Memoirs

In class, we learned about memoirs, a type of literary nonfiction. A memoir is a reflective piece about your own life or someone else’s life.  It is based on personal memories of a special person or pet. Though it is based on facts, memoirs are usually literary and poignant, bringing the memories or the positive attributes of the subject alive for the reader. It should have a natural prose style, as if you are sharing stories about a loved one or someone that you admire(d).

This piece will be written for the middle to intermediate grades (3rd-6th grade; you choose the specific level, please). For that reason, it should be multi-paragraph and display more complex sentence structure and word choices. It does not have to be a finished, polished product yet, but it needs to be something that you would be willing to show students as an exemplar to get them started on their own memoirs.

Ther are three memoirs as exemplars. One called My Ofrenda was written for 3rd graders during a unit of study on Día de los Muertos. The memoir about Pumpkin was written after sharing the mentor text, The Tenth Good Thing About Barney by Judith Viorst. Maya was in 4th grade when she wrote her memoir about Booker, her black Lab. Students in previous sections of EDCI 4349 went other directions with memoirs and you can too. I shared two of their memoirs in class (M3b). 

It must be multi-paragraph demonstrating that you intend to teach older elementary students that writers group their ideas together meaningfully in paragraphs.

Memoir Picture Books

Bogacki, T. My First Garden

Carle, E. Flora and Tiger

Creech, S. Fishing in the Air (memoir-ish)

Crews, D. Big Mama’s

Depaola, T. 26 Fairmont Avenue

Erdrich, L. The Range Eternal

Garza, C.L. Family Pictures/Cuadros de familia

—–In My Family/ En mi familia

Gray, L.M. My Mama Had a Dancing Heart

Herrera, J.F. Calling the Doves/ El canto de las palomas

Igus, T. Two Mrs. Gibsons

Jimenez, F. The Christmas Gift (memoir-ish)

Laminack, L. Saturdays and Teacakes

Lasky, K. Before I Was Your Mother

Nickens, B. Walking the Log

Polacco, P. Most all her books!

Rylant, C. Christmas in the Country

—–When I Was Young in the Mountains

—–The Relatives Came

Steckel, R. and M. The Milestones Project

Steig, W. When Everybody Wore a Hat

Uhlberg, M. Flying Over Brooklyn

Velasquez, E. Grandma’s Records

Wong, J.S. The Trip Back Home

Yolen, J. All Those Secrets of the World

Handouts created by Katie Wood Ray 37

My Mother was a Yellow Rose (4th Grade)

My mother was a yellow rose. She was beautiful, a rare delight to see in a world full of

dark times. She had her thorns, her cutting attitude and moments of imperfections, but she was

still beautiful. And like all flowers, the beauty fades, and the flowers wilts. The pedals fall to the

hard ground, and leaves crumble, and it dies much too early. Yes, oh yes, my mother was a

Yellow Rose.

My mother was a kind woman. I remember being at the supermarket buying groceries for

our family. We had a cart full of goodies and food that Mama would turn into incredible dishes

that would make the best chef on Earth sing with praise. Well, there was a young woman in front

of us, counting change to try and pay for her small cart of simple foods. My mother did not

hesitate, she paid for that woman’s cart and would not take no for an answer. Yes, my mother

was a yellow rose.

My mother was the best cheerleader. She sat through every one of the sports games, for

both my brother and me. She coached my soccer team, she danced along for my dance team, and

she sang with my choir. My mother was stood with me through my triumphs and my defeats,

making sure that I kept my head up high even when I felt like the world was crushing my

shoulders. Her strength made me strong. Yes, my mother was a yellow rose.

And just like a yellow rose, she died too young. Sometimes flowers get sick, they do not

get enough light or water. Sometimes the soil is not meant for a flower to grow. And sometimes,

they just wilt up and pass on. My mother got sick, but unlike a yellow rose, her beauty did not

fade. Her pedals may have wilted, and her leaves may have crumbled, but she was beautiful until

the very end. So maybe, just maybe, my mother was not a yellow rose after all.

*This memoir was written as part of a unit of study on Dia de los Muertos. We made shoebox “ofrendas” to honor people and/or

pets in our lives, then wrote memoirs to explain the items in the ofrendas. 

My Ofrenda for Paul 
By Jennifer Green  

 
My ofrenda is dedicated to my brother, Paul. An ofrenda is a memorial to a special person who has 

died. In Latin America, many families set up ofrendas or offerings in their homes during the festival of Dia de 

los Muertos, or Day of the Dead. Day of the Dead is a special three day holiday from October 31st to 

November 2nd. During this time, families honor loved ones who have passed on by setting up beautiful altares 

in the home. On the altares, families place flowers, decorations, and photos. The family also places the loved 

ones’ favorite food, drinks, games, or mementos. The family member’s spirit is invited and welcomed back into 

the home.  

Each item in my ofrenda pays tribute to the life of my big brother, Paul. He died at the young age of 35 

and we hold him close to our hearts. As you observe and examine the details of my ofrenda, consider what 

each one represents.  

In the background, you see a deep, blue ocean, a ship, and waterskis. My brother loved the sea. He 

was an officer in the Navy and spent many months each year on an enormous aircraft carrier, dedicating his 

days to protecting our nation and other countries of the world. Even when he was off duty, he stayed close 

to the sea in Massachusetts and Florida. He loved to waterski and cruise for hours; he was at home on the 

water.  

The newspaper represents his time as a journalist. In high school and college, he was the editor of the 

school paper. He was always bookish and intellectual, a “walking encyclopedia,” our family called him. As a 

small child, I still remember him hidden behind the pages of an open newspaper, reading for hours and hours. 

Sometimes I would toss items at the paper, vying for his attention. He never blinked an eye, just kept on 

reading. He had laser-like focus when reading anything – newspapers, books or directions for a game.  

You also see a table set with Paul’s favorite foods: apples, chicken, and mashed potatoes. The 

centerpiece is a giant plate of Kraft macaroni and cheese, one of the few things he knew how to prepare on 

his own in his teenage years. I recall arguing with him over the last serving many a time. He always battled with 

me over it, but let me win out in the end. Now that I am older, I know the battle was just an act. He was a 

kind and generous big brother, looking out for his sisters at all times.  

I hope you enjoyed looking at my ofrenda as much as I enjoyed making it. Paul made an impact on 

everyone who knew him during his short life. He lives on in our hearts; this ofrenda serves as a reminder and 

a promise that he will always be with us.  

Examples of shoebox ofrendas: