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3 pages, Unknown Binding
First published August 15, 2010
What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are—underneath the year that makes you eleven.
... gets what it's like to be caught betwitx and between childhood and adulthood – not wanting to be immature and emotionally uncontrolled, but not yet having the emotional and cognitive skills to be able to handle life well. Still, eleven-year-old Rachel comes alive for me, and her voice remained memorable decades later.I hope I don't wait decades to read Eleven again.
... recognizes that you don't stop being 10, just because now you're 11, but that some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay.
... exactly nails what it feels like to be 11 and to have a teacher who believes she knows best and who doesn't listen to you, who doesn't even recognize that she should try.
... tells me that when I'm 102, I will know how to respond to difficult situations – or at least the narrator expects she will. ☺
...moves from the abstract to the concrete, giving me an abstraction that helped me understand myself and my world better, then shows me how that abstraction looks in the real world: I put one arm through one sleeve of the sweater that smells like cottage cheese, and then the other arm through the other and stand there with my arms apart like if the sweater hurts me and it does, all itchy and full of germs that aren’t even mine.
“That’s not, I don’t, you’re not…Not mine.” I finallyOh to be eleven. Such a hard age to begin with. Rachel, the main character, is disappointed about her birthday. She doesn't feel like she turned eleven. She doesn't feel any different. She explains how in reality, we are all the ages at once. Sometimes she feels the need to be comforted by her mom - at that moment, being 5. Sometimes you say something stupid - being 10. Today, on her birthday, she is struggling with age. She wishes she was older because maybe then, people would listen to her and believe her. Her teacher even makes her put on this sweater to prove a point - causing Rachel to completely bubble over and give in to tears..
say in a little voice that was maybe me when I was four.
“Of course it’s yours,” Mrs. Price says. “I remember
you wearing it once.” Because she’s older and the teacher,
she’s right and I’m not.
But the worst part is right before the bell rings for
lunch. That stupid Phyllis Lopez, who is even dumber than
Sylvia Saldivar, says she remembers the red sweater is hers. I
take it off right away and give it to her, only Mrs. Price
pretends like everything’s okay.