Original Short Stories for

Middle School Language Arts

Lesson #2 Identifying Figurative
Language in
“Miles Away”
By Sara Griffiths

Figurative Language Lesson Ideas

 For “Miles Away”

Teaching Plan:

 Provide notes for students on the different types of figurative

language: simile, metaphor, personification, hyperbole, and
onomatopoeia.
 Hand out copies of the “Miles Away” excerpt and have students
read or read it to them depending on their reading level.
 Have students highlight or underline any figurative language they
see in the story. (Answer key is provided with story)
DI (Differentiation) option- Have students choose which type of
figurative language to look for. This way they can choose
something they understand.
 Have students write what type of figurative language it is in the
margin space provided.
 Share answers with a partner and then discuss as a whole group.
 Students can continue the story adding their own examples of
figurative language as the write.

Sara Griffiths is the author of “Miles Away”. Permission to reprint is granted once item
has been downloaded through teacherspayteachers.com

An excerpt from
 “Miles Away”

by Sara Griffiths

Jamie’s parents’ separation changed everything. Who drove Jamie

to school in the morning, what they ate for dinner, how they spent their

weekends, everything. Jamie and her mother barely spoke; they were like

two frozen statues holding a position. It appeared Jamie blamed her

mother and her mother blamed her father. Anger and silence had come to

stay for a while in the Kirby household. An unwelcome visitor.

Jamie had only seen her father twice since the day he had dropped

her off at her high school: once when he had come to clean out his clothes

from his closet and then again when he had come back for the things he

forgot the first time. He tried to talk to Jamie, but she ignored him. He

called once a week on Sundays, the weekly phone call a religion, and he

truly hoped that time would heal all wounds. Jamie offered nothing during

the calls except hello and goodbye. It was a very lonely fall and winter at

the Kirby house. Bitter days followed them around. And one February

afternoon, when Jamie got home from school, everything got worse.

Jamie’s Aunt Maggie was in the kitchen having a cup of tea with

her mother. Jamie liked Aunt Maggie a lot. She was younger than her

mom and worked as a makeup artist for different Broadway stage shows.

She never had a steady job; she worked with one play company for awhile

and when the show ended she moved on to something else. Jamie
respected her creativity and her bold attitude. She had talent and drive,

and millions of friends, unlike her boring mother.

“We’re moving in with Aunt Maggie for awhile,” her mother said.

“What do you mean for awhile, exactly?” Jamie asked.

“We have to sell the house. Your father filed the divorce papers

today and we decided neither of us wants to keep the house, so we are

going to team up with Aunt Maggie until we can get our own place,” she

said trying to sound positive.

Jamie was a dragon, wanting to spit fire, but she said nothing. She

walked slowly out of the kitchen and up to her room in a daze. Aunt

Maggie did not live in Tewksbury. She lived in Evansville. It was a dump.

There was no place for a horse in Evansville. There was no private girl’s

school either. And there definitely was no one there like her dad. Jamie

reached for the shoebox she had shoved under her bed days before and

grabbed the new sneakers. She threw on a t-shirt and shorts and laced

the shoes up. She sprinted down the stairs and slammed the front door.

Ba-boom. She needed some air. She heard her aunt calling for her as she

neared the end of the street, but she just kept going.

Jamie listened to the sound of her feet pounding against the road,

her lungs sucking in air, her breathing getting heavier as she quickened

her pace. Her lungs were on fire. She knew she couldn’t run far at this

speed, but she trudged on, faster and faster, trying to run away from

everything. The further she ran, the better she felt.

An excerpt from

“Miles Away”
 By Sara Griffiths

Jamie’s parents’ separation changed everything. Who drove Jamie

to school in the morning, what they ate for dinner, how they spent their

weekends, everything. Jamie and her mother barely spoke; they were like

two frozen statues holding a position. It appeared Jamie blamed her

mother and her mother blamed her father. Anger and silence had come to

stay for a while in the Kirby household. An unwelcome visitor.

Jamie had only seen her father twice since the day he had dropped

her off at her high school: once when he had come to clean out his clothes

from his closet and then again when he had come back for the things he

forgot the first time. He tried to talk to Jamie, but she ignored him. He

called once a week on Sundays, the weekly phone call a religion, and he

truly hoped that time would heal all wounds. Jamie offered nothing during

the calls except hello and goodbye. It was a very lonely fall and winter at

the Kirby house. Bitter days followed them around. And one February

afternoon, when Jamie got home from school, everything got worse.

Jamie’s Aunt Maggie was in the kitchen having a cup of tea with

her mother. Jamie liked Aunt Maggie a lot. She was younger than her

mom and worked as a makeup artist for different Broadway stage shows.

She never had a steady job; she worked with one play company for a

while and when the show ended she moved on to something else. Jamie

respected her creativity and her bold attitude. She had talent and drive,

and millions of friends, unlike her boring mother.

 “We’re moving in with Aunt Maggie for a while,” her mother said.

“What do you mean for a while, exactly?” Jamie asked.

“We have to sell the house. Your father filed the divorce papers

today and we decided neither of us wants to keep the house, so we are

going to team up with Aunt Maggie until we can get our own place,” she

said trying to sound positive.

Jamie was a dragon, wanting to spit fire, but she said nothing. She

walked slowly out of the kitchen and up to her room in a daze. Aunt

Maggie did not live in Tewksbury. She lived in Evansville. It was a dump.

There was no place for a horse in Evansville. There was no private girl’s

school either. And there definitely was no one there like her dad. Jamie

reached for the shoebox she had shoved under her bed days before and

grabbed the new sneakers. She threw on a t-shirt and shorts and laced

the shoes up. She sprinted down the stairs and slammed the front door.

Ba-boom. She needed some air. She heard her aunt calling for her as she

neared the end of the street, but she just kept going.

Jamie listened to the sound of her feet pounding against the road,

her lungs sucking in air, her breathing getting heavier as she quickened

her pace. Her lungs were on fire. She knew she couldn’t run far at this

speed, but she trudged on, faster and faster, trying to run away from

everything. The further she ran, the better she felt.