuminate broader themes of growth and acceptance. The narrators’ frustrations often catalyze deeper reflections on their relationships and themselves. The father in *Confetti Girl* learns through his daughter's responses that his approach may not be what she needs, while the narrator in *Tortilla Sun* slowly realizes the value in her mother’s insistence on tradition and heritage, despite her initial resistance. This growth is critical; as tensions rise from their misunderstandings, the characters ultimately move towards a more nuanced understanding of each other.
In conclusion, the differing perspectives of the narrators in *Confetti Girl* and *Tortilla Sun* create tension that drives their stories forward, highlighting the complexities of adolescent-parent relationships. Both writers skillfully illustrate how these tensions are not just sources of conflict but also catalysts for personal growth and deeper understanding, allowing the narrators to navigate their identities while maintaining their connections with their parents. The emotional journey is rich with humor, frustration, and ultimately, a sense of reconciliation, illustrating the challenges and rewards of navigating familial love in the face of generational differences.
In *Confetti Girl*, the narrator, a teenage girl, experiences a range of emotions toward her father, from annoyance to longing. The tension arises from her perspective that sees her father as somewhat inept, particularly in the kitchen where he attempts to take over dinner responsibilities. Despite his good intentions, his culinary skills fail to impress her, evidenced by her sarcastic remark, “Are you kidding? I need a recipe for peanut butter sandwiches.” This humor illustrates her frustration but also her recognition of his vulnerabilities. The father, on the other hand, approaches the situation with optimism and a desire to bond, believing that making dinner will lighten his daughter's load. His continual prodding about her schoolwork, asking about vocabulary and the book she’s reading, emphasizes his enthusiasm for her education, which feels burdensome to her. This disparity in their viewpoints creates a rift; while he seeks connection through intellectual engagement, she perceives it as an intrusion into her autonomy, leading her to retreat further into her world.
Similarly, in *Tortilla Sun*, the narrator navigates her experiences with her mother, who carries the weight of cultural expectations and familial duty. The narrator's youthful perspective contrasts sharply with her mother’s established identity shaped by tradition. The tension between them manifests in the narrator's desire for independence and her mother's insistence on familial ties and responsibilities. The narrator often feels misunderstood as she grapples with fitting into her cultural heritage while also forging her own path. This familial disconnect is illustrated when the mother tries to impart wisdom or guidance, which the narrator often views as restrictive rather than supportive.
Both texts underscore the complexity of parental relationships, marked by love but also by inevitable misunderstandings. The narrators, seeking autonomy and self-definition, perceive their parents' actions through a lens of frustration and conflict. For example, the teenage girl in *Confetti Girl* feels abandoned when her father prioritizes his search for her book over their dinner, leading her to think, “I realize that I really don’t.” This moment captures her internal struggle between a desire for connection and a feeling of neglect. In *Tortilla Sun*, the narrator's tension with her mother is palpable during moments when she tries to assert her individuality, leading to feelings of being stifled rather than loved.
The differing points of view in both stories also illuminate broader themes of growth and acceptance. The narrators’ frustrations often catalyze deeper reflections on their relationships and themselves. The father in *Confetti Girl* learns through his daughter's responses that his approach may not be what she needs, while the narrator in *Tortilla Sun* slowly realizes the value in her mother’s insistence on tradition and heritage, despite her initial resistance. This growth is critical; as tensions rise from their misunderstandings, the characters ultimately move towards a more nuanced understanding of each other.
In conclusion, the differing perspectives of the narrators in *Confetti Girl* and *Tortilla Sun* create tension that drives their stories forward, highlighting the complexities of adolescent-parent relationships. Both writers skillfully illustrate how these tensions are not just sources of conflict but also catalysts for personal growth and deeper understanding, allowing the narrators to navigate their identities while maintaining their connections with their parents. The emotional journey is rich with humor, frustration, and ultimately, a sense of reconciliation, illustrating the challenges and rewards of navigating familial love in the face of generational differences.